The first phone call to interrupt them came to Drozdov’s mobile. It was a short terse message and Drozdov had no time to respond to it. The call ended abruptly.
‘ A warning from my friends in Russia,’ he said to Gary. ‘Check out the guy who was with Jacky Lee when he was shot. Could be a cop. Stress “could be”.’
‘ Frank Jagger,’ Gary said stonily.
Then Thompson’s own mobile rang. It was Billy Crane. He did not introduce himself, just expected Thompson to recognise the voice. ‘I know where I’ve seen that guy Jagger before,’ he said quickly. ‘Twelve years ago. He was a cop. Is he still one, or what? Think about it.’ The call ended.
Gary repeated Crane’s words to Drozdov. A horrible feeling, like rats eating away at him, gnawed in the pit of his guts.
‘ Once is OK,’ Drozdov began his mantra. ‘Twice is coincidence-’
Thompson’s phone rang again, startling both men. The voice of a man Gary did not recognise said slowly, just once, ‘Frank Jagger is a cop. If you do not kill him, he will destroy you.’
‘ Shit! Either this is one big fucking joke, or else we’re in deep crap.’
‘ Three times,’ Drozdov concluded, ‘means big trouble.’
Gary nodded. ‘We need to get out of here and go to ground,’ he said, punching a number into his mobile. ‘Gunk? Is that you?’
‘ Sure is,’ the big man answered.
‘ Are you still with Frank Jagger?’
‘ Sure am.’
‘ Well, listen fucking good. Don’t do anything stupid, don’t say anything stupid. He’s a cop. I don’t know about the other one, but Jagger definitely is. Get out of there without making him suspicious. Got it? See me down at the Crown and we’ll take it from there.’
‘ Yep, OK,’ Gunk said brightly as though nothing untoward had happened. He folded the mouthpiece of his mobile and slid it into his back pocket. As he had listened to the call he had wandered away from Henry and Terry. He turned and smiled at them. They smiled back, unaware of any problem. Gunk’s eyes focused briefly on Henry. This was just the opportunity he had been waiting for.
‘ Ready to go?’ Gunk asked Terry. He pressed the button to open the shutter doors. Terry climbed into the van and started up. He drew slowly out of the unit, Gunk and Henry walking alongside.
‘ Frank,’ Gunk said quietly to Henry, ‘that was Gary on the phone. He wonders if you could spare the time to go and see him — like now. About those ciggies you offered him.’
Henry tutted. ‘I’ve got other things on. I’d really like to, but I can’t.’
‘ It’s business — you won’t get a second chance.’
‘ Where is he?’ Henry sighed.
‘ At home. You follow me. I’ll pay you for this lot over a drink, civilised like.’ He patted his pocket to indicate he was carrying the whisky money.
‘ OK,’ Henry said reluctantly. Actually it was an offer he could not refuse — to get into Thompson’s home was a major step forwards.
‘ You can fuck him off — we don’t need him,’ Gunk said about Terry.
‘ Sure.’ Henry walked up to Terry who was leaning out of the van window. Gunk was by Henry’s shoulder, listening, making it impossible for Henry to say anything discreetly to Terry, even though he would not have done anyway. ‘Thanks, pal,’ Henry called. ‘I’ll be in touch.’ He gave him a thumbs-up.
Terry got the message and pulled away, bouncing across the ground towards the road.
Henry and Gunk stood side by side, watched the tail-lights disappear. As the sound of the engine grew fainter, Gunk launched a ferocious punch into the side of Henry’s skull, sending him staggering away. He followed it up by another equally hard drive in much the same place. Henry’s legs gave up the ghost and before he even knew he’d been hit, he was unconscious on the ground.
She was smoking too much, she knew. However, a meal like the one she had just eaten needed to be complemented with at least two cigarettes and a Tia Maria to make her feel warm and mellow. She lit up and inhaled deeply. The perfect end, Danny thought happily. If only she was now going to be seduced by some slick Spanish millionaire, her evening would have been complete.
As it was, she would be alone.
She called for the bill and the highly attentive waiter scurried to the request. She tipped him generously and bade him a sweet goodnight. He looked desolate and lovelorn as he watched her walking away from the restaurant, wringing a towel in his hands.
At the next-but-one restaurant along, Loz finished his San Miguel and tossed a few coins on to the table, began to tail Danny.
She sauntered down on to the promenade and stood by the edge of the beach where she lit yet another cigarette and gazed at the intricately constructed sand sculptures which had been created during the day by artistic beach bums. The sky above was phenomenally clear. The stars sparkled like they’d just been polished. Danny hugged herself. The troubles of her recent past seemed far away in this environment. The memory of Jack Sands was nebulous and fading. Her feelings for Henry Christie had been firmly dealt with, she believed. She would not touch another married man with a barge pole, she promised herself. Too dangerous and complicated by half, and there were never any winners. What kind of appealed to her was a divorce, all the angst of separation put behind him, with maybe a couple of kids — eight, nine years old, say — who needed a mother. That would be good: an instant family.
Something dawned on her. Maybe this was the missing link in her life. God, what a strange sensation… but she suddenly wanted to be a mother.
Her legs went weak. Married and a mother, that’s what I want.
Christ, she thought fearfully. Am I cracking up? Is this really my brain in my head? Is this really my own feeling in the pit of my stomach?
She had totally shocked herself.
The jolt did not last for long.
Loz, who had been shadowing her, moved in — aware that other people were about, but knowing that if he was quick, he could get away with it. He strode up behind Danny. His good hand went between her legs and grabbed her crotch, squeezing tightly. His bandaged arm wrapped around her throat and pulled her backwards into him so that his rough, unshaven cheek was next to her ear.
She instantly smelled his breath and sweat and the pungent odour from his hand.
‘ You shouldn’t wear such short skirts,’ Loz growled in her ear. He squeezed tighter between her legs.
Danny struggled.
‘ No fucking chance.’ Loz’s grip grew stronger. He bundled her down on to the beach, a hand wrapped around her face to prevent her screaming. The smell made her gag. He withdrew his hand from her sex and punched her short, sharp and hard in the lower back. Danny tried a back-jab, but Loz stepped out of range and laughed. He propelled her towards a row of fishing boats drawn up on the sand by the edge of the sea, dark and unlit, deep black shadow cast between them.
The half-bucket of water was hurled into his face brought him round, though he remained totally disorientated. He shook his head, which, at first, he thought was face down on a hard floor, but the rest of his body didn’t seem to link in with that idea. And his arms. He could not move his arms. They were trapped in something like a vice. He swooned again, fading out of consciousness. Another dash of cold water cascaded over him, reviving him, jogging his memory.
Terry had driven away and Gunk had smashed him on the side of the head with a fist like a brick. Then there was nothing until this.
Henry’s eyes fluttered open. He was still unable to decide what was going on. He tried to move, to pull himself up. He moved his throbbing head round, muttering, ‘What’s going…?’ and only then did it fall into place. He was bent over a Black amp; Decker Workmate. His arms had been pushed through the jaws which had then been tightened up. His wrists were handcuffed together by twine, which was also wrapped around the cross member which joined the legs of the workmate. The whole thing was weighted down with some of the heavy circular weights from the multi-gym making it virtually immovable.