Blood Money (28 page)

Every time he breathes out, his moisture-laden breath turns to fog in the chill air, and despite the cold John's managing to work-up quite a sweat inside his disposable boiler suit. Taking a momentary break, he swigs down a small can of fizzy drink and takes some time to think. Having slaked his thirst he gets out a small piece of chalk from the end pocket of his holdall and begins systematically writing a series of ascending numbers onto each of the seven stones he intends to remove. He's hoping the numbers will help him to replicate the pattern in which they need replacing. Next, getting out his lump hammer and cold-chisel, John is ready to proceed with the next phase.

The soft lime mortar crumbles under the impact from repeated blows and the dull grey render is easily removed from around the first stone. He now gets to work with his small pry bar and eventually succeeds in ‘persuading' the block to come free. With the first one removed, he finds the others easier and faster to extricate.

After an hour's worth of hard labour, he's managed to open-up a hole some 2 foot in diameter. The longer he's at it the more his sweat-soaked rigging gloves and itchy paper boiler suit are irritating him. As he works ever forward into the next layer of stone his forearms and elbows become more and more bruised, but he ignores these discomforts and sticks to the task in-hand.

Appreciating just how much rubble and stonework he may need to shift, John decides to lay out a heavy polythene groundsheet on the floor, allowing him to group the successive layers of removed stones in the same precise order that they were removed. This will give him a fighting chance of replacing them in a similar arrangement, hopefully making the reconstructed wall appear near identical to how it originally looked.

Behind the initial dressed stones is a layer of loosely bound rubble. Beyond that is another layer of larger blocks which John believes to be the outer part of the church wall. By not shoring-up the hole John knows he's risking the weight of the building above coming down on top of him, but by keeping it as small as possible he's fairly confident this won't occur. Also, the design of the wall makes it look like most of the weight is being transferred down into the foundations via the heavy-set arches on either side of each alcove, so it's highly possible that this thinner section of wall which he's working on might not be carrying too much in the way of compressive load.

As the 2 foot wide hole gets deeper, he becomes confident that he's now working on a section of wall that belongs to 60 Lombard Street, however, the further he goes the more restricted his working space becomes. By the time he's four foot in, it's becomes extremely difficult to swing the lump hammer to hit the chisel with sufficient force, and it requires a tremendous amount of forearm strength to generate the necessary momentum. After another pile of loose rubble John reaches yet another significant layer of wall, and this time it's a series of dark red bricks.

This at last seems to indicate he's reaching the final stage of tonight's excavations. There's every possibility these bricks make up the bank's inner section of wall. A few more blows and he'll be through.

It's taken five bruising hours to get to this stage and by shuffling just a little further into the hole John is able to smash the bricks loose. He pulls them away and places them onto the polythene groundsheet behind him, and now at last he's able to shine his head-torch through into the bank next door.

Alexis and consultant ‘interior stylist', Kelly Spiers, have been inside the sales office with Jean-Baptiste for at least three hours now and there's still no sign of them finishing. This has become one long tedious, mind-numbing drag of a weekend for Slater, who's been sitting around like a lump of meat slowly stewing in his own juices.

His gaffer had already spent the entire waking hours of yesterday with the self-declared queen of elegance, pouring over the thousands of details on various materials and finishes to make his floating phallic symbol a sophisticated expression of the fund manager's lifestyle. With time running out, they must surely be close to finalising the specifications for ‘Titan', Alexis's newly ordered Mangusta 165 Sports Motor Yacht.

Leaving them to their excruciatingly painful design decisions, Eddie prefers to remain outside on the balcony overlooking Port de Fontvieille, sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes whilst obsessing over his new found ‘enemy at the gate', John Gibson.

In his own mind he's convinced that he could have served Alexis far better by staying in London to begin covert surveillance on Kavanagh's policeman boyfriend. But instead, his boss had insisted on ‘close protection' for yet another consecutive weekend in Monaco.

Really?
Who was likely to attack him this time? There was no one that Eddie could think of (at present). Or, was the real reason something like Alexis being unable to trust him not to kill the Bishopsgate copper if he was left unsupervised back in London?

There are definite growing tensions and feelings of distrust between the two of them; as if Vasilakos fears Eddie is beginning to lose control of the situation.

