Half Moon Chambers (24 page)

"Leave me be."

"I will. But just do something for me, mate.
Just take your hands off the rail."

"Why?"

"I'd like you to. That's all."

He did. He swung on me so fiercely I thought
he
would drop to his knees, and I got ready to leap
forward
, make my securing grab. "Get out of
here
!" he yelled. "Go on, before that bitch and her
knuckleheads
catch up. I'm nothing but a junkie
,
Vince. I'll never be anything else, so just... just
piss
off and let me go, all right?"

"Go where? Into the river?"

"Yeah, if I've got the balls for it. Because..."

"Because what?" I was yelling too now.

"Come on! Just fucking tell me!"

"Because if I had any choice, I'd crawl back
to
Val Foster and I'd
beg
her for her dope! I'd do
anything
to get it. I'd do anything for one more night
like
last night. To paint like that."

"You can do it sober."

"I can't!"

"Christ
--
have the balls to try! The painting's
just
you, not the drugs. The dancing, too."

His brow creased. "I was dancing?"

"Yes. Like a beautiful fire."

"Oh, Vince, get away from me!
Run
!"

He was finished. He was shaking so hard
from
withdrawal that he couldn't keep his feet. He
turned
grey beneath a sheen of sweat, doubled up
and
vomited onto the kerb. I got to him before he
fell
: folded to my knees with him, pulled his
racked
body tight into my arms. "You poor
bastard
," I whispered, rocking him. "For God's
sake
let me help you. Let me help."

Chapter Twelve

"W
hat did you give me, then? Back in Val's
fortress
?"

I was just trying to keep him awake. I wasn't
sure
he could hear me, let alone reply. His shivers
had
intensified almost to convulsion, then he'd
gone
frighteningly still. His head was on my
shoulder
, his eyes wide and unblinking, full of the
golden
light now spilling from the east along
the
Tyne. A few early morning joggers and cyclists
had
appeared, and a couple had even stopped. I
was
always surprised how many would, in this
edgy
, stone-hearted town. They were standing
around
, awkward as people usually were on these
occasions
, unsure whether to help or back off. I'd
told
them I was a cop, though I didn't think they
believed
me. I'd told them it was okay. It would
be
. I could hear sirens. I could see blue lights
flashing
in the traffic jam beyond the motorway
underpass
.

"Vitamins."

I sat back a bit so I could see him. His gaze
was
still empty and lost but he was smiling, and
the
word had come clearly enough. "Vitamins?
How the hell did you manage that?"

"I had... In my jacket. I'd forgotten. I'd been to
the
doc's and he said I was run down, and since..."

Bitterness shadowed his face. "Since I was an
experienced
IV user, I might as well have them in a
shot
. He gave me them to self-administer. I forgot
one
. Val took everything else off me, but she
missed
that."

"How did you swap the stuff?"

"I was in the car. I was meant to be passed
out
. Bit by bit I pulled the box through from the
back
and swapped one."

"Bloody hell. You do know she'd have shot
you
if she'd checked?" God, he was cold
--
I tore
my
jacket off and wrapped it round him, rubbing
his
shoulders and back. "Hang on, okay? Talk to
me
. What about all that racket?"

"Oh, that..." He broke off, coughing. "That
was
easy. Council dump truck always reverses and
turns
in that entry, same time every day. Last night I
piled
some bins up where the driver wouldn't see
them
. So he'd knock them down."

"That was smart. But you were off your face
last
night."

"Not so far off it I couldn't think. I think better
then
. I do everything better." He groaned and
curled
up tighter, hiding his face. "Oh, Vince. You
should
've let me jump."

"Ssh." At last the snarl-up down the road was
clearing
. As I watched, a police car manoeuvred to
the
front of the queue and came tearing up out of
the
underpass, lights blazing. "Don't you talk like
that
. Here's the cavalry."

"Cavalry? More like a fucking donkey-race,
copper
."

I jerked my head up. One of the kindly
bystanders
was a slender woman with her hair
pulled
back into a ponytail. I'd have sworn she
hadn
't been there before. But this was Val Foster's
gift
, wasn't it
--
to emerge from nowhere and
disappear
back, leaving little trace of herself in
between
. Hundreds of immigration clerks must
have
passed her through, barely registering her
presence
. Even with a gun in her hand she wasn't
attracting
attention. She only had mine because it
was
aimed square at Rowan's head.

