A Reason to Kill (11 page)

“Chinese or Indian?”

“Surprise me.”

Beth hung up and felt exactly like she had as a fifteen-year-old, getting all dressed up to go on her first real date. It was a mixture of apprehension and elation. She felt stimulated and perturbed in equal amounts. Her hands were trembling. Christ! Every inch of her was trembling, and she didn’t know why. Or did, and refused to acknowledge the reason. This was outside her normal parameters. It felt good but scary to do something impulsive. She had been too controlled and hesitant since the divorce; had put up a barrier; a force field around herself as protection against being emotionally hurt. Her whole demeanour said, ‘keep at arms’ length, out of my space, there’s nothing here for you’. But it hadn’t worked with Barnes. He had ignored the warning signs and somehow breached her defences.

What should she wear? That was so crass. She decided on a T-shirt, stone washed jeans, trainers and a lightweight blouson. She slipped hard copy of her speculative profile into a buff folder, grabbed her keys and left the flat. Damn it, she was looking forward to being in Matt Barnes’s company, although a little voice inside told her that what she was about to do was not a good idea. She sat in the car with the ignition key in her hand. Knew that she should get back to him and call it off. Thought it over, but started the car and drove off.

The cop was not obvious. She scanned the cars in the street but could not spot him. Barnes had no doubt told him to expect her, so he was not about to break cover.

She rang the bell and had the urge to turn tail and run away. Remembered doing just that, many years ago as a teenager, having turned up for an appointment at a dentist who operated out of a bungalow, only to flee after ringing the doorbell. She took deep breaths and regained her composure as the door opened.

“Hi,” Matt said. “Come on in, quick, before I get blasted by some Lee Harvey Oswald type.”

“Not funny,” Beth said, weaving her way past him without making physical contact, heading for the kitchen with a carrier bag full of steaming cartons.

“That smells terrific. You want a Scotch to go with it?” Matt asked.

Beth shook her head. “Coffee, please. I’ve already had a couple of glasses of wine this evening. I shouldn’t really have driven over here.”

“Living on the edge, eh?”

She ignored the comment. Wouldn’t allow him to draw her out. They ate slowly and talked work. Matt picked at his food. In the main he just pushed it around the plate with his fork

“You lost your appetite?” Beth asked.

“A little. I need to get back in the habit. I tend to just open a can, microwave stuff, or make the odd sandwich when I remember to, or if my stomach starts to really complain. Most cops eat on the run. And Jamie Oliver I’m not.”

“What do you do to relax?”

“Sleep,” Matt said, getting up awkwardly and dumping the plates and cutlery in the sink, after scraping what he had left into the pedal-operated waste bin.

“You don’t have any other interests?”

“I don’t collect anything. Don’t care for sport, and avoid TV. I detest politics, am an atheist, and probably need to get a life. Trouble is, I get off on what I do. Ruining a villain’s day hits the spot. What about you?”

“I suppose you just answered for me. Although I am religious after a fashion, and I sometimes enjoy watching a good movie. Apart from that, I guess I’m running fast and getting nowhere in a hurry.

There followed an awkward silence. Matt broke it by turning the conversation back to the case. “He’s got a lot of bottle if nothing else. He gambled everything on wearing Jerry Page’s cap and jacket, and just walked up to two armed officers and capped them.”

Beth nodded. “He’s intelligent, Matt. He understands human nature. He knew that they would see what they expected to.”

“They were complacent. Their oversight cost lives, including their own, and blew the case against Santini.”

“That’s harsh. They were set up. He came out of the house at the right time and looking the part. Anyone would have thought it was Page walking his dog.”

“They weren’t just
anyone
, Beth. They were trained to take nothing at face value. Misdirection and subterfuge are the expected ploys to get near intended marks. They fucked up.”

“Are you so sure that
you
would have seen it coming?”

Matt thought about it for a few seconds. “Maybe not. But I choose to believe that I would have.”

