‘I’m sorry, Kathy.’ His voice was plaintive. ‘I felt obliged… in case I led you into any danger.’
‘The only danger I’m in is from that damn thing going off by mistake!’
‘No, no. I was in the army, you know. The safety catch is on. What in God’s name is that sound?’ Orr breathed. ‘It’s like the voices of ghosts.’
‘It’s only the machinery,’ Kathy said, and turned away, irritated. ‘The extract fan’s at the far end. Come on.’
They passed evidence of where workmen had begun replacing the missing grilles in the incoming ducts, and came to the place where Wiff ’s nest had been, still cordoned off with police tape. Here they examined the original plan, orienting themselves. If the door to the octagonal room existed, they realised, it must be quite close.
They moved on down the main plenum to the next short branch to the left, which they followed to its end, closed by a panel of louvres. This, they decided, talking for some reason in whispers, was where the door should have been. But there was no sign of a handle or hinges in the louvres, which appeared firmly fixed. Orr rattled them in frustration, pushed his shoulder half-heartedly against them, then stepped back in astonishment as they swung soundlessly open.
Their torches showed another corridor beyond, its walls formed of grey concrete blockwork. It ran forward for about twenty yards, then turned left and stopped at a door. Kathy told Orr to wait and tried the handle. It turned, and she opened the door into a darkened room. The air was suddenly much warmer and had a strong human smell, of urine and sweat. She pointed her torch into the dark space and picked out a chair, an electric fan heater and a pair of wellington boots. As the beam swept slowly across the room she saw a mattress on a steel-framed bed. From the head-frame hung a pair of handcuffs.
‘Oh God…’ she breathed. ‘You were right, Robbie. Just stay where you are please. Don’t come in here.’
She shone the torch back along the wall towards the door and found a light switch. A harsh white fluorescent light flickered into life overhead, and Kathy stepped cautiously into the room. There was a suitcase near the bed, open, with clothes heaped untidily inside.
At her shoulder, Orr whispered, ‘I knew it, Kathy. I knew I was right. The Minotaur’s lair, eh?’
‘Yes. And I told you to stay outside. For goodness’ sake don’t touch anything.’
She was staring at the mattress. There was a sleeping bag heaped at one end, a pillow at the other, magazines scattered in between. Behind her she heard the door click shut. She turned, assuming Orr had followed her instructions and left, but he was still at her back, staring towards the door. Then she saw the man standing there and her heart gave a violent jolt.
‘Who the blazes are you?’ Orr demanded.
The figure didn’t answer, but Kathy knew who it was. She had seen the face on video and mug shots, and once in the flesh.
Gregory Thomas ‘Upper’ North.
22
K athy spoke slowly and clearly. ‘I’m a police officer. I’ll show you my warrant card.’
She made to reach into her pocket, but North raised a warning hand and she froze.
‘What’s your name?’
She had heard people mention the soft, sibilant voice that reinforced the impression he was under the influence of something even when he wasn’t.
‘DS Kolla.’
‘Division?’
‘Serious Crime. With DCI Brock.’
Without the heavy-rimmed glasses he looked much more like the North of the earlier pictures, slightly dreamy eyes pinched together, cruel mouth. At the mention of Brock’s name he blinked and stared more fixedly at Kathy.
‘Is he here too?’
Kathy hesitated and saw the eyes focus threateningly.
‘No, he’s not here at the moment.’
‘Who else is with you?’
‘No one. Just us. At the moment.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means I’m supposed to report in.’
The mouth formed a thin smile. ‘Sure. Who’s he?’
‘He’s-’
‘Now look!’ Orr interrupted, becoming incensed that someone he took to be a maintenance mechanic, dressed in tracksuit and trainers, should have the presumption to question a police officer in this way. ‘You show a bit of respect, sir!’
‘Robbie…’ Kathy said warningly, remembering all she had been told about North. If she could just keep things calm for ten or fifteen minutes, Sharon would have told Brock, who would surely come. But Orr was waving his hand imperiously at her as he continued to address North in his most pompous classroom manner.
‘I am Professor Robbie Orr, and I am an archaeologist assisting this officer in her investigations. We have no interest in you, and I suggest you leave now before-’
‘Tell him to keep his fucking mouth shut,’ North hissed.
Orr, unlike Kathy, had not noticed the black object dangling from North’s right hand.
‘How dare you speak to us in that manner!’ Orr exploded. ‘If you can’t show a little respect-’
North brought his right hand up until it was pointing at Orr’s chest. Orr blinked in astonishment as he made out the automatic and silencer.
‘Robbie, please keep quiet and leave this to me,’ Kathy said, with some intensity. She tried to glance unobtrusively at his hands, terrified that he would try to pull his antiquated gun from his coat pocket. ‘Don’t move or say a word, and everything will be perfectly all right.’
Orr swallowed, then drew himself up straight. ‘No, Kathy. I refuse to be intimidated by some loutish thug. Does your employer know you have that thing?’ he challenged North. ‘Good God, sir! I’m not frightened of the likes of you. I was with Templer in Malaya!’
There was silence for a moment. North was frowning, as if trying to work out what the hell Orr meant, and Kathy began to say something to try to divert his attention. But before she could get the words out, North said, ‘Yeah? Well I was with Ronnie Kray in Pentonville,’ and the gun jumped twice in his hand, with two vicious thumps.
Orr toppled abruptly backwards, lay felled on the floor, a look of blank amazement on his face. North stared down at him for some seconds, as if contemplating a fine piece of work, then swung the gun to point at Kathy’s head. Instinctively she closed her eyes, waiting for oblivion.
A long silence, then she heard his voice. ‘Take the coat off, very carefully, darling.’
As she eased it off and handed it to him a hissing, gurgling noise came from the figure stretched out on the floor beside her. She glanced down and saw pink foam on Orr’s lips.
North backed over to the bed and emptied the pockets of Kathy’s coat without taking his eyes off her, spreading out the purse, handcuffs, wallet with warrant card. Then he told her to turn and stand over against the wall, hands and feet spread. She felt him come close against her back, the end of the silencer press against her temple, then his free hand feeling in the pockets of her jeans, then round under her sweater to the front of her shirt, unbuttoning it and feeling inside to her skin. The hand slid up to her breast, pausing there a moment, his breathing heavy in her ear, then continued feeling her front, her belly, then round to her back, tugging the shirt out of her jeans so that the fingers could feel over her skin, up to her shoulders, then through her hair.
The hand went round to her front again, to the belt and zip of her jeans, undoing them. She said, ‘No,’ and tried to twist round, but he grabbed her hair and banged her face against the concrete block wall, pressing the metal tube harder against her temple. Then he returned to what he had been doing, unfastening her jeans, pulling them down to her ankles and feeling up and down her legs. He pulled off her shoes, threw them aside, and stepped back.
‘Hands behind your back,’ he said.
She obeyed, and felt the handcuffs on her wrists.
‘Turn,’ he said. ‘Sit.’
She squatted against the wall, jeans still round her ankles. The blow to her head had dazed her; her brow throbbed painfully. She fought to control the trembling that threatened to take her over, and tried to concentrate on things outside herself-on Orr, lying a couple of yards away, wheezing and bubbling faintly.