The Evil And The Pure (58 page)

Trying to think it all through. Clint would tell Big Sandy where the money was, tell him about Tulip as well and why they were in the Borough. Big Sandy would race here after the
cash. When he didn’t find it, he’d start looking for Kevin — no, for
Tulip
. Kevin had seen the hound and how it tracked Clint. Big Sandy would assume – rightly – that Kevin wasn’t dumb enough to leave here on foot again. He’d take it as given that Kevin would get the hell out of London as fast as he could. Tulip had the formula, so he’d target her. With the hound, he’d find her. Take the formula and either kill her or use her as bait to ensnare her brother.

Cut her loose
, a sly part of him urged.
Forget her. You have the money. You’ll find other young women, new ways to excite yourself. Get out while you can.

But Kevin couldn’t do that. Not without at least trying to find her. Checking his
watch – nine thirty-six – calculating shrewdly, imagining worst case scenarios. Big Sandy would have started on Clint by now. Kevin wasn’t sure how long Clint could hold out – if he’d even try – but he gave him no more than half an hour. By ten, Big Sandy would be on his way. Here by ten-fifteen. Ten minutes to ensure the money was gone. Then after Tulip with the hound. But would he start at Westminster Bridge or the Borough?

Unaware that there had been more than one hound, and not taking the Bush’s other men into consideration,
Kevin assumed Big Sandy would come looking for the money in person before homing in on Tulip. On that basis he figured Big Sandy would head for Westminster, where Tulip’s scent was freshest. If Tulip had returned to the Borough, it would take Big Sandy time to track her east. Checking his watch again. He couldn’t imagine the giant making the Borough before eleven thirty. Most likely he wouldn’t get there (
if
he got there) before midnight.

Kevin
thought he had time.

Standing in the darkness. Stomach and hands clenched. Trembling indecisi
vely.
Will I/won’t I? Will I/won’t I?
Recalling their appointments, the sickening elation, the overwhelming high. Playing the images against those of Big Sandy capturing and crushing him.

Out of the darkness, down the stairs, through the building, on
to the street. No sign of the taxi. Kevin waited, still undecided. The taxi appeared, pulled up to the kerb, Dave English solemn-faced. Kevin sat in, laid the bag on the floor, closed the door gently. Dave looked back at him. Kevin slid a thousand pounds to the cabbie then made up his mind and said, “Change of plan. Take me to the Borough.”

SEVENTY-FOUR

Big Sandy, Fast Eddie, Eyes Burton and a balding, grey-haired, smartly-dressed guy Big Sandy knew only as Jimmy B, discussing their plans, standing outside a van inside of which the last living hound was strapped down. “We should go to Westminster,” Fast Eddie said.

“You said that trail led nowhere,” Big Sandy grunted.

“It led to a bus stop. We can follow the various bus routes from there, get off at every stop, let the hound sniff around for her.”

“That could take
forever,” Big Sandy muttered. “Kevin thought she’d return to the Borough. I want to try there first.”

“Trouble with taking the
hound to her regular stomping ground is her scent will be all over the place,” Fast Eddie said.

“No,” Big Sandy disagreed. “She’s been in hiding for more than a week. We’ve had rain and wind. There won’t be any old scents.”

Fast Eddie shrugged. “I think Westminster makes more sense but it’s your call.”

Big Sandy considered it a moment longer, then decided. “The Borough. We’ll start with the High Street, then take the side
-streets and alleys. If we draw a blank, we’ll try Westminster.”

They piled into the van, Big Sandy, Fast Eddie and
Jimmy B in the back with the hound, Eyes driving. Jimmy B eyed the hound nervously – the first time he’d seen one – and wondered what it was like let loose. Fast Eddie was thinking about Clint and how he’d died, glad he hadn’t been there for the torture, just as glad he’d been there at the end. Big Sandy’s thoughts were of Tulip and what would happen to her. Uneasy. None of this was the girl’s fault. He wanted to protect her but couldn’t see how, in no position to ask the Bush for favours. The best he could hope was that the Bush would be merciful when he got his hands on the formula, take pity on Tulip and let her go. Admitting to himself,
Unlikely.

Eyes parked just off Borough High Street, slid out and opened the rear doors. The men in the back got out and stretched, then Big Sandy freed the
hound and fed it Tulip’s scent. The hound was uncooperative – shook its head, refusing the scent – until Big Sandy tugged sharply on its leash a few times and forced it to focus. When the hound finally fixed on the cardigan and whined obediently, they set off up the High Street, fast, the hound sniffing the pavement dejectedly — no scent.

At the top of the street, where it led on to London Bridge, they crossed and started back on the
other side. As they were passing steps leading down to the riverbank the hound stiffened and growled with excitement. Big Sandy caught Fast Eddie’s eye and the pair exchanged tight grins. Big Sandy checked his watch – ten thirty-seven – then the hound was leading him forward, padding down the steps to the path and forging ahead.

Big Sandy and the other
s raced to keep up with the hound. It was going as fast as it could, a sign that the scent was fresh. “She’s near,” Fast Eddie gasped.

“Or was,” Big Sandy replied, not letting hope flare in his heart, just following the
hound, letting events unravel as they would.

The
hound ran straight for a while before turning right into an open-fronted shopping mall called Hays Galleria, dark and deserted this late at night. The hound was straining manically on its leash. Big Sandy jerked it to a standstill and glanced at the others as they puffed for breath. “I think she’s here,” he said softly.

“I’ll call for backup,” Fast Eddie said, flipping open his mobile.

“We’re not gonna wait,” Big Sandy said.

“Agreed. But
we have guys in the area. They can be here in a few minutes to help tidy up or deal with witnesses.”

