Dead Pretty: The 5th DS McAvoy Novel (DS Aector McAvoy) (39 page)

Aberlour gives the tiniest of shrugs. ‘This game is built on favours, Trish. Favours and reputations. I can help you. I can help you in your ambitions. I can help those close to you.’

‘Don’t start that shit,’ says Pharaoh, waving a hand. ‘My team are all good officers.’

Aberlour stares back at her, sucking on his lower lip.

‘I can’t be a party to Hollow’s death,’ says Pharaoh, and it takes an effort for the words to come out strong. Her affection for him has been genuine. Her desire authentic. But she would never have allowed anything romantic to happen. She only gives a damn about one man: a man she is about to send into a hell she only wishes she could accompany him through.

‘You said you could find him,’ says Pharaoh. ‘You want me onside, you let me try and save him.’

‘Hollow?’ asks Aberlour, incredulous. ‘He’s already in the ground. You know that.’

Pharaoh shakes her head. ‘You clean up this shit the way you see fit. But we’re as guilty as Hollow over this whole mess and I won’t sit idly by while somebody kills him. His daughter deserves the chance to understand him properly. So do I. I need a grid reference, that’s all. Then I’ll say what you fucking want.’

Aberlour remains silent for a long time. Clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Plays with the name badge on his black suit.

‘Kid gloves, Patricia,’ he says at last. ‘Just you and your giant, here. Don’t make waves. Your only brief is to find him. We can tell you where his phone is, if not necessarily him. But you need to limit your resources. You need to leave the media to us. You do what you must. If you somehow get him out alive, he’s going to prison for whatever the hell we can get him on. He can’t be on the streets to tell this story.’

Pharaoh isn’t paying attention. She’s pushing McAvoy out of the van; all but slapping his back in her haste to get back in the fresh air. She slams the door shut behind herself. Turns to McAvoy and gives him her most penetrating glare.

‘Somebody has to be with his daughter,’ she says, chewing her lip. ‘Somebody she knows. She’ll be scared. She’ll need to talk.’

McAvoy considers her. Feels shabby even as he asks the question. ‘You think she knows what he’s been doing? That she’ll give a statement?’

Pharaoh looks away. ‘She’s a good girl. She’s already been through hell. And she’s all alone in that place.’ She looks up at McAvoy, her eyes intense and ferocious. ‘You don’t have to do any of this. You don’t have any sins to atone for. But if you save him, you’ll help me atone for mine.’

McAvoy stays silent for a minute, then, ‘I’ll find him,’ he says. ‘We can atone together.’

Watching him run to his car, Pharaoh realises she has never had a better offer.

PART FOUR

Chapter 28

Teddy pulls the paper towels away from his temple and looks at the ugly blot of blood. It resembles Australia. There’s a patch of skin somewhere near Brisbane.

He scowls. Spits. There is a jagged white line of pain down his vision, as though the scene before him is a photograph, ripped in two and then placed back together. He feels as though there is a creature inside his skull, kicking at the bone as if it were a stubborn door. He tries to ignore it. Teddy has always been known as a hard case. He can take this. Can do what must be done, even with a suspected skull fracture and an overwhelming urge to lie down and fall asleep for a very long time.

He screws up his eyes. Focuses on the man who lies on the cold floor of the big empty barn, which is patterned with straw and dried shit, like an uncooked joint marinated in too many herbs. His wrists and ankles are bound behind him with tie-wraps. He’s lying half on his side, staring up with blue eyes that put Teddy in mind of a Siberian husky. Despite the blood crusted in his hairline, he is smiling a little, staring up at Teddy as if this is all part of the plan.

‘Comfy, you fuck?’ Teddy kicks him in the ribs. ‘Don’t you dare smile at me.’

Hollow grunts with the impact. Presses his lips together and folds the smile into a tight, thin line.

