Redemption (31 page)

“So what happens now?” I asked. “You can’t let me out of here alive, because I will go straight to the police. If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”

“I don’t have to kill you. You have no evidence, so you’d be stupid to go to the police. You’re stupid, but not that stupid. Do what I say and no one has to die. This could all be over in a week. How does that sound?”

“You should have more than enough now,” I said loudly, raising my voice even though it made me have a coughing fit.

“More than enough what?” Hodgson asked, looking puzzled.  

Come on, hurry up. 
 

“Well then?” Hodgson continued. “Are you going to accept—”

The door crashed open, and I dropped to the floor like I’d been told. There was a lot of shouting, but no gun shots, and within minutes the entire thing was over.  

Winston stood over me, and extended a hand, helping me to my feet.  

“You sure left it late,” I said, feeling light on my feet as I stood up. My ears were still ringing, but I could hear Hodgson yelling as she was thrown into the back of a police car.

“We wanted to make sure we had enough to build a strong case,” Winston replied.  

“Thanks,” I said. “I mean it. Thank you. I would be in deep shit right now if it weren’t for you.”

“Actually, it’s Ms. Portman you should be thanking. She put the pieces together just in time.”

Thank God Winston had showed up when he did. If Winston had turned up seconds later then I would have gone in there alone, and things would have played out very differently.  

Winston had walked towards the alley, but then walked right past it and headed straight for me. I pulled my knife on him and threw him to the ground, but he never fought back. Eventually I let him tell me what was going on and he fitted me with a wire.  

Hodgson found the phone she expected me to have and therefore never bothered looked for anything more sophisticated. Her confession should be more than enough to get a warrant, and she was bound to have left a trail of money and hidden bank accounts that would lead to her arrest.

Hodgson was fiercely intelligent, but sometimes intelligent people were arrogant, and that could be their downfall.

“I didn’t believe you until I saw her,” I admitted. “I still can’t quite believe it, to be honest.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. She had us fooled for years. I’ve been suspicious for a while, but could never catch her red-handed. You and her seemed close which was why I always kept an eye on you as well. Uh, sorry about that, by the way.”

I smiled. “We both got our wires crossed. How did Michelle figure out what was going on?”

“I’ve no idea,” Winston admitted. “She just told us what was happening, and we got down here as fast as we could. You’ll have to talk to her about it. Which you should probably do quickly, because she’s likely worried stiff right now. You might want to go to the hospital with that head injury first though.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse knocks playing rugby. Thanks again, Superintendent,” I said, extending my hand in front of me.  

“Do me a favour,” Winston said, as he shook my hand. “Win the World Cup for me. My wife’s English and she’ll make my life a living hell if you lot lose.”

“You’re not trying to influence the outcome of a sporting event are you, Superintendent?” I joked. “I don’t do that anymore, but I guess in this case I can make an exception.”

Winston explained that I’d need to go down to the station at some point to give a statement, but that could wait until after the semifinal. Right now I just wanted to get back to Michelle and the kids.  

Not even winning the World Cup could be as sweet as walking into my house and seeing their faces. I’d been distant these last few days, but now it was time to start planning our futures without any threat looming over us.  

For the first time since I saw my friend and mentor crying in changing rooms, I felt free of worry and fear. I didn’t think this day would come, but thanks to Michelle I could finally let go.  

It had just turned one in the morning when I heard the key in the lock that finally told me Oliver was home. I leapt out of my seat, giving Maisie, who had fallen asleep on my shoulder, a sudden wake-up call in the process. 

I ran up to Oliver and threw my arms around him. “We were so worried,” I said, holding back tears. I’d been trying to keep a brave face for Maisie and Shaun, but now all the fears I had been hiding came leaping up to the surface. “Why didn’t you call? What took you so long?”

Oliver laughed. “Nice to see you too.” He kissed me on the cheek, and went into the living room before collapsing down on the sofa. “One question at a time please.” 

I sat down next to Oliver, and noticed some dried blood on the back of his head. “You can start with explaining the blood,” I said. “Who did that?”

“It doesn’t matter who?” Oliver said. “I took a knock when I went in there and confronted Hodgson. I’m fine now.”

“Why did you confront Hodgson? I told Winston what was going on so that you wouldn’t have to do that. Did he not get there in time?”

“Yes, he did. But he wanted me to go in there and get a confession from Hodgson. I was only too happy to oblige. Speaking of which, are you going to explain how you figured out Hodgson was the one behind it, not Winston? Because that has me stumped.”

I grinned sheepishly. I had to admit, I was rather proud of that, but it didn’t seem like the time to be bragging. 

“Yeah,” Maisie said, still in the process of waking up. “I’m still confused about that as well.” 

“You helped,” I said to Maisie. “And you Shaun. You needing to pee came at a good moment.” 

Shaun and Maisie looked at each other, and both shrugged their shoulders. 

“You’re really going to milk this, aren’t you?” Oliver teased.

“Hell yes. It’s probably not going to be all that exciting, now you’ve made a big deal out of it.”

“That’s fine,” Oliver said. “I’ve had more than enough excitement for one night as it is.”

