Killing for Keeps (30 page)

K
ate was exhausted when she went to bed at midnight, more so when she woke suddenly a few hours later. She couldn’t see anyone. She didn’t need to. The strong smell
of a cigar had disturbed her sleep and caused her to wake. The Scot was massive. He was standing in the shadows at the bottom of her bed, holding a handgun, a pensive expression on his handsome
face.

She scrambled up the bed, drawing her knees to her chest. Naked and unarmed, she’d never felt more vulnerable. ‘How the fuck did you get in here?’

Brian rebuked her by waggling his gun around from side to side. ‘That’s no way to greet a guest, is it? I have my methods.’

‘So what happens now?’

Taking a couple of heavy-duty cable ties from his pocket, he proceeded to secure her tightly to the bed, his face almost touching hers. He wasn’t rough with her. Neither did she struggle
for fear that the gun in his right hand might go off accidentally.

‘Your days of freedom are numbered,’ she said.

‘You’re the one tied to the bed.’ The irony made him chuckle. ‘They told me you had balls. They weren’t wrong. You must take after your guv’nor, Mr Bright.
How is the old sod, anyhow? He and I go back a long way. Did he tell you that?’

‘He told me.’

‘I used to get a real kick out of taunting him. He didn’t like me crossing the border, wreaking havoc in Newcastle. It was good sport until Dougie O’Kane tried to get in on the
act.’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘I never wanted a turf war, Kate. That’s why I made it my business to get acquainted with Bright. It pays to know who you’re up against
– I did the same job on you.’

‘You know nothing about me!’

‘You’d be surprised what I know.’ He was enjoying himself. ‘I know your mum is dead, you don’t dig your old man, and you have a friend you’d rather not talk
about. How’s that for starters?’

Kate’s stomach churned at the veiled threat to her family – to Jo.

‘Relax . . . all I’m saying is, my snouts are better than yours. I pay them more than you do. Worth their weight in gold, informants – wouldn’t you say?’

Was he talking about Towner? Was it possible that there was more to his death than a tragic accident? Had he seen something – someone – that made him bolt from the bench and run into
the road? Towner hated the Allens, he’d always blamed John for getting Margie hooked on drugs; tipping off the O’Kanes that Brian was still alive would be one way of having his
revenge.

No, this was just Allen mouthing off, Kate told herself. She was letting her imagination run away with her. It was running in other directions too: images of Brian’s handiwork in a garage
on the outskirts of Glasgow flooded her mind. Did he have something similar in mind for her? But then, why go to the trouble of tying her to the bed?

This is just a warning. He has nothing to gain by killing me.

‘I haven’t come here to hurt you.’ It was as if Brian had read her mind. ‘I just want you off my back. Neena gave you guys a starter for ten. Soon as O’Kane turned
up at the club, she rang me. If I could’ve got there, I’d have killed the bastard, but I knew he wouldn’t hang around long enough for that. So I told her to ring you. I’m a
patient man, Kate. I was hoping you’d lift him and fuck off home, but you blew it. Not only did you let him slip through your fingers, you decided to come after me instead. So I put my boys
on the job of tracking him down. Good thing I did, under the circumstances, wouldn’t you say?’

Kate said nothing.

He laid his gun down on the bed, took a photo from his pocket and held it up in front of her face. It featured Kate and Hank and the expat couple, Shelley and Tony, on the promenade at Mar de
Cristal. All four had their eyes turned skyward.

The parakeets.

‘I knew then you had me.’ Brian’s eyes were smiley. ‘A clever deduction. However, you made a fatal mistake. You were following me when all the time I was following you.
Not once did you look over your shoulder. Even you must see the funny side of that.’ He put away the photo, pocketed the gun. ‘Right then, I’m out of here. You’ll never find
me, so don’t bother trying.’

‘Is O’Kane dead?’

‘What do you think?’ He kept his eyes fixed on hers. ‘It’s possible he could still be alive, but not likely. If he is, he won’t look pretty and you won’t hear
him scream. He’ll be meeting up with Finn right about now, I should imagine. Consider his death my gift to you.’ He turned towards the door. ‘Give my regards to Bright when you
see him.’

‘Brian!’ Kate shouted at him, pulling at her restraints. ‘I’m not going to stop!’

He turned, as if considering her words. In that moment a video image of Hank lying on the deck, a gun pointing at his head, flashed before her eyes. This thug was responsible for saving
Hank’s life. That must count for something.

‘I need to find O’Kane,’ she said. ‘I don’t give a fat rat’s arse about you – that’s Strathclyde’s problem. In fact, I owe you – big
style. My DS . . .’ The words stuck in her throat. She had to swallow hard to keep her emotions in check. ‘But I need to get a conviction. And to do that I need to find O’Kane,
dead or alive, and prove he killed your boys.’

