The Evil And The Pure, page 43
Trying to think it all through. Clint would tell Big Sandy where the money was, tell him about Tulip as well and why they were in the Borough. Big Sandy would race here after the cash. When he didn’t find it, he’d start looking for Kevin — no, for Tulip. Kevin had seen the hound and how it tracked Clint. Big Sandy would assume – rightly – that Kevin wasn’t dumb enough to leave here on foot again. He’d take it as given that Kevin would get the hell out of London as fast as he could. Tulip had the formula, so he’d target her. With the hound, he’d find her. Take the formula and either kill her or use her as bait to ensnare her brother.
Cut her loose, a sly part of him urged. Forget her. You have the money. You’ll find other young women, new ways to excite yourself. Get out while you can.
But Kevin couldn’t do that. Not without at least trying to find her. Checking his watch – nine thirty-six – calculating shrewdly, imagining worst case scenarios. Big Sandy would have started on Clint by now. Kevin wasn’t sure how long Clint could hold out – if he’d even try – but he gave him no more than half an hour. By ten, Big Sandy would be on his way. Here by ten-fifteen. Ten minutes to ensure the money was gone. Then after Tulip with the hound. But would he start at Westminster Bridge or the Borough?
Unaware that there had been more than one hound, and not taking the Bush’s other men into consideration, Kevin assumed Big Sandy would come looking for the money in person before homing in on Tulip. On that basis he figured Big Sandy would head for Westminster, where Tulip’s scent was freshest. If Tulip had returned to the Borough, it would take Big Sandy time to track her east. Checking his watch again. He couldn’t imagine the giant making the Borough before eleven thirty. Most likely he wouldn’t get there (if he got there) before midnight.
Kevin thought he had time.
Standing in the darkness. Stomach and hands clenched. Trembling indecisively. Will I/won’t I? Will I/won’t I? Recalling their appointments, the sickening elation, the overwhelming high. Playing the images against those of Big Sandy capturing and crushing him.
Out of the darkness, down the stairs, through the building, on to the street. No sign of the taxi. Kevin waited, still undecided. The taxi appeared, pulled up to the kerb, Dave English solemn-faced. Kevin sat in, laid the bag on the floor, closed the door gently. Dave looked back at him. Kevin slid a thousand pounds to the cabbie then made up his mind and said, “Change of plan. Take me to the Borough.”
SEVENTY-FOUR
Big Sandy, Fast Eddie, Eyes Burton and a balding, grey-haired, smartly-dressed guy Big Sandy knew only as Jimmy B, discussing their plans, standing outside a van inside of which the last living hound was strapped down. “We should go to Westminster,” Fast Eddie said.
“You said that trail led nowhere,” Big Sandy grunted.
“It led to a bus stop. We can follow the various bus routes from there, get off at every stop, let the hound sniff around for her.”
“That could take forever,” Big Sandy muttered. “Kevin thought she’d return to the Borough. I want to try there first.”
“Trouble with taking the hound to her regular stomping ground is her scent will be all over the place,” Fast Eddie said.
“No,” Big Sandy disagreed. “She’s been in hiding for more than a week. We’ve had rain and wind. There won’t be any old scents.”
Fast Eddie shrugged. “I think Westminster makes more sense but it’s your call.”
Big Sandy considered it a moment longer, then decided. “The Borough. We’ll start with the High Street, then take the side-streets and alleys. If we draw a blank, we’ll try Westminster.”
They piled into the van, Big Sandy, Fast Eddie and Jimmy B in the back with the hound, Eyes driving. Jimmy B eyed the hound nervously – the first time he’d seen one – and wondered what it was like let loose. Fast Eddie was thinking about Clint and how he’d died, glad he hadn’t been there for the torture, just as glad he’d been there at the end. Big Sandy’s thoughts were of Tulip and what would happen to her. Uneasy. None of this was the girl’s fault. He wanted to protect her but couldn’t see how, in no position to ask the Bush for favours. The best he could hope was that the Bush would be merciful when he got his hands on the formula, take pity on Tulip and let her go. Admitting to himself, Unlikely.
