Never Apologise, Never Explain (35 page)

Dominic let out a low whistle. ‘First time I’ve seen that!’ He stuck a hand in his trouser pocket and pulled out a car key. ‘Here you go,’ he said, tossing it to Carlyle. ‘Now get the kid out of here.’

‘What about . . . ?’ Carlyle made the vaguest of gestures towards the doomed men inside the warehouse.

‘That’s my business,’ said Dominic firmly. ‘Just go.’

Carlyle stared at the key as he turned it around in his hand. ‘I can’t drive.’

‘What?’ Dominic said, somewhat dumbfounded.

‘I never learned to drive.’ Carlyle shrugged. ‘In London you don’t really need to.’

Dominic put his hands on his hips and stared into the night. ‘For God’s sake.’

‘Half the people in London don’t have a car,’ Carlyle protested.

‘I’m sure most of them can fucking drive, though.’ Dominic shook his head. ‘You really are a useless tosser.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Get in.’

Carlyle headed for the passenger side.

Dominic grabbed his arm. ‘Get in the driver’s side, before I fucking thump you.’

Over the next few minutes, Dominic showed Carlyle the basics. Fortunately for the inspector, the vehicle was an automatic. Once it was switched on, all he really had to worry about was the accelerator and the brake.

‘Take him to A and E at UCH,’ Dominic said, once the tutorial was over. Slipping out of the passenger seat, he pointed at a small box on the dashboard. ‘Use the SatNav.’

‘What?’

‘For fuck’s sake.’ Dom did a little dance on the tarmac, fists clenched, as if he was getting ready to clock the inspector. ‘Just follow the bloody signs for Central London.’

‘Okay.’ Carlyle thought he could manage that. Probably.

‘Take it slow. Nothing above thirty miles an hour. Even at that pace, it shouldn’t take you much more than an hour. There’s no traffic at this time of night anyway. When you get there, leave the keys in the ignition. Maybe someone will nick it. If not, it will get towed. It’s clean anyway.’

‘What about a licence?’ Carlyle asked.

‘If anybody stops you, just show them your Warrant Card.’ Dominic grinned widely. ‘Don’t worry, there are no coppers about this late – I should know. As long as you don’t hit anything, or go so slow that you might be mistaken for a kerb crawler or a cruising car bomber, you’ll be fine.’

Carlyle looked doubtful.

‘Even if you get stopped, so what? You’re a hero,’ Dom went on. ‘Socially inept when it comes to motors, but a hero nonetheless. Just remember your story.’

Carlyle nodded obediently.

‘It was an anonymous tip. You picked the car up half a mile down the road. Don’t bring anyone back here, at least for a while.’ Slamming the passenger door shut, Dom stuck his hand through the open window and they shook.

‘Thanks,’ said Carlyle.

‘No problem,’ said Dominic, eyeing the inspector carefully. ‘Do we have a deal?’

‘Yes,’ Carlyle said, ‘we have a deal.’ Taking his foot off the brake, he pressed tentatively on the accelerator. The engine squealed and they moved slowly forward. Looking in the rear-view mirror, he saw Dominic head back towards the warehouse and out of sight.

In the back, the boy was still sleeping peacefully. Carlyle’s heart rose and sank at the same time. They were heading for home, wherever that might be.

Table of Contents

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FIFTEEN

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TWENTY-SEVEN

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