The Dead Lie Down (Adam Lennox Thrillers: Book One) (25 page)

There was no warning this time, the hammer came down on his index finger, blood
spilling out across the woodgrain, running in small rivulets along the
grains.

Again the scream as the pain tore through his brain, numbing all his other
senses.

"I'm losing patience," growled Reilly.

There was a pause while Kemp's breathing stopped coming in gasps.

"You're a real little shit, Reilly." Kemp declared, defiantly.

A
spasm crossed Reilly's face and he brought the hammer down on Kemp's wrist with
as much force as he could. The blood started to flow more freely now.

Kemp blacked out briefly, the pain overloading his nervous system. It took ten
minutes for him to regain some semblance of consciousness. Five more minutes and
Kemp was mumbling incoherently in between groans. Reilly was starting to get
concerned. The clock was ticking on and it was only a matter of time before someone
noticed or heard something.

"Tell me Gerard or I'll break every bone in your body one by one."

Kemp's words were no more than a whisper when they came.

"I don't know where it is," he mumbled hoarsely.

Reilly shook his head with a pretence at sadness.

"I don't believe you Gerard."

"Then sod off. I've got nothing to live for anyway. My life is finished,"
whispered Kemp, and even managed a faint smile. "And we beat you."

Reilly brought the hammer down again and again Kemp screamed.

"Gerard, I'm telling you, you're going to tell me everything you know before you
die."

And eventually, he did.

Chapter 34

Adam was generally willing to admit that he was fallible, that he occasionally
made mistakes, and that sometimes they had consequences. He made one that morning
when he suggested that Anna meet him at the office before leaving to drive down
to the New Forest for their meeting with Dermot O'Rourke. All in all it hadn't
been a good day so far and he didn't envisage it getting much better either.
O'Rourke had been insistent that they could settle everything amicably, adding
an invitation to his house in the New Forest. Sitting in the car with Anna, in
a lay-by just north of Lyndhurst, with the snub nose of the automatic grinding
into his left groin he was seriously beginning to doubt the wisdom of this
meeting. A sentiment that Bel had declared earlier.

"You're all crazy." She announced to the assembled company, that being Adam,
Gerry, and Anna.

Adam sat at his desk whilst the others arrayed themselves around the walls of
the office, covering up the posters of their greater publicity campaigns. Have
some respect people.

"You're going to meet the guy you now know is behind all this, just casually
walk into his den and say "My, Grandma, what big teeth you've got. It's nuts!"

"As long as he thinks he needs us to retrieve his papers there's no danger," he
maintained. "And we do have the element of surprise. He doesn't know that we
know that he's behind it all."

"Now you're sounding like a sketch from Monty Python. You'll be mentioning
something about the Spanish Inquisition next."

Adam glanced quickly at Gerry and gave an infinitesimal shake of his head. There
was time for frivolity but this was not it.

"We're armed and trained for confrontational situations. I'll have back-up on
the ground," interjected Anna.

Bel gave Anna an old-fashioned look. "I'll bet you're good at confrontational
situations."

Mitch put his head around the door, a new participant in the conversation as he
had been assaulting the coffee machine with intent, out in the main office. He
looked at Adam and raised a Glaswegian eyebrow.

"You wantin' me to come along in the background?"

Adam shook his head. "No. I want you here looking after Bel. I don't want to
leave the back door unguarded. I can look after myself on this occasion."

At this point Adam's mobile rang, and having checked the caller ID he stepped
out of his office and took the call in the walk-in cupboard that housed their
photocopier and printers.

"So are you going to talk to me or not?" DCI Ford's bedside manner was as
scathing as ever.

Adam grimaced. "That depends on what you're going to tell me."

Ford's grin could almost be heard down the phone. "I've got some good news and
some bad news. Which do you want first?"

It occurred to Adam to raise an objection to silly games in the current
circumstances but had the distinct feeling that he would be over-ruled. Ford
enjoyed these too much.

"Go on. Give me the good news."

