A Time For Justice (50 page)

‘
Oh, for God’s sake! Are you accusing me of theft?’

‘
Not specifically you, Sergeant Christie, not yet anyway. But
by a process of deduction either you or one of your team or your
whole earn has stolen it. There will be an official complaint made
shortly to tour Discipline and Complaints branch. I’ve no doubt
that when the Police Complaints Authority is informed, you’ll find
yourself deeply investigated. ‘

‘
Not half as deeply as your client will be,’ Henry
rasped.

‘
Tsk, tsk, threats now, is it? I’ll add that to my
list.’

Henry slammed the phone down.

Fuck Dakin to hell and back!’ said Henry.

‘
Don’t worry about it,’ Donaldson soothed.

They had reached Blackpool and were driving along the
promenade.

‘
Right now, Dakin will be scared shitless,’ the American
decided. ‘After all, it’s the first time he’s been implicated with
Hinksman and, by association, with Corelli. Trust me. He won’t be a
happy man.’

Progress through traffic was slow but steady. They approached
the traffic lights outside the Manchester Hotel at the junction of
the promenade and Lytham Road. The lights went to red.

Donaldson’s hands tapped the steering wheel while he waited
for the green light. Idly he watched a car come down the promenade,
then turn left into Lytham Road. It looked very
familiar.

‘
Just like your pile of garbage, that one,’ he said to
Henry.

Henry looked across and saw the car sail through the lights.
It only took a second. Then, ‘It
is
bloody mine! And that little git John Abbot is
driving it. Go after him,’ he yelled.

‘
You look pretty much like death warmed up,’ Joe Kovaks
commented to Damian. He sat down opposite the little man and pushed
a Styrofoam cup of black coffee across the table. Damian took it
with a trembling hand.

‘
Thanks,’ he said, and put the cup to his lips, but he was
shaking so badly he couldn’t take a drink. His eyes were constantly
roving the restaurant - a McDonald’s on the beach in Fort
Lauderdale. ‘You sure you’re alone, Joe?’

The other man nodded reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, I’m alone.
Now have a drink of that coffee. Go on.’

This time Damian managed to get a mouthful. He looked terrible
- thin and gaunt. Several days of stubble on his face. Eyes deeply
sunken, bloodshot. Skin grey. Clothing unkempt and beginning to
smell.

‘
Where the hell have you been keeping yourself?’ Kovaks asked
him gently. ‘You know that cops all over the state are looking for
you, don’t you?’

‘
I don’t need reminding,’ Damian said. He removed his glasses
and rubbed his eyes. ‘Been sleeping here and there, roaming the
streets during the day. Hiding when I see a uniform or cop car.
Hardly eatin’, never sleepin’. Got no money left.’

Then it all came flooding back to him. He began to cry,
quietly at first, then with big body-raking sobs, drawing the
attention of everyone in the place.

‘
Jeez, Joe,’ he said through the tears, ‘I loved her so much.
I was in love for the first time in my life. I loved her - I didn’t
want her to die. Hell! Hell! Cut up to hell! Oh God, she’s dead. I
can’t believe it still.’

Kovaks reached out and patted Damian’s shoulder. ‘OK bud, you
cry, no problems.’

‘
I haven’t been able to cry yet,’ he said when he’d pulled
himself together. ‘I’ve been too frightened, watching my back all
the time.’

‘
Damian,’ said Kovaks. ‘I got to know.’

‘
Yeah, I know you do.’ He shook his head. His red eyes
moistened again and tears fell down his face. ‘I still can’t
believe it myself. I didn’t do it, Joe. Honest to God. You gotta
believe me. I would never have hurt Sue. She was so precious, so
delicate, like a flower.’

‘
Who killed her then?’ Kovaks interrupted.

Damian swallowed. ‘You won’t believe me when I tell
you.’

‘
Try me.’

Damian told him.

Chapter Twenty-Six

At the same time as this revelation was being made, a car
chase was just about to commence 3000 miles to the east in
Blackpool.

