Vendetta (16 page)

thirty-four

‘I didn’t come over for a shag,’ Rio said, as she finished doing up the last button on her blouse while Phil buckled his belt.

They’d met at some tedious police conference, a weekender, where they’d spent their free time getting to know each other within the four walls of Rio’s hotel room. Phil didn’t feel guilty that he was betraying his wife; if he’d had a guilt complex, he’d never have gone into undercover work. And Rio – well, she wasn’t looking for a long-term anything except for her career.

‘We’ve talked about Mac . . .’

She took a step towards him. ‘I’m working on this case. A murder in a hotel. A female found with her face shot off her in a bath. Not a pretty scene. But I’m working some DNA that was found there, not the victim’s. The problem is there’s a match on the computer, but I can’t get access to it.’

‘Now why do I feel that the remainder of your sentence has got something to do with me?’ Phil moved away from her and sat down at his desk. He kept his gaze on her.

‘The reason I can’t get access is because there’s a code. The one used for one of ours undercover.’

Phil’s body tightened. ‘And you want me to turn the code into a face? You know it’s a general code, so I’d never be able to do that anyway – not that I would.’

‘But there’s something different about this. It’s the usual 1402 code,’ Rio hit back. ‘But this one ends with a C.’

Phil went rigid and, for just a few seconds, emotion stood stark on his face. Shock? Confusion? Rio couldn’t tell what it was, but he soon covered it over with the calm shadows that he usually wore.

He leaned back in the chair and laced his fingers in his lap. ‘Even if I did know who it was—’

‘Don’t shit me around, Phil.’ Her face glowed a hot brown with her fury. ‘A young woman’s time on this earth was brutally severed today. Tell me who it is.’

His tone remained calm. ‘I don’t know who every undercover cop is. There are other undercover teams, as you well know. We use the same 1402 code like all the other units. We don’t put letters, love hearts or smiley faces at the end of it.’

‘Well, someone put a C there for a reason. So, who can I talk to and find out?’

Phil stood up again. Moved round the table. Took the few steps towards her. Ended up back in her space. ‘No one’s going to give you that information. If there was – and that’s a big “if” – an operative in that hotel room, it will be case sensitive. My advice to you –’ his hand touched her wrist near her pulse – ‘is to leave it alone. Get on with your investigation and work around this DNA glitch.’

‘Glitch?’ she stormed in his face. ‘You should’ve seen what was left of her. The inside of her head scattered all over the walls like she was nothing. Nothing.’

‘Rio.’ His palm swept up her arm. ‘If you want to be in the type of places I think you want to get to in the police force, you’ve got to be able to leave the emotion behind.’

‘Yeah, I’ll think about leaving the emotion behind the next time you’re screwing me.’ She snatched her arm away. ‘I’ll find out who it is, Phil, with or without your—’

Her mobile went off. She slammed out of Phil’s office, not noticing the surprised expressions on the faces of Phil’s team. She pulled out her mobile as she took the stairs.

Furiously, she answered the call.

‘She was pregnant.’

Rio froze at the top of the stairs on hearing DC Martin’s words.

‘Two months gone,’ he continued. ‘The ME says that her system was filled with a sedative, something like Rohypnol . . .’

‘So that’s how the killer got her into the bath – he drugged her,’ Rio uttered softly.

‘There was no sign of a puncture wound on her skin, so it wasn’t injected.’

‘Were there any other marks or abrasions on her skin, like around her wrists?’

‘None. No sign either that she put up a struggle.’

‘Which means someone slipped the drug into her drink. And you know what that likely means . . . ?’

Silence on the other end of the line.

Rio answered her own question. ‘Our vic probably knew her killer.’

She pulled the mobile from her face but didn’t cut the call. Instead she stabbed a finger against the mobile’s screen until she found the files containing her notes and information about the case. Stopped at the photo showing the close-up of the tattoo on the victim’s arm.

Red star, yellow border.

С волка?ми жить

по-во?лчьи выть

‘Martin?’ she said into the phone. ‘Let’s see what we can find out about this tattoo.’

