Until Death (37 page)

Sylvie reached out, grabbed the fourth finger of Kelly’s left hand and pulled off the rings. ‘All mistresses want to be a little bit like wives, like the women their lovers fell for all those years ago.’

And after all, how many close friends did Kelly have, how many people who dropped round unannounced, who called her a friend, family she could rely on? There was no one, no one bar the children. Christos had isolated her so effectively it was as if she didn’t exist.

‘We are fascinated by our rivals. What’s so strange about what I’m doing? I simply had the audacity and the desire to go further.’ Sylvie bent down and pulled one last thing from the bag. A beret.

Kelly pulled and strained against the handcuffs, hollering to be freed by someone, anyone. Sylvie watched her, fascinated. ‘You know, you look better like that. Think of this as the ultimate makeover. It’s the favourite game of little girls, isn’t it? Trying to change into those you want to be. Let me show you.’

She unclipped the handcuffs and after a brief struggle locked Kelly’s hands behind her back with one pair and pushed her through the other door, away from the corridor. They entered a dining area, with a collection of bare tables and chairs. One of the walls was lined with mirrors and as Kelly turned she could see her reflection for the first time. She screamed. She didn’t just look like Sylvie, with the short choppy haircut that was now blonde, she didn’t just dress like Sylvie, with the distinctive bright colours and high heels, she wasn’t only the same age, weight and height – she
was
Sylvie.

‘The thing is, Kelly, I do you better than you do.’

And that’s when Kelly understood what Christos and Sylvie were really doing, and that it would work. They were actually going to replace her. Permanently.

Kelly strained against the cuffs holding her hands. She began to shout for help.

‘There’s no one to hear you. Except your husband.’

Christos appeared in the doorway to the dining area with a rope in his hand.

G
eorgie phoned Kelly from the pavement outside the house. Her home phone and her mobile. When she got the answerphone she got on her bike and cycled back to the port. She coasted silently down the ramp to the car park and tied her bike to the railing. The night shift was in action further down the dock. Her leaving, her disgrace, would not cause even a ripple.

The wind had dropped and the night was cold. She walked along the dock towards the
Saracen
and stared up at the vast ship, thinking about Kelly, formerly Kelsey, about how she had done the right thing as a young woman, about her situation with Christos, about her fear for herself and her children.

What’s on the
Saracen
is something that will destroy my family
. Her team hadn’t found anything, but that didn’t mean there was nothing to find. When they had met at the sauna, Kelly had said something else.
He’s going to take me out on one of his ships and put me in the world’s biggest grave – the ocean.
She walked up the gangway.

The ship was silent, the giant engines quiet. She was a city child, urban in her make-up. Ships – even Christos’s – were as beautiful to her as a walk in virgin forest.

She stepped inside the first door and stood for a moment, listening. The ship was huge, but its main space was for carrying cargo, the parts for the crew and any passengers smaller, compacted into a relatively cramped area. She walked across the hall to the river side of the ship and heard a faint scream from below. It came again. She walked towards the noise on silent feet.

‘I’
ve got the note.’ Sylvie pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from her bag and kissed it. ‘Just for added effect,’ she said.

‘Christos, you can’t do this, it’s mad – it will never work—’

‘The last message you ever wrote,’ continued Sylvie. ‘I – I mean you – spent a long time getting it just right. You composed it in a moment of deep grief and despair, scribbled it down when you couldn’t take it any more. When you heard that your lover and his wife were having a surrogate child, you knew he would never leave her for you, that your great love story was a lie. That the mistress trap had swallowed you – that you had waited and worked those long years for nothing. It turns out in this case it’s the strong ones who are brittle, who make the dramatic gestures for unrequited love. Firing your lover’s gun at his wife at the play centre, your jealousy unbounded, your pictures of Christos’s wife in your flat – Christos, I think I might leave some there after we clear out the other stuff – showed how frayed your mind had become. Your heartache and remorse were too great to bear after the event.’ She paused. ‘You came aboard your lover’s greatest ship, into the belly of his business, and took your life. It’s the strong ones who, when they try, succeed in destroying themselves. I’m sure that will be mentioned at the inquest.’

