Hider/Seeker (23 page)

The officer with the submachine gun started to climb the stairs, spitting fire and shattering the glass balustrade. Harry was hemmed in and had no choice, but to take a gamble. He leapt off the mezzanine gallery, not knowing where he would land or who might be waiting for him below.

His feet slammed on the marble floor, jolting all the bones in his body. The man with the submachine gun took up his position on the gallery a millisecond before the officer downstairs burst through the open doors of the lounge, both guns blazing. Harry fired in rapid succession at the man above, and then the officer rushing towards him, killing both instantly.

The whiff of sulphur from burnt powder didn't linger long, and the house became totally still.

Harry checked the gun's magazine; it was empty. He tucked the Glock into his waistband as he didn't want to leave behind any evidence linking the shooting to Oscar's gun. Angela Linehan was now his priority and he helped her to her feet. She was still in deep shock and could not speak. They stepped over the body of the officer by the double doors and ascended the staircase, stopping for a second to look at the man with the submachine gun still in his hand – a Bulgarian Shipka, judging by the elegant clean lines. He took the weapon, and supported Angela Linehan up the remaining stairs. Blood was dripping from her mouth and she didn't speak. There were many questions he needed to ask her before Lucky came looking for them. But the answer to one of them materialised before his eyes when Peter lowered himself down from a ceiling loft concealed in the landing at the top of the staircase.

Peter sat on his mother's bed while Harry dealt with her in the bathroom, covering her with a bathrobe as she sat totally still on a stool. He cleaned the blood from her face in front of the sink. One eye was almost closed by the heavy swelling of blood, and her left cheek puffed to the size of a grapefruit. He wiped the blood from her nose with cotton buds; it wasn't broken. Her lips were thick, but no longer bleeding.

‘I don't want to stay here, mum,' shouted Peter from the bedroom.

Harry knew she was unable to talk, and told Peter they were leaving as soon as he'd fixed up his mother.

Down below came the sound of breaking glass.

Harry poked his head around the bedroom door and raised a finger to his lips for Peter to remain silent. He reached for the Shipka, and pressed the magazine's release catch to check how many rounds were left. None. He cursed his luck, and then bent down to unravel the electrical tape around his leg that secured Monty's snub nose.

They waited in silence five long minutes, but there were no more sounds from downstairs. Perhaps some broken glass had tumbled to the floor or more likely, Lucky had returned to the house and decided his best bet was to wait for them outside.

He helped Angela Linehan into a tee shirt, Bermudas, and trainers. She came out of the bathroom and hugged Peter, who was still sitting on the bed. Harry hooked her straw bag she had asked for over her neck, and led them on to the landing, gun in hand.

She covered Peter's eyes with her hand as they passed the bodies on the way down to the ground floor. Harry looked at Monty's rusty gun in his hand and didn't fancy his chances using it. He went across to the officer's body and prised apart the fingers of both hands to retrieve the two semi-automatics. From the weight of one of them, he knew instantly it had no rounds left and tossed it aside. The other gun still had three bullets in the magazine and he took it with him. There was no time to start looking for more ammunition because the room was a total wreck.

Harry thought better of leaving through the front entrance, just in case Lucky was waiting for them. Instead, armed with a gun in each hand, he shepherded the boy and his mother to the interconnecting door of the garage. He warned them before entering that the bodyguards had been executed there, but they seemed to have already known about it as there was little reaction on their faces.

Yet nothing could prepare them for the sight of the crumpled bodies and buzzing flies. They shuffled past them, unable to take their eyes off the dead men. One of them, must have meant something to her as she froze in disbelief. But there was no time to gather thoughts, and her mind turned to Peter. She didn't want him to start looking for his friend who took him on the motorbike each day. Her hand gently blinkered her son's eyes again, pulling him close to her as they moved on.

Harry raised his left hand holding the snub nose, signalling to them not to move while he took a peep through the open garage doors. The steel gate was still ajar as he had left it. Nothing had changed.

He crept out, keeping his head down. They followed him out into the cool tree-shaded drive.

A bullet zipped above his head, followed by another and another.

‘Get down,' shouted Harry, hitting the dust.

Angela Linehan and the boy sank close behind him, holding each other tightly as more lead flew over their heads.

It fell quiet again, and Harry caught sight of Lucky with a Shipka in his hands taking cover behind the police truck outside the entrance to the house. The small man was preparing to take aim once more. But Harry fired back with the semi-automatic, clipping Lucky's left shoulder. The little man screamed in pain and ducked behind the truck. With only two bullets left in the gun, Harry was careful with his next shot. He caught sight of Lucky's shiny head and fired once, and then twice as his target broke cover. Both shots were wasted and he tossed the gun to the ground. Harry transferred the old snub nose into his right hand and gave the gun a hard look. He didn't dwell long on how it would perform as Lucky reappeared from behind a tree with a fresh volley of submachine gunfire.