It doesn’t smell as bad in the barn as Teddy had anticipated. He doesn’t know how regularly it is used but the cow shit has long since dried and the overwhelming aroma is of damp straw. Occasionally, the stench of the nearby pig farm assails Teddy’s nostrils but he is too far gone on adrenaline and temper to pay it much attention. He doubts they will be interrupted. The building lies down a pitted track, half a mile to the rear of Humberside Airport. The planes have all been grounded due to the fog, which has rolled across the Humber and into this patch of Northern Lincolnshire. Teddy struggled to find the turn-off from the country road. Had to double-back and risk collision with an oncoming 4x4 before he swung the car onto the narrow track and began jolting, painfully, towards the building that Foley had identified soon after their arrival in the area. They had planned to teach Trish Pharaoh about respect within its confines. Had planned to have themselves quite the time. Instead, he needs to get his hands dirty with the stranger who made him and his partner look like fools, and who left Foley dying on the ground.

As he stands above Reuben Hollow, Teddy feels sadness bloom inside his chest. He had cared for Foley. Cared for him more than he allowed himself to acknowledge. Teddy has several children by different women but has never been a part of their lives. He realises, too late, that he had come to think of Foley as a son. Enjoyed his company. Liked the way he talked. Sure, he’d fucked the young lad more times than he could count while they were cellmates, but that had been more about comfort than control. It was different on the outside. They were more than friends. They shared something. Trusted one another. And Teddy had been forced to watch him die.

He boots Hollow in the ribs again. Enjoys his grimace.

He walks back to the car. The doors are open and the headlights are on, throwing a sodium glow into the mist and darkness. Shadows play upon the rear wall of the barn. Each time Hollow moves his bound legs, his knees cast the silhouette of a mountain range onto the corrugated iron and brick of the curving roof.

Teddy reaches inside the car. Pulls out the nailgun and blowtorch. The two items had cost him more than £300. He’d made a mental note at the time to add the expense to his tab for the job. Wonders, for a second, how much more he is now going to make given that he won’t need to pay Foley.

‘You ready for this?’ asks Teddy. As he walks into the patch of light cast by the headlamps, he feels as though he is walking onto a stage. Feels as though black velvet curtains are parting for him. He’s tempted to take a bow.

Hollow isn’t gagged. Teddy wants to hear him scream. He’ll only shove the paper towels down his throat if the noise makes his headache any worse.

‘We doing a spot of DIY?’ asks Hollow, from the floor. ‘It’s not really my speciality. Can’t even change a bulb, though I could sculpt you a beautiful replica.’

Teddy gives a slight shake of his head. He has stood over plenty of hardened criminals who have tried bravado in the face of pain. Their eyes always give them away. By the end, they are invariably snivelling and begging for mercy in a pool of their own piss. He sees none of that in Hollow’s face. Sees absolutely nothing in those cold, blue eyes.

‘I’ve never tried this before,’ says Teddy, giving the nailgun a theatrical flourish. ‘I’ve kicked people’s kneecaps off before. Once had a job where I had to break an amateur boxer’s hands and unhinge his jaw. That was a bit unpleasant. I think he’d won a fight he wasn’t meant to. Can’t really remember. They all blend in and you shouldn’t really ask too many questions. This nailgun stuff turns my stomach, if I’m honest. Can’t think of it without wincing. But these are changing times and old buggers like me have to evolve. Adapt or perish, that’s what they say, isn’t it? So I’ve just got to go through with it.’

‘You don’t,’ says Hollow, raising his head. ‘You could leave well alone. You could get yourself back down south and disappear for a while. I promise you, this isn’t going to end well for you. You don’t seem a terrible person. Your partner, he struck me as a bully. You just seem like a pragmatist. And the pragmatic thing to do is get in your car and drive away.’

Teddy chews his lip. Realises he’s doing it. Stops and shakes his head.

‘You’ve got balls, mate. You do intrigue me. I’ve done my reading up on you and there’s no doubt you’re an interesting man. I don’t blame you for smashing the shit out of those lads who messed with your daughter. I don’t know how any of that could be considered a crime. But you got in the way. Foley and me were only here to do a job. That copper. Her husband owed a lot of money to a very important man. We were here to get it back. I’m told that you’re quite the rich man, so you’ve got a golden opportunity here. You can save her life by giving me your account details, or telling me where it’s stashed. That was all we wanted. But right now, I think I want to hurt you more than I want to rob you. So I’m going to do some horrible shit to you and any time you feel like telling me where you keep your money, we’ll have a little break, yeah? And if you’re telling the truth, I’ll stop hurting you. I’ll still kill you, but the pain will be over.’