Kelly watched Christos throw the length of rope over the light fitting in the ceiling, watched him tug on it, lift his body weight off the carpet. The ceiling didn’t pull away. His ship was well made, after all. He placed a chair under the light fitting and together Sylvie and Christos carried her towards it.

F
rom a turning on the stairs, Georgie heard Kelly shouting to be saved, the sound of a struggle. She began to run down the stairs towards the galley, a disordered room with pans on the floor. She came through the swing door from the kitchen to the dining room and stopped dead, not understanding what she was seeing. Kelly and Christos held Sylvie by the feet and shoulders, in an untidy bundle, like a carpet they were trying to move. A rope hung from the light fitting, a chair underneath it.

Sylvie saw her and began shouting at her, but she had Kelly’s voice, she was shouting that they’d been in a sauna together, that there’d been a switch. Before she could understand more, Christos dropped Sylvie, grabbed a gun from a table and fired.

Georgie fell back into the kitchen through the swing door, complete surprise rendering her unable to move for what seemed like minutes but was probably less than a second. She scrabbled to her feet as Kelly’s screams reverberated round the ship. She dived for the far end of the room as Christos plunged through the swing door, gun swivelling to find its target. He skidded on baking trays and fired again as she flew through the door to the corridor, the noise tremendous in the metal-encased room.

Georgie was fit and young. Climbing had honed her muscles, strengthened her sinews, given her explosive speed over short distances. But at that moment, in a ship’s narrow corridor, her extreme climbing gave her something more than physical advantage, it gave her mental strength. High up a rock face, wind tearing your feet from their holds, muscles burning, fear is turned into focus, complete attention on the task at hand. Look down and take a moment to consider and you’re paralysed, and then you’re dead. As Georgie sprinted down the corridor to the stairs, she experienced complete involvement, a transcendental feeling of calm, the same feeling as at the most critical moment of a free climb, where the tiniest mistake leads to death.

She took the stairs three at a time, hearing the clatter of his shoes behind her, her mind jumping ahead to where she would be three moves from now. She couldn’t get down the gangway without him getting a clear shot at her. She needed to stay on the ship, get distance between them, then hide and phone the police. She’d take her chances among the miles of containers.

The Wolf was at that moment by the stairwell on the
Saracen
. He had left the docks earlier to dump the rucksack in a left luggage office and had come back, wondering if there was some way he could help Kelly, but the police had cordoned off a large part of the dock and he couldn’t approach the ship. When they finally removed the exclusion zone it was several hours later and dark. He heard the shots, faint but unmistakable in the night silence. Two, execution-style. He cursed, he was too late. He moved fast along the deck to a porthole that gave on to the central stairs and saw the customs officer coming up at a sprint, the clang of heavy feet behind her.

Georgie hit the top of the stairs where the exit was and turned left towards the Thames instead of right towards the dock. She began to pick up speed on the long passageway of the deck. Behind her came the sound of something heavy falling. Christos was skidding, palms splayed, face in the floor, another figure jumping on top of him.

Georgie changed direction and ran back, hunting with her eyes for the gun. The two men were tussling back and forth on the deck, slamming into the bulwark and railings. She saw the gun in a corner and ran for it at the same time as the Wolf lunged and got there before her. He turned it in Christos’s face and everyone froze. Christos sat back against the railing of the ship, winded, and clutching his chest.

Georgie pulled out her phone and began to dial, but the Wolf got to his feet, snatched it from her and threw it over the side of the ship. ‘Not so fast.’

‘I need to phone the police—’

The Wolf gestured to Georgie. ‘You too. Over there.’ He was pointing the gun at both of them. Christos tried to get to his feet. ‘Stay on the floor.’

Christos’s eyes never left the Wolf’s face. ‘Now you’ve got the money you want to play the hero? Only a few hours ago you’d left her in the shit – again.’

‘People change. And it’s never just about the money.’

‘We need to get downstairs,’ Georgie said, increasingly desperate.

