“Hello, this is the West London Police Station,” a man’s voice answered. “How can I help?”
Please don’t be too late. “I need to speak to Superintendent Winston,” I said calmly. “Tell him it’s Michelle Portman. Hurry, please, it’s an emergency.”
A stealth approach seemed like the logical thing to do, although with my six foot five-inch frame and above average build, I looked more like a drunk staggering around than someone trying to be stealthy.
A few people inside the pub gave me a curious stare as I walked past the window, but you saw all sorts walking around London at night, so no one thought too much of it.
I pulled out my phone to triple-check that I was recording everything, but in doing so the bright screen illuminated me and everything else down the dark alley. As far as being a spy went, I was less James Bond and more Johnny English.
My hand instinctively reached out and felt the knife in my jacket pocket. I should be able to take it out quickly if need be. One hand would grab hold of the sheath through the jacket, while the other hand would take hold of the handle and pull. It had worked in front of the mirror at home, but back then my hands hadn’t been sweaty, and my heart hadn’t been pounding in my chest.
I made it to the pub’s back entrance without being spotted. The door was slightly ajar, so I took a peek through, but could only see a table and some empty chairs. The fat stacks of cash on the table made it fairly obvious that either this pub was doing a heck of a lot of business, or there was something dodgy going down.
The room was brightly lit, so the second I walked inside, all hope of taking them by surprise would disappear in an instant.
I had a good idea of what to expect in there, but that wouldn’t be much good if I walked in having literally brought a knife to a gunfight. Not to mention, a copper would know all sorts of ways to commit crimes and get away with it, whereas I’d never used a weapon before. This didn’t bode well.
I opened the door a few inches further and peeked inside. Still no sign of anyone. This time I opened the door far enough to get my body through and walked inside. This was it. Tonight I would either get my revenge, or… well, I didn’t want to dwell too much on the alternative.
In true clumsy fashion, I managed to kick over a stray beer bottle left by the door. Seconds later, a blow landed on the back of my head, and everything went black.
-*-
My eyes opened, but immediately closed again as the light sent a shooting pain through my head. I was sat on a cheap plastic chair, and when I squinted I could make out a table in front of me. The cash was still there in neat little piles. I was in the same room.
Someone was sat opposite me, but it took three attempts at opening my eyes before I could make out who it was.
“Hodgson?” I asked, when I saw her sat casually opposite me. “What’s going on? Did you catch him?”
“Catch who?” Hodgson asked.
“Winston. What happened? I remember walking in and then...”
“Then you were hit over the head with a blunt instrument and rendered unconscious. You’ll have a nasty bruise there in the morning.”
“How did you know I would be here?”
“I knew you’d come here by yourself. You’re brave, I’ll give you that. Stupid, but brave.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course not,” Hodgson said, casually picking at her fingernails. “Like I said, stupid, but brave. If I’d had more time I could have probably engineered this whole situation to make it look like Winston really was behind it all. Hell, I could have probably arrested him for it like I did with Carl. But, time is slipping away and as much as I’d like to incriminate Winston, I’m even more eager to make money.”
“It was you, wasn’t it?” I asked. “All this time, you were the one running this operation.”
Eight years ago, she’d taken charge of the operation that had ended with Carl and Wayne behind bars. She had the perfect cover. She was the last person anyone would suspect.
“I’ve kept things quiet over the last few years, but I guess you could say I’ve come out of retirement.”
My hand reached for my knife, even though I was likely too weak to use it. The pocket was empty.
“Looking for this?” Dave said, appearing from behind me before sitting down next to Hodgson, waving the knife in front of me.
“I’m slightly insulted that you thought you could bring me down with a fisherman’s knife, Olly,” Hodgson said, speaking to me as if we were friends chatting in the pub. “Still, I admire your spirit. Always have done. That’s why it’s going to be such a surprise when you bottle it during the World Cup Final and lose the game.”
“You should know better than anyone that I’m not going to throw the game. Not again.”
Hodgson gave a long, drawn out sigh. “I’m getting a strong sense of déjà vu here. I was listening in on the conversations you had with Carl eight years ago, when you said much the same thing. Remind me, how did that end?”
“You know full well how it ended,” I snarled, spitting at her for good measure. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do in the circumstances, but my spit landed on the table raising a wry smile from her.
I still found it hard to reconcile the fact that Hodgson had been behind this the entire time. I’d trusted her. I’d even told Michelle to contact her in an emergency. I never seemed to be able to keep Michelle safe, no matter what I tried.
She’d arrested Carl and Wayne for money laundering, and had told me that there wasn’t enough evidence to tie them to a betting ring. I hadn’t cared at the time. They were both going to do serious time, and that was the important thing.
Now I realised she had done that to avoid a full investigation into the betting ring. The betting ring that she operated from behind the scenes.
“In that case, you know full well what I am capable of,” Hodgson said. “The acid attack had been unfortunate. I never wanted to do that, Olly, but you gave me no choice.”
“And what about Gary?” I asked. “Did he need to die?”
“Quite frankly, yes, he did. He was becoming a liability. I would have disposed of him anyway, but when he came into the police station to file a report, I had to accelerate things somewhat.”
“You won’t—”
“Get away with this?” Hodgson interrupted, and then laughed. “This isn’t a movie, Olly. I already have gotten away with it.”
I did my best to smile, although my head hurt like hell when I did so. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you.”
“Oh really? Because of the phone recording you have of my confession?” Hodgson pulled my phone out of her pocket and waved it in front of my face. She must have taken it while I was unconscious. “I’m offended, Olly. You may not like me much, but please have some faith in my intelligence.”
“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.