A Killing Moon (37 page)

Tanner’s eyes blazed. ‘Nick’s not a fucking rent boy . . .’

‘I know that,’ said Brook. ‘He didn’t know what he was being asked to do. He’s not competent to give consent . . .’

‘That’s enough.’

‘But he likes money, doesn’t he?’ continued Brook. ‘Money for phones, the latest games. Especially as he lives with a brother who doesn’t provide . . .’

‘Shut up.’

‘Max had money to exchange for sexual favours . . .’

‘I don’t have to listen to this,’ said Tanner, walking to the door of the cell and banging on it. ‘Guard!’

‘Must’ve been frustrating,’ continued Brook. ‘You land a plum job at Bar Polski, a job that will let you take Nick along so you can look after him. No more part-time work. No more scraping along. You’ve landed on your feet. But then a sexual predator like Max sees Nick and starts filling his head with all the stuff he could buy if only he’ll let Max do things to him. Things Nick doesn’t understand. But he does them anyway.’

‘I’m not listening.’

‘And it’s good that he doesn’t understand,’ said Noble. ‘He can’t feel the shame that others might.’

‘But he knew enough not to tell you,’ said Brook. ‘Knew not to flash cash around or you’d want to know where he got it.’

Tanner stared into the distance, his eyes watering.

‘But Nick didn’t have to tell you, did he? Because this has happened before, and you knew.’

‘Only Max was no civil servant,’ said Noble. ‘He was the brother of your employer, and the job you craved started to turn sour. You can’t take Nick to the bar and leave him in the cloakroom with a couple of comics. Not with Max hanging around.’

‘I mean it. Shut up.’

‘And you can’t trust him at home alone,’ said Brook. ‘You’ll worry that Max might be meeting him at the Cream. You’d like to tell the boss, but you can’t be sure of his reaction – you might be out of a job again.’

‘Please . . .’

‘You had to do
something
,’ persisted Brook. ‘You couldn’t let Max prey on your little brother without payback, so you stole his van.’

‘But when you drove it away, you realised there was a body in the back,’ said Noble. ‘It would be starting to smell after two days.’

Tanner shook his head, face tight. ‘I killed her. Okay.’

‘You knew you were in trouble, driving around in the dead of night in a stolen van with a murdered girl in the back – an ex-con, your prints everywhere.’

‘You have to dump the van before you’re caught,’ said Noble.

‘But then you remembered that small lane next to the
Telegraph
building, near the pub where you used to work.’

‘You can torch the van, burn off all the trace and still be home in fifteen minutes.’

Tanner was unmoved. ‘Finished?’

‘You know the real irony here,’ said Brook. ‘If you’d denounced Max’s sexual debauchery to his brother, he would have listened. Ostrowsky fancies himself a religious man. He’s had years cleaning up after his brother, listening to his excuses.’

‘But he’s also a ruthless killer who will do anything to get his way.’

‘And we mean to stop him, Jake.’

‘Good luck with that.’

‘We’re following Ostrowsky’s car right this minute,’ said Noble. ‘Give the word and we pull them over. Nick will be safe.’

Tanner shook his head. ‘I’m not retracting. I got a good deal. I could be out in ten years.’

‘You could be out in ten days if we arrest Ostrowsky,’ said Brook.

‘It would be my word against his.’

‘Not any more,’ said Brook. ‘Ashley’s driving the Mercedes. We take him into protective custody and he testifies about the emergency call.’

Tanner shook his head. ‘You think Ashley will survive until a trial?’

‘We can protect him,’ insisted Brook. ‘Nick too.’

There was silence as Noble and Brook stared at Tanner, breath held, waiting for the word. What happened next surprised both men.

Jake Tanner broke into a huge grin. ‘I couldn’t protect Nick from Max. And you can’t protect Ashley from Ostrowsky. Not for ever. But there’s no need. I changed all that. I made a deal and now Nick’s protected. Christ, he’s untouchable. You saw him in court. He was wearing a suit. Don’t you get it?’ He spoke slowly, spelling it out. ‘Stealing that van was the best thing I’ve ever done, and now Nick is exactly where I want him to be.’

After a moment of silence, Brook stood and gestured Noble to his feet. ‘You were right, Jake. You got a very good deal.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Noble.

‘You’re clever, Brook,’ said Tanner. ‘It was a good try.’

