Dead Of Winter (Willis/Carter #1)(98)

‘We won’t make it, bro.’

‘Yes we will and when we do, I’ll give you enough money to clean up and get out, after you deliver this girl where I tell you.’ Tyrone nodded fast, nervous.

‘Okay.’

‘Let’s go . . . no, wait a minute . . .’ He went back to Digger, who was still breathing, staring straight ahead, his eyes wide. Carmichael took out his gun and forced it into Digger’s mouth. ‘This is for my wife and child.’ He pulled the trigger. He picked up the towel that Anna had been using to dry her hair and wiped the gun. Then he walked across, got his own coat, opened the door to the flat and stopped to listen. The sound of the club drifted up from downstairs. Carmichael held Anna’s arm as they crept downstairs.

‘I’ll take the girl first. Follow at least ten paces behind and don’t look like you’re going our way,’ he whispered to Tyrone as they neared the club floor.

Carmichael opened the door just enough and drew back the velvet curtain. The music heralded a new batch of dancers coming out. It was prime time for punters arriving. Carmichael held onto the girl’s arm as they slipped out and made their way towards the bar. He didn’t turn to see if Tyrone was following. They walked quickly through the club and through the door that linked to the Crystal Blue clip joint. Carmichael stopped as he heard the sound of arguments. Someone was being asked for two hundred pounds for drinks; the argument was getting heated. Tyrone came up behind them. Carmichael took out the revolver and tucked the girl between himself and Tyrone. He made a sign for Tyrone to follow him.

They walked around the corner into two of Digger’s bouncers and a couple of lads on a stag do in Soho. They turned and looked at Carmichael’s face and then at his gun.

‘Move, lads . . . get out.’ The stags scarpered up the stairs. Carmichael heard the Thai woman curse as they knocked past her. One of the bouncers lurched forward. Carmichael hit him with the butt of his gun and pushed them both back.

‘Sit.’ He motioned to them to sit down where the stags had been. ‘You want to die?’ Blood was pouring from where he’d hit the bald man on the head. ‘No? Then stay where you are for ten minutes.’ He reached inside his jacket and put money on the table. The men looked at him and at each other, then one man gathered the wad of cash quickly and slipped it inside his jacket pocket.

Outside, he pulled out a packet for Tyrone. ‘Take her to Leeds railway station. Phone this number when you get there. I’ll leave you instructions where you can find the rest of your money.’ He handed it to him. ‘Then fuck off for good.’





Chapter 67


It was six a.m. and nearly dawn.

Davidson called Carter, Ebony and Robbo for a meeting in his office. The atmosphere in the office was tired, sweaty. Davidson opened the window; a blast of cold air hit his face and filtered round the room.

‘Have we found Justin de Lange yet?’

‘No, sir.’

‘The fingertips we received in the post?’

‘We can’t be sure who they belong to, only that whoever he was he raped and killed Tanya and that his fingerprints match the print at Blackdown Barn and the one next to Sophie Carmichael at Rose Cottage.’

Robbo handed Davidson a printout of an order from a company that customized ambulances.

‘Justin de Lange ordered three ambulances and one of them was to be kept plain white. The small aircraft company that ferries medical supplies – it has booked airspace later on today. It’s due to fly out from a small airport near Beacon Heath, just off the M25, at five this afternoon. Booked in for two passengers.’

‘Do we know who?’

‘No, sir,’ said Ebony. ‘But Martingale is due to operate today. I rang the hospital. He has an operation booked for early this afternoon. I think we need to get a warrant now, sir, if we’re to stop the boy being operated on. I think Martingale must be involved.’

‘Carter?’ Carter had been checking his phone.

‘When we went to his house, sir, he had plaques all over the wall for best orchids in this and that show. All the shows are in spring. I asked him if he was over at all around the time of his daughter’s murder. He said he wasn’t; he lied. He was awarded top prize just two weeks before she was killed. Here is the plaque to prove it. He just couldn’t bear to keep it to himself.’ He enlarged the image; it showed the date.

‘Added to the fact he said he didn’t know Digger . . .’ He turned his phone around to show Davidson.

Davidson excused himself as he took a call from Harding. He looked up when it finished.

‘Neither Helen or Michael Tapp is a match for their son Alex’s DNA.’





Chapter 68


Ebony stood in Helen Tapp’s kitchen.

‘Helen . . . it’s important that everything is told now.’

She nodded that she understood.

‘Is Alex your son?’

‘Yes . . . but I didn’t give birth to him.’

‘He’s adopted?’

‘Yes. We got him when he was eighteen months. We never thought we could have children; then years later . . . Alfie.’

‘Have you got all your adoption papers?’

‘Yes . . . of course . . .’

‘How did you come to adopt Alex?’