‘Conflicting witness statements are good,’ Zara said. ‘What about this Danny? Are there likely to be serious complications?’
Kerry shook her head. ‘I didn’t target his head or anywhere too vulnerable with the bat.’
Zara leaned back in her chair, then looked up at the ceiling like she was stressed out and couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
‘This is so unlike you, Kerry. What made you attack him?’
‘Danny was trying to get a rise out of James and start a fight. But James wasn’t biting, so Danny grabbed his girlfriend Gemma and gave her a slap. He’d already smacked her around the night before and I just completely lost my rag.’
Zara seemed a touch more sympathetic when she heard that. ‘And why did this guy want to start a fight with James in the first place?’
Kerry realised she’d talked herself into a corner. ‘The other night James popped Danny one when he was pushing Gemma around.’
‘Ah-haa,’ Zara smiled. ‘Is this when you, James and Dana said you’d been invited to a party at one of your co-workers’ houses, promised to be back on campus by one and rolled up at the gates at a quarter past three? I believe the report from the security team described all three of you as smelling like the inside of a vodka bottle.’
‘We lost track of time,’ Kerry said weakly.
‘I wasn’t impressed, but I let it slide because it was a one-off and you all got up and went to work and lessons the following day. However, I didn’t realise James had also been in a fight.’
‘Look,’ Kerry pleaded. ‘I’ll take whatever punishment is coming my way because I overreacted. But all James did was try to defend a young mum who was getting battered by her boyfriend.’
‘Fortunately I know Inspector Marsdell very well. His phone call telling me that James was in one of his cells actually reached campus before you did.’
‘Oh,’ Kerry said, startled. ‘So you knew already? Do you think they’ll charge him or what?’
Zara shook her head. ‘I thought I’d let James stew in his cell for a few hours. Meryl said she’ll collect him when she’s finished red-shirt athletics training at five.’
‘There’s something else,’ Kerry said. ‘Can I get some advice?’
‘On what?’
‘Gemma,’ Kerry explained. ‘She lives with this guy Danny and he owns their flat. She’s got two kids about the same age as yours and he’s knocking her about all the time.’
‘I see,’ Zara said. ‘Doesn’t she have parents or friends who can help her out?’
Kerry shook her head. ‘Gemma refuses to talk to her parents and says she doesn’t want help. She spat on Danny after the fight, but then she ended up riding in the ambulance with him.’
‘It sounds like she really cares about him,’ Zara sighed.
‘But he’s beating the crap out of her,’ Kerry choked. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have interfered, but I did and I can’t have it on my conscience if Gemma ends up with a fractured skull, or out on the street with two little kids. There must be something we can do to help.’
‘Gemma’s an adult. She’ll only get out of this abusive relationship if she wants to.’
Kerry was exasperated. ‘But I’ve tried telling her, Zara. She just won’t listen.’
‘I bet you’re not the first to tell Gemma how to run her life,’ Zara said. ‘Hopefully she’ll meet another bloke, or a friend who makes her realise that she deserves better. But when people interfere aggressively and tell people how to run their lives it puts them on the defensive.’
‘So what should I do?’ Kerry asked.
‘I don’t think there’s much you can do,’ Zara shrugged. ‘Except listen to Gemma and offer her emotional support if she needs it.’
Kerry sounded annoyed. ‘So we just wait until Danny gets out of hospital and starts beating her up again?’
‘This Danny sounds like a nasty piece of work and you were severely provoked,’ Zara admitted. ‘But you’re not the law, Kerry. Nothing gives you the right to go around breaking arms and legs. I don’t know if there’s much I can do to help Gemma, but there are charities and groups that provide shelter and other help to people trapped in violent relationships. I’ll make some calls and arrange to have some leaflets sent to her at work.’
‘Leaflets,’ Kerry said, tutting contemptuously. ‘What good will that do?’
‘We can’t make Gemma do something she doesn’t want to,’ Zara said firmly. ‘She has to work it out for herself. With luck she’ll study the information and realise that she has other options. As for your punishment …’
‘So I am getting a punishment?’ Kerry sighed.