‘I’m far from clever. You and Ostrowsky were ahead of us every step of the way. Was Max your idea or his?’

Tanner hesitated. ‘Max was a pervert. He got justice.’

‘And Kassia?’

‘I’m sorry for Kassia and her family, I really am, but she’s dead and nothing I do or say will bring her back.’

‘Confession in exchange for Max’s life,’ said Brook to Noble. ‘The police stop looking for Kassia’s killer and Max dies in a tragic accident before he drags the family name further into the gutter.’

Tanner allowed himself a little laugh. ‘Oh, it’s so much more than that. Have you read
Of Mice and Men
, Inspector?’

‘Steinbeck,’ said Brook.

‘I studied it at school.’

Brook nodded. ‘You think you and your brother are George and Lennie.’

‘We
were
George and Lennie,’ said Tanner.

‘George tried to protect Lennie, but he couldn’t.’

‘And in the end he has to shoot him to save him from a lynch mob,’ said Tanner. ‘But . . .’

‘You changed the ending,’ said Brook.

‘I had to. I couldn’t save Nick from Max and I knew there’d be others yet to come. So I rewrote the ending, Inspector, courtesy of Mr O. He saw how the story should end before I did; he’s had similar problems with Max, and for a lot longer.’

‘And now Nick has the elder brother he needs and Ostrowsky the protégé he’s always wanted,’ said Brook softly. ‘Someone who’ll look up to him as a role model.’ He was sombre. ‘Just a shame you had to sacrifice your life to achieve it, Jake.’

‘I haven’t sacrificed my life, Brook. I didn’t have one. Because of Nick, I couldn’t work, couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. He depended on me eighteen hours a day, seven days a week. Always bored. Always hungry.

‘I was nine when Nick was born,’ he continued. ‘It’s been twenty years – the length of my sentence. There’s your fucking irony. I’d get home from school and spend every second looking after him while my mother drank and whored her way round Derby. And when school finished, that became a full-time job – the only one I’ve ever had. I wanted to go to college but I couldn’t. I had dreams . . .’

‘The best-laid plans of mice and men?’

‘You said it,’ nodded Tanner. ‘I loved that book until I left school and realised I was living it – except nobody was going to put a bullet in Nick’s head and set me free. But when I smacked that faggot and got sent down . . . Jesus, what a revelation. I didn’t know such freedom was possible in prison. You getting the irony yet?’

‘You won’t be gardening in Sudbury Open, Jake.’

‘And I won’t be woken up by Nick whining for baked beans or a mobile phone or a PS
2
every single day
, yet not be free to earn the money to pay for them. A life spent babysitting. Can’t go out, can’t face staying in. No girlfriend, no wife, no family of my own. For once, just once, this is all about me. I’ve found peace.’

The Serco van driver reappeared with the court officer.

Brook found it hard to break away until roused with a nudge. ‘We’re done here,’ said Noble, reaching for his phone. ‘I’m calling Morton off. Let’s go.’

Brook sat in front of the chessboard when he got home to Hartington. He wrote down his latest move on a scrap of paper, followed by
Mate in four moves
, and sealed it in an envelope before writing the prison’s address.

After stamping the envelope, he withdrew the two business cards he’d received separately earlier in the day, looking at first one, then the other, before picking up his phone.

Game over
.

Thirty-Six

Noble took a pull on his third bottle of Zywiec and looked around the elegant restaurant on the upper floor of Bar Polski. ‘They’ve done a good job.’

Brook took a sip of his water. ‘How was the food?’

‘Good,’ said Noble. ‘You should have eaten.’

‘It wouldn’t feel right, accepting Ostrowsky’s hospitality.’

‘Then why are we here? This was your idea.’

Brook stood briefly when Banach returned from the toilets with Laurie and Caitlin. ‘Any more drinks, anyone?’

‘No thanks,’ said Caitlin. Her voice was scratchy and strained. ‘I’ve had a lovely time, though.’ She looked at Laurie.

‘We ought to be going,’ said Laurie. ‘Caitlin’s not supposed to overdo it.’

‘We understand,’ said Banach, glancing again at Caitlin’s healing throat. ‘It’s looking so much better.’

‘Thank you, Angie.’

Laurie dipped a hand into her bag. ‘What do we owe . . . ?’

‘Don’t you dare,’ said Brook with a gravity that stayed her hand at once.