1402. C.

Phil ran his hand over his mouth. Damn. Mac. He’d personally changed Mac’s coding to distinguish him from the other members of his team in the field because he’d wanted to keep an eye on him after he’d returned to work following his son’s death. Mac hadn’t mentioned any hotel room to him when they’d met earlier. But then Mac hadn’t been returning his calls. What the fuck was Mac involved in? A murder?

Phil quickly went back to his desk, ready to pick the phone up to give Mac a call. And that’s when he saw the images on the laptop.

‘Bastard.’ He thumped the desk. ‘Bastard.’ He banged the desk again.

He shook his head, almost in disbelief, as he saw a still of Mac standing in front of Reuben Volk’s door. He picked the phone up. Dialled.

‘Why didn’t you call me?’ Phil spoke quickly to the same person he’d contacted outside Mac’s home. ‘Yes, I know what I said earlier, but things have obviously changed . . . There’s no need to worry about Mac, he won’t be on the street for long.’

He was already standing up when he ended the call. He pulled the door open and called to his PA.

‘Give the surveillance team a call and tell them to send a live feed through to you. Then patch it through to me.’

He picked up his laptop. Didn’t take his coat as he headed for the door. As soon as he got into his car, he used his laptop to patch into a live feed with his team watching Reuben Volk’s house.

‘Sir,’ he was urgently told. ‘He’s left the house.’

Phil ignited the engine. Took the road. Said, ‘Don’t lose him.’

He looked ahead of him and cursed some more when he saw that he was caught up in roadworks. He thumped his horn three times, but nothing moved. He didn’t have a choice now; he was going to have to use his blues and twos. He hit the button that activated the flashing siren. Wheels squealed as cars moved out of his way, some mounting the pavement. The twisting vehicles only made the already narrow gap even narrower. He flipped the steering wheel one way, then the other, as he moved through the space. Finally through, he belted forward. Checked the GPS. He’d be there in another five minutes if he kept this speed up. And then Mac would be off the case for good.

thirty-five

Calum was putting his mobile phone away as he finally left the Russian’s home. Hunched in the front garden, Mac kept his eye on him all the way. As he strolled past the guards. As the remote-controlled gate opened for him. As he pulled the tip of his baseball cap low. As he walked unevenly down the street. Mac dipped lower as Calum walked past on the side opposite his hiding place. He twisted his body slightly to the rhythm of the other man’s steps as Calum carried on down the street. Mac gave it five seconds, then stood. Didn’t look left, didn’t look right, as he quickly followed his target.

Seeing a gap in the road, to what looked like a side street, he made his move. He rushed Calum, grabbed him by the arm and jacked him sideways between a row of gardening sheds.

Calum was unresisting and didn’t seem surprised. ‘I thought you might be loitering around somewhere . . .’

Mac blocked the path back to the road. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Reuben and his travelling circus?’

Calum looked down to where Mac’s hand was hovering by his waistband. ‘You’re not going to start waving Lady L around at me, are you? That would be really stupid, especially on a road like this. In fact, you might want to consider the possibility that Reuben’s des res is almost certainly under surveillance by the law.’

But Mac wasn’t listening, ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here? If you breathed fuck about what I told you this morning . . .’

Lost for words, the anger burst from Mac and he lunged at Calum. Grabbed the lapels of his coat and shook him violently.

Calum almost lost his footing as his weak leg slid to the side, but managed to stay upright. He made no attempt to resist, but he looked at his former friend with contempt and warned, ‘Get your hands off me, mate, or there’s going to be trouble. I’m serious – you’ve got enough enemies as it is, don’t make another one out of me, because I’ll be worse than the lot of them put together.’

They remained like that for a while, breathing heavily, the peaks of their twin baseball caps almost touching. Abruptly, Mac loosened his grip. Cursing, he let go. Calum looked up and down the road before saying, ‘Look, it’s none of your business, but Reuben just wanted a sit-down to offer me a job, which I’ve agreed to take on for a substantial fee.’

Mac scoffed. ‘It’s always money with you, isn’t it? Is that why they booted your arse out of the door at The Met, because your paws came up dirty from the wrong cookie jar?’

