Twenty-three. Callie 12 page

'I like you very much,' I replied at once.

'D'you love me?'

I thought of Callie. 'No,' I said.

'D'you think you could ever love me?'

All kinds of lines about not being able to tell the future and the like skipped into my head. But I couldn't lie to her. It wouldn't be fair.

'I don't think so,' I said. I took a deep breath and mustered up a straight answer rather than a prevarication. 'No.'

'I didn't think so,' Rebecca said. 'I'm your rebound girl.'

'My what?'

'You split up from your last girlfriend and I came along at the right time to stop you being lonely,' she explained.

'That's not true,' I protested. 'I mean, there was more to it than that.'

'Let's be honest, Tobey. You like me, but it'll never be more than that – and we both know it. I think it takes a lot for you to love someone, but once you do, that's it for you,' said Rebecca. 'Your ex-girlfriend doesn't know how lucky she was.'

'Rebecca, I didn't set out to use you,' I said at last. 'I want you to believe that.'

'Oh, I do,' she said. 'In fact, I want to thank you for helping me to realize that I'm more than just my mother's daughter.'

'You don't give yourself enough credit,' I told her. 'You can do anything, be anyone. The only person stopping you is you.'

'You really believe that? It's that simple?'

'Yeah,' I replied at once. 'When you get right down to it, it is that simple. And you're in a better position than most people. You don't have class or status or money holding you back. You just need to get out of your own way. Godsake! That sounds like something my sister would say!'

Rebecca laughed. I'd told her about Jessica's meditation and inner-peace phase. I just hadn't mentioned how much I missed it compared to Jess's latest kick.

'I love the way you have such faith in me,' said Rebecca.

'What's not to believe in?' I smiled.

'To be honest, I've already made enquiries about teacher training courses at university,' she said, almost shyly. 'I haven't told my family yet, though.'

'That's fantastic,' I said. 'You'll be a great teacher. You have a lot of patience.'

'Except with certain girls called Misty,' Rebecca laughed.

'You're not alone in that one,' I told her.

We both finished our coffees.

'I don't work for McAuley, Rebecca. I want you to know that. I detest the man.'

'I know. And I'm sorry about your sister.'

I licked my lips as I tried to frame what needed to be said next.

'I've heard that McAuley blames your family for the loss of some shipments he recently arranged. You need to be on your guard, Rebecca. McAuley's a filthy piece of work who'd roll a tank over his own mother if she got in his way. And his back is against the wall, which makes him even more dangerous.'

'Don't worry,' Rebecca said with a confident smile. 'Mum and I are off on holiday tomorrow so McAuley won't be able to get anywhere near me.'

I sighed, relieved. That was OK then. To my surprise, Rebecca leaned across the table and kissed me. It was short but sweet.

'So you and me, we're still friends?' I asked.

I guess I wanted to have it all, but I really did like her.

Rebecca placed her hand over mine on the table. 'Of course we are. Nothing's going to change that.'

'I'm glad.' I smiled. 'Fancy another coffee?'

She considered. 'Oh, go on then. But I can't stay long.'

'Fair enough,' I said, standing up. 'Want a cake to go with it?'

'Tobey, you're a bad influence,' she admonished with a smile.

I grinned at her. 'I know!'

Over the next thirty minutes, I told her about Jess and finding her on the floor in the bathroom at home. Rebecca told me about the long-running feud between her two brothers. Apparently they'd been at each other's throats since they were kids. Reading between the lines, it sounded like their antagonism towards each other had been fuelled and fanned by their mother, but I wasn't about to spoil the affability growing between us by saying so.

Rebecca glanced down at her watch. 'Tobey, I have to go now,' she said reluctantly. 'Mum's expecting me back home. I have to finish my packing.'

Which was a real shame because both of us were enjoying our time together.

I said, 'Make sure you send me a postcard, OK?'

'Every other day,' said Rebecca.

'One will do,' I replied. It was only when I caught the smile on her face that I realized she was teasing me.

I paid for our coffees. We walked to the exit and hugged.

'Want me to walk you to your car?' I asked.

'No, don't bother. I'm only a couple of minutes up the road. I managed to find a parking bay. It must be my lucky day,' Rebecca smiled. 'Tobey, can we meet up for another coffee when I get back?'