Hollow keeps his eyes on Teddy’s. From the floor, he gives a little nod, as if they have reached an understanding.

Teddy moves forward. Reaches down to grab Hollow’s shirt and drag him into a seating position. Gets a smell of him. Sawdust and soil. Varnish and metal. Takes his switchblade from the pocket of his trousers and cuts the tie-wraps that hold Hollow’s wrists behind his back. Places the blade to his neck and speaks, slowly and deliberately.

‘Put your hands on your knees. Palms down. You move, I’m going to open your throat and deal with the consequences later.’

Hollow licks his lips. The blade is already pricking at his skin.

‘You’re going to kill me anyway,’ he says. ‘Why put myself through it?’

Teddy digs the knife in. The tip slides a few millimetres into his throat. Warm blood runs down his neck and over Teddy’s hand.

‘Where there’s life, there’s hope. You’ve got a daughter. Your only job is to stay alive as long as you can. And to do that, you’ve got to put up with what’s about to happen.’

Slowly, Hollow brings his hands forward. Places his palms over his kneecaps. Teddy readjusts his position. Keeps the blade against Hollow’s throat and flicks the safety on the nailgun. Brings it around and places the point on the back of Hollow’s hand. Winces as he pulls the trigger.

Nothing happens. Teddy tries again. Curses as he raises the weapon to his face. Blows on the muzzle, as if trying to dislodge fluff. Looks at the safety catch and realises it’s stuck between two settings. Pushes it all the way across. Looks down the barrel again and sees the nail, long and deadly, waiting to be fired through skin and bone.

Realises, despite his headache and his churning guts, that he’s rather looking forward to this.

Chapter 29

McAvoy holds the mobile phone in his left hand and swings the Volvo through the gap in the hedge with his right. He shouldn’t be driving. The world is dirty glass and cobwebs. He can barely see more than a car length in front of him and he keeps losing the signal from his sat-nav.

The front tyre hits a pothole and he lurches to his left. Drops the phone in the footwell and swears. He feels sick. Adrenaline is making his hands shake. He’s making fists with his toes inside his boots. Sweat is running into his eyes and making his shirt stick to his skin. He knows these feelings too well. Has been here, in this world of fear and duty, too many damn times.

From the footwell comes the beep of a new message. Probably Pharaoh again. Another plea to be careful. Another demand for an update. He takes a moment’s glee in making her wait and knowing she’s worrying about him, then feels wretched for the cruel impulse. He has every right to feel less than generous towards Pharaoh. She has played on his emotions. Played on what she knows about him. Played on his feelings for her and the fact that if he ignored her plea for help, he would never sleep well again.

He tells himself to relax. Hollow’s phone is somewhere up ahead. Whether it is still on Hollow’s person is anybody’s guess. If the men who have him are true professionals they will have dumped his phone the second they took him. But as far as McAvoy knows, this track is not a through-road. He can see no good reason why Hollow’s captors would drive down this muddy strip at the back of Humberside Airport just to dispose of his phone.

Through the fog, he sees the shape of a large, abandoned farm building emerge from the mist like an iceberg. He slows down. Drifts forward and sees a patch of light and a nondescript vehicle with its doors open.

McAvoy stops the car. He wishes he had a plan. He has read every guideline and textbook on the importance of waiting for backup. He doesn’t even know how many people he is facing, or whether they are armed. A gun was found at the scene of Hollow’s abduction. A whole armed response unit should have been mobilised. But Aberlour is trying to limit the damage and refusing to make a move until he has worked out every possible angle. Hollow could be dead before then. Could be dead already. He doesn’t know how he feels about that. If Hollow killed Hannah and Ava on top of all the men he is suspected of bludgeoning to death, McAvoy needs to see him in the witness box, being sent down for life in front of the families of his victims. He cannot bring himself to wish death upon him.