‘Glenn?’
‘Calloway has two bodyguards, remember. You might not have much time.’
‘He’ll find his boss dead, along with the rest of you.’
Mike came to the conclusion that at long last he had run out of options. His only hope was to charge at the man, try ramming his head into his stomach. He knew it was hopeless, but what else was there? Hate himself seemed to realise this and gave a soft chuckle. Mike turned towards Laura. She was trying hard to hold back the tears.
‘Not exactly how I’d hoped things might work out for the two of us,’ he apologised.
‘As second dates go, I’ll admit I’ve had better.’
Westie, who’d started struggling against his bonds again, had keeled over on to the floor for a second time. Alice wasn’t far off joining him. Allison was still chuckling to himself, eyes screwed shut, sanity evaporating. And all of this for a few paintings, Mike thought. All because I was bored, pampered, infatuated, and greedy.
And tricked by the greater villain – Professor Robert Gissing.
It galled him to think that Gissing was dodging all of this, enjoying his retirement surrounded by however many masterpieces. Cocktails on the patio and lazy days in the sun…
‘One last thing,’ he said, gaining the murderous giant’s irritated attention. ‘I’ve told Calloway and now I’m telling you – Robert Gissing is the man who conned all of us. Find Gissing and you’ll have your hands on an art collection worth millions. Remember to tell your client that when you get home.’
Hate thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. ‘Thanks for the tip,’ he said. ‘And to return the favour, I’ll make this quick – not painless, maybe, but quick…’
He placed himself in front of Laura, leaned down a little towards her, and drew back the knife. Laura’s scream drilled into Mike’s ears. He squeezed shut his eyes, straining one last time at his bonds. But then there was another sound, that of a door being kicked in. He opened his eyes to the sight of figures streaming through the doorway, dressed in black stab vests and some of them wearing visored helmets. On each chest, the word POLICE was picked out in white lettering. The officer at the front had dropped to one knee, and Mike realised he was pointing a pistol at Hate. Hate froze for a moment, the knife poised. Laura’s mouth was still gaping, though her screams had been silenced by the arrival of the cops. Hate turned his head so his eyes met Mike’s. The look was worth a thousand words. The officers were barking out a repeated order and eventually the giant complied. The knife fell to the floor with a clatter and he raised his arms above his head, kneeling down as instructed, sliding his hands slowly around to the back of his head, awaiting the restraints.
The officers fell on him. The pistol was reholstered only after the handcuffs had been securely fastened.
‘We were told there are firearms,’ one of the faces behind a visor stated.
‘I’ve not seen any,’ Mike told him.
‘Get me out of this bloody chair!’ Alice yelped.
Mike was looking towards the doorway. Glenn, the missing henchman, was standing there. So was Detective Inspector Ransome. Ransome was whistling a little tune, hands in trouser pockets, as he stepped inside. He stared down at Calloway, then crouched down in front of him and checked his neck for a pulse. Satisfied, rubbing a little of Calloway’s blood between thumb and forefinger, he stood up again and headed for the row of chairs.
‘Anybody hurt?’ he asked. For some reason, the question made Laura laugh.
‘Use your eyes, Ransome,’ she said. ‘The guy at the end is barely breathing!’
Ransome ordered two officers to get the curator into an ambulance, then stopped to pick up Hate’s knife, checking it for blood. When he saw it hadn’t been used, he sliced through the tape with it, so that Laura’s hands were free. Despite Alice’s pleas, Mike was next. Ransome handed the knife to laura and asked her to do the honours. She looked towards Hate and then at the knife, but Ransome tutted.
‘Enough drama for one day,’ he chided her. ‘Leave Mr Bodrum to us.’
‘He might be Bodrum to you,’ Mike commented, ‘but he’ll always be Hate to me.’
As Laura began cutting Alice and Westie free – the latter complaining that he’d broken his arm when he fell – Ransome helped Mike rid himself of the ties around his ankles, then had to help him to his feet.
‘Better?’ the detective asked.
Mike nodded his agreement. He felt light-headed and his headache was intensifying. ‘How did you find us?’ he managed to ask.
‘Glenn Burns. But to be honest, we were already on your trail…’ The detective turned his head towards the doorway, Mike following suit. Allan was standing there, looking slightly sheepish. When Mike smiled and nodded, he came inside, taking in as much as he could.
‘Christ, Mike,’ he said, wrapping his arms around him. Mike whispered into his ear.
‘How much have you told him?’
When the embrace was finished, the look in Allan’s eyes was clear.
Everything.
‘Sorry,’ he said.
‘Don’t be,’ Mike answered.
‘I hope it was all worth it,’ Ransome mused.
‘Ports and airports,’ Mike said, grabbing the detective by the arm. ‘You’ve got to stop Robert Gissing leaving the country.’
‘Might be a bit late for that, Mr Mackenzie. Besides, it’s not your little Ladykillers gang that concerns me – a DI called Hendricks will be wanting to speak to you about all that.’ Ransome nodded in Calloway’s direction. ‘There’s the prize I was after… so I suppose really I should be thanking you for delivering it.’ With a smile, he moved off, just as the paramedics arrived. Hate was on his feet and, flanked by policemen, about to be escorted outside.
‘Looks like you won’t be going home just yet,’ Mike called out to him.
‘I’m not the only one,’ the giant spat back.
‘There’s something in that,’ Laura conceded.
36
‘You will testify against Calloway?’ Ransome asked.
Mike was being led towards a waiting police van, Allan next to him. Handcuffs had not been thought necessary. The DI called Hendricks had turned up, looking grumpy. Mike had watched Ransome explain the situation to him, which had done little to lighten his colleague’s mood but had given an extra spring to Ransome’s own step afterwards.
Mike shrugged now. It was a good question, after all. ‘Should really be the other way round,’ he told Ransome. ‘After all, I’m the one who dragged him into it.’
‘But you will testify.’ It sounded like a statement of fact rather than any kind of question. ‘If you do, it’ll go easier for you.’
‘Meaning what?’
Ransome shrugged. ‘Six years instead of eight. You’d be out of jail inside three. I’m sure you can afford the best lawyers in the land, Mr Mackenzie, and it shouldn’t be too hard for them to paint a picture of you in court as a naïve playboy who got in with the wrong crowd. Maybe a friendly psychoanalyst can plead diminished responsibility.’
‘Meaning I’m not in my right mind?’
‘Not at the time, no.’
‘How about me?’ Allan asked. ‘Where do I figure in this?’
‘Same goes, but with the added factor that you did the right thing and turned yourself in, and in the process helped save five people from being tortured and killed.’
‘Seven, actually,’ Mike corrected the detective. ‘Hate wasn’t about to leave Chib and Johnno alive.’
‘See?’ Ransome told Allan. ‘You’re practically a hero.’
An ambulance was parked next to the police van, and Jimmy Allison was being stretchered into it, an oxygen mask tied to his face. Another stretcher would be needed for Johnno. One man required a blood transfusion and some stitches, plus a potential lifetime of psychological counselling.
The other needed a new spine.