Calum’s green eyes glittered bright and hard. The blood rose in his face. ‘Fuck you, Mac. If you’d really wanted to know what happened back then, you’d have given me a bell. But you didn’t.’ His finger stabbed out at his former friend. ‘So you don’t have the right to expect anything from me. I do what I need to do to put bread on the table. So I was at Casa Reuben for my business not yours, so there was no need for me to mention your name or what you told me this morning. I’ve got a whole new circle of friends now that don’t include you.’

‘And do you know what your
new best buddy
did before you arrived? He had a live human being chopped into pieces as a new party trick at his son’s birthday.’

Calum gave a grim smile. ‘I’m glad I turned down the hamburgers then.’

‘Did you sleep with Donna?’ Mac had been holding back on asking Calum about his ex-wife, but now it burst free.

Calum swore softly. ‘If you think I’m the type of man who would’ve been carrying on with my best friend’s old lady, you didn’t know me at all.’

Mac’s dimmed eyes came alive with hatred and suspicion, ‘But that’s the trouble, Calum, I don’t know you. Not any more. So is the job you’re doing for him connected to this delivery tonight?’

Calum sighed. ‘Have you no idea what “commercial confidentiality” means? Now, if you’ll excuse me.’ He pulled the rim of his cap lower. ‘I’ve got work to do. But let me give you a bit of advice that doesn’t come with my usual consultation fee. Leave this one alone. What did you really know about this woman, Elena? Go home, get some rest. Look at the state of you, Mac – you’re cracking up. If you carry on down this road, you’ll either end up dead or on the funny farm.’ His tone softened slightly. ‘You’re not the father my godson would’ve remembered.’

And leaving the memory of Mac’s dead son between them, Calum walked in uneven steps away. Feeling like he’d been repeatedly hitting his head against a brick wall, Mac reached for the pill bottle he’d found at Doctor Mo’s. All he needed was a hit, one hit to get his brain back into gear. He couldn’t remember which pocket he’d placed them in, so shoved his hand into his inside pocket. That didn’t contain the pill bottle, though, but the stuff he’d taken from Elena’s place. He pulled the pieces out and looked at each one again.

Post-it note from Reuben.

Scorched photo of two men in military get-up.

Card for some club.

He rested them in his hand for a while, like he was hanging on to Elena’s life. He was so weary, so bone-tired. But he had to keep going. He owed it to Elena like he’d owed it to Stevie to keep him safe. But he hadn’t kept him safe. Determination flooded back into him. He started pushing the items back into his pocket. Suddenly his hand stopped around the club card. He raised it closer to his face. Read.

Club Zee.

What had Reuben called his brother’s girlfriend? Oh yeah, one of those Club Zee bitches. Mac’s mind shot into cop investigation mode. Two women. One dead, the other missing. And what connects them both? A place called Club Zee.

‘Sir, he’s on the move again . . .’

‘Where?’ Phil said, turning into a sharp right.

‘He’s turned a corner, boss – I’ve lost him.’

‘Which corner?’

‘End of the road – Willowfield Crescent.’

Phil hit Reuben’s neighbourhood. All he wanted to do was to slam his foot to the pedal, but he couldn’t afford to do that, not near the house under surveillance. So he eased back slightly. Cruised. Kept moving. And moving. Killed the engine just before hitting Willowfield Crescent. His phone pulsed on.

‘Yes?’

‘Sir.’ Shazia, his PA. ‘Doctor Warren says she can only meet you this evening . . .’

‘I don’t think I’ll be needing her again,’ Phil mumbled, almost to himself.

As soon as he cut the call, he pulled something out of his glove compartment. Jumped out of the car, not bothering to close the door. He ran forward. Stopped just before the entrance to the crescent. Took a breath, and then stepped into it. He saw a man up ahead straight away, sporting a baseball cap. Striding firmly, Phil took the pavement quickly, gaining on the figure with each step. His fingers tightened on what was in his hand as he extended his strides. Gained ground. Got closer. And closer. He reached him.