Hard Evidence (22 page)

'I'm glad someone believes me.'

'You've still got a lot of friends on the force.'

Delaney took the piece of paper. 'Nobody else
knows about her?'

Sally shook her head. 'But Bonner—'

Delaney interrupted her sharply. 'You didn't tell
him this?'

'No.'

Delaney nodded, relieved. 'Good.'

'But he wants to help.'

'What did he say to you?'

'Just that, that he wants to help.'

'You told him you were meeting me?'

'No, but I guess he worked out you might get in
touch with one of us.'

Delaney took her shoulders, looking into her
eyes so she could see how serious he was. 'This
stays between you and me for now. Okay?'

'Of course, sir.'

'And don't call me sir. If I get back on to the
force after this little lot, I'll be lucky to be a uniformed
constable.'

'He said that if you got in touch, he wants to see
you.' She paused. 'I don't think you should do it.
I don't think he can be trusted.'

'Oh, I think he can be trusted all right.' Delaney
smiled, but it had all the warmth of a dead man's
hand. He took out his phone and hit Bonner's
number on speed dial.

Bill Hoskins walked over to the gas ring he kept in
his maintenance hut, flicked a match to light the
gas and put the kettle on. Some minutes later, he
was settled in his armchair with a mug of tea,
some Rich Tea biscuits and a book. He was
reading
The Moonstone
by WiIkie Collins. It was
a long book, longer than most he read, but he
loved a good mystery and he liked to take a page
or two on his tea breaks.

A short while later, his tea finished, the book lay
flapping open in his lap. In the summer heat he
had gently nodded off to sleep. He was awakened
by the sound of the door opening.

'Hello?'

He squinted into the bright sunlight spilling into
the room and he could tell that it wasn't the
attractive young lady who had come to see him
earlier in the day, as he'd hoped, but someone
entirely different. He sighed, irritated. 'What do
you want?'

As the shot rang out, he had his answer. He
opened his mouth to protest, but the words died
with his breath on his lips. He slumped back in his
chair, the book falling to the floor. Bill Hoskins
never would get to find out who had stolen the
Moonstone. He'd taken his last page.

Kate sat nervously in her car, parked on a double
yellow line. She looked at her watch and drummed
her fingers on the steering wheel. Further down
the street she could see a traffic officer slowly
walking along the line of illegally parked cars.
Where was Delaney? And what the hell was she
doing anyway? She was a forensic pathologist, for
goodness' sake, not Tonto to Jack Delaney's Lone
Ranger. What was she doing running around
London trying to find a murderer?

The traffic officer looked across pointedly at
Kate and she swore under her breath and turned
the engine over, pulling back into the traffic just as
Delaney came out of the church carrying a small
overnight bag. She stopped, ignoring the angry
honks from behind, and leaned over to open the
door for him. The traffic officer watched as
Delaney opened the boot of the car and put his
bag inside. He closed the boot and walked slowly
forward. The officer's gaze was lingering a little
too long for Kate's comfort.

'For God's sake get in, Jack. That copper's looking
at you.'

Jack got into the car, pulling the door closed
behind him. 'He's just Traffic.'

'He might well be, but your face has been all
over the place.'

Kate floored the accelerator and headed into
Oxford Street. 'Where to?'

'Angel.'

'What's there?'

'Eddie Bonner. I just spoke to him.'

Kate looked across, concerned. 'Do you think
that's particularly wise after what I just told you
about the caretaker's statement?'

Delaney shrugged. 'I guess we'll find out.'

Head north from King's Cross towards Holloway,
up a long, busy hill lined with scruffy warehouses
and aluminium-roofed offices, and after about
half a mile or so you get to Angel tube station.
Turn right and you are in Islington proper, if
proper is the word. Delaney could remember
when the area was in two halves. On one side of
the divide lived the poor and on the other the rich,
like a line had been drawn across the road. That
had all changed now, since the late eighties and
early nineties, from the Angel tube station all the
way down the main road past the King's Head and
beyond was the world of the chic and the sleek.
Designer pubs crammed in with trendy restaurants
and bistros. Chain bars that catered to the
nouveaux hoorays, like the Slug and Lettuce, All
Bar One and the Pitcher and Piano, had replaced
the old Islington that Delaney remembered. Not
that he didn't still have a drink in the King's Head
when he got a chance, where you were as likely to
share a pint with an Irish fiddle player as with a
long-haired drug dealer with dreams of rock
stardom that had long since crashed and burned.
There was something about the untouched nature
of the place that Delaney took to, and if it was an
affectation that they still rang up the sales on
an old-fashioned till with the amounts demanded
in l.s.d. – the currency, not the drug – then it was
a small price to pay for a little defiance amidst
the ravages of progress.