Big Sandy grunted, let Fast Eddie make his call. As soon as he put the phone away he drew his gun and so did Eyes and
Jimmy B. Big Sandy frowned, worried that Jimmy B might fuck up like the earlier idiot. “We take her alive. She’s sixteen and unarmed. We do not under any circumstances harm her.”

“What if she leaves us no choice?” Eyes asked. “
She might have tooled up. What if she pulls a weapon and –”

“We do not harm her,” Big Sandy interrupted curtly. “She won’t have a gun and she won’t open fire. But if she does, duck for cover and leave the rest to me.”

“The formula comes first,” Fast Eddie said calmly. “I know you like the girl – I do too – but if we can’t produce the formula for Dave…”

“We’ll get the formula,” Big Sandy said. “But we don’t have to hurt Tulip. And we won’t. Understand?” He looked at each man directly, challenging them. All three nodded glumly.
Satisfied, he fed the hound some slack, signalled the others to fan out behind him, then proceeded slowly into the shadows of the Galleria.

SEVENTY-FIVE

Kevin
finetuned his plan during the ride south. Not enough time to complete a thorough sweep. Hit the likeliest spots, check for Tulip, get the hell out. Narrowing down the possibilities, deciding on Borough High Street again, London Bridge station, Hays Galleria, then get Dave to drive him to Tower Bridge Road for one last look. It would be after ten by the time he got started. He’d give himself half an hour here, max, before swinging by Tower Bridge Road. However the search went, determined to be on the road by eleven, at least a good half hour before Big Sandy showed up if his calculations were correct.

As the cab approached the Borough, Kevin leant forward. “
Dave?” The driver glanced back. “I’m getting out on Borough High Street. I’ll be gone no more than half an hour, maybe less. I want you to drive up the street every five minutes and pick me up when you see me.”

“No problem,”
Dave said.

Kevin reached inside his jacket and half pulled out
the second thousand pounds so that Dave could see. “I won’t cry if you abandon me,” Kevin said. “Plenty of cabs on the High Street. It’s simpler for me to have you on standby, but if you aren’t there when I need you, I’ll just –”

“I’ll be there,
” Dave snapped. “Every five minutes on the dot.”

Kevin sat back, grinning smugly, liking this new side of himself
. It was good to be in control.

He got out at Borough T
ube station, waited for the cab to pull clear, then started up the street, lugging the bag with the millions – it felt heavier than it had earlier – looking in every pub and restaurant window, praying for Tulip’s face to leap out at him. He walked up the left side of the street, down the right, no Tulip. He returned to the side-street Clint had disappeared down, staring into shadows, wondering where Clint was now and what had happened to him. Brutally clamped down on the morbid thoughts – whatever Clint got, he more than deserved after what he’d put Kevin and Tulip through – then hurried to London Bridge station, his all-too familiar work hole. He prowled the Vaults first, the shops on the lower ground floor, worked his way up to the concourse, checking all the crevices, waiting rooms, toilets (ignoring the startled cries of women who were alarmed by his presence) and shops, the station busy even this late, a variety of trains pulling in and out. No Tulip. At one point he thought he spotted her outside WHSmith, staring in at a window display. He started towards her, heart leaping joyously — then she turned and it was just a girl of similar build.

It was
ten twenty-nine when Kevin trudged disconsolately to Hays Galleria. He no longer held out any hope of finding his sister and thought about simply making his way back to Borough High Street, but he still had a few minutes of his self-allotted deadline to play with and he was so close to the Galleria that he decided he might as well check, just so he could walk away with a clear conscience, having done all he possibly could to locate her.

He passed a couple of late-night pedestrians
as he was entering the Galleria but otherwise the area seemed deserted. He did a quick circuit, rounding the giant, mechanical fish/boat that was its centrepiece – it looked menacing in the half-light – and started back the way he’d come, no Tulip, dejected but not surprised.

“Kevin?” The voice came from the fish/boat. Kevin gawped
. “Kevin?” the voice came again and he almost fled hysterically. Then a shadow detached itself from the massive bulk of the sculpture and stood before him, wiping a hand across its tear-stained face, smiling weakly.

“Tulip?” Kevin croaked, fearing her to be an illusion.

“I prayed for you to come,” Tulip said hollowly, then threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around him, hugging, moaning, weeping. And he knew she was real.

“Tulip!” he cried, clutching her ecstatically.
“Oh God, I thought I’d lost you.”

“I ran,” Tulip sobbed. “Got on a bus. I was going to… run forever… but I had nowhere to go… and I was lonely… and
… I thought you’d look for me. I
knew
you would. So I came back. I went to the church first but Fr Sebastian… he…”

“I know,” Kevin murmured, kissing her ice-cold cheeks, stroking her damp hair.

“I came here next,” Tulip continued. “I’ve been waiting all night, cold, hungry, terrified. I… I… I…” She could say no more. Tears choked her and she just clung to Kevin, trembling and crying, Kevin crying too, the pair supporting one another, weak with relief. Finally Tulip pushed herself away from her brother and smiled at him through her tears. Then she frowned. “Where’s Clint?”

Kevin held up the bag in reply. “I got the money. All of it.”

Tulip stared at the bag, eyes round. “What did you do to Clint?” she whispered.

Kevin half-laughed. “Nothing. Big Sandy caught him. There was nothing I could do. He abandoned me
, only interested in saving his own neck. I got away. He ended up… I don’t know… dead, probably.”

Tulip took that in, her face creasing sorrowfully, finding pity in her heart for Clint despite what he’d done to them. “What happened at the bridge?” she asked. “Why did Sandy attack Gawl?”

“I don’t know,” Kevin sighed. “And I don’t care. I have you and I have the money. Nothing else matters. Let’s go.” He stuck out a hand. Tulip didn’t take it.