Reckoning that Gibson will still be off work next week, his best bet on picking up his trail will be to keep-watch outside his crappy block of flats. Although it's highly likely John will want to take all the compassionate leave he's ‘entitled to', there's also a chance that he might prefer to get back to work as quickly as possible so he can begin looking into his girlfriend's death personally.

It wouldn't be easy for Gibson to openly investigate her murder. Firstly, his supervisors would strongly disapprove of it and secondly, Scotland Yard wouldn't want an ‘outsider' joining their team, especially someone who they couldn't rely upon to remain rational, impartial and objective.

Normally, Eddie never has trouble sleeping, but this weekend he's really struggling. His night-time hours have been filled with the same thoughts and concerns playing-out over and over again in his head. And not being known for having a sunny disposition at the best of times, this lack of sleep is causing him to get more and more crotchety as the weekend in Monaco progresses.

It would have been easy to dismiss the potential threat from DS Gibson, but Eddie has had plenty of time to weigh it all up and the thing that now worries him most is how it will all look from the policeman's point of view. The copper must surely know enough to realise exactly who Rebecca's killers are and from that starting premise this whole situation seems to have all the necessary ingredients for this thing to end-up as a ticking time-bomb.

If only he'd have known at the start that Kavanagh's boyfriend was the same piece of filth who'd interviewed them, then he'd have played things completely differently. Rebecca had known too much about Kronos and she wasn't holding back in telling Gibson everything she'd discovered. A nice girl like her wouldn't have an enemy who wanted her dead, so her obsessive interest into Kronos's affairs was clearly the only possible motive for her death. If he'd have known that her boyfriend was police he'd never have broken in and killed her cat, especially not like that. If only he'd have known earlier, he could have staged her death to look like a complete accident and then Gibson wouldn't have suspected a thing.

‘Shit!'
– He realises now that his intel work had been slack. Being so keen to wield his knife again had caused him to have a major-league lapse in judgment, and now there seems to be a small but significant possibility that his whole world might come crashing down on him in an instant.

He has to keep his cool. What he and Alexis have going is so perfect. There can't have been a serial killer in history who'd been so fortunate as himself. Finding an employer like Alexis; a benefactor with bottomless pockets who keeps supplying him with fresh people to target. The more Eddie thinks about it, the more he's resolved to get a lid on things as soon as he's back in the capital.

Monday morning can't come soon enough.

As things transpired, Gibson had indeed managed to get everything he'd hoped to accomplish done within Thursday and Friday nights. Though pleased with his progress, it's left him feeling physically battered and bruised. Having reached what he considers to be the halfway stage of his mission, the coming weekend will be the point where he finds out if any of this has been worthwhile.

Saturday and Sunday had of course been spent in the company of Rebecca's parents, Matt and Julie.

As it turned out, John was quite grateful to have them down for a few days. They'd been kind, generous and understanding, and it'd been good having people around who he could openly share his grief with.

The coroner's assistant had called Saturday morning to explain that the forensic pathologist had completed the post-mortem and she'd asked John to make the necessary arrangements for Rebecca's body to be collected. It had been helpful for Matt to have been around when he'd taken that call, as they'd then been able to support each other in discussing the details through with the local funeral director. Together they'd agreed on Thursday 12th May as the most appropriate day for her crematorium service.

After staying a second night, Rebecca's parents had left the flat early on Monday morning, knowing that it wouldn't be long before they'd be seeing each other again to bid Rebecca her final farewell.

*

Eddie uses his ‘driving time' whilst chauffeuring Alexis back from City Airport to make arrangements for picking up a rental vehicle from a place he knows just off the Clapham Road. From the limited variety of vehicles available at such short notice he picks himself out a VW Golf TDi because it won't look out of place and most importantly because it comes with heavily tinted windows. He'll use a fake driving licence as identification and will pay for it with one of his many cloned credit cards.

Once they've arrived at 60 Lombard Street, Slater wastes no time in getting what he needs from his private security office. Grabbing some still-images of John Gibson and Bill Warren taken from the bank's CCTV system he slips the prints into the front pocket of his duffle bag.

Opening the doors to his storage cupboards, Eddie begins surveying the various items of hardware he keeps for such occasions. He selects a couple of listening devices and a pair of matched receivers. From a lower shelf he takes a GPS tracker unit housed in a magnetic waterproof case, along with a receiver dongle and a laptop pre-loaded with software that will display its signals. He also grabs some spare laptop batteries.