Much as he might have wanted to, Delaney
didn't tell Kate to turn right as they reached the
top of the hill. She turned left past the Angel tube
station and then right, off the main thoroughfare
into a series of back streets that led to a bleak
industrial wasteland in a matter of a few short
minutes. They drove in silence until Delaney
cursed colourfully as the car bucked and bounced
over the uneven and broken road surface. He
turned to Kate. 'Sorry.'

'I think we've got more to worry about than a
little swearing, don't you?'

Delaney shrugged in rueful agreement and Kate
laughed, a nervous laugh, a little too loud, betraying
the tension coiled like an ache in her stomach.

Delaney put his hand on her knee. 'It's going to
be all right, Kate.'

A twist or two further along the battered road
led them to a series of old Victorian warehouses,
long abandoned and shambled together in mutual
disrepair. Kate drove slowly up to the ramshackle,
slope-shouldered building that Delaney had
pointed to and stopped the car.

'Be careful, Jack.'

He leaned across and kissed her. 'If I'm not back
in ten minutes, call the police.'

'Not funny.'

Delaney opened his car door, and Kate put her
hand on his arm. 'Maybe I should come with you.'

'I want you to stay here.'

'It's a set-up. Bonner could have cleared you and
he hasn't.'

'You told me. Just keep an eye on the building.
Anybody comes in after me, you phone, all right?
That's all you have to do.'

Delaney got out of the car and walked around
to the boot. He popped the lid open and unzipped
his overnight bag, moving some clothing aside to
reveal a cloth-wrapped object hidden at the
bottom. He picked it up, unwrapped it and hefted
it in his hand. An unregistered gun he had had for
about four years now. He checked it was loaded,
even though he knew full well it was, and laid it
across his left thigh as he shut the boot and walked
across to the warehouse door. He stopped at the
entrance, looked around the corner and then
walked in.

It was dark inside and it took a moment or two
for his eyes to adjust. As his vision slowly
returned, he could see the place was a very old
building in complete disrepair. It was partly
demolished, and a series of half-destroyed rooms
led mazelike to a big open area. Crumbling walls,
garishly streaked with different-coloured paint,
spread out erratically into the distance. Upper
levels visible through collapsed floors. It was like
the ruins of a modernist castle. On one wall a
futuristic soldier with a bare chest and improbable
muscles and armed with a hand-held rocket
launcher had been painted above a garish slogan
written in large blood-red letters: 'PAINTBALL
3000 – SURVIVAL HURTS'. The different-coloured
paints splattered on the walls now made
sense to Delaney. The post-apocalyptic effect had
clearly been designed with the local yuppie market
in mind. War games for young professionals
letting off steam by pretending to blow ten degrees
of shit out of each other. Delaney smiled at the
irony. A few miles down the road, the disaffected,
drug-dealing youth were doing it for real.

Delaney made his way slowly through the series
of rooms. Placing his feet carefully so as not to dislodge
the randomly scattered piles of old brick and
masonry. It was clear that there were plenty of
places for the paintballers to lay an ambush, and
Delaney felt the small hairs on the back of his neck
rise as he moved from one area to the next.

He put his back against a wall and called out.

'Bonner!' His voice echoed around the cavernous
spaces.

'I'm over here.'

As Delaney edged cautiously around the wall,
the sound of a brick falling came from behind him.
He dropped into a crouch and scowled when he
saw that it was Kate. He held up a hand to get her
to stay where she was and put a finger to his lips.
Kate nodded, but walked slowly up to him and
whispered in his ear.

'I couldn't just wait in the car.'

Delaney glared at her and whispered angrily,
'Well wait here. I mean it.'

Bonner called out. 'What are you doing, Jack?'

'I'm making sure there isn't a scope with my
head in its sights.'

'I'm on my own here. I came to help, for Christ's
sake. There's things you need to know.'

Delaney made a stay gesture to Kate and raised
his gun. Kate shook her head, disapproving, but
didn't say anything. Delaney moved slowly away
from her and looked around the corner of the
wall, then walked up to the open area where
Bonner stood with his jacket off and a gun held in
his right hand.

'I came alone, Cowboy.'

