Relentless (21 page)

where suspects and victims alike appeared, on the face of it, to be
ordinary, hard-working people.
Bolt wondered if the key to this set of events was the man
whose apparent suicide they were currently investigating. One
thing was certain: if Parnham-Jones had indeed been part of a
ruthless paedophile gang there would be some record of his
hobby somewhere. Most likely on his computer.
As he walked over to the Ford Orion he was driving these
days and opened the door, he put in another call to Matt Turner.
For the second time, it went straight to message. Once again he
left a voicemail asking him to call back, whatever time it was.
He flicked off the phone and started the car. His stomach
growled but he no longer felt hungry. He'd gone beyond that
stage. Now he just felt empty. Empty and tired.
He put the car in gear and pulled away.

31

The forest ran uninterrupted for more than a mile behind ;©ur cottage before giving way to agricultural land. We ran
pbrough the rain and undergrowtfi for what seemed like hours,
Ifeattered, exhausted and shocked by the events of this bloody day, ignoring the tight coils of brambles that ripped at our
piothes and exposed skin, knowing that in order to survive we
jffcad to keep going. Because for the first time in our lives, there
were«people out there who wanted to kill us.

Finally we reached the edge of the forest and sank to our
knees in the darkness, just inside the treeline. Beyond it was a
quiet country road, little more than a track, and then a huge
wheat field that ran in a dip along a quarter-mile stretch to
where the trees started again. We'd walked here a few times
before with the kids in happier times, and I knew that there were
storage sheds hidden away from the road on the other side of
the field. The sound of our heavy breathing seemed to fill the air
along with the constant pattering of the rain and the faint noise
of sirens somewhere in the distance behind us.
After a few seconds, Kathy stood up and looked my way. Her
expression looked worryingly like pity. 'Oh Christ, Tom, I'm
sorry I got you involved in all this.' She was fitter than me so I
was still on my knees, panting. I didn't say anything, but I guess
my own expression must have said it all. 'I didn't know they'd
be after Jack,' she continued. 'I was just there because, you
know ...' She let the words trail off.
I pictured her and Jack on his big double bed - I knew it
would be big - him on top. Fucking her. My wife. Our love life
had become sporadic of late. In fact, it had been sporadic for a
long time now. This was why. The betrayal felt like a physical
weight bearing down on me.
'How long's it been going on?' I asked, still on my knees. It
felt like an apt position to be in, fitting my humiliation perfectly.
'A while,' she answered. 'Almost two years.'
It came as a bit of a shock when she said this - and yes,
even now I was still capable of receiving one. Of course I'd
had my suspicions, but two whole years? This made it even
worse.
The rain dripped down my forehead and onto my face, and I
wiped it angrily away.

'With my best friend,' I said.
'I didn't plan it like that. It just happened.'
'How?'
'I met him at O'Neills in Harrow. I was out with people from
work.'
'Classy.'
'Don't start getting like that, Tom. This is one time when we
really don't need your sarcastic humour. And you're not exactly
holier than thou, are you?'
She had me there. Five years ago, I had a brief affair with a
girl at work. Her name was Bev, and she was seven years
younger than me. It had started almost by accident, after a
few drinks too many at one of those pointless team-building
weekends that companies like you to go on these days, where
you learn skills such as orienteering and rock climbing that you
know you're never going to use again. A few fumbles after work
in the office and a night away in a hotel room in Brighton had
followed, but I don't think either of us was ever that interested,
and I was finding the guilt hard to handle, so when she finished
it - somewhat undiplomatically, citing boredom as the main
reason, and adding nothing about wanting to remain friends - I
was actually quite relieved. At least, that is, until it became clear
that someone - God knows who, I'd never found that out - had
told Kathy what had been happening. We'd split over it for
a couple of weeks, but she'd finally managed to forgive me,
riafchough thinking back now, I wbnder if it may have been the
leatalyst for everything else. Either way, I was never going to get
l way from it entirely.
'OK, OK,' I said, 'point taken. So, did you start a relationship ¦ Iwith him straight away?'
She gave me a look that cut me dead, her dark eyes full of

