A Time For Justice (40 page)

Yes, Corelli had a whole lot to answer for, he thought
grimly.

‘
Laura,’ Kovaks whispered.

Her eyelids flickered, but stayed closed.

‘
Laura,’ he said more forcefully. He touched her arm. It felt
cold and clammy.

This time her eyes opened. Kovaks noted they were dead eyes,
without depth or hope. She squinted sideways at him, not instantly
recognising him, but when she did she sneered.

Kovaks looked at her mouth. Once thick-lipped and sensuous,
even he had imagined the pleasure of a blow job with her. Now her
lips formed a thin, hard line.

‘
What do you want?’ she whispered tiredly.

‘
I heard you were in. I wanted to see how you
were.’

‘
Well, now you’ve seen,’ she said, ‘so fuck off and leave me.’
Her eyes closed wearily. She breathed out and her whole being
seemed to deflate as though she’d breathed out her soul.

‘
There’s only one reason you’re here,’ Kovaks said, ‘and
that’s because of Corelli. He hasn’t only fucked up your life, you
know? He’s fucked up hundreds, thousands. We need to talk, Laura,
maybe not just at this minute, but soon when you’re feeling better.
We have to stitch that bastard up . . . please, Laura.’

She opened her eyes again. ‘I’ve lost my baby because of him.
She’s been taken away from me, did you know?’

‘
No, I didn’t,’ he lied.

‘
She was all I had left after they killed Whisper. Yeah, sure,
I’ll talk ...’ A tear rolled down her face and dripped onto the
pillow. ‘He can’t do anything to me now. If he killed me he’d be
doing me a favour ... so what do I have to lose? But not now, not
now. I feel so sleepy. I need to sleep ...’

Chapter Twenty-Two

The town of Garstang lies midway between Lancaster and Preston
on the A6. A couple of miles north of Garstang is a layby. At 7.30
p.m. that same Monday evening, Dave August drove sedately into the
layby in his own car and parked up. He switched the engine off,
unlocked all the doors and rested his hands on top of the steering
wheel so they were visible - as instructed.

He stared dead ahead. Afraid.

The digital figures on his watch moved to 7.35.

Briefly he considered starting up, slamming the car into gear
and speeding away. But suddenly the passenger door was wrenched
open and a man seemed to fall from nowhere into the seat next to
August. The Chief Constable jumped. He hadn’t seen anyone coming.
No one had pulled up in a car. The man must have sneaked up from
the hedge.

August faced the intruder, and didn’t know whether to laugh or
scream: the man was wearing an Oliver Hardy mask. In the end he did
neither because a heavy, dangerous-looking revolver was pointing
straight at his belly. Behind the mask August could see the eyes
and the deep red slit of a mouth which, when it moved, sickened
him.

The voice was hollow, distorted. ‘Drive north.’ The man
obviously had no time for small talk. ‘Keep your speed to
forty.’

‘
Look-’ August began plaintively.

‘
NO! Don’t talk - just drive,’ he snapped. ‘Or some cunt’ll
find a dead Chief Constable in a layby. Now fuckin’
drive.’

A few seconds later August and his companion were travelling
the A6 in the direction of Lancaster.

Just before they reached Galgate, south of Lancaster, the man
ordered, ‘Turn in here.’

August nodded. His hands gripping the steering wheel were weak
and perspiring. He pulled into a car park by the side of the road,
overlooking the Lancaster canal. A large number of pleasure
cruisers were moored by a quay below them, but there was no one
around. It was very quiet, tranquil.

The man dangled something in front of August’s face. It was a
small hessian bag with a drawstring fastener. ‘Put this over your
head.’

He obeyed meekly, slipping the rough-textured material over
his head, down over his face, blocking out all light. It was harsh
and unpleasant against his skin. The man pulled the drawstring
tight and fastened it with a knot.