Pausing for a moment, Eddie considers what else he might need. He envisages all the possibilities and scenarios that may transpire before he adds an unopened pay-as-you-go phone, a small pair of binoculars, a camera with a powerful zoom, an A-Z, a notepad and several pens. The last thing he takes with him is an empty one litre capacity, wide-mouthed water bottle. This is actually the most important item of all to remember when going on a stake-out, because you're going to need to pee at some point without breaking cover.

Sticking to his boss's orders, Eddie reluctantly resists the temptation to add any weapons to his kit-bag as the operation is to be strictly ‘observation with no intervention'. With precious little time to spare, he quickly visits the Metro Supermarket just down the road to buy an adequate amount of drinks and snacks to sustain him over the coming twelve hours.

Eddie can't afford to be complacent…he has to be patient and he has to be careful. He certainly can't take any liberties by parking in the access road. On this occasion he'll need to keep a more respectable distance away and has to be ready to back off sharpish if there's the slightest chance of being spotted.

By mid morning he's in position and the waiting begins.

During the first couple of hours the only visitors to Ark house are a postman and some electrical repair technician. When midday approaches, Eddie calls Niall Finlay to confirm whether Gibson is still on leave and whether there's been any progress with the Kavanagh murder investigation. Uncharacteristically nervous about approaching the flat, Eddie forces himself to stay in his vehicle whilst he patiently waits for the policeman to show his face.

By early afternoon, a few elderly residents have come and gone, and knowing he can't risk taking his eyes off the target building for a moment, the only way to reduce the unending boredom is to listen to the radio. By four o'clock, Fin calls to give him a quick situation report, confirming Gibson to be still on leave and to say that the investigation is no further forward.

Its early evening before anything interesting happens.

Eddie at last spots someone he recognises parking-up round the back of Ark House. It's Bill Warren, the senior plain-clothes detective who partners Gibson. Dressed in a characteristically shabby suit, the aging detective gets out of his dented and scratched people-carrier and disappears inside the rear entrance to the flats.

*

Bill had arranged earlier in the day to go over to Ark House to pay his colleague a visit after work. It's 6pm by the time he's driven across town and has reached Finsbury Park. And when he's let in it's quite a surprise to see his shaven-headed friend in the middle of some kind of DIY project.

Standing just inside the front door he can see that the lounge wall adjacent to the kitchen has been cleared of furniture and the carpet has been rolled away. As he walks further into the flat, Bill can see John's already steamed the wall paper off and it looks like he isn't far away from sticking up some plasterboard sheets that he has leaning-up against the far wall. Everything he needs for the job is there too, laid out on the floor, ready and waiting.

“What are you up to Johno?”

Picking-up the plasterer's hawk and trowel to show his buddy, “I'm plastering this wall, aren't I?”

“Yeah, but you don't even own this flat. It's rented isn't it? So why are you bothering?”

“Uh…cos I never liked this naff serving hatch through to the kitchen and I fancied having a go. It'll be a new string to my bow I guess, being able to decorate and stuff. It's a man-skill innit?”

Bill looks sceptically back at his partner and realising that John's been under a lot of stress recently he decides not to question his motives any further, even though he appears to be acting irrationally. “So…have you done this before then, cos I didn't think you were big into this sort of stuff?”

“Nah, but I've seen it on a video on the internet and it seems easy enough.”

“I can give you a hand if you like? -I've done plasterboarding a few times before. I used to help out a builder friend of mine at the weekends when money was a bit tight. It's actually not as easy as you might think.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah, no problem. It'd be my pleasure!” Relieved that John appears to be reasonably in control of his emotions, Bill gently pokes fun at his partner's lack of DIY skills. “I ain't going to sit here and watch you make a botch job of it, now am I? And anyway, the missus is working late tonight so I'm in no rush to get home. Pass me that PVA, ‘cos the first thing we need to do is to prep the wall by giving it a good coating of this stuff diluted down with water.”

Bill talks John through each step of the process, from marking-out, to ‘knocking-up' a mix of adhesive before showing him how to dab lumps of the stuff onto the wall. He's still suspicious as to why John would want to go to the trouble and expense of buying all this gear when the flat is rented, but he doesn't question it a second time.