'I'd like that. Very much,' I replied truthfully.

Outside the coffee shop, Rebecca dug into her bag and pulled out an orange and yellow umbrella. The thing was up and over her head in two seconds flat. My sister didn't like her hair to get wet in the rain either. Another hug made a tad awkward by the brolly, then a wave and we set off in opposite directions. The rain was still pitching down, but after the heat wave we'd had I was now kind of enjoying it. I'd always liked the rain. I was actually smiling! My meeting with Rebecca had gone better than I deserved. When she got back from her holiday, I'd definitely take her out for a meal or something, rather than a measly coffee.

A black van drove past. It was only after about five more steps that I realized where I'd seen it before – outside McAuley's house. Was McAuley following me? I turned. The van was heading away from me. I was sure it was McAuley's, but in that case, why hadn't he stopped? Even with my hair plastered down and the rain falling like a barrage of arrows, he must've seen me.

Rebecca.

No . . .

I raced back to the coffee bar and saw Rebecca and her brolly about twenty metres ahead of me, heading back to her car.

'REBECCA,' I called out, trying to make my voice heard over the teeming rain and the roaring traffic.

'REBECCA, WAIT . . .' I sprinted towards her.

Rebecca spun round to face me, just as McAuley jumped out of the passenger side of his van.

'BECKS, LOOK OUT!' But I was still at least six metres away. And McAuley was right behind her. A slight movement of his arm was all it took. Rebecca didn't even have a chance to look surprised before she fell to the pavement. Her umbrella rolled away from her. She lay motionless on the ground as McAuley stood there, his arms at his side, a dripping knife held in his right hand. I skidded to an abrupt halt less than two metres away from him and stood stock still, unable to move. And even though the rain kept slanting into my eyes, I'll swear until my dying day that McAuley smiled at me. A brief, satisfied smile.

'You let me down, Tobey,' he said. 'My warehouse at ten tonight, or I'll come to your house – and through your family, if necessary – to get you.'

He climbed back into the van. It drove away at an unhurried pace. Those closest to Rebecca's prone body rushed to her aid, her discarded umbrella an indicator that something was very wrong. And still I couldn't move. Rebecca lay face down on the ground, her head to one side. Raindrops fell into her open, sightless eyes, but she didn't even flinch. She stared across the pavement and into the gutter. The world went very still, very quiet. Just for an instant, but it was enough. Cold sweat and warm rain drenched my body. My stomach began to fold in on itself. I tried to take a breath, but my body had forgotten how. It was only when my burning lungs were howling out for air that I managed a horrified gasp. Then all the sounds around me were amplified to such a degree that the noise was painful, deafening.

Through the drumming rain came cries for help, calls for an ambulance and pleas for witnesses. The crowd was getting bigger all the time. Most were still trying to figure out what had happened. One Cross man turned Rebecca over onto her back and tried to administer mouth to mouth and CPR. His actions were frantic, one breath away from pure panic. His face . . . the glasses he wore . . . familiar . . . he'd been in the coffee bar with us. Following us? I instinctively knew who he was. Rebecca's bodyguard – assigned by Gideon to keep his distance but protect. Too much distance.

He'd failed.

I'd failed.

My mistakes. Expensive mistakes. Costly. Priceless. I couldn't afford the price, so Rebecca paid. She was motionless. No blood . . . why was there no blood? The rain snatched it up and escaped away in every direction with it. I stared down at Rebecca and the world grew colder and quieter. It was only when a distant siren split the air that the blood started racing around my veins again.

My body shaking, I turned and walked away.

I was good at that.

I only made it halfway along the road before, without warning, my stomach erupted. I was sick all over my shoes and the pavement. I wanted to lie down and curl up in a ball until the image of Rebecca's unseeing eyes left my head. I wanted to lie down spread-eagled in the rain until I was washed clean again. But there wasn't enough water on the planet.

First Callie Rose. Now Rebecca.

Oh, God . . .

Rebecca.

No more. Please no more.

Sixty-seven

My mobile started to ring. I answered it on auto-pilot, my hand trembling. My whole body was shaking. Breathe in, breathe out. Calm down, Tobey.

Rebecca . . .

