The secretary handed over the package and told him Einar was here. Both men perked up, even though they were expecting him. Victor hit keys on his computer. Jeremy came around and both men stared at the feed from a security camera in reception, which showed Einar on the sofa. Victor usually used it simply to spy on his receptionist because he was a people watcher. Finally it had been put to a real use.
Both men stared at Einar. Victor had heard a description of the contract killer but never seen him before, and he was surprised. He'd expected a mountain of a man with cold eyes and the demeanour of a robot. But this guy was just lounging back, looking around the room. Like a regular guy. And he could be hurt like a regular guy, as the thick bandage on his face proved. In that moment, Victor no longer feared him.
Victor ushered the secretary away with an order to send Einar in. He told Jeremy to stand behind him, like a die-hard bodyguard, just to show Einar that Victor was a serious man. Then he ripped open the package and pulled out the photo.
"Stop," he called out. His secretary turned to him, her hand already reaching for the door handle.
"Tell him to wait. Five minutes. Then send him in."
She left. Victor showed Jeremy the photo. Jeremy smiled.
Victor got up and went to another door, through and into a small bathroom. He closed the door and pulled his mobile and dialled the number on the photo. As it rang, he stared at the photo, grinning.
The call was answered by a man who said, "Hello?"
"Are you Chopper?"
"I am."
"Then congratulations."
The photo was of James Marsh, the man he had ordered killed a few days ago. He lay on a carpet, on his back. There was blood all over his neck and his shirt. His eyes were closed as if asleep, but the man's face was a mask of pain and terror.
And beside him, just jacketed shoulders and half a helmet in the shot, was Chopper, arm extended to hold the camera.
***
Jimmy was in the recessed doorway of a solicitors' practice near the Chalet Tower, phone to his ear, peeking out at the tall building in case anyone was sent in pursuit of the man who delivered the package. He saw no one.
"The job is done. So you owe me money," he said into the phone.
The man on the other end said, "Yes, I do. And it shall happily be yours. I can have it in place tonight for you. But you threatened me for fifty thousand, and the agreement was for twenty. That is still the amount I will pay."
"I did not threaten you. It was someone else. Someone who can't threaten anyone again, let's put it that way."
"And leave it. Certainly. So twenty thousand is the fee. I can have it in place tonight." He gave Jimmy a postcode. "Do I need to remind you about keeping your silence?"
Jimmy ignored the question. "Why did you want Marsh dead? If you don't mind my asking?"
The man laughed. "That would be telling. Let's just say he was in the way. And now they're both out of the way and I have what I want, you get what you want."
Jimmy heard his phone beep. The battery, about to die. "Then our business is done. Just so you know, I am now out of the game. Do not contact me again."
"Nor you me. Forget me, I forget you. A pleasure, Mr. Chopper."
Jimmy hung up. A moment later, his phone beeped again and died. Battery gone. Maria had showed great forethought in pausing to rescue their new phones while escaping from the hotel room back at the service station, but now he cursed her for neglecting the chargers. He slotted the device away, thinking.
Could that be it? All over? Einar would surely be off the job now, and the man who wanted Jimmy dead thought he was. It seemed too good to be true. Of course, things weren't back to normal. He couldn't go back to work, couldn't regain his old life. They would have to move somewhere far away and start over, just in case Hartbauer discovered the truth. He might have to fake his own death for the authorities. Maria and Louise would have to go along with that. There might be all sorts of problems ahead. But for now, he seemed to be in the clear.
And there would soon be a twenty grand payoff as the icing on the cake.
***
Einar never got to see Victor Hartbauer. A young man exited the office about ten minutes later and told him the boss would see him on the thirteenth floor. Einar stood and left the room. At this point he was already suspicious. When he exited the lift and stepped out into an empty office space under construction with half-finished dry walls and plastic all over the floor and tools everywhere, he knew there was a problem. There were a pair of plastic garden chairs in an empty space right before him, a foldaway table between them.