‘You can rely on that,’ Zara nodded. ‘I’ll have to speak with James and Dana and get to the bottom of everything that’s been going on over the last two weeks, but you will be punished and you can expect it to be severe.’
29. SATURDAY
Fahim woke early on Saturday morning. He hated being in the house now that his mum was gone, but his mood was fair because he was meeting Jake at the cinema later on. After eating breakfast he headed down to the basement and racked up the balls on his father’s pool table.
Having a table at home meant Fahim got a lot of practice and he played well, but there was only the washer-dryer for company and after clearing two sets of balls he got bored and headed back towards his room. A shout startled him as he neared the top of the basement stairs.
‘Tell me, you little bitch,’ Hassam yelled, as a body thudded against the wooden panelling on the other side of the door.
The tone reminded Fahim of arguments between his parents. He moved his ear towards the door, tantalised at the possibility that his mother had come back. But the desperate reply came from Sylvia, the cleaning lady.
‘Let me go,’ she squealed. ‘I don’t know what you’re on about, I swear to god.’
‘Well, who else?’ Hassam yelled. ‘Do you see anyone else coming in and out of here?’
‘Please, Hassam,’ she begged. ‘I don’t know what you want.’
‘Skanky bitch,’ Hassam shouted. ‘Who put you up to this? Who are you working for?’
‘You’re talking crazy, Hassam,’ Sylvia cried. ‘I clean your house, that’s all I do.’
Fahim heard a scream and a rip of clothing. Sylvia had been knocked against the wall again, but this time she lost her balance and slapped against the marble floor near the front door. Heart thumping, Fahim turned the doorknob and opened a crack to glance out.
Spots of blood ran from the kitchen and all the way to the front door. Fahim watched his father bundle Sylvia into the small bathroom directly off the hallway. She moaned as Hassam plunged her face into the toilet bowl, then slammed the seat down on her head before pulling the flush.
‘Tell me,’ he demanded. ‘Who are you working for? Who put you up to this?’
As water gushed over Sylvia’s head, Fahim edged cautiously into the hallway. He looked back towards the kitchen and gasped as he saw smears of blood where the cleaner’s face had been smashed into a wall cabinet. There was a piece of buckled plastic in the middle of the floor and he was horrified to recognise it as one of the relays installed by Jake.
Fahim wanted to sneak out and run to Jake and Lauren’s flat two streets away, but the walk to the front door was risky because his father was in the toilet right next to it. Dressed only in a tracksuit and socks, he moved quietly down the hallway, dodging the spots of blood.
‘Do you want more?’ Hassam screamed, as he flushed the toilet and banged down the toilet seat a second time. He’d only need to lean out of the door to see his son trying to escape.
‘Please stop,’ Sylvia begged, as he tugged her face out of the rushing water.
‘Stop,’ Hassam laughed sadistically. ‘It hasn’t even started yet. Tell me who you’re working for before things get much worse.’
Fahim thought about grabbing some trainers from the cupboard by the door, but he was desperate to get out so he went straight for the do
or handle. Unfortunately, his father had locked it with the mortise key to stop Sylvia escaping. If he’d done that, Fahim reckoned he’d also have locked the electronic front gate, trapping him inside the house. His only option was to head up to his room and phone for help.
‘Oh god,’ the cleaner sobbed, as Fahim belted up the stairs. ‘Please let me go.’
Fahim closed his bedroom door and grabbed his mobile, then flipped through the memories until he found Jake’s number.
‘Come on,’ he begged, as the call rang in his ear. ‘Pick up the bloody phone, you midget.’
*
Bethany’s post-mission holiday was over and she’d started a strict fitness regime that required her to spend Saturday morning in the campus gym. Only Rat managed to persuade his handler to let him off Saturday morning lessons for a second week running and visit Lauren and Jake in London.
‘Mac makes a bloody good breakfast,’ Rat said, rubbing his stomach as he knelt on the blow-up mattress where he’d spent the night, squeezing out the air.
‘It’s a shame about the mission,’ Lauren said sadly, as she lay on her bed staring at halogen lamps on the ceiling. ‘MI5 have already cut the live surveillance and it looks like we’re heading back to campus on Monday night.’