I wrapped my hand round his skull. It was a
hopeless
gesture, flesh and bone a bullet would
punch
through like cobweb. "Jesus, Foster. Back
off
!"

There was a moment. If anyone else but
Bill
Hodges had been at the wheel of the car, the whole
scene
would have gone to hell. Foster needed a
hostage
. With Rowan at gunpoint, me as a human
shield
, she stood a chance. The Mondeo jolted out
of
the alley that led to the car park, mounting the
pavement
to get past the slowing traffic. I knew
how
it would work. She only had to get me to my
feet
, drag me and Rowan far enough to meet her
ride
. I knew she'd kill me and take him.

But there was good reason why Bill reigned
supreme
over Mansion Street. He was a very quiet
man
. If you met him in the street you'd think him
harmless
, and so he was to civilians and friends. In
the
hunt, sure of his facts and his target, he was a
wolf
. He slewed the car to a broadside halt across
two
lanes of traffic, blocking the Mondeo.
Before
Val Foster could so much as blink he was out on
the
tarmac, weapon so easy in his grasp it looked
like
part of him. He didn't offer her a chance she
could
turn down
--
not even a cursory
freeze
. He
took
a perfect aim at her right shoulder and fired.

Chaos erupted on the bridge. Foster's weapon
flew
like a sparrowhawk out across the parapet,
briefly
caught the light and disappeared. Three
other
police vehicles screeched to a halt, officers
spilling
out and starting to run. A woman
--
not Val,
who
'd been knocked back against the rail and was
clutching
her shoulder, her face an outraged
blank
--
burst into terrified screams. The coppers joined
battle
with the Mondeo Four, and Bill himself
came
running over to where I crouched
with
Rowan, holstering his gun, sharply ordering a
sergeant
to get Foster cuffed and detained. He
slithered
to a stop, dropped to one knee beside me.

"Vince! Are you okay?"

I couldn't get breath to tell him. I was still
hearing
the gunshot
--
seeing again in my mind the
jerk
of Foster's pistol as she recoiled. Then Rowan
shivered
in my arms. "Fine. I'm fine. But he needs
an
ambulance."

"I've got one on its way for you." Bill
pushed
Rowan's damp hair back from his brow. He was
gentle
. I loved him for it. "This our reluctant
witness
, then?"

"Yeah. But he can't help us, not like that.
He's done enough."

"All right. Tell me once we're out of here.
What's the matter with him?"

"He's sick. That bitch Foster shot him up with
some
new crack she's been selling all over the
country
. It's lethal
--
hooks you tight after one dose.
He needs help."

"We'll get him straight to detox at
the
General. Vince, where the hell have you
--
"

"I
can
help you."

Bill and I both looked at Rowan. He had
struggled
upright in my arms. He was clutching my
shoulders
, staring after Val Foster, who was being
dragged
off between two burly officers. "I
can
be
a
witness," he said hoarsely. "I was coming
home
- back to Half Moon Chambers. I saw the door
swing
open and the kid, the Chinese girl, try to run
out
. I saw Maric grab her and drag her back inside.
I heard the gun go off."

I propped him up. "Don't worry about it
now
." It all mattered so much less to me now than
the
painful rattle in his chest. "Just breathe."

"I wanted to tell the cops when they arrived
-
I went down, and they saw me. I was too damn
scared
. I ran. But..." His eyes were fixing on the
distance
, his lips going blue. "I've stopped running
now
. I'll be your witness for Maric. And her
--
Foster... I'll do anything to bring her down."

Chapter Thirteen

I
f Bill wondered at my insistence on
travelling
with Rowan in the ambulance, he didn't
say
anything. He didn't object when I followed the
stretcher
as far as I was allowed into the General's
emergency
rooms, and when I came limping back
he
was waiting. "We got Val Foster," he said as
soon
as I was within earshot. He was practically
rubbing
his hands together with glee. "We only
bloody
got Val Foster."

"
You
got her. How is she?"

"Fine. Getting the best of care
--
next door
to
Clyde, more's the pity. I asked, but they refused to
leave
her out in the gutter."

"Rowan's under guard?"

"Round the clock. I told you we'd look after
him
. Er, Vince..."

I waited. Here it came. He was the most
lenient
of senior officers, but even he had his
limits
. The hospital reception was crowded, and I
didn
't resist when he drew me into an alcove,
steadied
me while I sank into a plastic chair. He
took
up a position opposite. "Look, I have to ask.
Are you and he
--
Rowan, I mean... Because I know
you
and Jack Monroe were..."

