Dangerous Lady (59 page)

Her mouth was flecked with spittle and she ran her hand through her hair in agitation. ‘Why aren’t they after the real criminals? The rich and pampered criminals. Why must we take the fall for them? You answer me that.’

Terry stared at her, knowing that all she said was true. He was aware from the day that Marsh had told him what was going to happen to the men on Maura’s payroll, that it was unfair. That the Ryans were going to carry the can for them so that Joe Public never knew what was really going on. He felt a fool. He had betrayed her. After all he had done to her in the past, he had betrayed her again because he’d thought that what he was doing was right. And now he knew that there was no such thing as ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ any more. Was it right that judges could sit

on a bench and put away men for being a danger to society at large and then acquit other men who were a much bigger danger, just because they were being paid to do so? Was it right for the top police who were financing their gambling or other hobbies to be retired when in reality they should be doing time? No, it was wrong. Maura Ryan was a criminal but she had never pretended to be anything else. She did not shield herself with the mantle of a good education and a law degree. If what she did was wrong, at least she did it without pretending to benefit the nation.

Richard walked into the room with a tray of coffee and sandwiches. He placed it on the coffee table and spoke. ‘I couldn’t help hearing your conversation.’

Maura and Terry both looked at him as if they didn’t know who he was. They’d forgotten him. ‘I work for the papers. You know that, Maura. From what I’ve just heard, I think that while you have access to journalists you’re safe as houses.’ He looked from one to the other. ‘Think about it. Maura knows all the people who are on her payroll. While you’re alive, Maura, the police dare not touch you.’

‘They were going to kill them all. Every one of them. At Fenn Farm tonight.’ Terry’s voice was flat.

‘If you’ll forgive me, I guessed as much for myself. What you must do, Maura, is leave the country. Go somewhere where they can’t get to you.’

‘They would!’

‘No, let me finish. You must write down everything you know about the people who are on your payroll then you must leave it with someone, to be opened only on your death. That way you will live a very long time, believe me.’ Maura and Terry stared at him. As fantastic as it sounded, it held the ring of truth.

‘I know plenty of journos who’d commit murder for a

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story like this. It’s got everything a journalist needs.’

‘He’s got a point, you know.’ Terry’s voice was excited.

Richard spoke again. ‘Honestly, Maura, I know what I’m talking about. Look at Profumo. Christ, that still gets dragged up every so often. People like to think that the rich people who run big businesses and the people in government are in cahoots with shadier people. It makes them feel better about their own lives. There’s nothing the British like more than to tear someone apart, preferably someone they created or voted in in the first place. The gutter press makes its money doing it, whether it’s the Westland affair, the Profumo scandal or a judge who’s into pornography. As long as it’s someone with plenty of money or a high profile, the British Public loves it.’

The more Richard spoke, the more sense he made to Maura.

‘But where could I go?’

‘Anywhere you wanted to, really. While you’re alive and kicking and able to open your mouth, you and your brothers are as safe as houses.’

She slumped back on to the settee. ‘Let me think about it. I can’t concentrate …’

‘Drink your coffee and have a sandwich. We’ll think of something, don’t you worry.’

Maura was beginning to understand what Michael had seen in Richard. He wasn’t just a pretty face.

Chapter Thirty-five

Marsh was worried. Very worried. It seemed that Maura Ryan had gone on the missing list. From information he had received, it seemed the only person at her house was William Templeton. Lord Templeton. Three of her brothers were at their mother’s and the other brother, Roy, was at his own house in Chigwell. Maura Ryan had not appeared at any of her clubs or other businesses. He had put a call out to watch for her car but didn’t hold out much hope there. He was dealing with a dangerous lady, a woman with the means of destroying numerous people, himself included. And to top it all, she now had the championship of Terry Petherick!

He sighed and lit one of his cigars, looking up as the door of his office opened.

