Cut to the Bone (43 page)

‘Until Stevie messed up his plans,’ said Zain.

‘Yes. That’s why we found so much still on his hard drives. Why he panicked at the end. And possibly why he failed. He was fine while he was in control, while his plan was being executed. When we forced his hand, he fell apart.’

Zain could resist it no longer. He pressed the morphine pump in his hand. The clear liquid shot down through the IV line, and felt cold as it entered his system. The pain will pass, he told himself.

‘So what was I?’ he said.

‘Right cop, wrong place. He knew it was over for him, and he wanted to be caught that night. He was using an unencrypted satellite phone, and he downloaded a virus onto your mobile when you came into range to lure you to where he was. He was willing to take the first officer that came close. We found cameras set up around the orchard at various points, and he had the new static body armour cams from America strapped to himself. They hold fairly steady even when you are moving around.’

The pain wasn’t easing. And doubts started to come into his mind. It was the same when he had been kidnapped. They said he just happened to be the one the terrorists got, it wasn’t planned that way. It wasn’t personal. Well it felt fucking personal then, and it felt just as personal with James. It was Zain who was left with the wounds, the scar tissue and the invasion of his sanity.

‘He went to all that trouble because people stopped watching him on YouTube,’ said Zain.

‘He was a sociopath and a narcissist, and a paedophile. There was more going on in his brain than I want to bring into your hospital room. But yes, the loss of his perceived status and fame, that really affected him. He suffered a breakdown. We accessed his medical records. He was on suicide watch for a couple of months after his break-up with Ruby.’

Zain wondered how far away he was from having his own breakdown. They called you a hero because you were wounded in service, then left you while the rot set into the gaping tunnels where the bullet had travelled. And if you were to have any chance of coming back, you couldn’t let on how the damage inside your head was so much worse than anything they could see on your body.

‘He valued fame over his own life? I don’t understand that. What a waste.’

‘I don’t think I agree on that last point. No one is going to miss him.’

‘What about his parents?’

‘Normal middle-class parents. Mother is a teacher, father works for an insurance firm. He blames himself, apparently spent a lot of time away from home while James was growing up. His mother feels the same, long hours with school work.’

‘I don’t think they can take responsibility for what their son became,’ said Zain. His own parents weren’t always present in terms of time. And he had turned out all right. OK, not really.

‘Some people are just wired differently. And given the right circumstances, anything can happen,’ she said.

Zain felt as though she was addressing him, like she could read his soul.

‘What about KNG and MINDNET?’ he said. ‘Is Ruby going to help Maggie Walsh?’

Kate’s eyed widened slightly, and she looked away from him.

‘Ruby wants to help James’s victims. It’s what her focus is on at the moment.’

Zain understood that. He also realised what it meant for Jed Byrne and Harry Cain. They would get away with it. The thought weighed him down, made him feel exhausted.

‘And Hope?’

‘Justin Hope is a symbol of something, a realisation of an idea. They need him to succeed so they can roll out the PCC programme across London.’

Zain didn’t say anything. The tone of Kate’s voice conveyed exactly how pissed off she was about the whole thing. Hope would be protected no matter what they accused him of. The public sector were great at protecting their own, and closing ranks when they wanted.

Kate took her leave soon afterwards, promising to visit again if she could. And reiterating her promise to touch base when he was discharged. There was no mention of his determination to resign prior to the night he had been shot. He took that as a sign that there might be a way back. He didn’t know who else might take on the further damaged and broken Zain Harris if she didn’t.

Epilogue

The wind was cold, blowing into his face, so he pulled his hood up and crossed his arms. Since leaving hospital, he had noticed the weather play havoc with his body more. He felt tired and frail on some days, light-headed on most. Night sweats, nightmares, uncontrolled shaking. Panic attacks.

He was back on the green pills.

He looked up as two joggers went by, laughing as they did. Were they laughing at him? He hadn’t shaved in weeks, and was dressed in dark colours. He looked like a rough sleeper, he knew.

Why Kate had chosen to meet in St James’s Park rather than the office – that irritated his paranoia further. She was making it obvious. There was no way back for him, she didn’t even want him in the building, let alone back on her team.

He pulled his phone out, to see if she had texted to cancel. There was nothing. From anyone. His parents usually messaged once a day, but that only made it worse. Zain didn’t realise how alone he was, how much he had cut himself off, chasing a career that kept biting him back, until his discharge from hospital.

And in that loneliness, he felt as though he had nothing left. Unless he found something worth waking up for soon, what was the point in any of it?

A swan glided across the river, heading towards Buckingham Palace, as pigeons crowded around his feet. He kicked out at them.

