Red Crystal (44 page)

Not everyone liked this sort of job, of course. That’s why one had to volunteer to join the Protection Group. Other coppers liked to be where the action was and were horrified at the thought of guarding one individual for months on end. But Jenkins rather liked it. He was fond of routine and familiar surroundings.

Not that the job was entirely cosy, of course. There
was
a heavy responsibility. This bombing business was terrible. Killing the Commissioner’s
wife
– you wondered what the devils would think of next. Nothing like this had ever happened in Britain before. It was appalling to think that these terrorists could get away with it. Well, of course, they
hadn’t
. One of them had been caught, and now the identity of a second was known. A woman. He’d seen a rough facsimile of her photograph that morning at the briefing. A woman. Whatever next? It had been the Swinging Sixties that had done it. All that permissive society bit. Moral back-sliding, if you asked him.

Later, when the squad car would be coming to pick him up at the end of his shift, he would have a chance to look at a better print. They were bound to have a batch of posters available by then. As soon as the posters were distributed this lunatic woman wouldn’t have a chance. Every copper in the entire country would be on the lookout.

Jenkins settled down to read the
Financial Times
. After a while he felt a bit peckish and reached into his pocket for a Mars bar.

Unwrapping the bar he bit into it, and tasting the thick gooey toffee, immediately felt comforted.

Gabriele rammed the van into second gear and turned into the tree-lined street. Ahead, the tail lights of the Mini slowed a little and she guessed they were almost there.

Beside her Giorgio pulled the holdall up from the floor on to his knee.

The Mini’s indicator flashed and the car turned across the road and parked by the opposite verge in front of a large detached house set some forty feet back from the road. A double driveway led up to the house. Gabriele noticed it was particularly well lit.

She drove past and parked in front of the neighbouring house where it was much darker.

Victoria was already walking towards them. Gabriele got out and said, ‘We think it would be best if we came with you.’

‘But you said …
Why
?’

‘If he meets us, then he’s much more likely to believe us.’

Victoria looked indecisive.

Gabriele waited impatiently. She was tired of nursing this girl along.

Trying to sound reasonable, she pressed, ‘We could wait in the hall. While you talk to him. We just thought it would make a difference if he could meet us, just for a second.’

Victoria sighed heavily, ‘Oh, dear, I don’t know. I really don’t. It seems a bit …’ She suddenly shook her head in defeat. ‘Oh, all
right
.’

Giorgio appeared from the other side of the van. Automatically Gabriele glanced down to make sure he was carrying the holdall.

The three of them walked up the driveway to the front door.

Victoria put her finger on the bell.

After a moment clipped footsteps approached across a hard floor. They halted by the door and there was a pause. Gabriele guessed someone was looking through the peephole. She looked away towards the road.

A lock was turned and the door opened.

A voice said, ‘Miss Danby?’

‘Yes.’

‘Come in.’ A plumpish young man in an ill-fitting grey suit stood in the doorway.

Gabriele exchanged glances with Giorgio. She had guessed there would be some sort of bodyguard.

They went into the house. The young man closed the door behind them. Gabriele took another look at him. His hair was short, cut in an almost military style. She decided he was definitely a policeman. They moved into the centre of the spacious hall. Giorgio came up beside Gabriele. Keeping her eyes on the policeman she slowly reached down into the holdall and ran her hand over the two Skorpions to be sure they were the right way round.

The policeman was saying, ‘I expect Sir Henry will be out in a minute.’

At that moment a door opened and a man appeared.

Sir Henry Northcliff.

Gabriele felt a small surge of excitement.

Sir Henry looked surprised at finding so many people in the hall. With a tense smile, he said, ‘Hello, Victoria,’ and came forward to kiss her cheek. The policeman watched from a distance.

The moment had come.

Gabriele took a deep breath and reached into the bag. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she felt the policeman looking at her.

She froze, her hand in the bag.

He was staring at her.

Something was wrong.

Shit!

She smiled at him.