‘But after all you’ve done,’ she implored. Brook wouldn’t have it, so the two girls shook hands with Brook and Noble, then Caitlin hugged Banach before putting a hand on her bump.

‘How long?’ she croaked.

‘Four months.’ Banach and Caitlin shared a bittersweet smile before the two students headed down the stairs.

‘Good to see Caitlin looking so well,’ said Banach. ‘Laurie said she’s much quieter than she used to be. Scared of her own shadow almost.’

‘These things take time,’ said Brook, with no great confidence.

Banach drained her sparkling water. ‘Well, I’m on early turn tomorrow.’

‘Can you drop John off?’ said Brook, gesturing at the waitress for the bill. ‘I want to finish my water.’

Noble drained his beer glass. ‘You drag us along here, you don’t eat or drink and now you can’t tear yourself away. What are you up to?’

Brook raised his arms in a gesture of innocence. Banach and Noble said their goodbyes and left, Noble fixing him with a suspicious eye all the way to the stairs.

Brook did a quick calculation, counted out ten twenties and put them on the table, then pushed through the double doors to the back stairs of Bar Polski. In the basement, the huge Tymon stood impassively in front of another door. Brook approached, flashing his warrant card, but Tymon was unmoved.

‘
Huj w dupe policji
,’ he said.

‘No, screw you, you big ape,’ said Brook, smiling politely and moving to pass. Tymon slung an arm across his path and said something else in Polish. Brook grabbed the bodyguard’s arm. A second later, his back hit the opposite wall, winding him. He recovered quickly and strode purposefully back to the office door.

‘You already put two of my officers in hospital,’ he said, not even sure he was understood. ‘If you make it three, I’ll make sure you go to prison.’

Tymon smiled and flexed his neck. As soon as Brook was in range, he raised an arm to swat him again.

‘Tymon!’ Ostrowsky stood at the open door. He barked out more orders and Tymon stared spitefully at Brook before climbing the stairs towards the bar. ‘Inspector, come in.’

Brook entered the office. Apart from a small pool of light from a desk lamp, the room was unlit.

‘Forgive Tymon, Inspector. His zeal is sometimes excessive. Sit.’ Ostrowsky returned to his desk, his white shirt open, silver crucifix hanging round his tanned throat. ‘Have you come to complain about the food?’

‘I’m told the food was good.’

‘You didn’t eat?’

‘I wasn’t hungry,’ said Brook. ‘It’s dark in here.’

‘I like the
tenebrae
,’ said Ostrowsky. Brook raised an eyebrow. ‘Forgive me. It is Latin; it means—’

‘Shadows,’ said Brook. ‘The Tenebrae is a Catholic service in which candles are extinguished one by one until no light remains. The last candle is hidden, and, after a hymnal is slammed shut, retrieved. It represents the light of Christ returning to the world.’

Ostrowsky smiled. ‘My sources told me you were Catholic. I’m impressed.’

‘Don’t be,’ said Brook. ‘I’m as conflicted as poor dead Kassia.’

Ostrowsky’s expression of amused curiosity hardened into something more dangerous for a second. ‘Thanks to you, her killer is now in prison.’

‘We both know that’s not true,’ said Brook quietly. ‘Jake doesn’t have it in him. Poor as I’ve been on this case, that much I saw right away. I then thought Max had killed her and you were covering for him. When I finally got my head out of the sand and worked out what you were doing, it was too late. You were the father of Kassia’s child.’

‘You think
I
killed this girl?’ exclaimed Ostrowsky. ‘Your accusation pains me . . .’

‘You’ll get over it.’

‘The Lord said
Thou shalt not kill
.’

‘Then to my knowledge that’s three times you’ve angered your God,’ said Brook.

Ostrowsky lit a cigarette, appraising Brook. ‘You can prove I am the father?’

‘For what it’s worth. It gets me no closer to arresting you.’

Ostrowsky placed his cigarette in the ashtray, blue-brown poison swaying lazily in the triangle of light. He fixed his cold eyes on Brook. ‘Three times?’

‘Kassia and her child,’ said Brook. ‘Your brother makes three.’

‘Max’s death was an accident.’

‘No more games,’ said Brook. ‘Jake told me about your arrangement. And I know all about Max’s habits. Drink, prostitutes . . .’ He paused for effect. ‘Boys.’ He watched the lineaments of Ostrowsky’s face tighten in instinctive revulsion. ‘
There is no greater sin than when a man lies with a man as with a woman; they shall both be put to death
.’

