Double Cross (27 page)

When we got to the front desk, DI Boothe asked me, 'Are
you ready to revise your statement now?'

'No,' I snapped.

DI Boothe took me to one side and lowered his voice
as Mum signed the necessary paperwork at the desk.
'Tobey, we're the only ones who can protect you from
McAuley. Tell us what really happened at the Wasteland.
Be smart.'

DI Boothe and his colleagues had thrown me into the
lion's den and were now telling me they could shield me?
Yeah, right.

'I'll be fine,' I told him, knowing the words were a lie
before they even left my mouth. I was a dead man
walking.

DI Boothe shook his head pityingly.

'You want me to trust you? For all I know you could
be the one working for the Dowds,' I said bitterly. 'Is that
why you set me up? So McAuley can deal with me? Are
you acting on Gideon Dowd's orders?'

The detective stared at me, genuinely shocked. It
quickly morphed into anger. 'Are you suggesting I'm on
the take?'

'It's well known that the Dowds own some high-up
copper at this station – no doubt someone who warns
them about forthcoming raids and sting operations and
undercover cops and the like. That's why the Dowds are
untouchable. And then you wonder why no one in
Meadowview will talk to you?'

DI Boothe was taking in everything I said like he'd
never heard of such a thing before. He was either a great
actor or he really had no idea there was at least one
crooked copper, and probably more, on his patch.

He looked around quickly. Mum was still at the
reception desk and no one else was close enough to hear
our hushed conversation.

'Tobey, you can trust me,' said the detective. At my
look of scepticism, he added, 'I know I would say that
anyway, but it's the truth. All I want is to bring down
Alex McAuley and the Dowds. We in Meadowview
deserve better.'

'
We
in Meadowview?' My eyebrows were raised as high
as they could go.

'Yes,
we
,' the detective emphasized. 'Because contrary
to what you may think, I live here too. Tobey, talk to me.
Tell me what you know.'

'All I know is, McAuley thinks I've been in here,
singing my head off, thanks to you. Strange that, don't you
think? Gideon Dowd warns me to stay away from his sister
and when I refuse, the next thing I know I'm dragged in
here for McAuley to see. What a great way for Gideon
Dowd to make sure McAuley does his dirty work for him.
And now I'm supposed to trust you to protect me? You're
a bent copper in Gideon Dowd's pocket and we both
know it.'

'I don't work for the Dowds or Alex McAuley,' DI
Boothe denied vehemently. 'It wasn't even my idea to
bring you in.'

'Then whose idea was it? 'Cause that person is probably
working for Gideon Dowd,' I said.

Boothe didn't answer.

I glared at him, saying scornfully, 'And I'm supposed to
trust you?'

'It's safer if you don't know who arranged to have you
brought in. I'll look into it,' he said, his lips a determined
slash across his face.

'You do that,' I said with scepticism. 'Oh, and are you
having me followed?'

DI Boothe didn't reply.

'Is that a yes?' I asked, knowing full well it was. 'May I
ask why?'

Boothe considered whether or not to answer my question.

'We needed to know who you were covering for – the
Dowds or McAuley. We were hoping to catch you in
conversation with one or the other.' He smiled without any
real humour. 'But you like to fly with the birds and swim
with the fishes at the same time, don't you? As far as those
following you could tell, you were working with both.'

'Tell your officers to stop following me,' I said angrily.
'For one thing, they're not very good at it. And if you want
to know who I'm working for, all you have to do is ask.'

'I'm asking,' said the detective.

I smiled. 'I'm working for myself. No one else.'

'And if I don't believe you?'

'That's your problem. In the meantime, I'm outta here.'

'Let us protect you,' Boothe tried again.

'Thanks, but no thanks.'

'I personally give you my word that no harm will come
to you or your family.'

'I can take care of myself,' I replied.

DI Boothe shook his head. 'Tobey, you're a fool. Don't
you realize I'm on your side? When you finally figure that
out, give me a call – but don't leave it too long.'

He walked away just as Mum approached us and before
I could say another word.

By the time we got back home, Mum was livid at the
police for, as she put it, 'dragging us down to the station
for no good reason'. I left her still ranting as I headed for
my room. I couldn't forget the look on McAuley's face
when he saw me. Surely he knew that I wouldn't blab? I
wasn't stupid. Everyone was using me, and if the police
didn't get me, McAuley or the Dowds would. I needed
some insurance – not for me, but for my mum and sister.
I wasn't going to let anything happen to them.

