Cold Killers (41 page)

Marco didn’t choose to understand what Harold was saying.

‘Bring Della to me. I need to talk with her.’

‘That’s not possible. She can’t come. We are looking after her from now on. Every move she makes we can see it.’

Harold sent a text to Tony. He wanted to Skype. Harold picked up his glass and walked across nearer to the webcam on top of the television monitor.

‘Where is everyone? What is happening with the deal?’ Tony screeched. Harold turned the volume down.

‘Tony, did you order Marco to kill Eddie?’

‘Absolutely not. One of the death squad did it.’

‘Not Marco?’

‘How do I know? What’s got into you, Harold? You’ve been thinking too much, you know that’s not your forte.’

‘But did you order it? Did Eddie find out about Manson’s sideline? Was that the problem, Tony? Did he say he wasn’t going to allow it to happen and just as this new big
shipment was coming in?’

‘What are you saying all this for, Harold?’

‘Because I am feeling pretty sure that Marco is out of control, and now he’s got Della.’

‘What? Why? How did you allow it?’

‘He has her and Laurence, apparently.’

‘Laurence is being held by Marco?’

‘How do I know? I get home here, I look for Della and get told Della is being held somewhere by Marco and I can hear she’s being tortured. I’ve seen the results of
Marco’s handiwork. There will be nothing left of her by the morning. The deal will be off. No diamonds, no Della, no deal.’

‘Well stop him, for Christ’s sake, you idiot.’

‘Me, an idiot? You wound him up, Tony, now you have to watch him go. He’s going to bring this whole thing crashing down around our heads. There will be no deal because he’ll
kill Della and there will be none of us left by the end of it.’

‘No. I won’t stand for it! Are you hearing me, Harold?’

‘Really? Then you deal with it. Who was next on his list, Tony? Mum? Me? Della says she needs you over here. She needs help finding the diamonds.’

‘I can’t come, you know that.’

‘You could if you wanted. Is it worth it, Tony? You decide.’

Harold terminated the call.

Carter checked his phone. He was just finishing up when he got a text from Della: ‘Don’t bother with a takeaway, come asap. I’m cooking.’

Carter drove to the Holloway flat and parked up. He was feeling more sane since he spoke with Cabrina and Archie earlier that evening. He was back to normality. He heard all
the things Archie had got up to. He heard the love in Cabrina’s voice and he felt calm. Now he was back in work mode and Della was part of that. He wasn’t going to let her be any more
than that or any less. He pressed the entry button and he was buzzed up and took the stairs two at a time. He had a problem with lifts. It was a touch of claustrophobia that he didn’t admit
to; plus, he hated waiting for them, it seemed lazy – it made more sense to run up the stairs. The flat door was ajar when he reached it. He heard the sound of music. He heard someone in the
kitchen. He couldn’t smell anything cooking but there was definitely a smell of aftershave and sweat.

Carter crept silently across to the French windows; he picked up an orange from the bowl on the dining table, and walked around level with the kitchen wall and rolled it towards the front
door.

Marco stepped out, gun drawn. Carter barged forward, pushing Marco back and then crashing from the wall onto the floor. For a few minutes they fought on the floor. Marco’s gun was knocked
across the room. Carter thought he was doing really well. He had a chance. He was beating the bigger man, until Laurence stepped up behind and pushed a gun into his back.

‘First shot will sever your spinal cord. Ready to smell your own shit?’

Carter rolled away.

‘Stand up,’ ordered Laurence. Carter did as he was told. He checked Carter’s pockets, took out his keys. ‘Phone?’ Carter shook his head. He had left it in the
car.

Marco got to his feet and picked up his gun. He stepped across and punched Carter in the face with it. Carter’s nose cracked at the bridge and a cut opened up between his eyes.

‘Where are the diamonds?’ Marco said into Carter’s face. Blood started to drip.

Carter shook his head.

‘Move.’ They pushed him out of the flat and down the back stairs towards the car park.

Marco tied him up in the back seat of Laurence’s car and pushed him so that he lay flat, then Laurence drove for twenty minutes until Carter felt the wheels drive over
cobbles and come to a stop. Marco got out and opened what sounded like a door. Carter raised his head to see the pub sign ‘The Albert’, and the back door was opened. Marco pulled Carter
forward along the seat and dragged him out onto his knees and then pushed him head first though the trapdoor in the pavement. Carter’s head hit the concrete below and he passed out.

