A Need To Kill (DI Matt Barnes) (15 page)

“I don’t like it, Matt,” Tom said after Clive had left.

“
What in particular don’t you like?”

“
That if this extortionist is also the killer, we might only get one crack at him.  He might be smart enough to give Villiers the run-around.  If he gets him to go on the tube at rush hour, it’ll be a nightmare trying to keep him in sight.”

“
Okay, then let’s use GPS.  But not on the money, on Villiers.  If we can stay with him, then we’ll be there for the drop.  We need to get it jacked-up before tomorrow, so that from the second Villiers comes out of the bank his movements can be monitored every step of the way.”

“
It’s risky.  Adams might be right in suggesting we put the logger in with the money.”

“
The killer will expect something like that.  He won’t trust Villiers.  If he has half a brain, he’ll check the cash and switch it to another bag, and if he found the device, he could use it to lead us on a goose chase.”

Tom ran fingers through his thinning, sandy hair
, gave it some thought and then said, “Arrange it.”

Matt
was back home by one a.m.  He checked his new answer phone, which he had only installed the month before at Beth’s insistence.  The red light was blinking.  He replayed the call: ‘Hi, Matt.  I’ll be back home tomorrow morning.  The flight is due in at six-fifty.  I won’t expect you to be there, but I’ll give you a bell when I land.  Love you’.

He let the good feeling percolate.  He needed to hold her in his arms, hear her silky voice, and bathe in her engaging smile.  The break had reinforced his conviction that Beth was now a part of his life that he could not envisage being without.  Memories of their short time together
crowded in.  He seemed to be able to recall every second with perfect clarity.  She was the most important thing in his personal universe.  And yet he had excluded her from knowing too much.  Had closed doors behind him on rooms that held too much pain to revisit.  He now wanted to rid himself of the burden; to share his load with Beth.  Circling thoughts took him back through one door, to experience a vivid flashback and a rush of emotion-packed memories.  He was nineteen and believed that he was madly in love with Judith Tate.  They had attended the same school, and Judith had been his childhood sweetheart.  Hers were the first breasts he had cupped in his hands on the back row of the local cinema.  She had let him make his first clumsy attempt at lovemaking with her in the back of an ancient Morris estate; not laughing as he struggled to roll a Durex onto his turgid member.  They might have still been together, or grown apart as they matured.  He would never know.  It was his mother who tearfully broke the shock news to him on a bright and sun-kissed Sunday morning.  Judith had been rushed to hospital with an intestinal blockage, suffered a massive heart attack while anaesthetised and being operated on, and not survived.  It was too much to bear.  But the mind is a powerful tool. He did not attend the funeral, and held on to the last kiss and embrace they had shared on the doorstep of her parents’ house; half deceived himself that she was visiting family in Australia, and that she would return.  The part of him that was damaged had retreated, to be beaten back and repressed.  Life went on around him like a strong wind, buffeting him as he wandered through it, apart from it.  But the vitality of youth would not be denied.  Life
does
go on, and he finally adapted, accepted, and moved forward.

Matt sighed,
withdrew from the cold ethereal sepulchre in his mind and locked the door again.  You had to know how to block things out.  Jesus!  There was so much pain and torment.  Was he, even now, trying to put things to rights by fighting back against wrongdoers, even though he knew that it would never return anything to how it had been?  Some undeniable force drove him to avenge the victims of brutality.  Why did he need to be a part of that which was so unwholesome and negative?  Was it a form of penance?  Life was a bitch, and grinding it out by inflicting himself with solemn self-flagellation was not enough.  He could not dismiss all the bad shit in his past by shunning the opportunity to open another door and let the room behind it be filled with happiness.  Beth was his chance to salvage something from the rubble and rebuild.  He’d made a lot of mistakes in his life, but determined that he would do whatever it took to ensure that he did not lose Beth.

He drove up the winding ramp, found a space on the first floor, parked and took the stairs down. Crossed the road, which was almost bumper-to-bumper with cabs and private hire vehicles. Entered the terminal building and looked up at a monitor showing arrivals. Her flight had landed on time.  He waited at the roped-off avenue that was lined four deep with expectant friends and relations of soon to appear passengers.  He could not fail to notice the high-profile uniformed police officers who all carried submachine guns close to their Kevlar-protected chests, and had holstered pistols at their hips.  A way of life had disappeared forever since nine-eleven and the subsequent atrocities as the fight against terrorism continued.

He almost missed her.  She was wearing a quilted jacket over baggy track bottoms, and her hair was tied back in a ponytail.  He stepped out alongside her.

“Carry your case, love?” He said.

She grinned. 
“It’s on wheels.  You can pull it if you want.  But I’ll need to see your ID first.  I don’t think that you are a real porter.”

Beth
let go of the case, put her arms around his neck and kissed him as if he was going off to war.  It was more than a kiss.  It was a physical proclamation of how much she had missed, and how deeply she loved him.  He thought he would melt under the welcome onslaught.  They were holding each other in an embrace that would have taken a crowbar to tear apart.

“
Missed me, huh?” Matt said when they finally broke the clinch.  “And don’t say, yeah, like toothache.”

“
Yeah, like toothache,” she said.  “What brings you out to Heathrow?  I thought you would be up to your ears in the case.”

“
I cut myself some slack.  I’ve got time to take you home and grab a coffee.  Then I’ll rush back to the fray.”