The lights had just started to change; Donaldson slammed his
foot on the accelerator pedal and cut dangerously across the
oncoming traffic to slot in behind Henry’s Metro.

Henry was fumbling to reach his radio which he had thrown onto
the back seat. He hoped the battery was still charged
up.

Abbot was only dawdling along in the Metro. He was going to
make towards the motorway and head out towards Preston. Once on the
motorway, he decided, he would ‘screw the arse’ off the car and try
to get the engine to explode.

‘
The cheeky little bastard,’ Henry said as he faced forwards
again, clicking the radio on. ‘Doesn’t he know he’s stolen a cop’s
car?’

‘
It’s not exactly the sort of car you associate with a cop,’
laughed Donaldson. ‘More with a scrap-metal dealer.’

‘
Don’t you start,’ Henry warned Donaldson.

Both men were thoroughly enjoying themselves with this
diversion.

Henry spoke into the radio. Within seconds every mobile patrol
in Blackpool knew what was going on. Some were already responding
and making towards the area.

At that point Abbot checked his rearview mirror for the first
time. He saw the Ford Escort close on his tail, two occupants on
board, both male. He looked again more closely. The man in the
passenger seat was talking into a radio.

‘
Shit,’ he hissed, and pulled away.

‘
He’s seen us,’ said Donaldson. The Escort was more than a
match for the tired Metro, which hadn’t been serviced for well over
a year and had nearly 90,000 miles on the clock. Donaldson had no
trouble keeping up with Abbot, but maintained a safe distance
between them in case he decided to slam the brakes on and cause an
accident.

Abbot led them a merry dance through the side streets of
Blackpool, but couldn’t shake Donaldson who stuck there like a
terrier.

‘
He’ll bloody kill someone,’ remarked Henry as they rounded a
tight corner on a narrow street with parked cars on both
sides.

On the next corner Abbot briefly lost control. He skittered
sideways into a parked car, giving it a glancing blow and taking
the wing mirror off the Metro before recovering.

‘
Oh my beautiful car,’ said Henry painfully. ‘He’s damaged
it.’

‘
It was falling to bits anyway,’ Donaldson noted.

‘
Oh, thanks very much. That’s my pride and joy, I’ll have you
know,’ Henry said, feigning hurt. But there was a huge smile on his
face. He was excited and had that peculiar empty feeling in his
stomach and dryness of the mouth that he always experienced in
situations like this. He put it down to adrenalin.

The car lurched as they took another bad bend. Henry’s
seatbelt snapped tight as he shot forwards. He lifted the radio,
pressed the transmit button and gave out the new location and
direction of travel. ‘Preston New Road, towards the
motorway.’

‘
The cavalry’s here,’ said Donaldson after a glance in the
mirror.

A large, fast, sleek Rover 825i, liveried in the orange
stripes of the Lancashire Constabulary Traffic Department, blue
lights flashing, horns blaring, overtook Donaldson’s car, cruised
easily past Abbot and pulled in front of him. The big ‘STOP’ sign
came on. It had no effect. Abbot simply refused to pull in. He
flashed his own ‘V’ signs at the traffic man.

‘
D’you know,’ said Henry, ‘I see that little car of mine in a
whole new light. I didn’t know it could go so fast.’

‘
Obviously rising to the occasion,’ Donaldson
guffawed.

By the time they reached the motorway there were three traffic
cars involved in the pursuit. Once on the motorway proper they had
Abbot literally boxed into the slow lane: one in front, one behind
and one car at his side in the middle lane.

But he still would not stop.

Behind them all, Donaldson kept up. ‘He’s gotta stop now,
surely,’ said the agent. ‘Don’t he know when he’s beat?’

‘
Crazy young bastard.’

The traffic cars edged him onto the hard shoulder. Now he was
completely trapped and all they had to do was slow right down to a
stop - then he was theirs. Or so they thought. He did have one
avenue of escape open to him, which was to drive up the steep grass
banking by the side of the motorway.