‘I guess our missions can’t all work out,’ Rat said. ‘I’m surprised though, you were all dead optimistic last weekend.’
‘We were only following up on Mac’s hunch, but Fahim seemed so convinced about what he’d overheard that I was sure the surveillance would pick up some evidence.’
‘And you or Jake will have to tell Fahim that you’re abandoning him.’
Lauren groaned at the prospect. ‘He’ll be really upset and I’ll have to do it because Jake has all the sensitivity of a randy rhino.’
‘Still,’ Rat smiled, ‘once you get back to campus you’ll be able to wind your brother up about how he got arrested while on work experience.’
‘It’s so classic,’ Lauren laughed. ‘Only James could do that.’
‘Kerry’s got three hundred laps, a hundred hours’ decorating duty and three months confined to campus with no allowance. James got fifty laps and twenty hours. The police won’t be pressing charges, thanks to Zara.’
‘My room could do with a lick of paint,’ Lauren decided. ‘I might put in a request.’
Rat shook his head. ‘It’s not that cushy. They’re sending them up on the scaffold, painting around the windows on the outside of the junior block. A lot of people are saying it’s out of order. They were defending some girl who was getting battered by her boyfriend.’
‘I’ll buy him a brush and some turps when we’re out later,’ Lauren grinned. ‘That’ll wind him right up.’
By this time Rat had rolled his air mattress and he stepped out into the hallway and stuffed it inside his overnight bag.
‘Still no sign of Mac and Jake,’ Rat said, as he glanced at his watch.
‘Not surprised,’ Lauren replied. ‘Sainsbury’s on a Saturday, the queues will be massive.’
Lauren’s phone burst into Sweet Child o’ Mine by Guns ’n’ Roses. She rolled nonchalantly off her bed, thinking it was probably Bethany or someone else from campus, but she sped up when she saw Fahim’s picture on the screen.
‘What’s up?’ she asked. ‘Everything OK?’
‘That’s a big bloody no,’ Fahim spluttered, sounding terrified. ‘I tried Jake, then Mac, but I couldn’t get through. My dad’s downstairs knocking seven shades of shit out of our cleaning lady. The front door and the gates are locked down and somehow my dad’s found one of the relays that Jake planted.’
‘You’re kidding,’ Lauren gasped. ‘Mac and Jake have gone out, but I’ll head straight over there. You keep calm and stay out of the way.’
‘What’s the matter?’ Rat asked, as Lauren pocketed her phone.
‘Problem,’ Lauren yelled. ‘Get your clothes on and grab whatever equipment you’ve got with you. We’ve got to get to that house.’
‘Hadn’t you better call Mac first?’ Rat asked, as he slid his feet into trainers. ‘Or even the cops?’
‘It’s less than ten minutes if we run,’ Lauren said. ‘Fahim already tried Mac. Their phones must be in a dead spot, but I’ll keep trying. If we ring the cops they’ll probably think we’re taking the piss and even if they do believe me it’ll take ages to explain.’
‘I thought MI5 were running surveillance,’ Rat said. ‘Why didn’t they pick it up?’
‘The operation was downgraded yesterday. They’ll have everything recorded, but nobody is monitoring the live recordings – remember?’
‘And what are we supposed to do when we get to the house?’ Rat asked.
‘Christ knows,’ Lauren said, as she grabbed her keys and a backpack with most of her espionage equipment inside it. ‘But there’s nothing we can do here, that’s for sure.’
*
After the call, Fahim edged on to the balcony that overlooked the hallway and was surprised to see his uncle Asif coming through the front door. He was a well-built man, ten years younger than Hassam.
‘What’s going on?’ Asif asked, as he opened the toilet door.
‘Bitch isn’t talking,’ Hassam said breathlessly.
‘They bugged us, that’s all that matters,’ Asif said, eyeing the walls suspiciously. ‘Someone’s on to us and we’ve got to disappear sharpish. There might be other bugs in the house and if the cops have overheard they could be closing in already.’
‘I think it was MI5, or Special Branch,’ Hassam said. ‘It looked very high tech.’