"You asked me to look into anything that connected Bel and Fran that may be on
record. I looked. Zip, zilch, zero, nothing of any consequence. Their names
appear on record only twice. On one occasion they were given a formal caution
for skinny dipping on Brighton beach late at night." Ford paused to savour the
thought. Sad man, but we knew that already, thought Adam.

Ford continued. "The only other instance was when they were witnesses in a
shoplifting incident. Nothing of any significance as far as I can see."

Adam was disappointed because he knew there had to be a connection and he was
unwilling to believe that it was only Bartletts. He sighed. "What's the bad news
then?"

"They found Gerard Kemp half an hour ago. A neighbour called in when they got
concerned. He'd been bludgeoned to death with a hammer. Scene of Crime team say
it looks like a case of torture. Virtually every bone was broken. It's difficult
to tell how much was done before he died but he must have died in agony."

Adam stared at the wall and cursed himself silently. Who knew about Kemp? Had he
told anyone? When he had recovered his equilibrium he began to consider what the
point of the attack had been. If it was to extract information from Kemp then
what information had he given them and what was the impact? It didn't make any
sense. According to Kemp he didn't know any of the information his attackers
would have been looking for, that is if Kemp had been telling Adam the truth.
Adam began to wonder. He liked the idea of the meeting with Dermot O'Rourke even
less now.

"Are you still there?" Ford's voice was almost understanding in tone.

"Yes. I've just been thinking. I must have killed him." said Adam.

"You what?" squeaked Ford's voice.

"I must have slipped up somewhere. Something I said led them to him. Must have
done."

Whilst being willing to accept fallibility, Adam was always gutted when his
mistakes cost lives. Tank commanders in the Gulf couldn't afford to make
mistakes because mistakes cost lives. Even now he pictured his crew as they'd
set out on their final sortie together, unaware of the outcome but accepting the
risks. It didn't make it any easier on the soul.

"Don't berate yourself, it's a dirty business and no-one is entirely innocent.
It was Granger that got Kemp dragged into it, and Kemp himself must have been
aware of the dangers. Says something about his loyalty to Granger though,"
conceded Ford.

"Let me know anything else you find out," stressed Adam.

"You'll get me the sack if this comes out, you realise," replied Ford.

"Like you say, it's a dirty business and no-one is entirely innocent," countered
Adam.

Ford snorted and rang off.

Adam became aware that Bel was out in the open office and on seeing him put down
the phone she approached him. She stopped and leant against the edge of a table,
picking up a paper-clip.

"So you're going to do this. Walk into the lion's den," she started.

"Yes."

"To prove just what an asshole you are."

Adam blinked. "Come again."

"What are you trying to prove? That sentiment overcomes common sense? Or are you
trying to prove something to Miss America. Stand up for the Motherland and all
that crap." Her challenge intensified in her body language and tone. The
paperclip was losing all identity in her quick fingers.

"I'm trying to finish this thing once and for all," insisted Adam.

"Well you're going to do that for sure. Once you're in the grave it'll all be
over."

"Your confidence is underwhelming." Adam's sarcasm was ladled on with a
spoon.

"As long as you don't expect me to come to the funeral," Bel said hotly. "My
wreath will be the one with a tribute that says 'I told you so'."

"I'll treasure it."

"At least let me come with you."

"What, so that we can die together," chimed Adam.

She threw the paper-clip into the bin with a force borne of exasperation, and
picked up another one to vent her frustration on.

"You're a stubborn so and so, you know that. I've never met anyone with such a
tough hide on them."

"Sticks and stones, Trent. Sticks and stones."

"Give me a break Lennox. You know, I'm glad you kept me at arm's length all
these years, you know that? It makes it easier to cope with."

Adam did a mental double take. If anyone had been distant it was Bel. She had
resisted any overtures at maintaining relationship with Adam, hadn't she?

"You want me to move on don't you, well this is part of me moving on." His words
were quick, no nonsense, don't argue with me words, but she did anyway.

"No Adam, this is part of you moving away." she accused.

"I've got to do this Bel. I have no choice." he retorted.