“What do you intend to do now? There are no apparent leads to follow.”

“Santini is the lead.”

“Would he know who the shooter is? I thought they liked to remain anonymous.”

“He might. It could be one of his own men. And even if it isn’t, he has to be able to contact him. There’s always a trail, Beth. You just have to find the end of it and work back to the beginning.”

“Santini won’t talk.”

“True. But the cop who’s in his pocket will.”

“If you ever find out who it is.”

“I will. That’s something you can bet the farm on.”

“How do professional killers operate, Matt? They can’t be hired if no one knows their identity.”

“By reputation, on the Internet, or through an intermediary who will have a phone number. There are a dozen ways to make contact, including ads in newspapers and using post office box numbers.

“How do you get to him, then?”

“Find the contact and convince him that it would be in his best interest to work with us on this.”

“And if he acts dumb or refuses?”

“I might forget I’m a cop for a minute or two. My request for assistance would be nonnegotiable. He would see the light and be public-spirited.”

“You mean you would threaten him?”

“Or her, yes. I’ll do whatever it takes. This isn’t some Playstation game. People have died violently, and their loved ones have had their lives turned to shit on a stick. Any go-between is as guilty as Santini and the killer. One way or another, they all have to answer for it.”

“You’re making it personal, Matt.”

“Damn right I am. Try getting shot and having friends gunned down around you and
not
take it personally.”

“But the law
¯”

“The law is payback; legal revenge. It seeks retribution, Beth. Justice needs to be seen to be done if it is to maintain credibility and be effective, or deter others from offending. But the bottom line is an eye for an eye.”

“And you think you have the right to use any means to enforce it?”

“On occasion, yes.”

“You sound like a vigilante.”

“In the real world, rules get bent every day and at all levels.”

“And the contravention of peoples civil and human rights is part of it?”

“I’m not an advocate of rights for lowlifes who rob, rape, kill, and threaten innocent people. I have zero tolerance for scumbags.”

“Without law we don’t have civilisation. It might not be perfect, but it’s all we’ve got.”

“I agree. I’m not a one-man lynch mob. I just intend to get results.”

Beth got to her feet. “I can’t condone that viewpoint. I’ll see myself out.”

“Hey, don’t leave angry, Beth, just because I don’t share your outlook. Work with me on this. I thought that you of all people would appreciate honesty.”

“I am working on this, with Jack McClane and Tom Bartlett.”

“So why come? And why the Chinese meal?”

“Coming here was a bad idea. I wanted you to
appreciate
the danger you’re in.”

“Like I said, Penny Page will be his number one priority, if you’re right about his intentions.”

“Don’t decide what his intentions are, Matt. This is a man that self mutilates, talks to himself, kills people for his livelihood, and God knows what else. His reasoning is undeterminable. You might as well try and get into the mind of a Nile crocodile. If a voice in his head tells him to hit you tonight, then he will. You need to remember that he doesn’t think like you.”

“You’re right. I’m not a psychologist. I’ve read up on profiling, even attended a course, but I don’t have the practical experience of dealing with these creeps on a cerebral level. I’m used to collaring bad guys, not mad guys. What’s the bottom line, Beth? Why do you think a person murders total strangers for the hell of it?”

“In most instances, thrill killers are the product of cruelty. They’ve been abused and starved of affection in the majority of cases. It can be a learned syndrome. Same as if a young boy grows up watching his father beat his mother regularly, then there is a much higher risk of him becoming a wife beater than a boy from a loving home. A lot of bullies are the same. They suffer at the hands of their fathers and can only off-load the hurt and fear by picking on someone weaker than themselves.”

“A vicious circle, eh?”

“Exactly”.

“You make it sound as if these psychos are victims, not criminals.”

“I’m not trying to excuse their actions, Matt. But I understand that there are forces in play that cannot be suppressed. You smoke, right?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Do one or both of your parents smoke?”