If it was just me, then I could tell them all to go to hell.
But it wasn't just me. Anything I did to McAuley or the
Dowds would be returned tenfold by those who worked
for them. They'd make sure that it wouldn't just be me
who suffered. My family, my close friends, they'd all be
fair game too. That's why I had to tread so carefully. I
wasn't ready or prepared to take on McAuley yet. So I had
to get things straightened out with him. This thing with
Rebecca had resulted in me taking my eye off the ball. It
was time to remedy that.

I lay down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. What
had started off as a tentative saunter down this particular
path had now turned into a roller-coaster ride over which
I had absolutely no control. I'd known that if I started this,
it would be very hard to stop, but no one had warned me
it would be impossible.

Would that have stopped me from embarking on this
course of action?

Probably not.

I lay still for almost an hour, just trying to gather my
thoughts together into some semblance of order. What
exactly was I letting myself in for? I was blundering into
the unknown, but I wouldn't've turned back, even if I
could.

The mobile McAuley had given me started to ring. I
hadn't expected anything else. I knew the moment he got
out of the police station, he'd be giving me a call. The
moment I pressed the talk button, he launched in.

'I want to see you,' he said.

'Yes, sir.'

'I'll be outside your house in ten minutes.'

'Oh, but—' I began, thinking of the wobbly Mum
would throw if she saw McAuley parked outside our
house. He would be even less welcome than the police.

'Yes?' McAuley said brusquely.

'Nothing, sir. I'll be waiting.'

McAuley disconnected the call.

Ten minutes . . .

The countdown had begun.

I stopped outside Mum's closed bedroom door. She was
probably fast asleep by now and wouldn't thank me for
waking her up. Jessica had gone out somewhere. I so
desperately needed to say goodbye to someone. Anyone.
But there was no one. With a sigh, I headed downstairs,
leaving Mum undisturbed. I headed out of the house, my
hands deep in jacket pockets. I looked up at the blue sky,
hoping . . .

But I didn't get my wish.

McAuley arrived right on time. I cast an anxious glance
up at Mum's bedroom, but her curtains were closed
against the daylight. Byron was the only other person in
the car and he was driving. McAuley pointed to the
seat next to him in the back. I got in. The door was
only just shut when Byron drove off. And with each
second, the hollow space inside me grew bigger and
bigger.

'Mr McAuley, you have to believe me, I never said a
word to the police,' I launched in immediately. 'They
dragged Mum and me down to the station to make a
statement, but I didn't tell them anything because I don't
know anything. They're trying to set me up so that you'll
think I've been telling tales.'

McAuley leaned back against the luxurious leather seat,
his laptop on the seat between us, a newspaper on his lap
as his gaze dissected me. Was it just me or was it uncomfortably
hot in his car?

'Why would the police set you up?'

'To make you think I'm a danger to you. That way,
with you after me, they reckoned I'd have no choice but
to co-operate with them.'

'Co-operate?'

'The police think I know more about the shooting at
the Wasteland than I'm saying. But I don't.' I looked
McAuley in the eyes as I spoke, desperate for him to
believe me. 'When the shooting started, I hit the ground
and stayed there. I didn't see a thing.'

McAuley studied me for a long time. I didn't look away
or flinch from his gaze. Not once. Because that would've
been fatal. My heart was skipping like a boxer in training.

Don't throw up,Tobey. For God's sake don't throw up.

Especially not in McAuley's car.

Or worse still, over him.

At last McAuley's expression relaxed, although his eyes
stayed hard as ever.

'How's your job at TFTM?'

What was he up to now? Were his unpredictable
conversational leaps designed to catch me out? Careful,
Tobey . . . Impatiently, I wiped my forehead with the
palm of my hand. Would it kill him to turn on the air
conditioning or to open the windows? But why should
he? McAuley didn't have a single bead of sweat on him.

'I don't work there any more, sir.'

'Oh? Why not?'

I decided to keep my story as close to the truth as
possible. 'Gideon Dowd fired me.'

'Why?'

'For going out with his sister.'

'Rebecca.'

'Yes, sir.'

'And you two are still together?'

'I don't know, sir. I haven't heard from her in a while.'

'D'you like her?'

I shrugged.

McAuley contemplated me. 'So you're sleeping with
the enemy.'

I opened my mouth to deny it, only for my mouth to
snap shut. Even if McAuley didn't mean literally, he meant
figuratively. It was the same difference to him.