Breathe out, breathe in.

Tobey, get it together.

Rebecca.

Rain washed over my hand and my phone, but I didn't care. Why couldn't I stop shaking? Keep walking, Tobey. Whatever else happens, keep walking.

'Tobey? This is Detective Inspector Boothe.'

'Yes, Inspector?' I said faintly.

'I have some good news for you.'

Good news for whom? Had he got to McAuley . . . before I could?

'Good news?' I prompted.

'We found our corrupt cop. She's been arrested, along with Gideon Dowd.'

'I don't understand.'

'Acting on an anonymous tip-off, we were able to place surveillance equipment and use undercover personnel from other regions to catch Gideon Dowd discussing future payoffs with DCI Reid. In return she gave him details of a raid on his house and one of his business premises planned for two days' time. DCI Reid was the one in the Dowds' pocket.'

DCI Reid . . . Where had I heard that name before?

'The woman who interviewed me at the police station?' I remembered.

'That's right,' said DI Boothe. 'I believed what you said, Tobey. And as it was DCI Reid's idea to bring you in, I went over her head to get permission to lay a trap for her. And she walked right into it.'

I shook my head, which felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool.

'I . . . I don't understand. You got an anonymous tip-off?'

'Yeah. Some public-spirited citizen provided us with chapter and verse. We know all about DCI Reid and her involvement with Gideon Dowd. We were sent files documenting meeting times and payoffs, offshore bank account details and all the operations she scuppered on Dowd's behalf. We also got information tying a whole shipment of hijacked drugs to Gideon. He was stupid enough to store them in the basement of his town house. With the data we were sent and the surveillance evidence, that piece of trash Reid and her scumbag lover Gideon will both be dining on prison food for twenty years minimum.'

'I see.'

'I did wonder if I have you to thank for the files I was sent?' Boothe enquired ingenuously.

'Nothing to do with me,' I replied slowly.

No, DI Boothe needed to thank Owen Dowd.

Gideon was out of the way. McAuley was on the ropes and busted. Owen Dowd now owned it all. Meadowview was out of the frying pan – and into the fire.

Well done, Tobey.

What was my mantra? Whatever it takes?

All I had to do now was head up to the top of the tallest building in Meadowview and wait for one and all to thank me. With a psycho nut job like Owen Dowd now running things, the thanks would pour in.

'So are you prepared to talk to me now?' asked Boothe. 'Will you testify against McAuley?'

'Why would I do that?'

'Because we both know he's the one responsible for your girlfriend ending up in hospital. Testify against him and I can guarantee you and your family will be protected. We can even relocate you if necessary,' said DI Boothe.

'It's too late,' I replied.

'What d'you mean?' I could hear the frown in Boothe's voice.

'I mean, it's too late tonight. Ask me tomorrow.'

I disconnected the call.

Sixty-eight

I tried phoning Dan, but his phone just rang continuously. There was only one thing left to do. I headed for his lockup. It was only on my second attempt that I accurately remembered the combination to his padlock. I went in, coughing against the smell of stale air and stale hopes and stale dreams. The single bulb didn't cast enough light to sweep the corners of the place. No matter. I knew what I needed. I found it in a box in the far corner of the room, a P99 military semiautomatic – the 9mm version. It had a green polymer frame – an eco-friendly colour, I told myself. I checked the magazine. It was fully loaded. Making sure the safety was on, I put the gun in my jacket pocket. I spun around and halted in mid-step. Dan stood at the entrance to the lockup, watching me.

'Dan, I need your help,' I launched in at once. 'McAuley killed Rebecca Dowd and now he is after me.'

'What d'you plan on doing about it?'

'It's me or him,' I said quietly.

'Finally gonna get your hands dirty?'

'Dan, please. Will you help me?'

The smile Dan gave then was a long way from friendly. 'Why don't you just call the police?'

''Cause then McAuley will find a way to make my whole family pay, not just me.'

'Why should I care about you or your family?' asked Dan.

'It's not about me, Dan. My mum and sister don't deserve what will happen if McAuley gets hold of them.'

'Says the man who started all this in the first place,' he said bitterly. 'You wound us all up like your little dancing dolls and now you're complaining because we're not dancing the way you want us to.'