Brian nodded, suddenly less cocky. Behind the facade, Kate saw a beaten man, robbed of his sons, haunted by his past. ‘Just so you know, my youngest had no idea I was alive. When those
vicious bastards were torturing him, the poor sod couldn’t have given me up if he’d wanted to. You saw my lads, Kate. Tell me it was wrong to take revenge.’ He waited, melancholy
eyes watching her. ‘Nah, I didn’t think so.’

She looked away, ashamed that she shared his point of view. She couldn’t deny that, given the exact same circumstances, she too would want revenge. Wouldn’t any parent? And if
O’Kane had executed Hank in cold blood, as he’d clearly intended to do, she’d have blown him away in a heartbeat, no qualms whatsoever.

‘Please,’ she begged. ‘Tell me where to find Craig’s body. If you don’t, I’ll have no choice but to hunt you down.’

‘There’s some old mine workings around Portman. If you can be bothered to go fishing for the fucker, you might find him. Then again, you might not. Don’t bother polishing up on
your interview technique. He’ll be dead by then.’ He sighed. ‘An eye for an eye has always been my way. If it’ll make you piss off back to Newcastle, he’s in the mine
nearest to the coast.’ He picked up her phone. ‘I’ll leave this under the wheel arch of your car.’

‘You’re all heart,’ Kate said, but the door was already closing behind him.

I
t would be another four hours before the sun came over the mountains. Best part of the day, as far as Brian was concerned. As a lifelong golfer, he was often first on the
course and finished before breakfast. Sadly, he’d not see it again, at least not from this location. Time to move on.

There was a flicker of a smile on his face as he wandered into the hotel car park, pulling Kate’s mobile from his pocket. Scrolling through the address book, he found Hank’s name and
pressed the call key.

T
he phone sounded tinny and far away. Remaining flat on his back, the only position that was anywhere near comfortable, Hank swung his right arm out, his hand scrabbling around
in the dark until he found the light switch. His mobile was lying on the bedside table. He checked the display. The name KATE was illuminated.

Who else, at this time of night?

He yawned.

Even to him, his voice sounded groggy: ‘Either you’ve decided you’re straight or there have been developments,’ he said. ‘What’s up?’

B
rian grinned. DS Hank Gormley was well worth saving. Less than twenty-four hours ago he’d faced his maker, yet here he was joking with his boss at three a.m. This was
the sort of guy he could happily share a pint or two with, as he had done with Bright in the good old days. Brian hankered after the camaraderie, the ‘them and us’ mentality, the
tit-for-tat between the prigs he ran with and the likes of Bright. He missed Theresa too. No one had ever floated his boat like her; not Neena, not even Maria, who’d kept his secret all these
years. Family came first. Always had. Still did. He’d made a good life for himself in Spain and it didn’t come easy, giving all that up, but no sacrifice was too great when it came to
keeping Theresa safe. If only he could have kept the O’Kanes from going after his boys . . .

‘K
ate? You there?’ Hank groaned as he tried to move himself up in the bed. ‘Stop playing hard to get. We both know I’m irresistible.’

A male voice hit his ear. ‘She’s a bit tied up at the moment, Sarge.’

‘Hello, Brian.’ Hank’s tone was flat calm. ‘I’d like to speak to my boss.’

B
rian was impressed. The detective was not someone who panicked easily. Another groan reached him from down the line. The guy was trying to get up, put some clothes on and ride
to the rescue like a knight in shining armour. Who could blame him? His gutsy DCI was quite something, in or out of clothes. Brian chuckled. If she wasn’t ‘on the other bus’
he’d have fancied his chances.

‘P
ut her on,’ Hank pleaded, trying to get one leg into his strides. ‘Let me trade places. You know what women are like. I’ll be less bother than her in
my condition. I’m no threat, am I? I’m a one-armed fat man. She’s a shouty, foul-mouthed dynamo. Don’t put yourself through it, pal – you’re on a hiding to
nothing. Believe me, I know. She’s been giving me earache for years.’

‘You move from that room, she dies,’ Brian said. ‘Stay put and she lives to fight another day. Do we have a deal?’

H
ank stopped dead in his tracks. He took a deep breath, wincing from the pain. Images of Finn O’Kane forced their way into his head. Weak as he felt, he couldn’t
let anything happen to Kate. Fighting off a wave of nausea he tried to think what she would do in the circumstances . . .

‘Deal,’ he said finally. ‘How long d’you want?’

‘G
imme five.’ Brian had always been a master of the double entendre. Mentally, he raised a hand to Hank in a gesture of goodwill. Placing the phone under the wheel
arch of the Seat Mii, he got in his BMW and drove off into the night, flooring the accelerator, putting as much distance between himself and La Manga as possible. Hank Gormley was not someone
who’d delay before taking action. Unless Brian was reading him wrong, he’d wait two minutes max before heading to the room of his DCI. Brian was counting on him doing that before
calling the law.

