Stay Dead (38 page)

Annie gazed out at the black sky, the rushing lights skimming by beneath them, and felt sadness engulf her.

He wouldn’t forgive her.

Yeah, they’d made love. Hot, passionate love.

But really?

It could have been for the very last time.

Half an hour later, they were there. Against the purple-dark night sky lit only by a dazzling full moon and a sprinkling of stars, they could see the castle’s towering
black outline as the helicopter sped over the sea toward it. At the last moment the craft lifted, and they could see the lights outlining the circular landing pad in the courtyard within the castle
keep.

The pilot guided the helicopter down on to it, battling a fierce headwind that was coming in off the ocean. It touched down with barely a bump. Steve and Tony ditched the headphones, and
everyone unfastened their seat belts. The rotors slowed, and stopped, then the pilot came and opened the door, helping Annie down. She stood there, her hair whipping across her face in the breeze,
and looked around at the castle’s tall forbidding walls and wondered with a shudder of foreboding where Redmond was, right now.

‘There’s a door,’ she told Max. ‘Over here.’

‘Does someone usually come out to meet you?’ he asked.

‘The housekeeper, Mrs McAllister.’

‘Then where is she this time? She must have heard us arrive. And supposing Delaney’s here, how the fuck would he get in? This place is a fortress.’

‘There’s a path up from the beach below the headland,’ said Annie. ‘It’s a slog, but it’s no trick to get in. You ring the bell, and Mrs McAllister opens the
gate down there or . . .’

‘Or what?’ asked Max when she hesitated.

‘Redmond could afford to hire a helicopter. You saw his house. My guess he’s got a lot of gang money stashed away, so this would be no big stretch for him. Maybe his pilot landed
round the headland, or even right here in the courtyard. Maybe Mrs McAllister thought it was me or Alberto coming in, came out to meet us, and got the shock of her life.’

Steve and Tony were alighting from the helicopter. Annie led the way over to the door Mrs McAllister usually emerged from. But she wasn’t there this time, and that was odd. Max was right
about that. Annie felt a threadworm of fear crawl up her spine. But it was too late now for second thoughts. The pilot was getting back behind the controls, firing up the rotors. Within a couple of
minutes, the helicopter had lifted off the ground, spun around, and was gone, away into the night sky.

‘So, no welcome party,’ said Max as they stood beside the door.

‘I hope she’s OK,’ said Annie.

‘She’s probably not,’ he said, and gave a nod to Tony, who twisted the circular handle on the old door. It opened, and Tony pushed through, into the body of the castle.

Now Annie was glad she had taken the time on previous visits to familiarize herself with the castle’s layout. They climbed the steep flight of stone stairs that were so
old the centre of each step was worn away by several inches. Wild, kilted highlanders with small ceremonial daggers,
sgian dubhs
, tucked into their socks would have climbed them in centuries
past. Now, it was her and Max, Steve and Tony.

At the top of the flight a corridor opened out, stone flags on the floor, suits of armour lining the long in-curving wall. They walked silently on, then Annie indicated a left-hand turn, down
more steps; Max pushed open the door and they stepped into a brightly lit and modern kitchen.

In the middle of the room, gagged and tied to a chair, was Mrs McAllister, her eyes wide with panic. When she saw Annie, she started making noises. Annie held a finger to her lips.
Quiet
.

The woman stopped making noises. She stared as Steve appeared, then Tony, and her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw they were holding guns. Moving stealthily, Tony went to the left
side of the room, Steve to the right.

Annie looked at Mrs McAllister and mouthed,
Anyone in here?

Mrs McAllister nodded frantically.

Shit
, thought Annie.

Max moved forward.
Where
? he mouthed at the terrified woman.

She turned her head and indicated a door. A walk-in larder, Annie knew. Big enough to conceal a man, easily. The door was slightly ajar. Tony went in close, and Steve crossed the room
quickly.

Annie held her breath.

Tony nodded to Steve, then threw the door open and dived inside, Steve right behind him.

There was no one in there. Steve shook his head at Max. Max moved over there while Annie stepped forward and quickly ripped the tape from Mrs McAllister’s mouth. The woman winced and
opened her mouth to speak, and Annie held up a hand urgently:
Shush. Quiet!