He stared back, a look of horror slowly growing on his face.

With a sudden shock, she thought:
He knows who I am
.

In a strange way it rather added to the excitement. She remained perfectly still, her hand in the bag, and smiled at him.

She saw him gulp and wet his lips. Then he began to move slowly towards her.

She felt Giorgio stiffen. His free hand came across his body and slid into the holdall. She felt him grasp the other weapon. The policeman didn’t seem to notice: he was still advancing, staring at Gabriele. Victoria and Sir Henry were still talking.

Slowly and deliberately, Gabriele pulled out her gun.

She saw the policeman’s eyes drop in astonishment.

Then she yelled, a loud piercing whoop, and jumped backwards to give herself room. Almost simultaneously Giorgio pulled out his Skorpion and shouted, ‘Don’t move!’

Gabriele went straight into a firing stance, slightly crouched, the machine pistol lodged firmly against her ribs, her thumb against the safety lever, to ensure it was set on automatic. She aimed straight at the policeman’s stomach.

Giorgio had retreated until he was covering the other two.

For a split second there was a deathly silence, the five of them frozen in a strange tableau.

Then Gabriele saw the rich-bitch opening her mouth and shrieking, ‘What are you
doing
! What are you
doing! Stop it!
’

Giorgio shouted, ‘
Shut up
!’

The screaming seemed to have snapped the policeman out of his trance. He began to move forward again, his face twisted with anger and fear.

Gabriele hissed, ‘
Don’t
!’

The policeman said in a low voice, ‘Drop that weapon!’

Gabriele clutched the Skorpion more tightly. The policeman hesitated for a moment, looking at the gun, then, making up his mind, stepped deliberately forward and reached out for it.

Gabriele felt the familiar panic surge up in her. She cried out: ‘
No
!’

He kept coming.

She squeezed the trigger.

It was just the same as in training: the strong feel of the gun in her hands, the juddering as the bullets left the silenced barrel, the soft
thwack! thwack!
as they hit their target. Except it wasn’t a dummy now, it was a person.

The policeman staggered backwards, a look of amazement on his face, his hands clutching his stomach.

Then he fell slowly on to one knee, one hand on the floor, the other on his stomach. Blood spurted out all over the place.

Gabriele thought bitterly: That’ll teach you.

The girl screamed, an ear-piercing screech that filled the room. She seemed to be able to scream for a long time without drawing breath.

The sound was getting on Gabriele’s nerves. She strode up to the girl and thrust the pistol into her belly. The girl stopped in mid-scream.

‘Shut up.’

The girl gaped.

Beside her the Attorney-General was very still and very white.

He understood perfectly.

There was a gurgling sound. It was the policeman dying. Gabriele glanced at him and, for a fleeting moment, felt a twinge of doubt. Then she remembered that she’d
had
to do it. She was a trained fighter, and the man had been attacking her. It was no different from a soldier defending himself against the enemy. Soldiers killed all the time.

Now they must hurry. She nodded to Giorgio. He reached into the fallen holdall and took out a roll of strong electrical tape. Putting the Skorpion down, he pulled Sir Henry’s arms roughly behind his back and bound them together. He put another strip across his mouth.

Apart from briefly closing his eyes the man showed no emotion.

The girl, on the other hand, was a disaster.

She was gaping, her eyes starting from her head, and wailing loudly. Giorgio looked at Gabriele questioningly. She thought quickly, and said, ‘No, bring her.’

Giorgio took hold of the girl’s wrists and pulled them behind her back. Immediately she became hysterical.

Gabriele began to regret her decision; this girl was being a pain. Gabriele stepped forward and hit her hard on the side of the head with her hand.

The girl yelped and started sobbing more quietly. Gabriele said, ‘Next time I’ll use the gun.’

Giorgio grasped hold of the girl’s chin and stuck a large piece of tape over her mouth. There was silence at last.

Gabriele went to the door and looked through the peephole. The driveway was clear. She tested the light switches beside the door. One worked the light in the hall, the other the outside lights.