A hand touched August’s shoulder. He was told to swing his
legs out of the car and stand up. As he rose unsteadily he caught
his head on the doorframe but managed to struggle to his
feet.

Another vehicle drew up.

He was manhandled into the back of this vehicle - a Ford
Transit van - and lying on his side in the foetal position, was
frisked by heavy hands. The back doors of the van were closed and
the van drove away. He had orders not to move, otherwise he would
be thrown out.

August tried to keep track of his journey.

He could tell that they turned right out of the car park, so
they were heading back towards Garstang. After a couple of minutes
the van slowed and went left. This was the motorway junction. If
there was another left turn they would be heading north up the M6.
There wasn’t. August could tell from the acceleration of the van
and the way it leaned that they were looping around the junction to
travel south, back towards Preston.

They were on the motorway for about fifteen minutes -
continuous, straight-line, high-speed travel. No one spoke on the
journey, yet August sensed there were two men.

The van slowed and came off the motorway.

August was fairly certain this was the Preston north turn-off.
Soon after, he lost his bearings as they hit Preston proper, and
ten minutes later, they stopped.

He heard some doors slide back.

The van lurched and stopped again. The engine was switched
off.

They had driven into a building of some sort.

In his blackness he heard hollow footsteps. The building doors
sliding back again. Murmuring voices. A laugh. Then the back doors
of the van were opened. He was heaved out and dragged for a few
metres, then forced down onto his knees, then onto all fours and
then completely onto his front. The ground was cold and hard.
Concrete.

Soon, he thought, I will see them. This is their weak time. He
was wrong.

A voice said, ‘I am going to remove the bag from your head, do
you understand? Because I am a civilised man and we are going to
have a conversation. However, when I do this you will look at the
ground, your nose will be pressed to the floor and you will keep
your eyes closed. Do you understand?

‘
Yes.’

‘
I will hold a double-barrelled shotgun to the back of your
neck.’ The voice was male with a Scottish accent and sounded as
though it was being reasonable. ‘If you open your eyes and try to
look round, or do anything silly or make a sudden move, I’ll pull
both triggers and blow your head off your shoulders. There will be
nothing left of your head. Do you understand?’

‘
Yes.’

Then August felt the cold barrels of the gun pushed into his
neck, just below his hairline. He wanted to be sick. He swallowed
something that tasted of vomit.

The hessian sack was yanked off his head and he lay there face
down, nose to the ground, shivering with fright. Before he could
stop them, his eyes had flickered open for a nanosecond, and he
nearly whined in terror. But no one seemed to have noticed. He
squeezed them firmly shut, enclosing and sealing the memory of that
face...

There was a cough, a clearing of the throat, the shuffle of
feet. ‘So, Mr August, what did you think of the video? Good, wasn’t
it? Very classy. Make a fortune on the porn market,
that.’

‘
What do you want?’ said August tightly. He wasn’t sure how
much more he could handle.

‘
Straight to the point,’ said the voice. ‘I like that. All
right, we’ll play it your way. There’s something you possess that
we want.
Knowledge.
You’re a Chief Constable. You know many things - and what you
don’t know, you can find out.’

‘
I don’t know anything,’ August was almost in
tears.

‘
But you do, you do,’ the man assured him.

‘
What?’

‘
A man is presently at court facing murder charges. He will
soon be convicted. A man called Hinksman.’

August groaned. ‘So? I can’t stop that.’

‘
I know - and he’ll be convicted. Stupid bastard deserves to
be ... However, that doesn’t concern us. He’ll be taken by police
escort from Lancaster to another prison, won’t he? Probably
Strangeways.’

August did not respond. He waited for the
bombshell.

‘
What I want you to do is tell me when the escort will be
setting off from Lancaster, how many of them are armed and with
what sort of weapons ... you know, that sort of thing. But I want
you to do something else for me as well.’

‘
What?’ said August, deep in a nightmare.

‘
Ensure that the convoy takes a particular route - one which I
will supply to you. There - simple, isn’t it?’