Harry fired back, the snub nose deafening his ears on each blast. Monty's old gun pulled to the right, and he cursed himself for wasting two shots.

Lucky was out of bullets and reloaded the Shipka with a new clip. Blood was streaming down his left arm and he scampered off awkwardly to a new position.

Harry was sure that it wouldn't be long before he emptied Monty's gun. But he took his chances with the snub nose, firing at Lucky every time he appeared. But Lucky no longer feared Harry's shooting, and sensed he could keep advancing, showing no restraint in his fire.

Down to his last bullet, Harry took one final aim at the bald officer emerging from a clump of bushes. He missed.

Lucky stepped out into the open and walked towards them, his gun trained on Harry the whole time.

He stopped a few feet from him and kicked aside the semi-automatic on the ground. ‘Who the hell are you?' asked Lucky.

Harry slowly got to his feet and said, ‘Would you believe me if I said I came to fix her satellite dish?' He turned to show the company logo on the back of his shirt.

Lucky thought a moment and then fired a shot over Harry's head. ‘Bullshit. A TV repair man don't know how to shoot like that.'

‘You'd be surprised what you can pick up from watching too much television.' Another shot from Lucky, but this time closer. ‘One more wisecrack and the next one is sailing right through you.'

‘I've come for her and her son,' said Harry, finally.

Lucky briefly glanced at Angela Linehan and the boy on the ground. She had her hand inside her straw bag.

‘You're the English guy we've been looking for. Maybe I should leave you to Mordecai. He ain't going to be happy about you killing Elijah. Around here, it's their kingdom, and you've done something really stupid coming to this place.'

The man stepped forward and extended his arm, pressing the sub-machine gun into Harry's stomach.

‘I thought you were going to wait for Mordecai.'

‘I always get my man.'

A single shot rang out from behind Harry, and Lucky buckled at the knees, before crumbling to the ground. Angela Linehan fired again, killing the little man instantly. A ribbon of blue smoke rose from her straw bag as she pulled out a Beretta.

Harry helped her to her feet and took the gun from her. She said nothing, her eyes looking confused. He realised he now faced another problem. Was Angela Linehan in a fit enough state to transfer the funds that day? The answer was no.

Harry rose early the next morning and walked along the winding path that led to Monty's orchard. It was soggy underfoot after a night of torrential rain, but the red sky on the horizon promised another hot day. The gunfight kept whirling around in his head, and he felt lucky to be still alive. But the job was far from over. His biggest concern was how Angela Linehan would face him in the coming hours. There were just three days left to convince her to do the right thing, starting from that morning.

The sea was still rough from the storm, and on reaching the orchard he could make out the white-crested breakers rolling into the bay. Monty had mentioned once that there was a disused well in the orchard, and he searched around until he came across a mound of rough stones. He slid back a stone slab that capped the well and looked down into a dark hole that whiffed of sulphur. He tossed a pebble to test the well's depth, and on hearing its splash estimated it to be around thirty feet. Satisfied that it would do, he pulled out Oscar's gun and dropped it into the well.

Protecting Oscar seemed the right thing to do after all the help he'd given him. He'd pondered whether he should have disposed of Angela Linehan's Beretta in the same way, but after her ordeal she'd insisted on sleeping with it under her pillow. He would convince her to get rid of the gun after they'd visited the lawyer in Castries.

He slid the stone cover back to its original position and returned to the house for a breakfast of figs and yoghurt. As he brewed a pot of coffee on the gas stove, he was joined by Eden. The boy was late for work and downed a coke from the fridge in one go.

‘If we don't see each other again, I'd like to thank you for the use of the van,' said Harry. ‘I really appreciate you helping out like that.'

‘That's okay, man,' replied Eden, stuffing some biscuits into his pocket for later. He scooped the keys off the table and gave Harry a man-hug, before rushing out the front door.

Eden would probably learn of the carnage at the house in Marigot Bay at some point in time, Harry thought, hopefully long after he'd left St Lucia.

It had gone seven and Harry tried to reach Oscar again on his mobile. But like before it went straight to voicemail.

Monty appeared at the kitchen door in a white linen suit and polished shoes, looking every inch a colonial lord. ‘Darling, is that coffee as good as it smells?'

Harry poured him a cup and watched him drink it, a limp hand acting as a saucer to prevent any drops of coffee reaching his virgin white suit.

‘Where are you off to?' asked Harry.

‘Gallery business, I'm afraid,' replied Monty. ‘Will you all be here when I get back?' His eyes looked momentarily upwards to where Angela Linehan and her son were occupying the room above.