‘How did you find it?’ Asif asked, as the drenched cleaning woman continued sobbing inside the toilet.
‘I could hear this little humming noise: high pitched and going right through my head. I pulled out the drawer, reached behind and there it was.’
‘Are you set to leave?’ Hassam asked.
‘Three hours,’ Asif answered. ‘My wife’s already on her way to the safe-house.’
‘Fahim,’ Hassam shouted. ‘Get out here.’
‘Dad?’ Fahim said, as he looked down over the railings and pretended to be shocked by both Asif’s presence and Sylvia’s gasping.
‘Get down here now, put your trainers on. We’re leaving.’
‘Leaving where?’
Hassam roared. ‘For once in your life just do what I say.’
Fahim turned back, hoping to pocket his mobile.
‘Right now, Fahim. Don’t make me come up there.’
‘Won’t I need some stuff?’
Fahim glanced at his father’s expression and realised he’d be spitting out teeth if he pushed his luck. As he walked down the stairs and grabbed some Nikes from the shoe cupboard, Asif turned to look at the cleaning woman, who was sprawled over the toilet bowl gasping.
‘What about her?’
‘She won’t talk,’ Hassam said. ‘Did you bring the gun?’
Asif pulled a pistol from inside his jacket and handed it to his brother. Hassam clicked off the safety and the cleaner raised her hands in front of her bloody face.
‘Please,’ Sylvia begged, shaking her head desperately. ‘I don’t know what that thing was. I swear I don’t know a thing.’
Fahim looked on as he wriggled his foot into a trainer and found his lips moving. ‘She’s telling the truth,’ he shouted.
‘Leave her alone.’
‘Shut up,’ Asif ordered. ‘Wait in my car.’
But Hassam turned suspiciously towards his son. One shoe on and one off, Fahim stared his father down.
‘What do you know?’ Hassam growled.
‘It’s nothing to do with her,’ Fahim shouted. ‘They approached me after Mum disappeared and I let them in the house to install the bugs when you were at a meeting.’
Fahim screwed up his face as his father marched forward until the muzzle of his pistol was right between his eyes.
‘Bugs,’ Hassam shouted. ‘How many?’
Fahim shrugged. ‘Loads, they
’re in every room.’
Hassam cursed, then shoved Fahim against the shoe cupboard. ‘Traitor,’ he screamed. ‘Tell me everything you know or I’ll kill you right now.’
But Asif glanced at his Rolex. ‘We need to leave now,’ he said. ‘Whatever Fahim knows, you can find out when we reach the safe-house, and if there’s more than one bug, someone will be coming for sure.’
Fahim trembled as his father squeezed his arm and shoved him towards the front door.
‘My apologies,’ Hassam said, smiling at the blood-drenched, shivering cleaner. ‘I guess you were telling the truth.’
But Hassam didn’t want her crawling out on to the patio and screaming for help, so he shot her in the thigh before striding out to the car.
30. RUN
Lauren’s phone vibrated as she ran with a small equipment pack slung over her shoulder; Rat was faster, but he didn’t know the way. She slowed down and grabbed her mobile out of her jeans.
‘What’s up, Jake?’ she gasped.
‘Mac needs to know where you are,’ he answered. ‘We’ve just driven out of Sainsbury’s and he’s going nuts. We’ve both got voicemails from Fahim on our phones.’
‘Just spoke to him,’ Lauren said. ‘Me and Rat are running to the house. We’re about to turn into Fahim’s road.’
‘Mac’s on the blower to MI5,’ Jake explained. ‘They’re getting an emergency team to review the surveillance recordings. Hopefully they’ll have a better idea of what occurred inside the house in a few minutes’ time.’
‘Rat picked up our receiver and he’s monitoring the live signals,’ Lauren said. ‘The house is quiet. I think they left by car about five minutes ago. We’re planning to go inside and see if we can work out where they’ve gone.’
There was a pause while Jake explained this to Mac, who was finishing his call to the MI5 surveillance team.
‘Have you got weapons?’ Mac asked, as he snatched Jake’s phone.
‘Stun guns and pepper spray,’ Lauren said.