'Mr McAuley, if you tell me not to see her again, then
I won't,' I said after a moment's pause. 'I'm only with her
to try and find out the name of the bent copper in the
Dowds' pocket. Rebecca was the one who gave me that
information in the first place.'

'You still haven't found out who it is yet?'

'No, sir. But I will. I just need more time.'

'And you don't think you've had enough already?'

'I will get you the information, sir. I guarantee it.'

McAuley turned to his driver. 'What d'you think,
Byron? Is Tobey a man of his word?

Byron shrugged. 'I think he's too clever by half – or at
least he thinks he is.'

McAuley smiled. And his smile sent a chill ricocheting
around my body. Where were they taking me? What were
they going to do? McAuley picked up his PC and placed
it on his lap over the newspaper, before analysing the
screen. His memory key was attached to one of the two
USB ports at the side. Why did he need to carry his laptop
around with him all the time? Was it just for effect? To
make him look more businesslike? Or was there actually
stuff on it that he needed at a moment's notice? I carried
on watching him, but he completely ignored me. He
appeared to be reading emails, but I couldn't exactly lean
in for a closer look. Our conversation, such as it was, was
over. At least for now.

I swallowed hard. Should I say something? Press my
case? Did he believe what I'd said or not? I looked out of
the window. I didn't recognize where we were and I
didn't have a clue where we were going. After about
twenty minutes of total silence in the car, I risked another
glance at McAuley. His laptop was back on the seat
between us and he was watching me. Sweat was dripping
off my forehead.

'Too hot for you, Tobey?' asked McAuley.

'A little,' I admitted, taking off my jacket before I melted
into a puddle on the floor. I put it on the seat between us.

'I like it hot,' said McAuley. 'I find I think better when
the heat is on.'

I didn't doubt it. With a smile, McAuley picked up his
newspaper and started reading.

Where the hell were we now? Somewhere countrified
by the look of it. There were no houses now, just fields in
various shades of green as far as the eye could see, and trees
to my left, lining up on the horizon. Thoughts drummed
in my head like rain on a corrugated roof. My intestines
were tying themselves in knots.
Where were they taking me?
Byron turned left onto a single-track road and we drove
for another few minutes. More and more trees appeared all
around us. Byron turned the car to the left and took us
off-road. The suspension on the car must've been state of
the art, because I did little more than bounce a couple of
times.

'Bryon, stop here,' McAuley ordered, closing his newspaper
and folding it neatly.

The car came to a smooth halt. Byron had stopped the
car, but the engine was still running. We were in the
middle of leafy nowhere. Trees surrounded us like
sentinels, silent witnesses to whatever was about to go
down. I couldn't even hear the odd bird chirping. I didn't
recognize where we were at all. We'd only been travelling
for slightly under an hour, but this might as well have been
another planet.

This was it.

'Tobey, d'you know where we are?'

I shook my head.

'Neither does anyone else,' said McAuley, adding
silkily, 'You do understand, don't you?'

Oh, yes.

'Mr McAuley, I work for you now,' I said quietly.
'There's no way I would ever betray you.'

'Loyalty means everything to me, Tobey. Everything.
I've told you that before.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Maybe you should give him a test, Mr McAuley? See
which side he's really on,' said Byron.

'Maybe I should at that,' McAuley agreed slowly.

I glanced between Byron and his boss. What kind of
test? Had I been granted a reprieve or set on the path to
hell? Or was I already on my way?

'But maybe he just isn't worth it,' mused McAuley.

He smiled, enjoying the power he had over me. My life
lay in his hands and he was making sure I knew it. And I
did. He didn't have to bring me all the way out here to
the arse end of nowhere to make his point.

'You're going to have to prove yourself to me, Tobey.
I think that's only fair, don't you?'

'Yes, sir.'

The hollowness inside was gnawing away at me now.
Godsake. What was McAuley going to make me do?

'First I want you to tell me everything, and I mean
everything
that happened at the police station earlier,' McAuley
ordered. 'And take your damned jacket off my computer.'

'Sorry, sir.' I retrieved my jacket.

'That's a serious piece of kit and you just chuck your
jacket over it?'

'I'm sorry, Mr McAuley.'

I slipped the object in my hand into my jacket pocket,
trying to make my movements as unnoticeable as possible.
If I never made it beyond this forest, at least . . . I was
getting ahead of myself. One step at a time. I needed to
survive. So whatever McAuley asked me to do, whatever
test he gave me, I would do it.