It was Superintendent Ackland of the Special Investigations Branch. Ackland was notorious in the force for his violent and disruptive personality. He was one of those men who should by rights have chosen a life of crime. Brought up in the Gorbals, he had an animal cunning and an empathy with the criminal mind that was out of place in the world of the police. Or so Marsh had thought until he had read the names of seemingly respectable men on Maura Ryan’s payroll.

Like many Scotsmen, James Ackland was quite small,

with a muscular body and the high forehead and erratic hair of his ancestors. He had tiny blue eyes that seemed to be permanently on the move, darting around his head as if he was frightened that by the act of relaxing his gaze he would miss something important. Even after twenty years in London, his Scottish accent was as pronounced as ever.

‘You’ve read the files, I take it?’ Marsh’s voice was low.

‘Aye. I have that.’ Ackland laughed. ‘Well, there’s one thing for sure … she’s a canny lass. The way I see it, there’s not a lot we can do to her. Or her family, come to that.’

His face seemed to straighten, as if wiped clean with a blackboard rubber. ‘But I’ll think of something. Though myself, I think the people on the take should be brought to book. But you know and I know they won’t be.’

Marsh nodded and puffed on his cigar.

Ackland picked his rather bulbous nose, making Marsh feel sick.

‘The only way out is to annihilate the bitch. Usual code of conduct, of course. We find her, then we have what the papers euphemistically call a “shoot out”. It’s odds on that she’s carrying a firearm. Christ, man, from what I read in the file, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was carrying a tactical nuclear missile!’

His voice was jocular again. ‘I don’t like covering up for people, especially people who should know better, but there you are. We’re all under orders.’

Ackland helped himself from the bottle of Famous Grouse that Marsh had on his desk, pouring the dregs from a coffee cup into a waste paper basket and filling it nearly full.

‘We have to find her first.’ Marsh’s-voice sounded as if that would be an impossible task.

Ackland sniffed. ‘No one can hide forever, Marsh.’

Maura was writing furiously. She was making a document which, if it got into the wrong hands, would bring the country to its knees. Her brain was working overtime, remembering every little detail she could about the people she had dealt with. Unknown to her there were people named in her account who had not appeared in Geoffrey’s. She was concentrating on the ‘biggies’, as Richard had called the cabinet ministers and the Bank officials. She also listed every large developer and industry chairman who had at one time or another dealt with either herself or Michael.

Terry watched her as she worked, reading each page as she finished it and realising with each word just how corrupt and evil the establishment had become. William Templeton was worried. Very worried. Like Marsh he was wondering where on earth Maura had got to. He glanced at-his watch. It was nearly two in the morning and still no word. He looked around Maura’s lounge at the family pictures that abounded. On top of the television cabinet were photographs of Carla. From a small child to a grown woman, her life was lovingly documented. On the occasional tables were photos of Maura and her brothers, mainly Michael.

He got up from his chair and went to the kitchen to make himself yet another coffee. As he poured hot water over the coffee granules there was a knock on the door. Banging the kettle down on the worktop he answered it, his heart in his mouth.

A man was standing outside the porch. He was holding a police badge in his hand. Slowly, William opened the door.

‘Sorry to disturb you at this time of night, sir.’ The man

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had a pronounced Scottish accent. ‘I am Superintendent Ackland of the Special Investigations Branch. Could please talk to you for a moment?’

The man smiled and William saw that he had tobacco stained teeth. He held the door open and gestured for the man to come inside.

Please God, don’t let her be dead. William was convinced that it was bad news of some kind. It was not until Ackland told him that he was going to be arrested and charged with certain offences, including conspiracy to murder and armed robbery, that he realised just how bad.

‘Do you realise who I am?’ His voice was outraged.

‘Aye, I do. But you see, Lord William, I couldn’t care less if you were the Prince Regent himself. If you don’t do what I tell you, I’ll drag you to the police station so fast you’ll burn a hole in the pavement! Outside this house is an army of policemen, with guns, just waiting for a word from me. You’re going to be the bait that tempts the big fish. The big fish being Maura Ryan.’

‘I have no idea where she is.’