‘Leviticus,’ nodded Ostrowsky.

‘You knew?’

‘I offered Nick money to pay for a cab. He asked for a cushion. He thought I wanted . . .’ Ostrowsky took a final drag of his cigarette, stubbed it out and pulled a bottle of vodka and a shot glass from a drawer. He waggled the bottle at Brook, who shook his head, then poured himself a drink, downing it in one before refilling. ‘Nick told me everything and I was determined . . . to get Max the help he needed. That’s why he was on his way back to Poland when God intervened.’

Brook smiled. ‘How? By inventing vodka?’

Ostrowsky’s blue eyes hardened. ‘What is your purpose here, Inspector?’

Brook took out the recorder and played the emergency call. ‘You recognise Ashley Devonshire’s voice,’ he said when it finished.

‘No.’

‘Yes, you do.’

‘I recognise that it’s not my voice.’

‘Nevertheless the call was placed on your instruction – to bring Max’s van to our attention. It’s the evidence that puts you away for murder.’

‘The recording proves nothing on its own.’ Ostrowsky seemed amused, confident.

‘But with Ashley’s testimony it does.’

‘Then I will try to locate him for you so I may clear my name,’ said Ostrowsky. ‘Unfortunately he left my employ yesterday.’

‘He can’t stay hidden forever,’ said Brook. ‘And when we find him, you’re finished.’

Ostrowsky poured a glass of vodka, threw his jacket on the floor and slumped on to the plush sofa to kick off his Italian shoes. He stared through the window towards the dark garden of his palatial home stretching into the distance.

Tymon appeared from a side room. ‘You want some food, boss?’ he asked in Polish, finishing a mouthful of his own.

‘No. Fetch them.’

Ostrowsky had downed most of the vodka when Nick and Ashley appeared and sat together on another sofa. ‘Nicholas, how was your day?’

‘Wicked, Uncle Greg,’ said Nick. ‘Been playing AC
4
Black Flag with Ashley and I’m up to—’

‘What about your studies?’

Nick took a deep breath. ‘I wrote a story this morning. And after lunch I learned about different chemicals.’

‘Tell me one thing you learned about chemicals, Nicholas.’

Nick concentrated hard. ‘Well, did you know that water contains one oxygen . . .’

‘Atom,’ prompted Ashley.

‘Atom,’ repeated Nick. ‘And two atoms of hydrogen.’

‘I did know that,’ said Ostrowsky.

Nick grinned. ‘Thing is, if water contains oxygen, why can’t we breathe at the bottom of the swimming pool?’

‘A good question, Nicholas. You start to think with logic.’ Ostrowsky looked at his watch. ‘It’s late.’ Nick leapt from the sofa. ‘Wait, I forgot to tell you. I have to go to Poland tomorrow night, on urgent business.’

‘Poland?’

‘My home country,’ said Ostrowsky. ‘Would you like to stay here and study or would you like to come with me? We’ll be sailing overnight across the sea to Amsterdam. If you want to come, I can book cabins, otherwise Tymon and I will snooze in chairs.’

‘The sea?’ said Nick. ‘I’ve never seen the sea.’

‘You’ve never seen the sea?’ smiled Ostrowsky. ‘Then you shall see it tomorrow.’

‘Can Ashley come?’

‘Well maybe Ashley has other plans, Nicholas. We shouldn’t presume he wants to spend all his time with you.’

‘Will you come, Ashley?’ pleaded Nick. ‘Will you?’

‘Never been to Poland,’ said Ashley sheepishly. ‘Sounds great.’

‘You’re sure?’ said Ostrowsky. ‘Then I shall book two outside cabins and you can look at the sea until you fall asleep.’ Nick clenched a fist in triumph. ‘On condition you get a good night’s sleep. Then it won’t matter if you stay awake tomorrow.’

Ashley and Nick set off for their rooms and Ostrowsky drained his drink.

‘Business, boss?’

Ostrowsky’s steel-blue eyes burned fiercely into Ashley’s back. He turned his gaze on his loyal bodyguard until Tymon nodded his understanding.

‘He’s asleep,’ said Ashley.