Inside the larder there were stacks of provisions, canned and jarred goods; nothing else. There was a tatty old strip of carpet on the floor. Tony threw it back. They were looking at a closed
circular trapdoor with a disengaged bolt on one side.

‘Where does that lead?’ Annie whispered to Mrs McAllister, busy tugging the ropes that bound her loose.

‘I don’t, I couldn’t, he came in here so fast and I didn’t know what to do . . .’ she babbled.

Having freed the ties, Annie came round to the front of the chair and grabbed Mrs McAllister’s shoulders. ‘You’re safe now. Where does it lead, that trapdoor?’

‘Down into the cellars. We use them as wine cellars now, but once upon a time they were dungeons.’

Max looked at Mrs McAllister. ‘One man. Just one. Sure?’

She nodded shakily.

Steve reached down and flicked the bolt shut. ‘Well, he won’t come up that way,’ he said.

‘But there’s got to be another route up from the dungeons,’ said Annie. ‘Mrs McAllister, when this man came in here and tied you up – how long ago was
that?’

‘About half an hour, I suppose.’ Mrs McAllister was a tough old bird, but she was choking back tears. ‘It seemed longer. He came in a helicopter, I thought it was you . .
.’

‘And you’re sure he was alone?’

‘I didn’t see anyone else.’

‘So he could be anywhere in the bloody castle by now,’ said Max.

‘What did he look like, this man?’ asked Annie.

Mrs McAllister drew in a sobbing breath. ‘Pale. Sort of smiling. He looked
crazed
. And he had red hair,’ she said.

They left Mrs McAllister in the kitchen. The trapdoor was bolted shut and she was strong enough to shove a largish butcher’s block across the kitchen door when
they’d gone back out into the corridor, so she would be out of danger there.

Wish we were out of bloody danger
, thought Annie as they went on along the corridor, Tony and Steve throwing open doors on either side of it, stepping in, stepping back out. The silence
in here was eerie. And now they were fast approaching the hall where Constantine had wined and dined her over the years – and an assortment of high-priced hookers too – while he still
had wits left to do it.

She hoped Constantine wouldn’t be in there. She didn’t think he would be, but if he
was
, then Max would shoot him, beat Redmond to the draw. Once, she had hoped that Max could
have let it go, the animosity he felt over her relationship with Constantine; now she knew he never would.

Steve was reaching for the door handle, and Annie’s stomach was crawling with dread.
Don’t be in there, please don’t be in there
. . .

Steve opened the door, dived inside. Tony followed, then Max, then she walked in too – and there he was.

The breath caught in her throat.

Constantine, sharp-suited, narrow-hipped, broad-shouldered, wearing the silver-grey suit to match his silver hair. He was standing in front of the roaring fire, facing away from them, staring
into the flames.

Then she turned and saw the gun in Max’s hand.

Hearing the commotion in the doorway, the man standing by the fire turned and looked at the four interlopers.

‘Stepmom?’ he said to Annie.

Of course it wasn’t Constantine. Constantine wasn’t like this any more, he wasn’t the Silver Fox, he wasn’t the Don. The man who stood before them now very definitely
was.

It was Alberto, Constantine’s youngest son.

As they all stood there staring at each other, two massive Latino men in dark suits emerged from the shadows at the side of the room, pointing guns at them.

‘It’s OK,’ said Alberto quickly, raising a hand to them. They stopped moving, kept watching. ‘It’s Annie Carter. And her husband Max.’

Annie hurried forward and hugged Alberto. ‘Christ, you gave me a fright. For a minute I thought it was your father, standing there. Thought I was seeing things.’

‘No, just me,’ he said, smiling; but the smile looked strained. He stared at Max. ‘Hi,’ he said.

‘Golden Boy,’ said Max, letting the hand holding the gun fall to his side.

Annie shot him a furious look. Max would never be cool with Alberto, particularly not since Alberto had linked up with Layla, their daughter. She turned back to her stepson. ‘What’s
happening?’ she asked. ‘We found Mrs McAllister tied up in the kitchen.’

‘You
what
?’

‘Redmond Delaney’s in here somewhere. He’s after Constantine. Didn’t you hear us coming in on the chopper?’

Alberto looked blank. Then he shook his head. ‘We haven’t heard a thing. These walls are three feet thick, you forgotten that? Delaney! For God’s sake. How did
that
happen?’