He reckoned he could probably make it to the top of the grass,
where he could abandon the car then leg it on foot across the
fields. From his wide experience of traffic cops he thought this
would be the best move because he knew how much they hated getting
out of their big, warm, fancy cars and chasing people on
foot.

Abbot peeled away from the formation like an ace fighter pilot
and gunned the car up the slope.

The manoeuvre took the traffic officers completely by
surprise, which was fortunate for them. It meant that none of them
lost their lives.

Halfway up, the steepness of the slope meant that the mercury
tilt switch attached to the detonator in the half-pound block of
Semtex strapped to the underside of Henry’s car was
activated.

Contact was made.

Kovaks listened hard to Damian’s story. How he had been to his
mother’s in Clearwater, but had returned early to surprise Sue.
They had made passionate love within moments of his arrival and
afterwards he’d gone to the en-suite bathroom to answer a pressing
call of nature. Whilst in there, he’d heard someone at the
apartment door, then voices in the lounge. Discreetly, he’d crept
out of the bathroom and listened to what was going on. He had
recognised Ritter’s voice and clearly followed the accusations he
made to Sue about her knowing he was on Corelli’s payroll, then
some talk about his condo and his boat. Sue had denied it all,
saying she wasn’t keeping any sort of a file on him. Then things
had got nasty. Sue had screamed for help. Damian had crept to the
bedroom door and looked through the crack. To his horror, he’d seen
a knife in Ritter’s hand plunging repeatedly into his girlfriend’s
body, blood spurting everywhere. Frozen in fear and panic, unable
to help her, he’d eventually scuttled under the bed where he’d
hidden until it was all over, sucking his thumb, curled up in a
foetal ball.

When the attack had stopped he’d heard Ritter moving around
the apartment, felt his presence in the bedroom. Then Damian had
pissed in his pants.

He’d lain there shaking, eyes closed, praying that Ritter
wouldn’t find him and kill him too.

Then he heard the front door open and close.

And, when he was sure Ritter had gone, he forced himself to go
and see Sue.

‘
And then I was sick and then I ran.’ There were a lot of
‘thens’ in Damian’s story. ‘Every time I close my eyes, she’s
there: dead,’ he said hoarsely. ‘What a mess - and all my fault.’
Tears poured down his tortured face.

‘
Don’t punish yourself, Damian,’ Kovaks said. ‘You’re only
human.’

Damian looked up with pleading eyes. ‘Do you believe
me?’

‘
Yes, I do. One or two things have sorta slotted into place
here.’ Kovaks’ nostrils dilated as he thought. ‘Yeah, I believe
you.’

‘
So what do we do now?’

‘
First we get you somewhere safe where you can get a decent
meal and a shower - and a change of clothes. Then we’ll have a good
long talk over a beer, get a few things written down. Then I have
to think. Probably go to the cops first, let ‘em know what’s
what.’

‘
But what if they’re in on it too?’ Damian shook
uncontrollably. ‘What if Corelli has them in his pocket, like he
does Ritter?’

‘
No one could get Ram Chander in their pocket,’ said Kovaks
confidently. ‘C’mon, trust me, Damian. We’ll go to my place first.
Chrissy won’t mind and it should be safe enough for a few
hours.’

They started to get to their feet.

‘
I think not,’ came a familiar voice from behind Kovaks’s
shoulder. ‘Sit back down, gentlemen.’

Kovaks reached for his gun, but before he could draw it, he
felt the cold muzzle of a revolver jammed into the back of his
neck.

‘
Sit down, Joe, or I’ll make your brain into tomato catsup for
their hamburgers. ‘

Kovaks sat down slowly. A wide-eyed Damian followed suit.
Ritter edged in next to Kovaks, and with his free hand removed
Kovaks’ revolver.

Kovaks looked at Ritter, then beyond. He was not
alone.

Ram Chander stood by the door together with two of Corelli’s
goons.

Kovaks closed his eyes.

Henry Christie was disgusted with himself.

Two minutes earlier he had been clinging to a toilet bowl at
Blackpool Central police office and had been violently sick. Now,
after swilling his face with cold water, he was looking at himself
in a mirror over the washbasin..