What could I say to that? Nothing.

'Dan, please. McAuley's at his warehouse, but he's not alone. I can't do this by myself.'

'You're gonna have to.' Dan shrugged. 'This isn't my fight.'

'But McAuley's men will all be armed to the teeth.'

'Not my problem,' said Dan. 'And now we're even.'

So much for that then. The faint glimmer of hope I'd felt when I turned round and saw Dan standing there flickered and died. Only desperation had made me believe that he might help me. Far too much had passed between us.

'Can I take your P99?' I took the gun out of my pocket to show him.

'Are you going to bring it back?' he asked wryly.

Probably not.

'If I can.'

'Then go ahead. Take a couple of extra magazine clips, just in case.'

We could've been talking about comic books or sausages rather than guns. I took an extra magazine clip out of the box and headed for the exit.

'You won't change your mind and help me?' I tried one last time.

Dan shook his head, adding, 'You do know you won't get past Byron and the others packing a gun, don't you? It'll never happen.'

I looked down at the gun in my hand and shook my head. What did I think I was doing? I'd never fired a real gun in my life. Targets at a fairground and pellet guns with my dad were about my speed. What did I think was going to happen? I'd go in, guns blazing like some Cross cowboy in a film, and save the world from McAuley? Yeah, right.

I walked back to Dan's table and put down the P99 and the extra clip.

'Ah! Going to use a new technique against McAuley and his crew, are you? Gonna poke them in the eyes or swear at them? Or were you thinking of throwing the odd shoe?'

Dan was right – and I resented him for it.

I didn't stand a chance with a gun.

I didn't stand a chance without one.

'Welcome to the dance floor, Tobey,' Dan said with satisfaction. 'The song is called "Survival".'

And I was about to get crushed underfoot. I left the lockup and headed for McAuley's warehouse.

Sixty-nine

As I walked, I tried not to think and I certainly didn't want to feel. It wasn't far, only thirty minutes from Dan's lockup, and at least the rain had eased off. I looked up at the sky, knowing I'd never enjoy rain again. I just wished I could've spoken to Callie one more time before seeing McAuley. Just one last time. I wasn't happy about the way things had been left between us, but then whose fault was that but my own? If I didn't know who or what I was any more, then what chance did she have of figuring it out.

At last I arrived at the warehouse. The industrial estate contained seven or eight units, most of which were empty and boarded up. At this time of night the place was deserted. The railway bridge beyond the estate was the only sign of irregular life in the whole place. Four or five street lamps had to illuminate the entire estate and were failing miserably. Two Nought security guards dressed in dark blue or black stood outside McAuley's warehouse, chatting. One wore a wool hat pulled tight down over his head, the other was smoking a cigarette. The guard wearing the hat was showing the smoker something on a mobile phone. I inhaled deeply, allowing the smell of tar and rubbish and traffic fumes to fill my lungs, then walked straight up to them.

'I need to see Mr McAuley. Could you tell him that Tobey Durbridge is here?'

The two guards exchanged a look. The smoker stubbed out his cigarette, grinding it under the toe of his thicksoled shoes. He looked me up, down and sideways as he broke out his walkie-talkie. Turning away from me, he spoke into it, his voice a low monotone. Thirty seconds later, he signed off and turned back to me.

'Turn left inside and head for the far end of the warehouse. The office is on your right. Mr McAuley is expecting you,' he told me ominously.

'Thanks,' I replied, though I had no idea why I was thanking him.

He opened one of the warehouse doors and left me to it. I followed his instructions, passing vast crates and boxes stacked on top of each other. The warehouse was dimly lit and eerily silent, a silence so deep it echoed back at me. The rest of McAuley's men had to be in his office already. I took out my phone, pressing the speed-dial icon to get through to DI Boothe. I was wasting my time. From within this warehouse, it was impossible to get a signal. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to turn back. There was no way I could take on the likes of McAuley. It was foolish to even try.

Don't think about that, Tobey. Just keep going.

Whatever it takes.

I knocked on the office door before I could change my mind. 'Mr McAuley, it's me – Tobey,' I called out. 'I have some news you need to hear.'