‘One of ours gave the game away,’ said Max. ‘Told Redmond that your dad organized the hit on him and Orla back in the seventies, told him Constantine’s still with us. Bit
of a fucking shocker, to be honest. And your aunt spilled the beans over this place, so he knows where to find your father. The Delaneys don’t do forgiveness. Redmond’s come for
blood.’

‘We’ve got Papa under guard upstairs,’ said Alberto. ‘He’s safe.’

Not for long
, thought Annie.
Not if Redmond can get through. And if Redmond can’t, then Max will
.

She was aware that if she announced Max’s sworn intention to Alberto’s men, then Max would be toast. So she couldn’t. But somehow, she had to try to find a way to stand between
Constantine – who was helpless now, more to be pitied than feared – and two people intent on killing him.

Somehow.

If only she knew
how
.

‘He’s been asking for me,’ said Annie. ‘Hasn’t he.’

‘That’s right.’ Alberto gave a sad smile. ‘He’s been remembering you these past few weeks. But I don’t suppose it’ll last. He’s getting worse.
Much worse.’

‘Layla’s not here, is she?’ asked Max sharply.

‘Layla’s safe,’ said Alberto. ‘She’s a thousand miles away.’

‘Let’s get up there and see him then,’ said Annie.

They crept up the stairs where the upper floor opened out on to a big stone landing hung with tapestries that once had been bright and glorious reds and yellows but were now
muted to pink and ochre; there were lights up here, but they were faint, and there were too many shadowy corners for a madman with red hair to hide in. Annie didn’t like it at all.

As they turned a corner and approached the master bedroom, she breathed a sigh of relief. There, sitting in a chair on guard outside Constantine’s bedroom door, was a bulky minder. They
went closer and Alberto signalled to the man, but he didn’t look round.

A look passed between Alberto and Max. Then as a group they all moved forward again. Steve put a hand out to the minder, touching the man’s shoulder, and he slumped sideways in the chair
and hung there over the arm of it, unconscious. As he did so they could see a bloody egg-shaped lump on the back of his head. Annie felt a chill of dread. Somehow, Redmond had got in close enough
to strike.

Alberto put a hand to the man’s neck, feeling for a pulse. He found one, nodded; and looked at the closed door leading to the bedroom. His father was in there. And so – without a
doubt – was Redmond Delaney.

Alberto started forward but Max caught his arm. ‘Is there another way in?’ he whispered. He knew it would be suicide for the first person who walked through that door.

Annie spoke, very low. ‘There’s a secret passageway leading up from the hall. It opens in the bedroom, a false bookcase – I can show you.’

‘How long?’ Max asked her.

‘Three minutes, if we run,’ said Annie.

Max glanced at his watch and then looked at Alberto. ‘Three minutes,’ he said.

‘In three minutes my father could be dead,’ said Alberto urgently.

‘Less than that and you could be, too,’ Max hissed. ‘This bastard don’t take prisoners. Not that I give a stuff, but my daughter thinks the sun shines out of your arse,
so go with it, OK?’

Alberto paused. Looked at the door, at Annie, at Max. ‘Three minutes,’ he nodded, and checked his watch.

Max and Annie ran.

‘Christ, when was the last time anyone used this thing?’ Max whispered to Annie as they opened the concealed door into the spiral staircase that led up to the
master bedroom. He was leading the way with a pencil torch, swiping thick cobwebs away as he charged up the stairs. There was a faint smell of rat urine burning their noses, and the ancient stones
were green with moss. Even though it was the height of summer, it was bone-chillingly cold in here.

Annie was following, trying to stay calm. As usual under pressure, Max was clearly having fun, but all she could think about was what would happen when they reached the top, and what they would
find when they stepped out into the bedroom itself.

Constantine, lying dead on the bed, his throat slashed like Gary’s and Jackie’s?

Or Redmond, looming over him, just about to do the deed?

And if they managed to stop him, what then? Max had his own agenda, and that was dangerous. If he tried to kill Constantine, she had to find a way to stop him. Constantine was no rival to Max.
But if Max went ahead with his promise and he succeeded, for certain Alberto would be forced to kill
him
, and that would destroy her, break her heart – and Layla’s too. She
couldn’t let that happen.