Resnick took a deep and rasping breath, taking in oxygen to calm himself down. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his warrant card and threw it down on Saunders’s desk. ‘You can stuff my promotion application and I resign from the Met.’
Saunders sighed and stood up. This wasn’t what he wanted, but Resnick had overstepped the mark and Saunders had had enough of trying to appease him. ‘I think you had better take your resignation up with the Chief Super.’
‘I’m taking it up with you! People in the know... you remember that: Boxer, Green Teeth, me. The Fishers — they’re running scared from someone bigger and nastier than them! You mark my words; you haven’t heard the last of Harry Rawlins. He’s out there somewhere, alive and well... I know it. And it won’t be me he comes back to haunt, it’ll be you!’
Saunders was now convinced that George was losing it. ‘Please, George, just go home and rest. Don’t make any rash decisions here and now.’
‘My resignation will be on your desk first thing in the morning. That’s what you’ve wanted all along, isn’t it? Well, I hope yours and everybody else’s heads bloody well roll when you all see I was right.’ Resnick stormed out of the office.
Resnick was on the ground floor heading toward the main exit when he stopped to have a coughing fit. He could hardly catch his breath, his heart was hammering so rapidly he thought it was going to leap out of his chest. As he leaned against the wall, waiting for the heart attack he was sure was coming, he saw Alice walking toward him. Her pace quickened when she saw the state he was in.
‘Deep breaths sir, long deep breaths.’ Resnick knew what to do when he got like this, but Alice’s gentle reminder was still soothing. Especially now. She gave him time to get his breathing back to normal then asked if she should fetch a glass of water.
‘No, I’ll be fine,’ Resnick said. ‘But I need you to do me a favor, Alice, love. I want you to write a letter.’
‘I can’t...’ Alice began, trying to tell him she wasn’t working for his department anymore.
One more rule broken wasn’t going to harm either him or Alice now. ‘No,’ said Resnick. ‘I really need you to do this for me, Alice, please. It’s my letter of resignation.’
‘Oh, sir.’ Alice didn’t know what else to say.
‘They took the case off me, so I quit.’ Resnick looked so wretched, his head bent as he quietly told her exactly what he wanted written.
Alice wasn’t listening; she never did when he dictated letters. She usually just wrote what she knew he would have said if he’d had the time to think straight. She’d do the same now. She imagined herself saying, ‘I’ll quit with you, George. We’re both meant for better things.’ The very idea of actually calling him ‘George’ brought a lump to her throat and she hoped she didn’t have to say anything before it went away. He’d always been such a grouch, but he was her grouch. He was her grumpy, brilliant, disgusting, dedicated policeman, and no one knew how to handle him except her.
Once he’d finished, Resnick looked up at Alice. ‘When you do the whip round for the retirement pressie, no Teasmade, all right?’
Alice tried to smile but she just wanted to cry.
Resnick leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘Thanks for everything, Alice. And thanks for putting up with me.’
As she watched Resnick walk away, with his manky old coat flapping and his moth-eaten briefcase in his hand, she finally broke down. She’d be the first to admit that her feelings for such an outwardly unlikeable man were hard to comprehend. But Alice knew where she stood with Resnick, she knew her role, she knew she empowered him to be the best officer he could be by covering his back, listening to him moan, reassuring him when he had self-doubt and protecting him from... well, himself mainly. And she’d failed him. He gave her life purpose and that was more than any other man had ever done. Resnick had no idea how much she loved him — and now he never would.
Chapter 27
Bella took off the paint mask and stepped back to breathe in some air. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead and cheeks. She surveyed the Ford Escort van that was to be their getaway vehicle with pride; she’d never sprayed a vehicle before, but she’d spray-tanned plenty of strippers backstage at the Z-Easy club, and it was pretty much the same.
When Dolly had bought the van — under a false name and in cash — two weeks ago, it was red. Now it was a gleaming white. The engine had been a bit knackered, but Linda had got to work and it had a lot more poke under the bonnet than before. Linda had learned a lot about engines from Carlos during the few weeks she knew him, the most important being how to ‘feel’ the engine. He’d said she could read manuals if she wanted to, but they didn’t replace intuition. That might have worked for him, but she’d read the manuals too — especially for the vehicles in Dolly’s lock-up. If they broke down, they went to jail. Simple as that.
Bella wandered across to Shirley, who was humming to herself as she busily painted magnetic signs for the sides of the getaway van. ‘The van’s ready when you are.’
Shirley looked up. ‘Do you think these are OK, Bella?’ She cared what Bella thought.
Bella nodded. ‘Very professional. It’ll look like a genuine council van when these and the false plates are on.’
On the far side of the lock-up, Linda was sitting on a crate, cleaning the sawed-off shotguns. Her face was ashen, her mouth a thin tight line, and she kept flicking looks toward the exit. She was waiting for Dolly.
‘Is everything OK, Linda?’ Bella asked, worried she was going to blow her top when Dolly arrived. It was early evening now and Bella had been watching Linda all day. At one point she’d tried to persuade her to go home, but Linda had refused. She’d sat in the lock-up, biding her time like a taut wire ready to snap. Now, Bella leaned in and whispered in Linda’s ear.
‘I know you’re hurting about Carlos, but losing it with Dolly ain’t gonna bring him back. Wait until the job’s done and, once you got your cut, you can call her what you want. You can even slap her about if it makes you feel better. Do ya hear me, Linda?’
‘It’s hard, Bella,’ said Linda. ‘It’s like she’s ripped the soul out of me... but I’ll do me best to keep me mouth shut. I don’t want to ruin it for you and Shirl.’
Bella patted her shoulder and went to put the false plates on the van.
Ten minutes later, Dolly breezed in and plonked a bag of shopping on the floor. She was still on a high and eager to tell the girls about her morning. ‘I’ve got us the final route and times for security van,’ she said with a beaming smile.
Shirley and Bella went over and congratulated her. Dolly waved her hand to Linda to join the group, and then cleared a space on the table, laid out the route map Brian Marshall had given her and lit up a cigarette. Bella wanted to ask how she had got the route map, but if Dolly wanted them to know, she’d tell them.
‘OK, so I’ve spent the afternoon driving this route,’ Dolly started. ‘I done it about six or seven times. To do timings, and find the best position for the blocking van to be parked up before we head into the underpass, that sort of thing.’ Dolly quickly flicked through the other papers given to her by Marshall. ‘We’ve got the exact date and time now... it’s two weeks ahead of schedule.’
‘How come?’ Linda asked, just to be awkward.
‘Because that date and time gives us the best balance between cash haul and the opportunity to pull the job quickly and successfully. We’ve got to account for rush hours, road works, school holidays, all that sort of thing. I got it under control, Linda, don’t you worry.’