‘Maybe not, but it’s odds on you’ll be able to find out. Now, shall we have a nice cup of tea and a chat?’

Ackland’s voice was friendly and for some reason this

worried William more than anything. Maura was in deep trouble and he guessed that he was going to be asked to double cross her. This Scottish lout had as good as already said that. What was worrying William was the fact that, as much as he cared about Maura, his own skin would always come first. It always had. At two-thirty Maura took a rest from her writing to have a cup of coffee. Richard had produced a photocopier that he kept for when he worked from home. He was busy in the

bedroom copying all that Maura had written so far. Richard had wanted to be a ‘real’ journalist all his adult life. He realised that in his hands he had the scoop of the century and that he could never use it. As he read what Maura had written his eyes goggled. He would bet his last pound that the Secretary of State for the Environment was probably sitting at home and sweating like a pig. He must have been told all that was going on. The same could be said for the Home Secretary.

As he read, Richard had the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind. In the lounge Terry and Maura drank their coffee in silence.

‘What do you think the outcome will be?’ she asked.

Terry shook his head.

‘I really don’t know, Maura. I feel responsible for it all.’

‘That’s not surprising, is it? Considering you are! You and my mother.’ Her voice was bitter.

‘I don’t blame you for being upset with me but I am trying to help you now. Surely that says something?’ Terry was desperate to reassure her of his backing.

‘You’re trying to help me now because the people that you worked for … the people that you revered and tried to emulate … turned out to be more bent than I am. That’s why you’re trying to help now. You said yourself that you knew before you even went to Fenn Farm that the so-called “biggies” who were on the take would walk. I don’t need you, Terry Petherick. I never needed you.’

‘You did need me once, Maura.’ His voice was quiet and earnest.

She lit a cigarette and looked into his face.

‘Oh, yeah? And when was that?’

‘When you were pregnant. When you had the abortion.

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When you were lying in hospital desperately ill. Yoi mother told me all about it.’

He sounded calm and caring.

Maura snorted. ‘So, mouth almighty told you that as well, did she? What else did she tell you? Did she tell you that she once accused me of sleeping with Michael? Didlt she tell you that? Did she tell you that for all our faults, real and imagined, she took the money that was sent to her every week?’ She was quiet for a few seconds. Then, her voice low, she spoke again. - fl

‘I never needed you then, Terry, so don’t flatter yourself. I was young and naive and the only mistake I made, as I see it, was getting involved with someone like you. Even then you wanted to change the world. Michael told me what happened to you. We had enough plants in the force, even then. You were pulled over the carpet for your association with Michael Ryan’s sister and you dumped me. You had a choice, me or the force, and your precious police force won. Then, when my mother gave you Geoffrey’s papers, you couldn’t wait to run to your superiors with them. Terry Petherick, the Vine Street Marvel, uncovers the biggest case of corruption this century. Only you didn’t realise then that what you actually had was something the government and the police would rather hush up than expose. You struck out, mate.’

‘I’ve lost everything. My job …’

‘Oh, sod your job!’ Maura was shouting. ‘I don’t give a toss about you or your stupid job!’

‘Whatever you think now, Maura, I loved you. But we were so young then. What about the night we spent together after Benny died? You told me then that you still loved me.’ He pointed at her. ‘You told me to go the next morning. It was your decision.’

He felt an urge to weep. He had inadvertently brought

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I her nothing but grief from the day they met. ‘I sent you away because I wanted to.’ ‘Oh no you didn’t! I won’t have you saying that. You sent me away because you were in too deep with Michael. It was for that reason and that reason only.’

Maura watched his handsome face and admitted the truth of what he was saying to herself.

‘Shall I tell you something? Shall I tell you the real truth of my life?’ ‘Yes. Please tell me.’

‘When I met you in 1966,1 felt something I had never felt before. Or since.’ She stared at a spot on the carpet, afraid to look at his face. ‘I wanted you so badly I could taste it. Do you remember when you told me you were a policeman? I nearly had a heart attack!’