Deep Cover (27 page)

‘They're here,' Billy Kemp whined. ‘They've come too early.'

‘Early?' Penny Yewdall glanced at him. It was by then, she estimated, about noon. ‘What do you mean, early?'

‘Yates has this thing about killing during the day. I told you, he doesn't like icing geezers until after dark. I thought we'd have a few hours yet. How do you think they are going to do it?'

The door of the barn opened and winter sunlight illuminated the interior; the rats were heard to scurry for the shadows. Billy Kemp cried out in panic.

Penny Yewdall did not know whether to laugh or cry, when, in the next instant, Harry Vicary stepped into the barn.

‘Oh good.' Vicary smiled softly. ‘I was very worried that we would be late.' Brunnie and Ainsclough stepped into the barn behind him; the officers spread out making sure the building was clear of felons.

Yewdall blinked against the sudden rush of light. ‘How . . .?'

Harry Vicary held up his hand, ‘All in good time . . . but for now let's just say that Victor Swannell met a man who told him where we were likely to find you. He gave excellent directions . . . turn right at a white cottage dated 1610 AD. We could hardly miss. He told Swannell about a row of cherry trees . . .'

‘Yes, they're just outside behind the barn. I'll show you. Where is Yates?'

‘He's being arrested. Gail Bowling as well. We have officers going to their house in Virginia Water. It's all over, Penny. The nightmare is over.'

Later that same year, as the sun sank over fields of freshly baled wheat in north Norfolk, a man and a woman, walking arm in arm, returned from their stroll and entered the village in which stood their hotel. They entered the bar of the hotel and each had a glass of orange juice; they then went to the restaurant of the hotel and were directed to a table for two. They had agreed upon an early dinner before retiring for an early night.

‘Well,' the man said, ‘as I was telling you, they all started collapsing to save what they could of themselves, and each privately vowing to kill Clive “The Pox” Sherwin for being the first one to squeal, but Henry Packer, the guardian of the farm in Hertfordshire, saw the opportunity to save himself and, like Sherwin, he too is living under a new name somewhere north of Watford. The principal players collected life: Yates, Bowling and ‘Rusher' Boyd. Lesser players like Sonya Clements and Felicity Skidmore got lesser sentences, and Josie Pinder went back to the North of England to complete her studies. She had her eyes well-opened and realized that Salford isn't such a bad place after all.'

‘Their property?' The woman studied the menu.

‘Oh, confiscated,' the man replied without looking up from his copy of the menu, ‘all of it has been seized under the proceeds of crime legislation. So if they do come out of prison at some far distant point, then they will come out to the dole queues and hostel living. Quite a fall from grace.'

‘And others got closure?'

‘Yes, that is the pleasing thing. Mr Halkier can now visit his daughter's grave, and Mr O'Shea can now visit his wife's grave. Victor Swannell found out what happened to Charlotte Varney, who disappeared some years ago and who was linked to Curtis Yates. It was one of his cold cases you see.'

‘Ah . . .'

‘And a girl called Jennifer Reeves, an early victim – her remains and the remains of Charlotte Varney being found under a cherry tree . . . and of course their relatives now also have closure. Tragic that they lost their daughters in that way, but at least they now know what happened . . . it is some comfort, some little comfort.'

The couple stopped talking and leaned back in their chairs as a waiter wearing a starched white tunic approached their table. ‘Would you like to see the wine list, sir?' he asked pleasantly.

‘No, thank you,' Harry Vicary replied. ‘Just a pitcher of chilled water for us both, please.'

‘Water . . .' The youthful waiter scowled. ‘Water? Yes, sir.'

‘Restaurants only make money on their alcohol sales,' Vicary explained to his wife when the waiter had departed. ‘The profit from food sales is slim to zero.'

‘So we won't be popular customers?' Kathleen Vicary smiled.

‘Nope, but we are paying through the nose for our room if you ask me. We could get cheaper in London. Mind you, they don't call this part of Norfolk “Chelsea North” for nothing.'

‘Yes, can't help but notice the cars; our little VW next to those Ferraris. So, it is all wrapped up? Case closed?'

‘Yes.' Vicary smiled. ‘All wrapped up, all done and dusted. A whole criminal empire we hardly knew existed brought down in a matter of days, because a man chose to commit suicide by lying down in the snow right on top of a shallow grave he had dug some ten years earlier.'