I had to help him out. "Yes," I said simply,
too
worn out to consider a sidestep or a lie.

"That's a problem, isn't it?"

"Bloody hell. You and Jack weren't a
problem
, no. But this one
--
how on earth did you
end
up..." He sat back in his chair, blowing his
cheeks
out. "Never mind. It's better if I don't know.
Until we're through this case, until he's no longer a
witness
--
yes. It's a problem. Do you understand?"

I did. I wanted to tell Bill so, in case he
thought
my silence meant rebellion. But Rowan
was
alive and breathing, for now at least safe,
and
I hadn't even begun to work out what that meant to
me
. The doc had said they'd give him methadone,
that
he'd have a hard time but wouldn't die of the
crash
. Not this time. I knew what those words
meant
, delivered in that tone. Rowan would get
good
care. They'd be impartial with him, but
arm
's-length. He wouldn't get chatter and smiles
like
the footballer they'd just brought in off the
pitch
with a broken leg. I had to find my voice. "I
understand
. Will you tell the staff here he isn't...Yes, he was an addict. But he stopped two years
ago
. He's like this today because of me."

"Because of you?"

"He tried to warn me about Val Foster. He
knew
I wouldn't leave it alone, so he went back to
them
. To be there when they got me."

"What
--
infiltrated them and took their drugs,
just
to help you out? Vince, this lad's lied to you
from
the start. I finally had time to get a
background
check on him. His name's not even
--
"

"I know!" I got to my feet. There wasn't much
room
to pace, so I thudded my palms off the glass
of
the vending machine, which groaned and spat
out
a can of Tizer. I'd thought I'd never trust
another
human being again, let alone suddenly
develop
a white-hot faith that consumed common
sense
and made me want to punch out unbelievers.

"I know his name's not Rowan. But the rest is true.
He gave up everything to save me."

"All right." Bill appeared at my side. He
fished
the tin out of the machine and opened it.

"Want some?"

"What? No!"

"Then sit down and take deep breaths. If you
believe
him, I do. A jury even might, if we can get
the
poor bastard cleaned up. I've requested a
placement
for him at St Mary's."

"The mental hospital? He's not..."

"Their rehab wing. It's a lot less Victorian on
the
inside than out, and they get results. He'd be
secure
there, and the department will fund the
programme
. Nobody's marching him off in leg
irons
. It's just an option." He pulled a chair
forward
and gently dumped me into it. "And
actually
, his name
is
Rowan."

"But he told me..."

"He ran away up here as David Clyde. But he
started
using Rowan again at his gallery job.
Stupid of him really
--
it's very distinctive."

No, not stupid. He was lost. It was a spar
from
the wreckage. My Rowan.
I leaned my
elbows
on my knees. My vision was hazing and
sparkling
. Through the grubby tiles at my feet I
could
see a painted chamber, a basement car park,
a
dark-eyed god in spray paint watching over me. I
clasped
my hands behind my head.

Bill's warm grip closed on my shoulder.

"He'll be all right, son. And as regards how the
staff
treat him, you can tell them that yourself."

"What? No, Bill
--
it'll have more poke
coming
from you."

"Maybe, but you'll be here to supervise."

I looked up. The emergency teams must have
finished
dealing with Rowan, Val and the
footballer
, enough of them at least to spare the
small
contingent approaching me now, one of them
pushing
a wheelchair. "Oh, shit. I don't need... I
just
need to go home for a wash and a few
plasters
."

Bill chuckled. "You look like you've gone
four
rounds with both Klitschkos. And God knows
what
all this has done to your back. No, you're in
here
overnight. At least."

There was no point in arguing. The sands of
my
willpower and strength had been running out
since
Bill had roared up onto the bridge with
his
H&K. There'd been leakage before, but after that,
relieved
from my post, I'd let them go. I didn't
resist
a pair of orderlies hoisting me up and into
the
chair.

They were wheeling me away when Bill
called
them back. "Hoi. You might like to know
--
I
had
Chief Inspector Walsh on the phone twenty
minutes
ago. When he heard who traced Foster for
us
, he was all for giving you a commendation."

I struggled for a smile. That was nice, I
supposed
, though I was a very long way past
caring
.

"I advised him, however, that since you'd
been
acting against my orders, rewards were
inappropriate
. And I can tell you right now,
Harry
Callahan
--
you ever try anything like that again,
you
're fired."