‘We'll be gone.'

‘And my little peashooter?'

‘I've left it in my room.'

‘It wasn't used, I hope?'

Harry shook his head he hadn't as he didn't want to answer any awkward questions at that moment.

‘What a relief. At least I won't have to make a special trip to Castries to buy more shells. Clean out of them.'

Monty drained the coffee down to the last dregs in his cup and wished him the best of luck, totally oblivious of the danger that Harry had put him and Eden in by returning to the house for another night.

After Monty left, Harry went to the terrace to think out a strategy for the day. To his surprise, he found Angela Linehan standing there in one of Monty's silk robes, staring pensively in the direction of the sea.

‘Where's Peter?' he asked.

‘Sleeping,' she replied in a soft broken voice. Her right eye had turned violet blue, just like it had when he first met her. Half her face was swollen and scabs had formed on the bridge of her nose and lower lip.

She looked terrible. He couldn't start to imagine how she felt inside, but there was nothing he could do or say that would make her forget the horrors she'd experienced. Nothing. He'd saved her life, and now he wanted to do the same for Bethany.

There was an awkward silence for less than a minute, then Harry spoke again. He didn't want to sound crass or look insensitive, but time was not on his side. ‘You've got to return it, you know that?'

Her eyes remained fixed on infinity.

‘If you don't,' he continued, ‘Bethany and Ed's unborn child will die at their hands.'

She turned to him, her eyebrows rising. ‘Ed's?'

Harry nodded. ‘Didn't he tell you, they were trying to start a family?'

‘No.'

‘So what was it between you two?'

She shrugged her shoulders.

‘That's funny because Eddie and Bethany were happy before you got under his skin.'

‘You think too much.' The tremor in her voice had gone.

‘I'm sure I do,' he said.

Her demeanor was changing, and he was feeling less sorry for her all of a sudden.

‘Whose idea was it?' he pressed.

‘What?'

‘Wiring the money out of your husband's offshore account.'

‘What does it matter?'

‘I thought I knew Eddie. We grew up together.'

‘He wanted to help me,' she said. ‘Didn't think it was right the way Nick was treating me.'

‘So the plan was to use me and runaway together?'

She looked at him in a strange way as if he was a complete idiot. ‘You don't get it at all, do you?'

‘Of course I do. Your husband found out about the two of you and killed Eddie. Then you got Tucker to kill your husband after forcing him at gunpoint to wire out the money from his account. Isn't that how it went?'

No reply, so he continued.

‘You got Tucker to whack me hard that night. Hard enough to make sure I'd never wake up again. Who would have thought it was in you?'

‘Yes, who?' She said it with tart sarcasm befitting a Noël Coward leading lady.

‘Made it easy for the police to blame me for the murders of your husband and Eddie. Only problem for you was that I have a thick skull and knew the name of your new identity. Sooner or later, I'd find you.'

‘Well you did, bravo.'

‘I just need to know one thing. Was it Eddie's idea all along to pin the blame on me for your husband's death so that the two of you could disappear?'

Her eyes were like two glowing orbs. ‘That's the second time you've asked me that question. Must be really bugging you.'

‘Well?'

She thought a second and then said in a lowered voice, ‘Why would Ed go behind your back? He blamed himself for the start of your drinking, and was racked with guilt taking Bethany away from you. Kept saying he should never have done it to you of all people. Said she never stopped talking about you, during all those years of their marriage. Isn't that what you really want to hear? Bethany, still yearning for you?'

‘Leave her out of this. I want to know what was between you and Eddie.'

She fixed him with a mocking gaze and said, ‘Ed and I weren't lovers.'

‘But in London, you said –'

‘Forget all that.' She soured visibly, channelling her anger from the men who violated her to the man who was spoiling all her plans. ‘I told you, Ed only wanted to save me from Nick's fists. Offered to help me get away from him for good. But we both knew Nick would never give up searching for me and that's when he fixed it for me to meet you.'

He was stonily silent for a second and then asked, ‘So if there was nothing going on between you, why did Nick need to get rid of Ed?'

She sat down under the shade, her bruised lips sealed.

Then it came to him. ‘You arranged it.'

Angela Linehan didn't react.

‘You got Ed killed, didn't you?'

Harry watched her, unbowed, the fingers of her right hand making circles on her knee. Round and round, she doodled. No sign of remorse, just a respectful silence to plead her guilt.

He went on. ‘Ed discovered you weren't just running away, but intending to steal the cash that Nick was laundering. Ed caught you out, didn't he? What gave you away? Too many questions about the offshore accounts, and the date the deposit was going to be made? Suddenly it must have dawned on him what you were up to.'

She remained silent.