‘Do you know how it is done?’

He heard the voice of a man coming to him from the middle of a dream full of pain and struggle, a dream where you can’t move, where you fight to free yourself from something that’s
twisted around your body and the pain just keeps increasing.

Carter’s hands were tied behind his back. The blood in his eyes blurred his vision. He tried to open them but he couldn’t. He heard the man talking. He knew he was talking to him; he
was sure he recognised the voice; but he couldn’t quite get to consciousness out of the pain dream to make sense of it.

What was it the man was asking him? Carter managed to open one eye; the other was stuck fast with blood. He tried to see through the blur. His head was ringing with echoes. He saw shadows
moving. He heard a woman’s screams.

‘Do you know how it is done?’ The man repeated the question. Carter heard it that time and fought hard to open both eyes.

‘Many people believe the right way is to slit across horizontally before dragging the tongue through, but this is not correct.’ Carter began to focus. Now he could see the man was
Marco. Marco was standing behind a chair, tilting it back, and he had a knife to the base of a woman’s throat. It was Della.

‘
No!
’ Carter screamed into his gag.

‘Here, this is where you begin your cut, at the base of the throat, insert here and then cut upwards.’ He turned the knife over and pressed the point into her throat. His eyes stayed
on Carter. Marco paused and looked up. ‘Say goodbye to your colleague, Inspector Carter.’

‘Enough,’ said Laurence. ‘There’ll be plenty of time for that later. Hang him up.’

Marco hoisted Carter up on to a hook on the cellar wall. He felt pain as his shoulders twisted back and pulled upwards.

‘What are these for?’ Laurence jangled the keys from the self-storage in Carter’s face. This set is for home, isn’t it?’ Laurence held another set with
Carter’s car key attached. ‘This is a set of keys for a lockup somewhere, isn’t it?’

‘Allotment.’ Carter was thankful that Cabrina and Archie weren’t at home. He shook his head to try to stay conscious. He looked around the small cellar. There were a few empty
kegs on their sides. There were smashed bottles swept to one end. A strip light dangled from the ceiling. Marco was watching him. Another man was in the shadows.

Carter looked across at Della. Her head hung down.

‘Hope your allotment is big enough to bury two bodies,’ said Laurence. ‘You’re going to watch Della die unless you tell us where the diamonds are.’

‘I don’t know anything about any diamonds.’

Laurence had a new message on his phone.

‘We need to get Tony,’ he said. ‘His plane lands at two. It will take a good hour to get there. Leave Jo here to guard. We’ll pick up Harold on the way.’

Marco addressed the other man in the room in Spanish. Carter understood some of it. His name was Jo and he had the job of guarding them while the others were gone. After Marco and Laurence had
gone Jo walked around the cellar, he nudged the broken bottles with his foot and he sighed a lot. After an hour or so he came to stand in front of Carter and stare at him. Jo was chain-smoking
cigarettes. Carter lifted his head and nodded towards the cigarette. He thought he might even try out his Spanish if he could get Jo to remove the gag.

‘Your girlfriend?’ Jo gestured towards Della. Jo’s voice was thick with a Colombian accent.

Carter shook his head and said something into the gag.

‘You relax.’ Jo went around to the front of Della and stood looking at her. His eyes flicked up towards Carter. ‘No girlfriend?’

Carter didn’t respond. He saw Della lift her head and he saw her shoulders stiffen.

‘Pretty woman,’ he said, unzipping his fly. ‘Pretty mouth.’

Harold was halfway through the bottle of Scotch when Marco came back in with Laurence.

‘Where is she?’

‘Who?’

‘Don’t fuck with me, Laurence, or you’ll regret it. What do you think you’re doing? Where’s Della?’ Marco was watching Laurence to see how he was handling
it.

‘What I’m doing is stepping up to the family plate. I reckon with a lot better management I can do it better.’

Marco smiled. ‘Exactly.’

‘Where’s Della?’ repeated Harold. ‘Where are the diamonds?’

‘Ah, we hit a slight snag. It turns out that Della has an old boyfriend back on the scene and we think he’s been helping her. They intended to disappear with the diamonds.’

‘Who is he?’