The door opened slowly. Byron stood in the doorway, gun in hand. He took a quick look around to make sure I was alone, then stepped aside to let me into the room. McAuley sat in the chair at his desk. My gaze zipped around his office like a pinball. Byron stood next to me at the door. Trevor, the guy from McAuley's house, and two other muscle-heads I'd never seen before were dotted around the room.

'So you came?' said McAuley. He turned to Byron. 'I told you he'd come. Search him.'

He stood up and sauntered towards me whilst Byron patted me down from head to toe, not missing a centimetre in between.

'Mr McAuley, I've got something to—'

McAuley threw his whole weight behind a punch to my stomach. It felt like a wrecking ball had hit my innards. I dropped to my knees, clutching my belly and coughing my guts out. Another punch to my head and I was down on the floor, seeing stars and the whole solar system whizzing round my head. My cheek was on fire. I could taste blood in my mouth. McAuley ambled back to his original position behind his desk.

'Byron, get rid of him.' McAuley's voice reached me through the ringing in my ears.

'No. W-wait. P-please. Wait.' My breathing came shallow and fast and sharp. Sweat coated every centimetre of my skin.

This is it, I thought. I tried to swallow, but nothing could move past the jagged rocks in my throat.

It's all over. I'm done.

Byron grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. I struggled to stay upright, holding my stomach, which still roared with pain. It felt like my stomach muscles or maybe my spleen had been split wide open. And my cheek was on fire.

'Mr McAuley, I f-found out s-something from Gideon Dowd.' I could hardly catch my breath to speak. But silence would kill me for sure, or maybe just sooner. 'Something you n-need to know.' I had to get the words out whilst I still had the chance.

'If it's the identity of the bent cop, I already know. It's been all over the late-night news,' said McAuley. 'You should've been the one to provide that information, Tobey, not a newsreader. You let me down on that score as well. And ignoring my instructions about Rebecca Dowd? Not smart, Tobey. Not smart.'

'I'm s-sorry about Rebecca, sir. I shouldn't have disobeyed you. It won't happen again.'

'That's right,' said McAuley softly. 'It won't.'

'But the information I have is something far more interesting than a bent cop, sir,' I rushed to assure him. I managed to stand upright to face him. Something was trickling down my cheek. I touched my fingers to my face. Blood. His punch had cut my cheek, inside and out. My hands dropped back to my side.

Silence.

'I'm listening,' McAuley said brusquely.

'It's private,' I said, deliberately looking at each of his squad in turn.

'I have no secrets from my men. I'd trust them with my life.'

'Would you really?' I asked carefully.

McAuley might've been a lot of things, but slow wasn't one of them. He glanced at Byron, who shook his head. I wasn't carrying any hardware, so I was no threat. It wasn't luck that had made me leave Dan's gun behind – it was a sense of self-preservation.

'Maybe you should get three of your men to guard the warehouse entrance, just in case?' I suggested. 'One of Dowds' men saw you – what you did to Rebecca. They'll come calling.'

McAuley stood up, his ice-blue, ice-cold eyes burning into me. 'Trevor, take Dave and Scott and go do as he says. And when you're outside, you'd better phone for some reinforcements.'

The three men left the room, albeit reluctantly. That was perfect. I hadn't had to engineer it so Byron was left behind.

'So what is it?' said McAuley.

This was it. The moment of truth, half-truths and downright lies.

'One of your men is working for the Dowds.'

'Bollocks!' McAuley didn't believe it for a second.

I remembered what he'd said about demanding the loyalty of the people who worked for him. He was like Rebecca that way. Loyalty was everything.

'I have proof,' I said.

'It'd better be watertight,' McAuley said silkily, the threat evident in his voice.

'Can you go online with that computer?' I asked, pointing to the one on his desk.

McAuley's eyes narrowed. 'Of course.'

'Ask Byron to log on and show you how much money he's got in his bank account.'

'What the . . . ?' Byron piped up. 'What is this?'

'Byron is working for the Dowds,' I explained. 'The proof is in his bank account. After today he was going to turn tail and run out on you.'

'I don't believe a word of it,' said McAuley.

'Then check his account. If I'm wrong, then you can hand me over to Byron.'

Byron marched over to me. 'I'm going to enjoy breaking your scrawny neck,' he hissed, spraying spit in my face.