He made good time to Roehampton.  They talked about
New York and favourite places, and Beth couldn’t keep her hand off his thigh.  On the way up to her top-floor apartment, she wanted to make-out in the moving lift.  They somehow held off until they got inside the flat.  Without any hesitation, they headed for the bedroom, to undress each other and couple without any preamble.  It was an urgent, almost aggressive act; a need to be joined in intimacy after not only being apart, but having had doubt mess with their heads, if only fleetingly.

There was no hot water, and a cold shower in March was a less than attractive proposition.  Beth switched the central heating boiler on and made coffee while
Matt made a phone call.

“
Everything in place, Pete?”

“
Yeah, boss.  Errol is in the boot of Villiers BMW, complete with a water bottle, one of those thin camp bed mattresses and a pillow.  The panel between the boot and back seat has been loosened, so he won’t run out of air.  I told him not to get too comfortable and fall asleep.”

“
Where is Villiers, now?”

“
At his office.  He’s due to pick up the cash from the bank in an hour.  We have the GPS Logger taped to Villiers back.  He wasn’t a happy camper.  You’d think after what we’ve seen him doing on film, taking his shirt off would be no big deal.”

“
Who do we have with the scanner, to keep with Villiers?”

“
Kenny. He has a hand-held scanner that looks like an oversized mobile phone.  He calls it a Palm Pilot.  It has a tracking screen.”

Matt
was happy that Kenny was on loan from Computer Crime Section.  He was a real asset. They had worked together on a number of occasions, and when it came to anything to do with modern technology, the guy was a wizard.

“
I’m on my way in,” Matt said.  “Call me if anything comes up.”

“
Will I see you tonight?” Beth asked as he pocketed his phone.

“
I doubt it.  We have a rare bird to net.  A serial killer-come-wannabe-extortionist. When he comes to the money, we’ll take him down.”

“
Have you got time to run it past me?”

Matt
summarised what the killer had done to Marsha Freeman and Kelly Lindon, and the likelihood that the burned corpse of a Jane Doe was also his work.  He told Beth about Marsha’s known intent to blackmail punters, of the address book and missing pages, and of the more comprehensive details on flash drives, and the video record of her exploits with the rich, powerful and famous.

“
All we have is an impression of an embossed ring in the flesh of Marsha and Kelly. We haven’t come across anyone that knew her who wears a ring that would match.  We’re looking for a repeater who kills prostitutes with red hair, or a client who was being blackmailed and came up with this elaborate plan to throw us off his scent.”

“
Which side of the fence are you leaning towards?” Beth said.

“
I think we have a psychopath out there who has an agenda, and had never clapped eyes on his victims until he selected them for what they did and how they looked.  There’s every chance that it’s the same guy who is bracing Villiers.  Greed might lead to him being lifted a lot sooner than we could have hoped to find him.”

“
You want to give me copies of everything?”

“
Yeah, Beth.  But I don’t want you officially involved.  Whatever you come up with will be for me, and you stay anonymous.  Deal?”

“
It’s a deal if you don’t get to be a pen pal or start goading this one, Matt.  I want you to promise me to keep him at arm’s length.  No repeats of what we know can happen when you decide to get too personal with these flakes.”

“
Is flake another of those specialist handles that you professional head doctors use to confuse us laymen?”

“
Yes.  And don’t try to evade the issue.”

“
I’m not.  I have no intention of ever getting that close to one of these...flakes again.  I can promise you that I will not knowingly put myself up as a target.”

“
Good.  And remember, if this is one and the same person who is mixing and matching murder and blackmail, then he will not do what you expect him to.  He may be suffering from a severe personality disorder.  Take it as a given that he will be paranoid and extremely cunning.  I doubt that he will go to the money.”

“
Are you saying he doesn’t want the pay-off?”

“
No.  I’m saying that he won’t meet Villiers to collect it.  And if he does, then he will kill him.  It might be more about the power he holds over the man, rather than his money.”

“
I’ll bear all that in mind,” Matt said, slipping his jacket on, then holding Beth for awhile.  “I’m glad you’re back, Beth.  I missed you like hell.”

Nigel entered the bank and was ushered into the manager’s office.

He unfolded the blue nylon holdall and placed the banded wads of money into it, as the manager
, Charles Sanford, watched nervously, unaware of the reason for this highly unusual cash withdrawal being made by the MP, who was pale, tight-lipped and sweating profusely.

“
Are you all right, Nigel?” Charles said.

“
Fine.  Fine, Charles.  Let’s just be sure to keep this episode between us.  Right?”

“
I do not discuss customers’ transactions with anyone,” Charles replied sharply with a trace of pique to his voice.

As Nigel zipped-up the bag, the phone on the desk rang.  Charles answered it and frowned. 
“It’s for you, Nigel,” he said, holding the receiver out for Nigel to take.

“
Yes,” Nigel said into it.

“
You got the money, Nige?”

“
Yes.”

“
Sweet.  But I want you to know that I don’t trust you.  I’m working on the premise that you have contacted the police, that you are probably wired, and that calls to and from your mobile are being monitored.  So take the money home and think it over, Nige. I’m trying to save you a lot of unnecessary grief.  The new rules are, that if you set me up, it will be you who pays the piper, not your family.  I got to thinking that a selfish pig like you, who plays away from home, might not give a shit about his family if push comes to shove.  So I’m going to let you stew for a day or two, maybe longer.  Give you time to rethink your game plan and do this properly.  Bear in mind that I am far from stupid. I won’t be trapped by any of the methods that I know the police can employ.  If you want to survive this, then you had better believe that looking out for my interests is the only way to ensure your own.”

“
But―”

“
No buts, Nige.  Take the money with you wherever you go.  I’ll be in touch.”