She paused to think. She mustn’t forget a single detail.

Going up to the Attorney-General she demanded, ‘Is there anyone else in the house?’

He shook his head.

‘Your wife’s out?’

He nodded.

What else? The girl’s shoulder bag. She picked it up and searched through until she found the keys to the Mini. She put the bag over her shoulder.

She had one last thought. She went up to the dead policeman. He was lying on his side in a pool of blood. She pulled open his jacket and searched the pocket. No radio transmitter that she could see. There was, however, a small notebook. She pulled it out and examined it. It was a sort of log. There were entries for each day, saying where the attorney-man had been, and, when at home, what visitors had called.

She looked at the last entry. It was for six-thirty when the attorney-man had arrived home. There was no mention of Victoria Danby.

She dropped the notebook on the floor.

She looked at Giorgio to see if he was ready. He nodded.

While he hustled the prisoners up to the door, she turned off all the lights and took a last look through the peephole.

The road was visible in the faint street lighting.

A car passed. Then nothing.

Opening the door, she listened and, satisfied, stepped back to let the others pass. She closed the door and ran on ahead to make sure there was no one coming along the road.

Behind her there was a slight sound. The stupid girl had stumbled and fallen, but Giorgio was dragging her back to her feet. Gabriele waved them forward to the van and, opening the doors, helped Giorgio to push the girl and the Attorney-General inside.

She ran to the Mini and got it started. As soon as the van moved off she followed. No car passed. No person walked the quiet road.

They had got away unseen.

Caroline Northcliff was tired, and sitting in a traffic jam didn’t help. It was solid all the way from Westminster to Regent’s Park, and by the time she got on to the Finchley Road the journey had already taken half an hour longer than usual. She couldn’t imagine why: it was well past rush hour.

One way and another it had been a trying day. Normally she rather enjoyed going to do’s at the House. On this occasion it had been a cocktail party given by the Parliamentary Wives Against Persecution. She’d had to go because she was on the committee. But she’d been feeling distinctly under the weather, and the noise and inevitably intense political conversations had been rather a strain.

Also, these occasions were meant to coincide with evenings when the House was sitting, so that the wives might dine with their husbands afterwards. But Henry had spent all day at his chambers and had then gone straight home to do some urgent work, so he’d not been able to come to the party. Somehow Caroline always felt incomplete and a little lonely when he wasn’t around.

And now she was having to deal with all this beastly traffic.

Finally as she approached Hampstead the traffic thinned, and she realized she would be home very soon. What a relief. It was quarter to eight. With a bit of luck Henry would have finished his work, and they could enjoy a quiet evening. She wondered what to make for supper. Something light. There was some cold meat in the fridge, she remembered, and she could throw together a quick salad.

And then she usually offered the officer on duty a snack of some sort. She always felt sorry for the young men who were sent to guard them. It was such a rotten job, having to hang around all the time, knowing you were in the way, yet trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Today Jenkins was on duty, and he never turned any food down. She smiled to herself.

She turned into the road and felt the tension of the day begin to ease. It was good to be home.

The road ahead seemed strangely dark. She couldn’t work it out. Then she realized it was the area in front of her own house which was unlit. Yet she had carefully switched on the lights before going out. Had there been a power cut? No … there were lights in all the other houses. Perhaps the houselights had fused. Yet it was unlike Henry not to have fixed them.

She drove straight into the open garage and turned off the engine. As she got out it occurred to her that Henry might have been delayed at work and might not be home after all.

She closed the garage door and looked down the side of the house. The study light was on. Henry
must
be here then. How strange.

In the darkness it took her a moment to fit the key into the front door, but then the lock turned and she was in. She called, ‘Hello?’

Light came from the open doors of both the kitchen and the study. She put a hand to the light switch and turned on the outside light. It worked perfectly. Then she tried the hall light.

For a second the light dazzled her.

Then she saw an object on the floor.