To his left was a dry wall with a doorless doorway. He rushed through. To the right a corridor ran away, but to the left the space was turned into a sort of wide alcove created by the wall and a row of pallets containing big bags of builders' material of some sort. The there was a door in the back wall. He used the barrel of his Bersa to punch a small hole in the dry wall, which he put his eye to.
Eleven minutes elapsed before he heard the ping of the lift. From this angle he couldn't see the lift doors, so when two men stepped out, it was as if they emerged from a blank wall. They wore jeans and black bomber jackets, and both had shaved heads. They looked like nightclub doormen, but each man carried a pistol. They emerged slowly, guns aimed ahead, eyes scanning the room. Instantly he could see the concern on their faces. The table and chairs. They had been placed so that Einar would assume his chat with Hartbauer would take place there. He would sit and relax, and be unprepared when the lift doors opened to emit, not the businessman but men with guns.
Change of plan.
The men split up to go around it the half-finished office. One went to the right, away from Einar, while the other came his way. Einar pulled his eye from the hole in the wall as the man moved out of range. Einar felt the dry wall move slightly and knew the guy was leaning up against it. So he could stare through the doorway at an angle to see if there was a threat down the corridor. Too dangerous to just step through, because then he would be open to his left and right.
Einar moved away, towards the back wall. He knelt, then lay on his front. And aimed his gun.
The man slipped quickly around the edge of the dry wall, turning towards Einar to aim his gun into the single blind spot he hadn't yet covered.
The guy knew someone could be in that blind spot, but he hadn't fully expected it, so Einar's presence there threw his brain off a jot. Maybe only enough to delay his reactions a fragment of a second. But enough to put him second in this game.
He was good, though, because he managed to fire a nanosecond after Einar let off a shot. But Einar was already aiming right at the man's torso, while the other guy had his gun aimed too high to hit a guy laying on the floor. Einar heard the thud of a bullet hitting the wall behind him even as he heard the wet slap of his own round taking the guy in the chest.
The impact took away his legs, dropping him onto his ass. The gun arm was still out straight, so now he was aiming right at Einar's head. Einar lowered his gun and fired, and closed his eyes against a return shot he knew the guy might get off even if Einar landed first. But no shot came. When he opened his eyes, he saw the guy laying on his back, blood sprayed across the floor behind his head, which was half gone. Einar bit his tongue in anger. He had basically had the drop on this guy and shouldn't have been anywhere near danger, yet he'd needed some luck here.
No time to dwell, though. Three shots fired, all heard by the other guy. No shout, which proved the remaining gunman was also professional. Einar heard footsteps running. Two seconds, then nothing. The guy had found somewhere to hole up and wait, because he knew his pal was dead. Knew it, if he knew anything about the guy he'd been sent to kill.
Einar would have enjoyed a long game. The stalk then the kill. But he was on a clock here, because he knew there was no way Victor Hartbauer would hang around in his office, waiting for news of Einar's death. He would be waiting to die himself, if something went wrong. So Einar t
urned towards the door and pushed through, into a stairwell. He knew he had to catch Hartbauer before the guy left the building. It was a shame to leave an enemy alive, but he took some consolation that the other gunman would be hiding and waiting a long time, fearful to move in case he stepped into the path of a bullet. Einar could always come back in a couple of years, see if he found a skeleton curled in a corner that the builders had missed.
Einar took the stairs to the floor below then rode the lift to the car park and rushed out quick and low. There were only a few cars present, most of the office workers having left for home. A white Mercedes turned towards the exit and stopped at the barrier. Einar rushed over and yanked the passenger door. It was locked. Through the window he saw a fat man in his fifties, staring with shock that dripped with recognition, too. Victor Hartbauer for sure.
Einar smashed the window with his gun and stuck it through the hole. He didn't say a word. Hartbauer held up his hands, one of them holding the ticket that would release the barrier.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Hartbauer moaned. "You lied and you tricked me. You would have done the same." He blabbered that final sentence again, and a third time, and seemed ready for a chorus when Einar told him to shut up.