As they work, they catch-up with each other's news. John begins by telling Bill how Rebecca's parents had stayed over with him for the weekend. He also lets him know that her remains have at last been released from the morgue and that the funeral will be at 11am this Thursday at the local crematorium. Bill confirms that he and his wife will be there and promises to pass on the funeral details to the lads back at the station.

John starts to question his partner on how the murder investigation is going. “So what have the CSI team got to say for themselves? Have you heard whether they've got any leads on Rebecca's killer yet?”

“I'd like to tell you some good news, I really would, but in truth I don't think there's going to be any. So far they've come up with zilch, but I can tell you it's not for lack of effort. The Met have put a really good team together on it. But in all honesty, it looks like the case has dried-up before it's even got started.”

John hadn't been at all optimistic about the chances of a professional killer leaving clues behind at the scene. Of course, he'd much prefer for the Metropolitan Police Service to be hot on the killer's trail, and if that were the case he'd gladly drop his own plans for revenge. If Eddie Slater were to be arrested then it would open-up an enormous can of worms. Vasilakos couldn't escape from being implicated as he'd be the only one with the motive to have sanctioned Rebecca's killing. That would then create enough suspicion for the FSA and the police to combine and begin a thorough investigation into Kronos's business dealings. Within a matter of weeks the entire house of cards would come tumbling down.

With the first sheet of plasterboard stuck on the wall, Bill shows John how to tap it down with the feather edge so that they can make sure it's all vertical and true with the spirit level. Bill looks over at John and can see he's lost in thought. Sadness and frustration are etched all over the young man's face. Bill doesn't relish the thought of talking too deeply about his partner's problems, but he knows that there's no better person than himself to support him through these difficult times.

“So…tell me John,
how are you really doing?”

“I'm not going to lie to you; I'm in a strange place right now. Most of the time I feel like I'm pretty much empty inside, but occasionally I get these incredible feelings of anger and rage. Rebecca's brother, Steve, has been a help…someone to talk to, but from what his parents have just told me he's actually taking it even worse than I am. We're both so desperate for her killer to be caught and to see justice done, but deep in my heart I'm already preparing myself to expect the boys at Scotland Yard to draw a blank on this one.”

They continue dabbing-up the wall in readiness to accept the next piece of plasterboard. John tries to find the right words to express his appreciation for his partner's support, “You know Bill, we dun' ‘arf make a good team you and me.”

“Reckon we do boy, reckon we do.”

*

Bill Warren remains inside for a further two hours before eventually leaving. All the time he's been in there, Eddie's imagination has been running riot as to what they might have been talking about. Even now, his curiosity is itching like a bear's backside in the midge season, but he knows there's nothing he can do just yet. It might have been just a social call or it might have been that they'd been plotting the very downfall of Kronos. But until the flat is empty and he's got a bit more time on his hands he's unable to plant another listening device.

Alexis had probably made the correct call on the situation. Keeping tabs on DS Gibson until they can confirm whether he's a threat or not will indeed take time and he can see this is going to require some additional resource. Eddie makes a few calls and finds someone available whom he trusts to keep watch on Ark House through the night. Once again he draws on his small tight-knit circle of ex-regimental colleagues who he's been grooming for such operations. It's amazing what he can get them to volunteer for if the money's right. He's hand-picked each and every one of them because they're either heavy-drinking misfits or are loners suffering with bouts of depression. All of them are vulnerable, struggling to find their place in a society that doesn't want the slightest thing to do with ‘damaged goods' such as them.

By 10 o'clock, Eddie is joined in the car by one of the two men who'd helped him with the Lincolnshire operation just a few days ago. He's brought with him some four-packs of caffeine energy drink and a bit of food as advised. They chat for a few minutes and Eddie is pleased to hear that the disposal of the ‘cardboard boxes' had gone completely to plan and that the bungalow had been left wiped-down with bleach as instructed.

He gives the man a quick briefing on the ‘target' and shows him the equipment at his disposal. Leaving the night-watchman to his lonely vigil, Eddie slips away into the night. Once he's returned to his Mayfair apartment he'll wolf down some food before getting his head down. He's agreed to be back at the vehicle for 7am the following morning to take over the day shift.