“My dad does. My mother’s dead. She didn’t.”

“Do you accept that it damages health and thereby shortens life expectancy?”

“Yes. And the answer to your next question is also yes. I’ve tried to stop dozens of times.”

“It’s the same with most addictions. It doesn’t matter if it’s booze, heroin, tobacco, gambling, or even overeating. Wanting to stop doesn’t mean you can. In many instances it’s a comfort thing. It suppresses all sorts of inner demons.”

“Are you trying to tell me that killing is just another bad habit?”

“In simple terms, yes. It’s a part of what we are. Men have been killing each other since we crawled out of the swamp. Look at the arms trade. Even our own government sells weapons to today’s friends, who may be tomorrow’s enemies and use what we furnish them with against us.”

“And yet you condemn me for implying that I would use whatever means necessary to catch a killer.”

“I’ve always tried to believe that two wrongs don’t make something right.”

“Do you believe that the death penalty should be reinstated?”

“No.”

“And yet it was common practise in Britain until the sixties, and is still employed in many countries. Does that make the law wrong?”

“The law here has moved on.”

“Don’t be ambiguous. Do you think it was wrong to hang people?”

“Yes.”

“But you advocate that a defective system should be obeyed to the letter.”

“I think that you’re trying to put words in my mouth.”

“Not true. I’m just looking at it from outside the box. In many instances, the law only changes when pressure is put on it. Sometimes people have to break it to force reform. If they didn’t, we would still have slavery, and hang minors for stealing cabbages.”

“I think there has to be a line, Matt. As an individual, I have to believe that change should come through democratic, peaceful process.”

“And how do you use that against fanatics, terrorists, or murderers who have an unacceptable agenda? If you don’t sometimes meet force with greater force, you can’t preserve democracy. What action would you take against someone trying to rape or kill you? If you had to kill to protect yourself, would you?”

“Cut to the chase, Matt.”

“I suppose I’m just trying to defend my corner. I think that if leaning on someone hard to save other people like Penny Page and her husband from being shot like dogs in their own home is wrong, then I’m the bad cop you seem to think I am.”

“I don’t think that you’re a bad cop. And I’m not naïve. I see your point. I’m a little surprised that you find it necessary to justify your way of thinking to me, though.”

“I’m not. I was just letting you know where I’m coming from. Sometimes medicine doesn’t cure a disease. You have to be more invasive and use a scalpel.”

“So let’s call it a draw. It’s late. I’m going home.”

“Okay. Thanks for coming over. It took my mind off things. And I owe you a meal.”

Beth smiled. “Don’t get up, I’ll see myself out.”

“Keep in touch,” he said to her back as she vanished from view into the hallway. There was no reply, just the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Shit! He’d scared her off. A certain curiosity as much as anything else had prompted her to accept his invitation. And he had said the wrong things, antagonised her a little, and certainly hadn’t measured up to whatever preconceived idea she had of him. For some reason, he cared what she thought. The hell with it! He had more important and bigger fish to fry.

It took Beth a long time to find sleep. Matt Barnes had rocked her with the force of an earthquake. He was impossible to dismiss. She found him interesting, unconventional, highly individual, and decidedly dangerous. He was definitely not the sort of man she needed to know on any other than a purely professional level. So why were her hormones jumping all over the place like popcorn in a microwave? Damn him! She was attracted to him like filings to a magnet. Psychologically, he came across as a composed, level-headed guy, set in his ways and geared to react confidently in the face of adversity. But there were deeper, unseen currents swirling under the macho surface. He was much more than she had first thought him to be. Maybe it was the ambiguity that she could not ignore. He had discomposed her. He was a cop through and through, and had lost at least one partner in love, due to being driven. He was detached and unattached, which held a certain fascination. And his eyes had been speaking to her. It had been as if two conversations had taken place simultaneously. Bottom line was, he fancied her. Even if he didn’t know it yet.