contempt. 'Is your opinion of me really that low? Of course I
didn't. We had a chat for a little while, he bought me a drink,
then we said our goodbyes, and I didn't see him again for a long
time after that. Months, probably. But then we ran into each
other in the street one Saturday when I was without the kids,
and we went for a coffee. We got on well, and arranged to go out
to lunch a couple of weeks down the line. We went out a couple
of times like that.'
'Behind my back.'
'That's right, Tom. Behind your back. We weren't getting on
well at the time. We haven't been getting on well for a long time
now. Or hadn't you realized that?'
I didn't say anything. I suppose things hadn't been as good
between us as they had been before the children were born, but
I'd assumed that was natural. Part and parcel of the whole kids
thing. I guess I'd been wrong. It looked like I'd been wrong
about a lot of things. Delusional, even.
'Jack made me feel good, Tom. That's all I can say. We had a
platonic relationship for a long time, but eventually it turned
into something else.'
Typical Jack Calley. He'd always been persistent. That was
why he'd been so successful. Not just in romance, but in everything
in his life. I could just imagine what he'd been thinking as
he pursued my wife. Easy does it. Be patient and she'll relent.
They always do. Pay her compliments. Tell her how pretty she is.
How taken for granted she is in her marriage. He'd bedded
dozens of girls that way down the years. I'd even admired him
for it, once upon a time. Now I knew he was simply being a
selfish bastard. It was sad to only find this out now, after he was
dead. It would have been nice to have had the opportunity to tell
him what an arsehole he was. I couldn't believe the extent of his

betrayal. Choosing Kathy over me and sacrificing a lifelong
friendship as if it was nothing.
'I'm sorry,' she said, 'I really am.' And she was, I could tell.
I sighed. 'Were you ever going to tell me?'
'We talked about it, but there never seemed to be the right
time. And I didn't want to do anything that would affect the
kids. It was just... I don't know ... a separate relationship to
the one I had with you and the family. It existed in parallel.'
'It existed for a long time.'
'Yes,' she said, 'it did.'
At that moment we heard the sound of a car coming down
the road, its tyres hissing in the wet. It was coming slowly, the
headlamps lighting up the trees. Instinctively, we both crouched
down and stayed absolutely still as it came past. I didn't get a
good look at it - there was a thick holly bush in the way - nor
did I want to try too hard, in case I got spotted by whoever was
inside. They might have been perfectly innocent, but I'd had
enough scrapes today to know that it was better to be safe than
sorry.
'What do we do now?' Kathy whispered, standing back up as
its lights faded into the distance.
'We need to get out of this rain. Then we need to call the
police. You've got a lot of explaining to do.' I stood up as well
and pulled out my phone, but there was still no reception.
'Something else, too.'
; 'What?'
: 'They found a pair of my gloves at the scene of Vanessa's
murder. They had bloodstains on them. I think someone's trying
to set me up.'
She looked shocked. 'Do you have any idea how they got there?'

'None at all. Luckily, the police don't know they're mine, but
there's probably tests they can do to find out, and I really don't
want to end up spending the next twenty years of my life in
prison for something I didn't do.' I paused. 'So, you know, if--'
'I didn't have anything to do with Vanessa's murder, Tom. I
promise you that. And I don't know how the hell my fingerprints
got on the knife either. You trust me, don't you?' She sounded
like she needed that trust.
'Why did Jack phone me, Kathy? When they were after him?
And how much do you really know about all this?' I'd raised my
voice and was aware that we were sailing very close to an
argument, which, under the circumstances, really would have
been foolish.
'I had nothing to do with any of it,' she said firmly, 'and I don't
want the police to frame me with Vanessa's murder either.'
'We're both going to have to talk to them eventually. And, to
be honest, who else is going to protect us?' Calming down, I
walked over and put an arm around her shoulders, burying my
face in the crook of her neck. It was wet and I couldn't pick up
her usual fragrant smell. I kissed her gently. 'It's going to be all
right, don't worry,' I said, somewhat optimistically. 'Now, let's
get out of this rain. Then we can decide what to do.'
We fought our way through the bushes at the edge of the
treeline, crossed the road and climbed over the fence into
the wheat field. It had been ploughed recently and was muddy
underfoot, slowing our progress. I could see the two large
wooden storage sheds in the distance. A tractor was parked on a
concrete forecourt in front of the first, but there was no sign of
activity. As we ran across the field, I turned and looked back. In
the distance, beyond the pine trees, the sky glowed and flickered
at the spot where they'd set the cottage ablaze. I thought of

