Behind him, Eddie suddenly reappeared, running down the garden. Harry knew the police would be right behind, so he pulled himself upward, grimacing through the pain. Eddie saw Harry as he reached the top of the wall. ‘Harry!’ he screamed. ‘Harry, help me!’ Eddie, looking up his cousin, didn’t see Wolf’s body on the ground. He tripped over the little dog, fell into the mud and the police were on him.
From the top of the wall, as Harry silently maneuvered round as much of the glass as he could, he glanced down at Eddie, barely visible under three uniformed officers. He looked at Wolf’s body and smirked to himself. Revenge is sweet, Wolfie boy... Harry disappeared over the wall and into the darkness of the alleyway behind.
Outside in the street, Bill had slipped his knuckleduster on and was fighting for his life. He had too much to lose: there was no way he was going to roll over and just let himself be caught. He kicked and punched for all he was worth, keeping two officers easily at bay. Even when they were joined by two more policemen, Bill stood his ground. Eventually one of them got in a lucky hit to the side of Bill’s head, dazing him for long enough to allow the others to take control. The next moment, Bill was on the ground, curled up into a ball with his arms above his head, as four truncheons rained down on his head and body.
As officers walked the bleeding, battered and still swearing Bill Grant toward the police van, handcuffed and struggling, Fuller watched from just outside the back of the ambulance where Resnick, wrapped in blankets, was being looked after by paramedics. Fuller hadn’t been part of the arrest team; he’d chosen to stay with Resnick. If he did say anything, Fuller wanted to make sure that his words were recorded properly. He wasn’t going to let Saunders twist anything or blame Resnick for anything that wasn’t his fault: there’d be enough about this mess of a case that was Resnick’s fault...
As the officers passed Fuller, one of them handed him Bill Grant’s knuckleduster. The congealed blood and hair had been smudged by the inside of Bill’s pocket, but was still visible. Fuller looked at the fit, young, fighting man restrained by four police; and at the fat, wheezing old man in the ambulance. He was suddenly filled with an uncontrollable combination of fury and guilt. Every other day of his life, he’d hated the idea of sitting in a smoke-filled car with Resnick, but tonight — tonight he wished he’d been right by his side. Resnick didn’t deserve this beating. No one deserved this beating.
Before he knew it, he’d slipped the knuckle duster onto his right hand, strode across to Grant and punched him hard in the kidneys. He managed to land one more blow before being pulled away.
As Fuller climbed into the back of the ambulance with Resnick, he saw Eddie being marched toward a police car. He was blubbering and squealing. ‘I’ve got a right to be here! It’s me cousin’s place! I’m keeping an eye on it for him. I ain’t done nothing wrong.’
In the ambulance, Resnick’s head lolled toward Fuller as he sat down beside him. The dark blood was now congealing round his mouth and nose. His eyes, like a wounded animal’s, stared at Fuller.
‘I gave him something to remember you by,’ said Fuller. ‘The one who did this. He won’t forget you in a hurry.’
But Resnick didn’t seem to care. As he tried to speak again, more blood spluttered from his mouth. The paramedic put an oxygen mask over it and he closed his eyes.
Harry Rawlins crouched low behind the thick privet hedge of his rear neighbor’s garden. He had ripped out the pockets of his trousers and put them on his shredded hands, which he had squeezed into fists to stem the flow of blood. He could still feel tiny shards of glass buried deep in his palms. From his hiding place, he watched as the ambulance left, followed by the police van and, one by one, all the police cars and bystanders, until the street was clear. Even then he waited another half an hour just in case the police returned. Eventually, when he was satisfied the coast was clear, he moved out onto the street and looked around: it was as if the circus had left town. Taking Eddie’s scarf from his coat pocket, he wrapped it round his neck and pulled it up over his mouth and nose. He then put his hands in his coat pocket and casually walked off down the road.
Chapter 40
Shirley stepped onto the plane clutching her ticket and, unsure where her seat was, turned left. A stewardess standing by the galley asked if she was traveling first class and Shirley held up her ticket. The stewardess looked at it, gave her a cheesy smile, and said economy seats were to the right. As the stewardess politely shuffled Shirley back toward economy, Shirley saw Dolly sitting by the window in first class, sipping champagne and reading Vogue. ‘Bloody typical.’ Shirley muttered.
To make it worse, Shirley was in an aisle seat where people would bump into her and, worse still, she discovered Charles sitting right next to her.
‘I swapped seats to be next to you!’ He beamed. ‘Now we can get to know each other better!’
It had been hours since she’d eaten anything, so Shirley enjoyed the in-flight meal. After eating, she put on her headphones and settled back to watch the movie; she wasn’t really interested in it, but anything was better than having to listen to Charles drone on and on about all the countries he’d been to.
Shirley had fallen asleep during the film when, yet again, she felt someone bump into her. She whipped off her headphones, and was about to give whoever it was a piece of her mind, when she saw Dolly standing there. Dolly apologized as if Shirley was a complete stranger, before walking on toward the toilets. Checking that the toilets were all vacant, Dolly took a cigarette out the pack she was holding and lit up as Shirley joined her, the headphones still dangling round her neck. As the women talked, they kept smiling at each other, as if they were simply passing the time of day.
‘We got trouble,’ Dolly said quietly. ‘The customs system at Rio is different from ours. There’s no red and green area: everyone goes through the same exit. They just swoop on anyone they feel like searching. We have to risk it, though. You OK with that?’
Shirley’s heart sank. ‘No, I’m not OK,’ Shirley hissed. ‘It’s crazy to risk it! The Brazilian customs officers will be watching for the slightest twitch and you know how nervous I get.’
‘I’ll be the one taking the risk by carrying the money bag,’ Dolly pointed out. ‘Without it we’ll soon have nothing left to survive on in Rio — or to get us out of the bloody country if we need to. All I need you to do if you see a customs guy stop me is create a diversion.’
Shirley nervously twisted the wire on the headphones. She knew Dolly was taking the biggest risk. She had no choice but to back her up.
‘I’ll take your silence as a yes, then?’
‘What sort of diversion should I create?’
‘You’ll think of something. You’ve still got six hours before landing,’ Dolly said as she walked off.
Shirley went into the toilet. She held her head in her hands, feeling sick. When she got back to her seat, the film was just ending. They had caught the villains on the Costa Brava with the stolen cash. Shirley ordered a large brandy to calm her nerves and settle her brain. Closing her eyes, she pretended to sleep.
Harry moved softly round the darkened bedroom, trying not to wake Trudie. His hands had stopped bleeding, but he was still feeling the pain from the cuts as he packed a holdall and then opened a drawer in the dressing table. Taking out his passport, he searched around for the fifty quid Dolly had given Trudie for the baby. The thought of Dolly made him twist inside with hate. He would pay her back for this: he would find her and, even after he’d got his money, she’d suffer for doing this to him. He fumbled around in the drawer, wincing with pain when he caught the palm of his hand on a stiff hairbrush. One of the larger cuts reopened, he sucked in air through his teeth and let out a small sigh.