I
t was a monumental struggle for Hank to propel his aching body the short distance along the corridor to room 308. Injured or not, with one kick he had the door off its hinges,
flattening it against the wall. When he saw Kate naked and tied to the bed, he covered his face, peeping out between his fingers.

‘Did you not fancy the pitch and putt then?’ he said.

Kate collapsed in a fit of laughter.

‘W
hat we going to tell Bright?’ Hank asked as they boarded a plane home to Newcastle. He was travelling back to the UK, tanned and relaxed, a good deal slimmer than
he’d been when he arrived in Spain, looking forward to being reunited with his wife and son. Although his injury was healing nicely, his left arm was still in a sling and Kate had insisted on
carrying his bag on to the aircraft.

Before packing up, they had taken the time to track down the gutsy American who had yelled out at Craig O’Kane as he prepared to pull the trigger. When she got home, Kate would make it her
business to ensure that the tourist got a commendation for bravery. Although O’Kane hadn’t looked up at the time, she was sure his hesitation in that split-second had made the
difference between life and death for Hank.

The image of O’Kane standing over Hank’s prone body was still vivid in her mind as she strapped him into his seat, but a glance at his smirking face told her he had a different image
in mind. She narrowed her eyes. ‘What happened in the hotel stays in the hotel,’ she said.

‘OK, no need to get arsy!’ He grinned. ‘What are we going to tell Strathclyde?’

‘’Bout what?’

‘About Brian.’

Kate noted Hank’s attitude to Brian Allen had altered significantly in the past few weeks. She too had started thinking of him on first-name terms; no longer the infamous criminal but the
man who had saved Hank’s life.

‘We’re going to tell them nowt,’ she said. ‘He disappeared. End of. Our offences are detected. He’s not our problem. Time to let the Scots do their jobs.’ She
smiled at Hank. ‘Besides, I like him.’

Hank settled back in his seat and shut his eyes.

He’d sleep easy now.

Not so Maria Benitez. She had been arrested, charged with serious offences too numerous to mention, and remanded in custody to await trial. It was highly likely she’d be struck off the
medical register and sent to prison for an extended period. Comisario Roberto Chavez was determined to make an example of her and, in so doing, secure his position as one of the lead officers in
SOCA’s Operation Captura.

Despite a plea for leniency from Kate for information received, Neena Gil was charged with wasting police time and harbouring a fugitive. She too faced prison, although, after due consideration,
Chavez had agreed to recommend that her sentence be suspended in exchange for further intelligence on Brian Allen.

Convinced that Brian wouldn’t harm anyone unless provoked, Kate secretly hoped he’d continue to evade the long arm of the law. He’d shown during his time in Spain that he could
lead a peaceful if not entirely law-abiding existence; it was only the brutal slaying of his sons that caused him to resort to violence. If Brian lost his liberty now, he’d spend the rest of
his life in jail. In her mind, that would be a travesty of justice.

The Spanish authorities had already found Craig O’Kane’s body. It was right where Brian said it would be, several hundred feet down a mineshaft in Portman. It took a specialist
rescue team to extricate the corpse from the harsh landscape and bring it to the surface. With visual identification complete, Kate would write up the case and present it to her former
guv’nor to be written off as detected.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket.

A text from journalist Gillian Garvey:

You can’t stay angry with me for ever! C’mon, we both have jobs to do. How about calling a truce? Gimme the inside story and I’ll shout you lunch. What do
you say?

Kate held up her mobile, showing Hank the message before keying a reply:

Sorry, no can do. Switching to flight mode – it’s a bit like silent mode only it also cuts out interference. Ask your pals in Strathclyde!

She was about to switch the phone off when an email came in from Jo. She’d booked a cottage for a month in Crail, a tiny fishing village on the east coast of Scotland where the DCI could
recuperate from the traumas of the past few weeks. ‘Only problem is,’ she wrote, ‘it only has one bedroom! OK with you?’ The email was signed with a kiss.

Kate elbowed Hank in the ribs as he read over her shoulder.

‘Watch it!’ he said. ‘I’m recovering from a near-death experience.’

He was grinning and so was she. Kate was looking forward to spending some quality time with Jo. A call to Bright had sealed the deal for her to take an extended leave of absence. In fact,
he’d insisted upon it. He was still pissed with her. A lump formed in her throat. He’d get over it – he always did. And so would she – eventually.

While on the phone she’d finally asked him why he’d wanted to see her that Sunday when he’d come into the incident room instead of playing golf. It seemed moons ago now, but
the mystery had played on her mind during her time in Spain and she was dying to know what it was.

‘Ellen and I are getting married,’ he told her.

‘Oh, guv, congratulations!’

Kate shed a tear at the news. She’d been close to his late wife Stella but, more than anything in the world, she wanted to see him happy. She glanced at Hank. Her two favourite men were
doing well on the romance front. Maybe she was too.

Maybe.