"What trickery?"
Hartbauer reached for something on the passenger seat, covered in broken glass. Einar snatched it off him. He saw the photograph displaying Chopper next to James Marsh's corpse. And understood. He ordered Hartbauer to unlock the doors, then got in and instructed him to reverse and find a dark spot.
Once the car was hidden, Einar said, "So you ordered me killed because you thought I lied about killing Chopper?"
Hartbauer nodded quickly.
"I don't suppose I can blame you for that. Call him."
"Who?"
Einar tapped the man's head twice with his pistol. "Don't let terror make you docile, Mr. Hartbauer. Who have we just been talking about?"
"Chopper."
"There we go. You're going to call him and cancel whatever payment I assume you made when you called the number he wrote on this photograph. You're going to tell him that the payment must be in person. Tomorrow morning. I'm too tired for this tonight. I was supposed to catch another plane, you know. You people keep making me pay the airlines for nothing. Or rather, you keep paying the airlines for nothing."
Hartbauer was staring at him. Einar realised he must sound strange. "Anyway, call Chopper and arrange a meet tomorrow. There's a nice spot I know, should be empty on a Saturday. Arrange to meet him there with his money. Pull out your phone and do it now, please. Here's the postcode." He reeled it off.
Hartbauer was getting more puzzled. He didn't even look scared any longer, just bewildered. "You want me to call Chopper? Why?"
"Because you like to kill people who try to trick you." He waited, watching the man's face crease in puzzlement some more. Then added: "Let me tell you a little secret about James Marsh and Chopper."
***
Jimmy had made a promise to himself that he would never commit another crime from now on. He would live a free and law-abiding life. Starting when he got back to the Red Lion Inn, because he wasn't about to walk back there from London.
He dumped the stolen car in a field a mile away and strolled the rest of the way. It was past six, starting to get dark, but he found the wind cool and the open land calming. Some calming was what he needed. He was eager to tell Maria all about the new development, but he hadn't yet committed her new mobile number to memory.
At the inn, he rushed to his room but found it empty. A glance out the bedroom window showed a small green area with a child's playpark. He plugged in his phone using a charger he had bought on the way back and went out and found Maria on a swing, while Louise pushed herself on the roundabout. Maria watched him come with obvious relief, and expectation.
"What happened?" she said. He sat on the swing next to her.
"I think it worked. I think we're free."
She made a point of looking around, as if to emphasise that they were miles from home, living in a Bed & Breakfast.
"Okay, things aren't exactly back to normal. But I think nobody is going to be after us now."
She nodded, but her body language said she was worn out and not about to jump for joy.
"So what now?"
"We should stay here a few more days. I drove past home on the way back. Nothing's happening. Maybe the neighbours thought nothing of what happened when we ran. Maybe they think nothing of the fact that we just ran away. Probably just assume we went on holiday."
She just stared ahead. Behind them, the roundabout creaked and Louise whooped. He reached over and squeezed Maria's shoulder.
"Are you okay?"
Just then Louise screamed "Daaaaddy," and ran over. He hugged her. She wanted a push on the roundabout, and a drink. He said he would fetch her a drink first, because he needed a cup of tea.
"Get me one, too, and I might forgive you," Maria said, attempting a smile. Jimmy kissed her forehead and went inside.
The landlord was searching his freezer, said he was planning a nice evening meal for them. Jimmy said thanks and put the kettle on. Then he went to turn on his phone. He was halfway back down the stairs when he heard the twin-beep that signified a text message. Without rush, he ambled back upstairs to check it. He had been thinking about work. He was missing, and his boss would want to contact him.
But the message wasn't from the supermarket. It was from the number that had called him outside the tower block.
The employer, Victor Hartbauer.
CHANGE OF MEET. TOMORROW AT 10.AM, EASTWOOD BUSINESS PARK.