‘
But why?’

The man jabbed the shotgun roughly into the back of August’s
neck. ‘Why d’you fuckin’ think?’

Joe Kovaks had made his first visit to Laura at seven-thirty
in the morning. He had got home just in time to run Chrissy to the
hospital for ten. By the time he hit the sack an hour later he was
exhausted, with only four hours to sleep before getting up and
collecting Chrissy. He was due back on duty at six, when he planned
to ditch Tommo, his partner, and go straight to see Laura and get
his plan underway.

He felt excited. Corelli’s time was ticking away.

Laura looked 100 per cent better that evening - in other
words, marginally better than a corpse.

Kovaks sat on the stool next to the bed and placed a bag of
mixed fresh fruit on the cabinet.

She gave him a weak smile, said ‘Hi,’ then closed her eyes.
The brush with death had taken its toll.

‘
We need to get Corelli,’ Kovaks said softly. ‘How many more
lives will he destroy?’ He spoke in a low, hypnotic voice. He knew
she was susceptible right now. This was the time to strike, to get
into her mind and influence her way of thinking. He was being a
ruthless bastard and he knew it. ‘Look at what he’s done to you and
Whisper. He killed Whisper, not me, Laura. He had him knifed to
death and his tongue cut out because he had the courage to talk to
me. And then he made you suffer. He’d been making you suffer
anyway. Using you as a source of income. Making you use your body
and your mouth. How many men did you fuck, Laura? One hundred? Ten
thousand? How man men did you suck off? Twenty thousand? He abused
you, destroyed you, forced you onto drugs so that you’d be
dependent on him for everything - money, junk, somewhere to live. I
know you did
it
for the baby, I know it was the only way. I’m not judging
you, honey. All I’m doing is stating facts, Laura... and then what
happened? When he’d had enough of you, he kicked you out onto the
streets, out of your home. The cunt! Not much of a home, I know but
it was your place nevertheless.’

She began to cry softly, eyes closed in shame. Kovaks was bang
on target. He couldn’t stop a triumphant grin from spreading across
his face. This might be easier than he’d feared.

‘
And you lost everything. The baby. Whisper. Your
self-respect.’ He was relentless, driving it home. ‘And you almost
lost your life, like he’s deprived thousands of others of theirs.
While he lives like a king! He doesn’t do drugs. He’s a fucking
billionaire! Owns houses, cars, boats, planes, businesses ... all
on the back of people’s suffering. We need to do something about
him, Laura. We need to stop him. You and me. You and me. If we pool
what we know, I’m sure we can do it.’

‘
How?’ she sobbed. ‘We can’t touch him.’

‘
I don’t know,’ said Kovaks. He shook his head. ‘But we can
think of something.’

‘
I want my baby back,’ she cried. ‘That’s what I want.’ Her
mouth twisted grotesquely as she cried. She buried her head in a
pillow. ‘I miss her so much.’

Kovaks laid a hand on her bony shoulder.

‘
It’s OK Laura. You’ve got me now. You can depend on me. I’m
an FBI agent, aren’t I? I can pull strings. I can get her back for
you. I’m sure I can. Don’t worry, but you must promise to help me.
We must get Corelli once and for all. You and me, Laura. You and
me.’ His voice was hypnotic.

‘
I need my junk too,’ she said.

‘
That’s OK, I can get you anything you need.’

‘
But how are we going to get him?’

‘
I don’t know yet,’ he said.

But he had a good idea.

A further two weeks of witnesses giving evidence drove the
trial into its fifth week. Much of the testimony was presented by
experts - scientists, doctors etc. - and the officers who conducted
the interviews with Hinksman. It was basically unchallenged by the
defence. Graham put up a spirited performance, but he was rowing up
Shit Creek with only his hands for paddles.

The last witness stepped down from the box at 3 p.m. on the
Friday of the fifth week and the trial was adjourned for the
weekend.