I stepped back, wiping my face with the back of my hand.

'Just check, Mr McAuley. Unless of course you want Byron to get away with it.'

'Alex, you don't believe this bullshit, do you?' Byron turned to his boss.

'Of course not,' said McAuley.

My heart nose-dived. I was screwed.

'But it wouldn't hurt to check, would it?' McAuley continued. 'Log onto your bank account, Byron.'

Byron stared at his boss, unable to believe his ears.

'And once you've proved that Durbridge is lying, he's all yours,' McAuley added.

Byron gave me a look I'd never seen before, and if I lived to be two hundred I never want to see again. If Owen had been lying about putting the money into Byron's account, I was deader than a Sunday roast. Byron marched round the desk and started slamming his fingers down on the keys. I moved round the desk to see the computer screen along with him and McAuley.

Byron input the requested three digits from his fourdigit pin code and the requested first, fifth and ninth characters from his password. They all came up as asterisks on the screen so I couldn't hope to learn or guess what his pin code and password might be. Not that it made much difference now. A new screen appeared, showing details of Byron Sweet's current account. It contained six figures, a very healthy six figures. Owen hadn't lied – thank goodness.

Behind Byron, McAuley straightened up.

'T-that can't be right,' Byron spluttered. He clicked on the refresh icon to redisplay the page. The amount of money in his bank account didn't change. He sprang to his feet. 'Alex, I don't know what's going on, but I have no idea how all that money got in my account. I really don't.'

I moved out from behind the desk. If things were about to kick off, I didn't want to get caught up in it.

'That's a lot of money, Byron,' said McAuley quietly.

'It's not mine. You've got to believe me, Alex,' Byron protested. He looked around as if searching for someone to back him up, but there was just him and McAuley – and me. He pointed at me. 'Tobey did it. He must've put it in my account.'

'Where would I get that kind of money from?' I scoffed.

'Boss, I—'

The gun blast made me jump. Byron's hands flew to his throat, but blood squirted out from between his fingers like a fountain. It splashed over McAuley's suit and sprayed his hair. Byron fell backwards like a felled tree. He was dead before he hit the floor. McAuley stared down at him, eyes wild. My mind was screaming. I didn't expect . . . I clamped my lips together so that no sound could spill out of my mouth.

Omigod . . .

McAuley was going to kill me next. I saw it in his eyes as he slowly turned to look at me, his gun still in his hand.

'I'm sorry, Mr McAuley, but I thought you should know,' I said quickly. 'I heard Gideon Dowd talking to one of your men on the phone when I worked at TFTM. Gideon called him by his surname, Sweet. But I only found out earlier today that Byron's surname is Sweet. I'm really sorry, Mr McAuley.'

Trevor, Scott and Dave burst into the room. McAuley was covered in blood, but Byron's body was behind his desk so they couldn't see it from the door. The three men looked me up and down, wondering how I was still standing, wondering where all the blood on their boss had come from. McAuley put his gun down on the desk so he could button up his bloodstained jacket, like he thought that would tidy him up.

'Get rid of the body,' he told them, still buttoning up his jacket.

The three men went round the desk. They stared down at Byron's body, shocked. Two of them bent down to pick him up. I saw it on the desk, my one and only chance. I snatched up McAuley's Glock 23 before any of them could make a move. I hadn't planned on this, but the gun was lying there just asking to be claimed. And I'd rather be at the stock end of it than the barrel end.

'All of you, just stay right there. And keep your hands where I can see them.' The gun was trained on McAuley and his men, who were standing together for the first time since I'd entered the warehouse. From what I could figure out, apart from McAuley and these three, there were just the two security guards at the warehouse entrance. But for how long? McAuley had sent for reinforcements. How long would it take them to get here? I didn't have much time.

We all stood like figures in an oil painting.

Now what?

'One at a time, I want all of you to take out your guns and place them on the table. Dave, you start.'

I watched as Dave withdrew a gun from beneath his jacket.

'You, the one with the red hair. What was your name again? Scott? Your turn.'

He reached round to pull the gun from the waistband at the back of his trousers. I would've thought keeping a gun there was a good way to blow your buttocks off, but what did I know?

Date: 2015-12-18; view: 559