Eyes parked just off Borough High Street, slid out and opened the rear doors. The men in the back got out and stretched, then Big Sandy freed the hound and fed it Tulip’s scent. The hound was uncooperative – shook its head, refusing the scent – until Big Sandy tugged sharply on its leash a few times and forced it to focus. When the hound finally fixed on the cardigan and whined obediently, they set off up the High Street, fast, the hound sniffing the pavement dejectedly — no scent.
At the top of the street, where it led on to London Bridge, they crossed and started back on the other side. As they were passing steps leading down to the riverbank the hound stiffened and growled with excitement. Big Sandy caught Fast Eddie’s eye and the pair exchanged tight grins. Big Sandy checked his watch – ten thirty-seven – then the hound was leading him forward, padding down the steps to the path and forging ahead.
Big Sandy and the others raced to keep up with the hound. It was going as fast as it could, a sign that the scent was fresh. “She’s near,” Fast Eddie gasped.
“Or was,” Big Sandy replied, not letting hope flare in his heart, just following the hound, letting events unravel as they would.
The hound ran straight for a while before turning right into an open-fronted shopping mall called Hays Galleria, dark and deserted this late at night. The hound was straining manically on its leash. Big Sandy jerked it to a standstill and glanced at the others as they puffed for breath. “I think she’s here,” he said softly.
“I’ll call for backup,” Fast Eddie said, flipping open his mobile.
“We’re not gonna wait,” Big Sandy said.
“Agreed. But we have guys in the area. They can be here in a few minutes to help tidy up or deal with witnesses.”
Big Sandy grunted, let Fast Eddie make his call. As soon as he put the phone away he drew his gun and so did Eyes and Jimmy B. Big Sandy frowned, worried that Jimmy B might fuck up like the earlier idiot. “We take her alive. She’s sixteen and unarmed. We do not under any circumstances harm her.”
“What if she leaves us no choice?” Eyes asked. “She might have tooled up. What if she pulls a weapon and –”
“We do not harm her,” Big Sandy interrupted curtly. “She won’t have a gun and she won’t open fire. But if she does, duck for cover and leave the rest to me.”
“The formula comes first,” Fast Eddie said calmly. “I know you like the girl – I do too – but if we can’t produce the formula for Dave…”
“We’ll get the formula,” Big Sandy said. “But we don’t have to hurt Tulip. And we won’t. Understand?” He looked at each man directly, challenging them. All three nodded glumly. Satisfied, he fed the hound some slack, signalled the others to fan out behind him, then proceeded slowly into the shadows of the Galleria.
SEVENTY-FIVE
Kevin finetuned his plan during the ride south. Not enough time to complete a thorough sweep. Hit the likeliest spots, check for Tulip, get the hell out. Narrowing down the possibilities, deciding on Borough High Street again, London Bridge station, Hays Galleria, then get Dave to drive him to Tower Bridge Road for one last look. It would be after ten by the time he got started. He’d give himself half an hour here, max, before swinging by Tower Bridge Road. However the search went, determined to be on the road by eleven, at least a good half hour before Big Sandy showed up if his calculations were correct.
As the cab approached the Borough, Kevin leant forward. “Dave?” The driver glanced back. “I’m getting out on Borough High Street. I’ll be gone no more than half an hour, maybe less. I want you to drive up the street every five minutes and pick me up when you see me.”
“No problem,” Dave said.
Kevin reached inside his jacket and half pulled out the second thousand pounds so that Dave could see. “I won’t cry if you abandon me,” Kevin said. “Plenty of cabs on the High Street. It’s simpler for me to have you on standby, but if you aren’t there when I need you, I’ll just –”
“I’ll be there,” Dave snapped. “Every five minutes on the dot.”
Kevin sat back, grinning smugly, liking this new side of himself. It was good to be in control.
He got out at Borough Tube station, waited for the cab to pull clear, then started up the street, lugging the bag with the millions – it felt heavier than it had earlier – looking in every pub and restaurant window, praying for Tulip’s face to leap out at him. He walked up the left side of the street, down the right, no Tulip. He returned to the side-street Clint had disappeared down, staring into shadows, wondering where Clint was now and what had happened to him. Brutally clamped down on the morbid thoughts – whatever Clint got, he more than deserved after what he’d put Kevin and Tulip through – then hurried to London Bridge station, his all-too familiar work hole. He prowled the Vaults first, the shops on the lower ground floor, worked his way up to the concourse, checking all the crevices, waiting rooms, toilets (ignoring the startled cries of women who were alarmed by his presence) and shops, the station busy even this late, a variety of trains pulling in and out. No Tulip. At one point he thought he spotted her outside WHSmith, staring in at a window display. He started towards her, heart leaping joyously — then she turned and it was just a girl of similar build.