The Wolf glanced at Georgie and at that moment Christos lunged, head down, knocking the Wolf’s gun arm skywards, driving him back against the wall of the ship. The Wolf was taken by surprise but he didn’t drop the gun, he was stronger than that, and tried to whirl Christos and his bulk round in a circle. The two men clattered into the railing, locked together, one arm each straining high to get hold of the gun. Georgie tensed, trying to anticipate a moment where she could grab the gun and dodge a bullet.

Christos’s low centre of gravity caused the taller man to bend backward at the waist over the railing. Christos landed a couple of vicious blows to his face, the Wolf bucking and writhing. The Wolf jerked his legs to try to pull Christos off him, and his raised legs caused his balance to shift. A moment later the Wolf was sliding backward over the railing, pulling Christos with him and they both disappeared over the side in a tangle of limbs.

Georgie rushed to the side and looked over to see the two bodies falling not into water but hard floor – the deck below extended out further than the one she was on. Christos landed first, smashing his neck on the railing below in his plummet downwards. The gun flew out of the Wolf’s hand on impact and skittered away across the deck. Georgie hit the stairs.

When she ran out on to the level below, Christos was lying face down, unmoving, the Wolf staggering to his feet. She came to an abrupt halt. He’d got the gun. She put her hands up, went slowly over to Christos and felt for a pulse.

‘I landed on top of him. Fitting, don’t you think?’ The Wolf spat out a mouthful of blood and staggered a bit more.

‘There’s no love lost, I see.’

He gave a tight smile. ‘No.’

‘What’s come between you?’

‘Money, women, kids.’

‘The big stuff, huh?’ Georgie needed to keep him calm; he was moving uncertainly, probably injured from the fall.

‘You, you’ve got balls, I’ll give you that. Why was he chasing you?’

‘I interrupted him trying to murder his wife.’

‘My wife, you mean.’

‘My God – you’re Michael?’

He raised the gun at her and she froze. ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m glad she mentioned me.’

‘So you and Christos go way back?’

He nodded.

‘Did you know him in Southampton?’

‘I sure did.’

‘Was it you phoning us with information about his business?’

Again a nod.

‘What’s hidden on this ship?’

‘What so many people desire, I suppose. The only thing that cannot be bought – someone who will love you unconditionally.’

She frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

The Wolf spat out a glob of blood. ‘Watch out, Christos is vicious and he will try to destroy you.’

‘Tell me what’s hidden on this ship.’

He didn’t answer, dropping his gun arm and turning to Christos’s prone body on the deck. ‘Is he dead?’

‘No.’

‘Pity. I could at least have done Kel that favour.’

‘Why is he so keen to keep her close to him? What happened in Southampton?’

‘He set up someone so he could move in on operations down there.’

‘Ricky Welch.’

He looked surprised. ‘You know about that? He used Kel to do it.’

‘So Ricky never killed that man.’

Again, the shake of the head.

‘Do you know who did?’

The Wolf smiled and raised the gun towards her again. She took a step back, increasingly alarmed. ‘Why does it matter? You need to think bigger. If you’re going to take him down, you’ve got to think like him, think about how he got where he is today. Look around you.’ He waved the gun expansively, as if taking in the river and the docks and the vastness of the city beyond, and way upriver the financial heart of the Western world. ‘What’s the fastest growing port in the UK? The one hiring new talent the fastest, dredging the river, building the facilities – the one keen to reassert its geographical and historical dominance? London. He wants a piece and he’ll be going all out to get one.’

‘How? How is he doing it?’

‘Christos keeps people close. He values loyalty. Those with him have been there for a long time.’ He stepped to the railing and coughed. His pain was obvious. ‘I’ve learned something today. Only a few of us are handed moments that make us better people. Maybe this is mine. Here.’

He tossed the gun at her and she caught it and stared at him, stupefied. ‘Why are you doing this?’

He shrugged. ‘I’m one of the rootless ones, remember? Making it up as I go along. Maybe I’m not as hard-hearted as I thought.’ Then he turned and jumped over the side of the ship, and as she raced for the railing she saw the splash far below as he plunged into the black water. The disturbance was as small as that left by an Olympic diver in a pool.