‘Detective Inspector Dan Carter’ – Marco laughed, as he exaggerated Carter’s title – ‘is going to be talking by the morning when his shoulders will be hanging
by only skin.’

His face was grey, thin-lipped. Harold swung his head back and forth, dumbfounded.

‘What do you think this is, a fucking game? The policeman will bring every copper down here looking for him.’

‘We’ll be done and dusted by then. One of them will talk. Della’s not proving as strong as we had thought. She won’t take much more. Marco has had a small accident with a
blowtorch.’ Laurence laughed.

‘You fucking sick bastard.’ Harold got up and went to lunge at Marco but stumbled.

‘Drunk, Harold?’ said Laurence. ‘That makes a change, doesn’t it?’

‘Maybe she actually doesn’t have all of the stones yet. Did you even consider that?’ said Harold.

‘She has to. She’s had long enough. She’s lying to us. Anyway, it doesn’t matter: Tony is on his way now, he will sort it. We’re going to pick him up. You
coming?’

‘No. Tell me where Della is and I’ll meet you there.’

‘No, because you know what, Harold? I don’t think I trust you any more. I don’t think Tony does, either. You know what he said to me the other day? Harold can disappear when
this is done.’

‘He said retire,’ corrected Marco, laughing.

‘Yeah, and we all know what he meant.’

‘You going to be the one to do it, Laurie? You’re Mister Little Big Man all of a sudden? You think you’re clever, you think you’re the new boy on the block, but you
don’t know who you’re dealing with. You’re wet behind the ears. You better learn respect.’ Harold took a few steps towards Laurence and his eyes shifted to see Marco
hovering.

‘Were going.’ Laurence turned and walked back towards the stairs. We’ll phone you later when we’ve got Tony. Try not to drink yourself stupid by then.’

Carter’s rage settled in his gut as he stared at Jo for two hours and tried not to think of the pain, just of revenge. It helped him stay conscious.

He looked across at Della. He was worried about her. If anyone tried to touch her again he would firstly tell them where the diamonds were and secondly kill them very slowly. His mind went back
to Cabrina and Archie. He hoped that, if he didn’t make it through this, Archie would remember him and know how much he loved him.

19 December

Willis was in Fletcher House early. It was just after six a.m. when she got to her desk. She had spent most of the night going through all the details of Melvin’s death
and something was still bugging her about the photos. She still hadn’t heard back from Janice of East End Lives. She would spend the morning walking Melvin’s route, the way Carter had
done, in the hope of finding something to explain the motives behind Melvin’s murder. Lev could tell her more, she was sure. He’d have had a few days to think about it now.

She called Carter and got no reply. She got to her desk in the inquiry team office and checked her emails: some forensic results were back from the crime scene at Melvin’s. There was a
match for Marco’s DNA, that Della had provided. There was also a cross-reference to the Eddie Butcher murder, a blond hair that belonged to Marco Zapata was found on both bodies. She spent an
hour studying the photos from Melvin’s tour again. She kept going back to the photos of the old pub by the church.

She went down the corridor to talk to Robbo. He was always at his desk by seven thirty. On the way she got a call. Willis looked at the number and didn’t recognise it, almost didn’t
take it, but accepted on the last ring.

‘Ebony?’

‘Yes?’

‘It’s me, David Ross.’

She stopped in her tracks.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes. Sorry about having to leave you like that. I just knew I had to stay. We found Francisco’s body. There’s nothing to pin it on the Butchers yet.’

‘What about his daughter?’

‘She was found alive. Someone left her at the police station, the day after you left, but they kept it quiet. She’s been in hospital all this time.’

‘Do they know who brought her in?’ asked Willis.

‘The rumours are one of the Butcher household. But, Eb, I really stayed here to make sure of this side of the Butcher operation. We are getting close now, Eb. I can’t stay on the
phone. I’ve rung up with some information for you. We’ve been following a South American container ship and we’re pretty sure that the shipment has left Valencia on its way to
Felixstowe in the next eight hours, then it has to be unloaded. So expect it in the next twelve. Did you find out where the laboratory is yet?’

‘No. Manson committed suicide and we haven’t found any reference to it.’

‘We’ll have to hope we can follow the shipment or the Butchers to the laboratory. If not we’re screwed. One good bit of news for you: Tony Butcher’s left his villa and is
headed for a private airstrip in the UK. Be ready.’