Ostrowsky smiled. ‘It’s all the excitement. He will see the sea on the return journey.’ He gestured at Tymon, waiting in the narrow corridor. ‘Ashley, can you help Tymon bring something back from the car? It was too heavy for me.’

‘Sure, Mr O.’ Ashley closed the cabin door behind him.

‘This way,’ said Tymon.

The pair emerged from the well-lit walkway into the wide-open spaces of the main boutique and bar area. At two in the morning, few people were around, and those that were were slumped in their seats trying to sleep. Tymon pressed the button for the lift, and on entering hit the Deck Nine button.

‘That’s not the car deck,’ said Ashley.

‘Sorry.’ Tymon fired an imaginary gun at his own forehead before pressing the car deck button. ‘
Idiota
.’

The doors opened on Deck Nine at the top of the ship and Tymon put a hand to his mouth. ‘Seasick.’ He stepped out and scuttled for the external door into the cool cloudy night, running across to the rail to lean over.

‘Seasick?’ gloated Ashley, looking out over the North Sea stretching flat as a mirror, then back at Tymon’s huge bulk. ‘It’s like a sodding millpond.’

The burly figure pushed himself back to his full height and turned to Ashley with a malicious gleam in his eye. ‘You right. I better.’ He grinned. ‘But you not look so good.’

Ashley pulled a face. ‘Yeah, whatever, mate. Come on. Let’s get a shift on.’

Tymon’s hand was on Ashley’s throat in a split second, belying his cumbersome frame. As the big Pole walked the lightly built young man back to the rail, he moaned and gasped for breath, his tongue protruding and his eyes beginning to bulge.

At the rail, Tymon loosened his grip, but before Ashley could get his breath, he swung his forearm sharply across the younger man’s cheek. Ashley crumpled like a cheap umbrella, held upright only by Tymon’s pudgy hand wedging him against the handrail.

Tymon took a precautionary look round, then hoisted the unconscious figure above the height of the safety rail.

‘Goodbye, Ashley.’

Tymon’s smile warped at a strange pain in his spine, and he turned to see a tall, powerful man at his back. A second later, Ashley crashed to the deck as the big man’s arms and legs gave way and he slumped forward, his fat head now jammed against the handrail. Paralysed, he was powerless to resist as the man, dressed head to toe in black, wrenched the knuckle knife around ninety degrees before withdrawing it from his spinal column. If Tymon could have controlled his vocal cords at that moment, he would have screamed in agony.

The assailant dragged Ashley’s unconscious body to the safety of the vibrating bulkhead, returning to haul Tymon’s unresponsive carcass up the rail. He lifted the big man, not without difficulty, and held him against the barrier, feeling him beginning to spasm.

‘You carry too much weight, my friend,’ he grunted in Polish, as he forced Tymon’s upper torso over the chest-high metal. He bent to the ankles, lifted them up and flipped Tymon over the side. ‘May I suggest a fish diet?’

A soft knock on the door signalled job done. Ostrowsky unscrewed the cap on a fresh bottle of vodka. ‘Come and have a drink, old friend,’ he said as he poured two large measures. He looked up to see a tall man dressed in black trousers, gloves, sweater, shoes and woollen hat pointing a gun at him. He paused briefly before resealing the bottle. ‘You’re just in time.’

The man in black pulled off his hat and screwed a silencer on to the end of the gun barrel before sitting on the bunk opposite Ostrowsky, out of arm’s reach.

‘Drink?’ said Ostrowsky. The man in black shook his head. ‘Mind if I finish mine?’ Again a head shake. For obvious reasons, Ostrowsky took a more conservative sip than usual and studied his uninvited guest. ‘I know you,’ he said, breaking into a smile of recognition. ‘The photograph she kept by her bed. Special forces, right? Major . . .’

‘
Colonel
Marius Proch,’ said the man in the interests of clarity.

‘Colonel,’ repeated Ostrowsky. ‘She was very proud of you.’

‘And I of her.’

Ostrowsky wagged an admonishing finger. ‘I made her promise not to mention me to her parents.’

Proch smiled. ‘Kassia was a good girl. She kept her promise.’

Ostrowsky puzzled over this for a second before arriving at a solution. ‘Brook.’

Proch didn’t confirm or deny. ‘Drink your vodka.’

Ostrowsky drained his glass before placing it on the floor. He straightened his tie. ‘Would you allow me to pray first?’