Bel's tone softened along with her expression. "I know. I understand." She
studied the paper-clip carefully now.

Adam shook his head vigorously now, and his words came with speed and energy.
"No you don't, one day I'll explain. When this is over and finished."

Bel sighed and tossed the clip in the bin. "Will it ever be over and
finished?"

"It has to be." declared Adam.

Chapter 35

Adam was brought back to the present by a passing car and he read again the note
that Bel had thrust into his hand as he left the office. "Don't die without me."
What was he supposed to make of that? It left him uneasy but somewhere deep
there was a warm feeling he couldn't suppress.

Anna held up her watch and drew his attention to the time. Time they were
going.

The New Forest is a place of contrasts, bracken covered rolling open country
contrasted with deep wooded forest where daylight was a premium and only bright
sunlight brought it to life. The overcast weather gave it a sense of lifeless
despondency that did nothing for his overall mood. Kick it Adam, get on with it,
buck up. Fran's favourite phrase, not compassionate but often apt.

Dermot O'Rourke's manor house did nothing for him either, set in wooded grounds,
surrounded by trees taller than the house itself, peering in the windows,
rattling the panes of the forbidding grey walled mansion, immaculately kept but
at the same time exuding a lifeless aspect that sucked at the soul. Adam wasn't
a fan, it reminded him of a set from Midsomer Murders or Miss Marple. One of
these programs where the body-count was high. He put the thought aside.

The trees dripped around them as they got out of the car. Adam shook his trouser
leg as he stood up, ostensibly to shake the creases out of his trousers but in
reality trying to make that snub nosed automatic more comfortable. He failed, so
they approached the front door anyway.

Before they could find the bell, let alone press it, the door opened and they
were invited in by your archetypal butler. The only blemish to Adam's eye was
that this butler's uniform had been carefully cut to carry the shoulder holster
without it being too obvious. Adam began to regret leaving Mitch in London. They
were guided without ceremony across a panelled hall that would have cheerfully
garaged half a dozen London buses, to a pair of doors which swung open at the
touch and the butler announced them to the company housed therein as 'Miss Anna
Low' and 'Mister Adam Lennox'. Adam trying to ignore the marginal contempt he
could detect in the voice. After all you walk into the lions' den what do you
expect, a round of applause?

Stepping into the room Adam realised that he'd made a mistake. It was neither
Midsomer or Miss Marple. They stood in a classical Edwardian Drawing Room and in
front of them stood Colonel Mustard. Adam scanned the room for the Lead Piping
without success. This was going to be no game, he decided.

The door closed behind them and Adam realised that the butler had, against all
etiquette, stayed with them in the room, in which, in addition to Colonel
Mustard, stood bodyguard B, looking slightly ridiculous in a suit. The cropped
head and broken nose didn't help his case. Adam imagined him in a rugby strip
and agreed the image fitted far better.

Dermot O'Rourke obviously decided that some civilities had to be maintained.

"You've already met Mr Brent who showed you in, and this is Mr Holt," he
introduced, waving his hand at the cropped head and broken nose combination.

"Please, have a seat, how was the drive down? The M3 can be such a pig."

They sat but Adam noticed that O'Rourke himself remained standing. Cunning. This
man had obviously done Advanced Intimidation to A Level standard.

O'Rourke folded his arms and addressed Adam. "Mr Lennox. I won't beat about the
bush. I asked you here because you have something that I value very highly, and
I intend to do whatever I have to, in order to get it back."

Adam forced a smile and crossed his legs with a nonchalance designed to give him
time to respond. "That much I've come to realise Mr O'Rourke, but it intrigues
me why you value it so highly that you are willing to go to such lengths to get
it back."

O'Rourke grimaced slightly. "That needn't concern you in the slightest," he
responded, a tad testily Adam thought.

"But if I'm to hand over the right thing to you I would like to make sure that I
don't make any mistakes. After all Granger Bartlett went to extreme lengths to
guard it."

A
thoughtful look crossed O'Rourke's face. He turned and walked to the window,
surveying the garden before turning back to face Adam.