‘When Ed told you that dear ol'Harry knew an expert who could hide your money offshore, you leapt at the offer. How else were you going to pull this off, alone? Eddie thought you'd be only taking the money your father left you. He knew Ernesto wouldn't leave a paper trail for anyone to follow, and you'd be safe. '

Her eyes were frozen in time as her mind recalled the events. Then she spoke. ‘I'd no choice, Ed was going to tell Nick everything. He wouldn't listen to me. I made one more attempt to try and convince him. Offered him half the money.'

‘You got Tucker to shoot him in the car?'

She shook her head.

‘You turned the gun on Ed?'

She closed her eyes and nodded.

Harry could feel emotions stirring inside him, but he had to hide them as he still had Bethany to think about. ‘The Marottas want that money back,' he said with detachment.

She looked away from him as if it weren't her problem.

‘Didn't you know who the money belonged to?'

‘Not straight away,' she said into the distance. ‘I just thought it was money that no one would admit was missing. You know, money rich clients wanted to keep out of the reach of the taxman.'

‘When did you find out?'

Angela Linehan turned her head slowly to face him. ‘Nick saved his last gasp of breath to tell me it belonged to people with long memories, who'd hunt me down.'

‘If you'd found out earlier, would you have still gone through with it?'

She shrugged. Then she said, ‘Nick offered Tucker all sorts of things to save his neck. You should have heard him. The once fearsome youth from the Falls Road, who no one dare look in the eye during the Troubles, was finally afraid of something and it was me. You know how I felt at that moment after what he'd done to me over the years?'

‘I think I can imagine.'

‘When he stopped breathing, I felt a darkness had lifted and I was free again.'

Harry allowed a long pause before speaking again. ‘You're going to have to return the money to them, if you want to live. You can't hide from them forever, even if you think you can flee again.'

‘But you've shown me how.'

‘It's more difficult the second time round. Just too many people know now. Far harder to hide your tracks. You've got to give it all back if you want any hope of living. They'll still look for you but if you survive a year, chances are they'll eventually lose interest. You can have a life of sorts.' He was lying, they never gave up.

‘And what will you do, if I don't?'

‘I'll hand you straight over to the police; tell them everything.'

‘But you killed four of their men yesterday.'

‘They executed five of yours in a garage – I think I'll take my chances.'

‘And what would happen to Bethany?'

‘She and the baby will be on your conscience for the rest of your life.'

The phone rang inside the house and Harry dashed indoors to answer it, half expecting to hear Oscar apologising for not returning his calls.

Eden's voice at the other end of the line sounded shrill. He was speaking fast without taking a breath and Harry was piecing the words together. Baptiste was on his way over from The Debeaumont after Eden's mother let slip that an English couple were staying at Monty's. Eden had mentioned to his mother about Harry and Angela being there so that she wouldn't think he'd spent a night alone with Monty. Eden had told her he'd drunk too much to drive home.

The boy warned Harry that Baptiste could show up at Monty's house any moment as his mother had seen him heading in that direction in his jeep.

Harry rushed back to the terrace and told Angela Linehan they were leaving immediately.

‘What's happened?' she asked.

‘We're going to see the lawyer, now. Bring your passport.'

‘But Peter hasn't had his breakfast.'

‘Get him down here this minute,' Harry barked.

She looked frightened as he shepherded her inside the house. He watched her reach the top of the stairs when he ordered her to bring the Beretta.

‘What's going on?' she demanded.

‘Do as you're told. I'll be waiting in the car.'

Harry went outside to turn the Ferrari around so it pointed up the mountain road to avoid running directly into Baptiste's jeep.

Angela Linehan dragged Peter down the path towards the car. She was wearing her Bermudas and tee shirt from the day before while Peter was still in the school uniform he'd slept in.

Harry caught sight of Baptiste's jeep skidding round the bend. He leant across to push open the passenger door; Angela Linehan slid onto the front seat and Peter sat on her lap. She squashed the bag she was carrying down by her feet.

‘Hand me the gun,' asked Harry, as the car screeched away in a cloud of dust.

She pulled out the Beretta from her bag, placing it into his outstretched hand. He rested the gun on his lap.

‘What are we running away from?' she asked.

There was no time to explain as he took the first right-hand bend in second, moving up into third along a straight section that ran high above the sea. By the next twist and turn, Baptiste was no longer in his rear view mirror, but Harry kept his foot down.

Angela Linehan glanced over her shoulder, her eyes squinting in the sun.

‘Surely you don't think he can catch us in that thing?' she said, sitting straight again. ‘Who is he?' she asked, her voice almost lost in the engine's roar.

‘Baptiste. The brother of one of those bent cops.'

‘Which one?'

‘The leader.'