His heart lurched. Things had gone sour. They knew the truth. And now he knew how. Einar. Einar had been to the lock-up. Clues there had led to Jimmy, but Davey had sent Einar in search of Chopper, not Jimmy. So Einar knew Jimmy was Chopper, then. And Einar had been at the Chalet Tower to meet Hartbauer.
They all knew now. And now they were changing the plan, and it could only be for one reason. To kill him.
He sat on the bed, empty but filling with dread. This would never end. It had been too much to hope for.
Something else came to him now. Something Hartbauer had said: "…and now they're both out of the way…"
Alfo Pitchford and James Marsh. Two deaths ordered by the same man. Connected somehow. But how? The supermarket? Einar had said something about an occurrence sixteen days ago at the shop - but nothing had happened then. So Einar had been throwing him a line. But what if it all did concern the supermarket? How, though? Had he changed something Hartbauer needed in place? Cancelled an order? Changed a supplier? Put the price of eggs up?
He stood up as he thought of something else. That was it. Had to be. He dialled a number and put the phone to his ear. A woman answered.
"Athena Supermarket, Lara speaking, how can I help?"
Lara, the girl who worked customer services on Friday and Saturday nights and Sunday and Tuesday afternoons.
In a Scottish accent that was probably a great insult to Scots, he said, "Can I speak to Dale, please? Is he working?"
"He is, but he's in the warehouse and I'm not allowed to bring him out. Can I pass a message on?"
"I'll phone him tomorrow," Jimmy said, and hung up.
Dale, that brash idiot. He had suspended him the other day, yet the fool was right there, working still. Why? Because Jimmy hadn't been around to tell anyone, so nobody else knew Dale was under suspension. With Jimmy gone, Dale had attended work as usual. And he would only do so if he knew Jimmy wouldn't be a problem any longer. So was Dale's suspension the reason for the hit? Was he Hartbauer's son or something? Was this all about revenge because Dale was going to lose his job?
No. Nobody ordered an expensive hit on someone because they cost another someone a job that paid a fraction of that cost. They ordered the hit...if they needed a suspended employee to keep the job for a certain reason. But what reason could a businessman like Victor Hartbauer have for needing a twerp like Dal
e to keep a supermarket job?
Only one way to find out.
When he went outside again, it was without drinks and with a long face. Maria seemed to know something bad was coming and hung her head.
"I have to go back to London. One more night."
She didn't speak for a while. He waited. Finally she looked up at him.
"So something went bad again. I don't know what's going on in your mind, Jimmy. I don't want to know. We have a big, dark problem and it's because of the big, dark spot in your soul. I don't want to know any more. Go do your thing. Go be the part of you that you hid from me for so long. When you get back, Louise and me will be either be here, or we won't. I don't know. But go and do what you do so well and sort this problem."
It sounded like acceptance of a sort. Barely. It was a sort of blessing. Barely. But it was enough. Barely.
There truly was a dark spot in Jimmy. He needed to utilise it now like never before. He needed to end this finally. He could deal with the aftermath later.
He took the landlord's bike and gear without telling him and sneaked out. He rolled the bike out of the village before starting the engine. When he sat astride it and set off, the fear sluiced off him. He was back in the gear he belonged in when that dark spot grabbed the controls of his body.
Chopper aimed for London and gunned it.
*
Not far south of the Queen Elizabeth II Olympic Park, the walled business park was in the centre of a massive roundabout but strangely had no entrance via that route. He had to take an exit off the roundabout, heading away, then another left that went up and around in a half-spiral and over a bridge spanning the roundabout.
The place looked like some kind of gated community. He passed through an open gateway and onto a wide road that was shaped like a lollipop, the circular head at the far end. The businesses were arranged along either side, behind lawns and pavements, as if they were not commercial buildings but strange homes. Every car parked on the road was flash and expensive, giving him the impression that workaholic fat cats were here on their day off. The spaces between the buildings was vast, so that by the time he'd reached the head of the lollipop, he'd passed only four on each side. Each had a sign out front with some scientific name. Drugs companies, or drug testing companies.