Warren and Midge, and wondered what their faces would look
like when they found out what had happened. I'd gone off them
since we'd bought that quarter share, because I felt they'd taken
us and our money for granted, but I still felt bad for them. They
loved that place.
I was panting again by the time we got to the first storage
shed. I ran across to the huge double doors and was pleased to
find they weren't locked. With a heave, I pulled one of the doors
open, and the two of us stepped inside out of the rain. The place
smelled of dry hay and motor oil, but felt hugely inviting after
the other places I'd been in tonight. I found a light switch on the
wall and flicked it on. The room was cavernous, with huge empty
shelving units on either side going up to the roof and a space on
the ground easily wide enough for driving a tractor in and out. A
solitary Land Rover was parked opposite us in front of the far
wall, and I walked towards it with Kathy following, pulling off
my wet coat at the same time.
I looked at my phone again. There was still no reception. It
pissed me off. This area must have been about the last in
the country where it was impossible to get a mobile phone
signal. On those few weekends when we'd actually made it down
here to stay, this had seemed something of a boon. We'd never
given out the number of the cottage so it was impossible for
either of our employers to reach us, which meant we could take
time out and relax. Now, trapped in the middle of nowhere with
hostile forces searching for us, it was proving to be a real problem.
It was too much to expect that the Land Rover would have the keys in it, but at least the door was open, and there was a thick Sweater draped over the front passenger seat. I climbed inside
and "offered the sweater to Kathy. She peeled off her suede

jacket and blouse, both of which were soaked through, and took
it with a whispered 'thanks'.
'Can you get a reception on your phone?' I asked her.
She shook her head, and undid her bra to reveal pert breasts
with cherry-red nipples. She had a slim, toned body with skin
like pale gold, and I gazed at it for a moment, full of regret,
before she pulled the sweater down over her upper body and
clambered in the other side.
'God, I'm tired,' she said, closing her eyes.
'We can't really stay here,' I told her, but it was clear she
wasn't moving anywhere.
'I need to think,' she added, her voice heavy with weariness.
I needed to think too, but I didn't want to, because there were
holes in Kathy's story and I knew there were things she wasn't
telling me. I found a tartan dog blanket in the back of the car
and silently thanked the owner for his level of preparedness. By
the time I'd removed my clothes and settled back in my seat
with the blanket covering me up to my chin, Kathy had fallen
asleep and was breathing softly through her mouth. I moved
closer to her and tried to cuddle up, but evidently she wasn't
completely gone because she moved away.
A few moments later I heard her weeping, and my heart sank.
My marriage was over, and for the last however many years my
wife, the woman I genuinely loved, had been living a complete
lie.
The question was, would I ever know the extent of that lie?

Part Two

SUNDAY
32

Sinking his shapeless, slug-like bulk into the specially reinforced
chair in front of his state-of-the-art computer system, twentynine-year-old
computer hacker Dorriel Graham began the hunt
through cyberspace that would find the information his client
was looking for. His client was Lench, but neither man knew the
other's real identity, nor had they ever met. Graham was simply a mobile telephone number that could be called at any time,
while Lench was Lima 2, a customer who used his services
periodically, and who could be trusted to pay for them.
The virtual world of the Internet was Graham's life. He was a
techno-mercenary, his speciality. being the ability to use his
hacking skills to track down anyone. The average UK citizen
over the age of eighteen has his or her personal details held on
scores, sometimes hundreds, of electronic databases. Even those
who never take part in telephone questionnaires, who actively
avoid giving out information to anyone, and who try to register
as little as possible in their own name, leave their virtual footprints
everywhere. If you use a credit card or debit card, there'll
be « record held in someone's database of where and when it