It was ten twenty-nine when Kevin trudged disconsolately to Hays Galleria. He no longer held out any hope of finding his sister and thought about simply making his way back to Borough High Street, but he still had a few minutes of his self-allotted deadline to play with and he was so close to the Galleria that he decided he might as well check, just so he could walk away with a clear conscience, having done all he possibly could to locate her.
He passed a couple of late-night pedestrians as he was entering the Galleria but otherwise the area seemed deserted. He did a quick circuit, rounding the giant, mechanical fish/boat that was its centrepiece – it looked menacing in the half-light – and started back the way he’d come, no Tulip, dejected but not surprised.
“Kevin?” The voice came from the fish/boat. Kevin gawped. “Kevin?” the voice came again and he almost fled hysterically. Then a shadow detached itself from the massive bulk of the sculpture and stood before him, wiping a hand across its tear-stained face, smiling weakly.
“Tulip?” Kevin croaked, fearing her to be an illusion.
“I prayed for you to come,” Tulip said hollowly, then threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around him, hugging, moaning, weeping. And he knew she was real.
“Tulip!” he cried, clutching her ecstatically. “Oh God, I thought I’d lost you.”
“I ran,” Tulip sobbed. “Got on a bus. I was going to… run forever… but I had nowhere to go… and I was lonely… and… I thought you’d look for me. I knew you would. So I came back. I went to the church first but Fr Sebastian… he…”
“I know,” Kevin murmured, kissing her ice-cold cheeks, stroking her damp hair.
“I came here next,” Tulip continued. “I’ve been waiting all night, cold, hungry, terrified. I… I… I…” She could say no more. Tears choked her and she just clung to Kevin, trembling and crying, Kevin crying too, the pair supporting one another, weak with relief. Finally Tulip pushed herself away from her brother and smiled at him through her tears. Then she frowned. “Where’s Clint?”
Kevin held up the bag in reply. “I got the money. All of it.”
Tulip stared at the bag, eyes round. “What did you do to Clint?” she whispered.
Kevin half-laughed. “Nothing. Big Sandy caught him. There was nothing I could do. He abandoned me, only interested in saving his own neck. I got away. He ended up… I don’t know… dead, probably.”
Tulip took that in, her face creasing sorrowfully, finding pity in her heart for Clint despite what he’d done to them. “What happened at the bridge?” she asked. “Why did Sandy attack Gawl?”
“I don’t know,” Kevin sighed. “And I don’t care. I have you and I have the money. Nothing else matters. Let’s go.” He stuck out a hand. Tulip didn’t take it.
“Where?” she said quietly.
“I have a cab waiting. We’ve two million pounds and our passports. We can go wherever we want. Abroad. Somewhere sunny. Or the Alps if you’d prefer.”
“They’ll come after us,” she said.
“We’ll post the formula to Bushinsky before we leave,” Kevin chuckled. “He won’t give a toss about us or the money once he gets that.”
Tulip gulped and gazed at her brother, troubled. “Kevin… I…”
“Wait a minute,” he interrupted. “I thought I heard something.” He looked over her head, scrutinising the shadowy depths of the Galleria. For a couple of seconds, nothing. Then a massive figure emerged out of the gloom, others behind him, something scrabbling on all fours in front, and Kevin groaned sickly, “No!”
Tulip turned and squinted. “Who –”
She got no further. Kevin grabbed her arm and ran like the devil. Tulip had no choice but to run too. Behind them someone bellowed, “After them!”
Kevin couldn’t believe it. He should have had until eleven thirty, yet it wasn’t even a quarter to and here they were, Big Sandy at the fore. What had gone wrong? How had he miscalculated so disastrously?
