Extending an arm, Brennan let Ashton drop the square into his open palm.
‘Open it.’
Unfolding the paper, Brennan looked at the large number scribbled in blue biro.
‘All that you have to do is deliver that amount – in sterling – into my Jersey account by the end of the week.’
Knowing that it would be almost impossible to come up with the required sum, Brennan grimaced. ‘But-’
Ashton lifted the cane so that its tip hovered just in front of the lawyer’s nose. ‘By the end of the week. That’s more than reasonable, don’t you think?’
Brennan gave a non-committal whimper.
‘Once that is sorted,’ Ashton continued, ‘I need you to come to my office and tell me how quickly you can resolve the Harley Street issue.’
‘I’m sure we can do that, no problem.’ Brennan still had no idea what the precise issue was, but it couldn’t be that complicated. Winters was probably asleep at the wheel and it just needed someone to look at it properly.
‘A sensible, professional approach – that is exactly what we need.’ Ashton smiled at his two goons. ‘Otherwise, Bruno and Jason here might get some additional fun after all.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Brennan stammered.
‘In that case, we’ll let you get on your way.’
‘Ah, yes, good.’ Jumping to his feet, Brennan’s smile was a mixture of relief and discomfort. If he didn’t get out of here right now, he would piss himself. In his Brioni suit. Without a backward glance, he rushed for the door.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Even before he had the key in the lock, Umar could hear Ella’s wailing. Resisting the urge to flee, he opened the door and stepped inside. Immediately, he was accosted by Christina, who was pacing the hall, arms folded.
‘Where the hell have you been?’
Reaching forward, he tried to kiss her, but she reared away. Gritting his teeth, he fought to keep his annoyance in check. ‘Why not let me see to Ella,’ he said, ‘while you go and put your feet up.’ Not waiting for a reply, he slipped down the hall and into the darkness of his daughter’s bedroom.
At least Ella seemed happy to see him. As he picked her up out of the cot, her crying subsided. He kissed the jet-black hair on the top of her head – her mother’s hair – cooed gently in her ear. Happy with the attention, she seemed content to burrow into his chest. Umar sniffed the chlorine on his skin. ‘Sorry I’m a bit smelly,’ he whispered, ‘but it’s good to see you.’
By way of reply, she gave him a wide yawn. Bending his knees, Umar carefully sat down, before stretching out on the floor, Ella cradled on his ribcage. After a few minutes, he had tuned out the background hum of the city as he synchronized his breathing with that of the baby. As he felt her rise and fall on his chest, the sense of peace and wellbeing was overwhelming. Closing his eyes, he smiled.
THIRTY-NINE
Lying back in the bath, Kara Johnson glanced down at her breasts. You could still just about make out the lines where she had painted them red for the naked bike ride. Trailing through London wearing nothing but a splash of body paint wasn’t as much fun as she had expected, but you never know about these things until you try them.
It was the same with men, really.
Yawning, she looked over at the naked figure of Will Carter as he pissed into the toilet bowl. The boy was a bit pale but he certainly had a nice bum – it was just a shame that his dick was so small. Almost as bad, the little twerp simply didn’t know how to use it properly. If Kara had any regrets about seducing Melissa Graham’s boyfriend it was only because the last hour would have been considerably more satisfying if she had spent it in the company of her Rampant Rabbit.
Poor old Melissa No Tits. Then again, maybe she relies on a vibrator of her own. Kara watched Will shake himself off and flush the toilet. She gestured at the stall in the far corner of the room. ‘Why don’t you take a shower? I just want to lie here for a while.’
‘Okay.’ Turning to face her, or rather her breasts, Will continued manipulating himself. Reminded of a wildlife documentary about masturbating monkeys, Kara had to resist the urge to laugh. Closing her eyes, she slipped below the surface of the water and began counting.
1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . .
Maybe if she held her breath long enough, he would be gone when she resurfaced.
17 . . . 18 . . . 19 . . . Kara pushed herself back up. But as she did so, she felt a hand around her neck, another pressing down on the top of her head. ‘Hey.’ Panicking, she swallowed a mouthful of bathwater and felt herself gag.
23 . . . 24 . . . The harder she pushed, the further down she went, until she was pinned against the bottom of the bath. Frantically, she tried to claw at the hand around her neck, to no avail.
28 . . .
Am I suffocating or drowning?
31
FORTY
He recognized the song, but couldn’t put a name to it. Music was coming from somewhere nearby. It took him a moment or two to realize that it was coming from the back pocket of his jeans. While keeping hold of the baby with one hand, he pulled out the mobile and hit a button at random to stop the noise.
Happily, Ella was still asleep. Carefully getting to his feet, Umar put her in the cot and covered her up before retrieving his phone from the floor. Looking at the screen, it took him a moment to realize that the line was still open. Feeling light-headed from his unscheduled nap, he lifted the handset to his ear.
‘Hello?’
‘Umar? Are you there?’ It was a female voice that the sergeant didn’t immediately recognize.
‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘Hold on a sec.’
Quietly closing the bedroom door behind him, Umar switched off the harsh hall light, preferring to use the more gentle illumination from the streetlamps outside.
‘Umar?’
‘Yes. Sorry, who is this?’
‘It’s Melissa Graham. I was on the bike ride when the guy got stabbed. We talked at the station.’
‘Ah, yes. The bike ride.’ Presumably, she was ringing for a date. He began flicking through his mental calendar, thinking about times and possible venues.
‘Sorry for calling you so late.’
From down the line, someone started banging around in the background, followed by some shouting. Maybe she’s at a party, or something, Umar thought. ‘Not at all,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘What can I do for you?’
There was a pause before she blurted it out: ‘I’ve been arrested. For murder.’
As he processed that little nugget of information, Umar listened to Christina stomping about in the kitchen, almost immediately followed by the resumption of Ella’s cries.
‘Are you there?’
The baby’s crying was getting louder. Umar rolled his shoulders, trying to ease his tension. ‘Where are you?’ She gave him an address in Islington, off Upper Street. ‘Okay, I know it. Just sit tight. I’ll be right there.’
Leaning against the bonnet of a Chelsea tractor parked in the corner of Bonetti Square, Sergeant Lawrence Shames took a long drag on his JPS Black as he eyed Umar walking towards him. Exhaling, he pushed himself off the Porsche, careful not to set its alarm off in the process. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I was just going to ask you the same thing,’ Umar responded. Although their respective bosses had a frosty relationship, the two sergeants got on well enough.
Shames tossed the remains of his cigarette into the gutter. ‘You first.’
‘I got a call from Melissa Graham.’ Umar explained how he’d met the girl, and her panicked message to his mobile.