“The word ‘bathroom’ was what finally made everything click. Shaun said he was going to the toilet and Maisie told him to use the American term. In every conversation we’d had with Hodgson she would use some American terms. Instinctively, I knew something was off, but I couldn’t figure out what.”

Oliver nodded. “She said she was on her way to the bathroom when we bumped into her in the police station,” he said. “I remember that, but I assumed she was doing it for your benefit.”

“So did I. But then she also told you to take off your Chargers hat which she must have recognized from the logo. The San Diego Chargers are hardly a big franchise in the US, let alone the UK, so it seemed odd she would know them from just that weird symbol without any writing.”

“Unless she spent a lot of time in a US bar,” Oliver added.

“Exactly. And she also told me to try a lager with Sprite, not lemonade, like you people call it. She must have picked that up from a US bar.”

“I’m all for Americanisms being criminalized,” Oliver said, “but it’s a bit much to call the police on someone for saying a few of them.”

“Better get used to them, Olly,” Maisie said. “You’re coming to live with us soon and it’s going to be awesome.” 

I laughed, as Olly cringed. “There was something else too,” I added. “It’d been bugging me for ages, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I spoke to Hodgson a while back to thank her for putting the men who attacked us behind bars. She said ‘Some men matching the description you gave showed up on CCTV a few hundred yards down the road.’ And then there was a mention of Maisie and me having scars from that night.” 

Maisie and Shaun both looked confused, but Oliver figured it out right away. “You never told the police about your burns,” he said, “so how would Hodgson have known you were both injured in the attack?”

“And neither Maisie nor I gave a description of the attackers, because we didn’t see them. I’m just kicking myself for not spotting it sooner. It’s been on my mind for ages, but I could never put the pieces together.”

“I think I can let you off for that,” Oliver said, putting his arm around me, and kissing my forehead. “I love you,” he whispered in my ear. 

I turned to look up at him and mouthed the words back hoping Maisie wouldn’t notice. I should have known better.

“Okay,” Maisie said slowly. “I guess we had better give you two some privacy.” 

Maisie and Shaun left us alone, but they needn’t have bothered. We were both too tired to do anything other than cuddle. 

Oliver told me all the details about what happened, which set me off crying again. He didn’t admit it, but I could hear from the strain in his voice that he had been scared. 

Now it was all over. We could all close the door on that awful chapter of our lives. Now I could watch the World Cup, and truly enjoy it no matter what the outcome.

-*-

“I don’t think I can watch,” Maisie said, covering her eyes with her hands and then peaking through a gap in her fingers.

“These seats are worth thousands of pounds,” I said. “You should probably make the most of it.”

“I just wish one team would win it comfortably, so I could relax either way. This back and forth thing is too painful.”

I knew what she meant. After a convincing semifinal win, England had been made clear favorites to win the World Cup, but after a number of injuries in the first twenty minutes, New Zealand had pulled back the deficit and early in the second half they took the lead.

I had no idea how professional athletes coped with the pressure. I was a nervous wreck and so were Maisie and Shaun. Those two were supposed to be used to the pressure of playing competitive sport, but right now you’d think they’d never watched a game before.

“At least Olly’s playing well,” Shaun said. “The press all built this up as the moment he would redeem himself for 2007.”

“He’s already done that,” I insisted. “England wouldn’t be in the final now if it weren’t for him.”

“No need to convince me,” Shaun said. “But you know what the press is like. Anything to sell papers and get clicks.”

The press would have a field day when the full-story about Oliver’s involvement in the sting operation came out. Gary’s death would end up being in the news again, so we’d all agreed to take a vacation the minute things were leaked, to protect Shaun as much as possible.

Shaun always tried to put a brave face on things, but the confirmation that his father’s death hadn’t been an accident had hit him hard. Maisie comforted him as best she could, but I could tell he needed Oliver’s support. The second this game was over he’d have Oliver’s complete attention. 

Well, maybe not his complete attention. We’d been sending each other explicit messages for the last few days of forced separation, and I knew we would both be desperate for some alone time come the end of the game.

England were a point down going into the final minutes, and I could feel the tension pulsing through the crowd. The English fans far outnumbered the Kiwis, and they were doing their best to spur their team on, but the players must have picked up on the apprehension. 

Every attack ended with a misplaced pass, but the Kiwis seemed to be just as nervous, kicking the ball clear every time and giving it straight back to the English instead of trying to build possession and run down the clock.

“Stoppage time,” Maisie said. “Next time the ball goes out of play the game’s over.”

England lost the ball, but then an English forward charged it down when a New Zealander went to kick the ball into touch. There was a New Zealand knock-on and England were awarded a scrum.

“That’s too far out,” I said, looking at the distance from where Oliver was standing to the goalposts. The team was planning to get the ball to Oliver as soon as possible for him to attempt a drop goal. The move was identical to the one in 2007, except the kick was further out. 

“He’s kicked from there before,” Shaun said. “He usually misses mind you.”

England put the ball into the scrum and the scrum-half stood there waiting for the exact right moment to make the pass. 

It was all over in a few seconds. The scrum-half picked up the ball and passed it to Oliver. The ground went silent. In a few moments it would either erupt in a roar of ecstasy or a drown in a groan of despair.