Delaney looked around, the gun sweeping in his
hand.

'There's only me. You can put that away.'

'I should just take your word for that, should
I?'

'I'm here, aren't I?

'What's it all about, Eddie?'

'Like I said. Things that you don't know, Jack.
Things that happened.'

'You going to tell me?'

'That's why I'm here.'

Delaney nodded him for him to continue. 'I'm
listening.'

Bonner stepped closer. 'It's just a question of
being in the wrong place at the wrong time. They
needed a fall guy and everybody knew you were
banging Jackie Malone. Didn't take a genius to
put your name in the frame.'

'Who is it, Eddie?'

'They told me that Jackie's death was an accident.
You know she choked to death.'

'Go on.'

'But they'd have killed her anyway. I didn't
know everything that was involved. I didn't
know about the kids, Jack, I swear that. And I
know it wasn't you that took the cocaine from
evidence.'

'You?'

Bonner shrugged with a guilty smile. 'I was
caught at it a long time ago. Deals were made.
People took their cut. You know how these things
work.'

'Not in my world, Eddie.'

'So I had to do what I was told. Things are
getting way out of hand, though . . .'

'Who is it, Eddie? Who told you to cover up the
caretaker's statement?'

'You've got loose lips in your camp, Jack. You
should know who to trust.'

'What are you talking about?'

'I'm talking about Kate Walker. She's a regular
little canary.'

Delaney shook his head, taken aback. 'That's
ridiculous.' He fought the urge to look back at
Kate.

'I'll tell you everything, but I need to know
you'll cover me. I'm out of my league here, Jack,
but we can help each other.'

Delaney could hear the desperation in his voice.
'Put the gun down then and let's talk.'

Bonner held his gun steady. 'I need insurance
first.'

A shot rang out like the crack of a bone,
bouncing around the half-demolished walls, and
echoing into silence. A spurt of blood fountained.
Delaney gasped soundlessly with the sudden shock
of it, his knees bent and he dropped towards
Bonner.

The second shot rang out as Delaney cradled
Bonner in his arms, pulling him back behind the
wall. The bullet smashed into Bonner's outstretched
leg and he spasmed soundlessly.

Kate took Delaney's arm and pulled him around
the corner as a third bullet gouged concrete from
the floor. Delaney propped Bonner against the
paint-splattered wall. His face was as pale as
porcelain, and he held a hand to the hole in his
head, letting the blood trickle through his fingers
like warm soup.

Delaney leaned in. 'Jackie Malone. Who killed
her, Eddie?'

Bonner swallowed drily. 'Kevin Norrell.' He
looked at his fingers, at the viscous liquid staining
them, and back up at Delaney, the confusion
painful in his eyes. 'Is it real?'

Then he slumped forward, his mouth gaping,
his eyes open but seeing nothing in this world.
Kate knelt beside him, propping his head and
feeling for a pulse.

A brick fell from the upper level, crashing to
the floor below, and Delaney whipped his head
round. A door slammed upstairs. Delaney stood
up, his eyes cold with fury. Kate grabbed his arm
but he shook it off.

'Wait here.'

Delaney sprinted across the open space to a
wrought-iron staircase on the other side. He held
the gun forward and ran up the stairs into a large
empty room. Some sunlight slanted in through the
filthy windows that lined one of the walls. The
floor was rotten, rain-spoiled planking ripped half
up, and in places whole gaps where the floor
below could clearly be seen. To the left a door
hung half on its hinges, leading to a darkened
corridor beyond. Ahead was another closed door.
Coming to a decision, Delaney ran across the
room and charged the door open. He flew into the
next room, skittering on the bare wooden floor. It
was empty except for an open door that swung on
to an outside staircase. Delaney could hear the
sound of a car being driven away at speed, but by
the time he reached the doorway it was gone.

He walked back down the stairs to where Kate
was waiting by Bonner's inert body.

Kate watched him, shaken, as he put the gun
in his jacket pocket. 'Have you got a licence for
that?'

Delaney ignored the question. 'What did he mean
about you selling me out?'

Kate shrugged. 'I spoke to Bob Wilkinson, Jack.
But I can't believe he would set you up.'

Delaney looked down at Bonner. 'Nor can I.
And Eddie Bonner would lie as easily as breathe.'

He watched impassively as Kate checked
Bonner's pulse once more. 'He's not going to do
either again.'

'There's no chance?'

Kate shook her head. 'Do you think he set you
up? Was the shot meant for you?'