“She was found with the bloody knife in her hands,” O’Neill pointed out with a touch of acid in his voice. “That makes for a pretty compelling case. You certainly thought so at the time sir.”
Dempsey tried not to audibly suck in a breath but Quinlan let the pointed remark whizz past him without ruffling his hair.
“I did,” he said heavily. “And if I was mistaken then I want to rectify that mistake—but not loudly and not in public.” His stony gaze was a warning. “At the moment we don’t know how the drugs in Jacks’s system got there but we’ll find out. Meanwhile concentrate on finding her and bringing her in. Anything else is secondary.”
“Yes sir.” The assent came from both men.
“And let’s be robust about this, gentlemen. Follow up every lead. We can’t be seen to be going easy on her because she used to be one of us. Get out there and shake some trees—see what falls out.”
He nodded in dismissal and had already turned away when O’Neill asked, “What about Frank Allardice?”
Quinlan paused, considering. “Put someone on him until we know what his game is,” he said at last. “He did his best to give the force a bad name while he was still within it. I’m damned if I’m going to let him succeed now he’s on the outside.”
61
Myshka unlocked the flat door and yanked it open. Outside she found Steve Warwick with his fist still raised in the act of pounding to be let in. A couple of workmen were passing by on the pavement behind him, their heads turned to watch his antics. They nudged each other and grinned broadly when Myshka appeared in the doorway.
She pulled the silk wrap—in scarlet this time—tighter around her body and glared at all three of them. Her state of undress infuriated her less than being seen with a complete lack of cosmetic armour.
“What is this? What are you doing here?” She kept her voice imperious. “Where is your key that you have to make all this fuss?”
“I left it at the office,” Warwick muttered pushing past her. “I need to talk to you. And no it can’t wait, dammit!” he added when she would have protested.
Myshka cursed inside her head in two languages. Sometimes he could be so stupid—just like Dmitry. Men. Hah! Coming here like this, causing a scene. Causing people to remember . . .
She slammed the door behind him. Warwick slumped against the wall of the entrance hall as if exhausted, loosening his tie. She smelled alcohol on his breath.
“Pull yourself together. Why have you come?” She grabbed his arm, gave it a shake. “Tell me!”
Warwick managed to raise a tired smile at being manhandled. “Well for once I haven’t come for that darling,” he said managing a bitter smile. It faded as he took in her wrap. “You are alone, I take it?”
Her head came up, imperious. “You expect me to be?” But instead of a sharp rejoinder she got only a wave of defeat—and fear. She made her voice soften. “I was going to take bath,” she said more gently. “Come up.”
He looked pathetically grateful to be taken in. But not so grateful, she noted, that he didn’t poke his nose inside the tiny bathroom at the top of the stairs. Just to check the bath was full and the room was empty.
The Harrow flat was supposed to be a bedsit but Myshka rarely spent any time there except in bed so there was nowhere to sit. In the bedroom she turned to face him as she lit a cigarette, her eyes never leaving his face.
“Tell me,” she said again.
“He sent for me this morning.”
“Who?”
“Grogan—Harry bloody Grogan! Who do you think?” Warwick raked a hand through his hair, ruffling it out of style.
Myshka hid a smile, pursing her lips. “And for this you pee your pants?”
That worked to curb the fear and turn it into a petulant anger instead. “What do you take me for? I played it cool naturally, but it was close—too close,” he complained. “He suspects, I know he does. Good God, I thought those goons of his were going to kill me and bury me out there . . .”
Myshka put her cigarette down into an ashtray and crossed to him. She put one hand on his shoulder and stroked his hair back soothingly with the other. “Hush,” she murmured throatily. “If you are here unharmed then he suspects nothing, hmm?”
She would, she determined, find out later just how convincing Warwick had been. Either from Grogan himself, if he was feeling talkative, or from Dmitry. Dmitry might not be great at picking up on subtleties but he could judge Grogan’s moods well enough by now.
Besides, if Grogan thought Warwick was becoming a problem it would likely be Dmitry who was sent to deal with him.
This could . . . complicate things.
“Relax,” she said now, smiling. “Remember what we talked about. A little bravery now and you will be a rich man. A very rich man.”
For once he twisted out from beneath her hands, his movements jerky with agitation. “The shipment arrives next week,” he said. “And I haven’t the money to pay for it. Hell, I haven’t even the money to pay for part of it which is why I had to promise Grogan a big fat bonus on top, which—”
“How much?”
He stopped, looked a little shamefaced as he admitted, “Eight percent.”
“Eight?” Myshka laughed. “Oh my darling you drive hard bargain. He would usually ask for twenty.”
Warwick lightened momentarily as his ego kicked in but it soon passed. “He may as well have asked for two hundred,” he snapped. “Don’t you understand? I haven’t a hope in hell of paying him. I should never have let you talk me into this! Oh God what was I thinking trying to cross a man like Harry Grogan—?”
Myshka went to him again, letting the edges of the wrap slip apart as she pressed herself against him. His breath hitched, eyes starting to glaze and this time he didn’t push her away. He was so easily distracted.
“You worry too much,” she said softly, her own gaze on his slackening mouth. “Is all taken care of. This time next week you will have no cares, I promise.” A millimetre from his lips she drew back. “You do trust me, hmm?”
“Hell of course I do darling,” he said. “It’s just, you weren’t there today. It’s a big risk.” He frowned, unwilling to confess just how scared he’d been, she realised. Instead he said, “I suppose I don’t like the idea of . . . turning against Matt either. We’ve known each other a long time and—”