Spilling out of the Galleria, hearing Big Sandy and the others pounding after them, turning right into Tooley Street, racing for Borough High Street, telling himself Dave would be there if he made it, passing at the exact moment he hit the street, the fates would be kind if he could stay ahead of them just long enough to…
Tulip slipped and fell. She cried out and slid into the middle of the road. If a car had been passing she could have been killed, but there was no traffic. Kevin dived after her, grabbed her elbow and hauled her to her feet. “Come on,” he screamed. “We have to…”
Tulip yelped with pain and slumped, clutching her left ankle. “I can’t.”
Kevin glared at her desperately, hatefully. Glanced up. Saw Big Sandy surge out of the Galleria, a savage-looking dog ahead of him, three or four men hot on his heels. He studied Tulip as she nursed her ankle. Gazed at the bag in his right hand. He knew what he must do, the sacrifice he must make. For almost a full second he rejected that knowledge and stood firm beside the sister who meant so much to him, who was so vulnerable now…
…then spun with a moan and struck for freedom, taking the money, leaving Tulip behind.
Fleeing cravenly, thinking only of himself, all noble thoughts washed away by a wave of self-serving fear. Sights set on Borough High Street. Praying for Big Sandy to stop with Tulip, focus on the formula, not bother about Kevin. Escaping like he escaped before, but this time he wouldn’t make the mistake of coming back. Get out, lay low, put his money to good use, say a few prayers for Tulip and weep for her. But he wouldn’t die for her. The lie of the last few years exposed. The threat of suicide if she left him ridiculed in an instant. The selfish truth revealed abruptly and nakedly to the world, to Tulip, to himself.
Kevin ran, sobbing, clinging to the bag, unaware of Big Sandy stopping next to Tulip, unaware of Fast Eddie drawing his gun and looking to Big Sandy for a signal, unaware of Big Sandy nodding with the slightest and tightest of grins.
Something exploded in Kevin’s lower back. He gasped and went sprawling. Blood arced from the small of his back as he hit the ground face first, not losing his grip on the bag. He broke his nose and shattered his front teeth as he smashed into the pavement. Tried bringing his arms in, to push himself up, get on his feet, run. But his arms wouldn’t work. He tried moving his legs but they only twitched. Sobbing pitifully he began to crawl, thinking, If I can just get to the High Street… Dave English… freedom… millions…
Fast Eddie stepped up behind Kevin as he painfully inched towards the promise of escape. Checked with Big Sandy again. Big Sandy nodded again. Fast Eddie put the nozzle of his gun to the back of Kevin’s head. Kevin never felt it. He was focused on the path ahead. He heard a click. His thoughts snapped back into place and he realised what the sound meant. Flashed on an image of Tulip. Then a bullet, bone and his brains came screaming out through the front of his already bloodied face and Kevin died a coward, in selfish disgrace.
SEVENTY-SIX
Big Sandy stood in front of Tulip with the hound – he had to choke hard on the leash to keep it away from her – blocking her view of Kevin as Fast Eddie finished him off. He needn’t have bothered. Tulip had shut her eyes and covered her ears with her hands. Her lips were moving fast but silently, praying. When Fast Eddie had finished with Kevin, dumping the body at the side of Tooley Street, having first checked his pockets for the formula and prised the bag from Kevin’s lifeless fingers, Big Sandy gently pulled Tulip’s hands from her ears and waited for her to look at him. When she did, he smiled sadly. “It’s over.”
Tulip’s lips trembled and for a moment she held Big Sandy’s gaze. Then she glanced through his legs, saw Fast Eddie walking towards them, spotted her brother’s corpse. She shut her eyes again and moaned, rocking back and forth. Her left hand automatically slid to her ankle and rubbed the flesh around it. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she wept. “You could have just taken the money.”
“It’s better this way,” Big Sandy replied. “He died quickly. If I’d taken him back…” He shook his head sombrely. Fast Eddie stepped up beside him. Eyes Burton and Jimmy B were further back, guns drawn, keeping watch, warding off the few pedestrians who were on the street. Fast Eddie passed the bag to Big Sandy, who held it in the same huge hand with which he gripped the hound’s reins. Didn’t even glance at the bag. “Is it all there?”
“I only had a quick look but I think so.” Fast Eddie stared at Tulip. “No sign of the formula.”