No. Matter. What.

'Cause it had to be better than the alternative.

I told McAuley everything he wanted to know. I didn't
leave out anything. He interjected with the occasional
question, but that was it. When I finished, he scrutinized
me some more.

'Well, Byron?' asked McAuley, never taking his eyes off
me. 'Is he telling the truth?'

'I'd say so, sir,' Byron replied.

'You're still useful to me, Tobey – lucky for you.'

'Yes, Mr McAuley.' Very lucky.

'Take us back, Byron,' said McAuley.

And those words were like hard-rock music to my ears.
Byron carefully turned the car round and headed back the
way we'd come.

'Byron, I do enjoy my visits to the countryside, don't
I?' said McAuley.

'That you do, sir.' I caught Byron's tiny smile in the
driver's mirror.

The rest of the journey home was achieved in complete
and utter silence. I looked out of the window, but
had to wait over half an hour before I saw a landmark I
recognized.

Once we arrived at my house, as I turned to open the
car door, McAuley said, 'I've thought of a way you can
prove yourself to me, Tobey.'

My hand froze on the door handle. 'Yes, sir?'

'When you've found out the identity of the crooked
officer who works for the Dowds, I want you to make
another delivery.' McAuley's smile held smug satisfaction.
He was incredibly pleased with himself.

'Another package for Mr Eisner?'

'Not this time.' McAuley shook his head. 'I'll want you
to make this delivery to me personally.'

'To you, sir?' My words were sharper than intended.
What could I possibly bring him that he didn't already
have?

'You have access to something that I can't get
near. Rebecca Dowd, Tobey. I want you to bring me
Rebecca Dowd.'

And just like that, the hollow, gnawing sensation deep
inside me ceased. There was nothing left inside. I was now
hollow all the way through.

Rebecca . . .

'Yes, Mr McAuley.'

'So you'll do it.' It wasn't a question.

'Yes, Mr McAuley. Anything you say.'

'I'll let you know where and when. Keep the phone I
gave you with you at all times.'

'Yes, sir. I always do.'

McAuley turned away from me. I was dismissed. I got
out of the car. Byron drove off the moment the door was
shut. I watched the car until it turned the corner and was
out of sight. And still I stared after it. Rebecca Dowd was
now a package scheduled for delivery. And I was the one
who had to deliver her. I couldn't jeopardize all my plans
for Rebecca. I just couldn't. What about Callie? McAuley
had to pay for what he did to Callie.

But could I really sacrifice Rebecca?

Yes.

No . . .

I didn't know. That was the scary thing. I really didn't
know.

I entered my house, heading straight for my bedroom.
Even with the door shut behind me, I couldn't relax. I
flopped down on my bed, my head in my hands, willing
the tension headache between my eyes to dissipate.
Minutes passed before I stopped shaking. I emptied my
pockets onto my bed. McAuley's memory key shone up at
me, the one I'd swapped for my own. In his car, I'd really
believed I wouldn't make it home again, at least not in one
living piece. But if I was going to die, I wanted to make
sure McAuley wouldn't get away with it. So using my
jacket for cover, I'd switched his memory key for my own
corrupt one. The fraught actions of a desperate man. And
all the time I was swapping the memory keys, I expected
to feel his hand around my wrist, followed by Byron's gun
at my head. But I'd got away with it.

I wasn't even sure what I'd been thinking. Something
about my body being found with McAuley's memory
stick in my pocket. If that didn't directly incriminate him,
then I'd hoped there would be something on it that the
police could use to bring him down. Not exactly the way
I originally had it planned, but I'd had to improvise.

So now what?

I had McAuley's memory stick.

And he had mine . . .

I sat bolt upright, staring a hole through my wall. Was
there anything on that stick to link it back to me? I
thought long and hard. My memory key was completely
corrupt, totally unreadable. But what if McAuley found a
way to retrieve data off it? Then he'd find my chemistry
homework and the history presentation Callie and I had
been working on. If he managed to retrieve just one file,
I was screwed.

I forced myself to calm down. I'd tried every trick in
the book to retrieve data off that stick and I was no slouch
when it came to computing. If I couldn't do it, then surely
he couldn't? I'd just have to hope I wasn't indulging in
wishful thinking. I was safe. Was I safe? Until I heard
otherwise, no news had to be good news. In the meantime,
I maybe had something I could use against him. And
I had to work fast before I was forced to do something
monstrous.