Zain pulled up the internet browser on his phone, the last page he had looked at still displayed. It was an article about Maggie Walsh and her parliamentary commission looking into corruption by British business operating in the Democratic Republic of Congo. She had managed to get that at least from her ten-minute speech. There was no mention of KNG, MINDNET, Jed Byrne or Harry Cain.

He had read elsewhere that KNG had stopped their IPO, stating uncertainty in the commodities market, and that they would reassess and float on the stock market at an opportune time. PR bullshit and spin. They had been hurt financially, at least. It just didn’t seem enough. People had died, and no one was being held accountable. Maggie’s commission would take ages to get going, and probably end up delivering nothing. It was the political equivalent of sabre rattling as far as he was concerned. A smokescreen the rich and powerful used to get away with their shit.

Still. He knew where Jed Byrne lived. Maybe he should give him some personal payback? It was an alternative way to exist. If doing things officially didn’t work, take to the shadows.

He shivered as the wind cut through him.

It was a fantasy, though, he knew. They were too powerful, too well connected, for him to do any significant damage. And he could easily be got rid of. Zain was very aware of just how mortal he was. He felt as though he was living on borrowed time.

A shadow crossed over him.

‘I bought you a coffee,’ she said.

Kate was wearing a long black coat, her hair pulled back on top of her head. The aroma of latte filled the space between them. He took it, as she sat down on the bench next to him. It tasted good. He hadn’t eaten anything for two days, burnt his tongue as he gulped it down.

Walking back, Kate decided to take a detour around the park. She had been shocked at Zain’s appearance. Not just the unkempt beard, but the haggard look in his face, the deadness in his eyes. He looked like a poster image for someone that had given up.

Yet when he started to talk about KNG, and how they were going to get away with murder, there was that old fire and determination back in his voice, his eyes were alive again. It was manic. She knew then that her decision was the only one possible.

He had been certain she was going to send him on ‘gardening leave’ or, worse still, just terminate his contract completely. No longer fit for duty. Truth is, she still wondered if that might be the right course of action, especially seeing the state he was in. Instead, she had told him she would be giving him another chance. He had proved himself the night he saved Ruby and Dan. She just needed to know she could trust him.

Queen Anne’s Gate was empty as Kate walked down it, the post-lunch crowds all gone. It was an early afternoon lull, before the commuters started their journey home. Kate’s own journey was now cut to fifteen minutes of brisk walking. She had moved her mother into a riverside complex with twenty-four-hour security, and an on-site shopping arcade. Ryan was reduced to housekeeping, but his need was gone. Her mother was safe to walk around three acres of landscaped gardens, and Kate was secure in the knowledge she was being watched by the doormen, CCTV and nosy neighbours.

Another temporary belief she was safe. Until something happened to make her believe otherwise.

That was the problem with severing ties with your history, and all those in it. They became ogres, and you lost all sense of what they were really doing. Where they might actually be.

She thought again of Zain. He seemed to lose the ability to breathe when she told him he was coming back to work for her.

‘I won’t let you down,’ he had said. ‘This means everything to me.’

Everything. She could believe it, and she understood how the job really could be so all-consuming. In Zain Harris, she saw herself. Nothing else would ever match up to what they did. They were wired to be who they were.

Yes, she told herself. She had made the right decision. Everyone deserved the chance to live again. She of all people knew that truth.

Acknowledgements

It has been a ‘journey’ to get here and there are some people I can only describe as dream merchants that have helped me along the way.

The best agent in the world – Luigi Bonomi. Legend. Alison Bonomi for finding me, keeping me going when it got really dark, and treating me so well. I owe you gunpowder potatoes at the very least.

My phenomenal editor Kate Parkin. Thank you for sharing my vision; your words are always surprising, never taken for granted, and make me feel ten feet tall. My other amazing editor (yes, I realise how lucky I am) Kate Ballard. I think I was your trial by fire right from your first day, but it’s worked out so well. Thank you for your support and understanding always (and for letting me blabber away on e-mail!)

I lack the courage to shout about this novel to the world. Luckily for me I have the awesome Emily Burns in my corner to do that for me! So thank you to you and your team! Sam Bulos and Martin Fletcher for taking a hammer and chisel to my drafts. Everyone at LBA Books and Bonnier. Nicest people ever. The Twenty7 gang – Anadin has never met such suportive/wonderful people, thanks for the laughter, advice and great novels.

God, Mum, my family and friends – the essentials to my life that I can’t do without.

About the Author

Alex Caan was born in Manchester, has spent over a decade working in information systems security for a number of government organisations, and is currently specialising in terrorism studies. A lifetime passion for writing was sparked by the encouraging words of an English teacher in school, and eventually led to Alex successfully completing an MA in Creative Writing and writing
Cut to the Bone
.

First published in Great Britain in 2016 by Twenty7 Books

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Copyright © Alex Caan, 2016

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

The right of Alex Caan to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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