Carnal Acts (42 page)

The Armed Response Unit had been delayed behind a car that had swerved off the narrow road and blocked it. Heck and Pancake arrived as they finished pushing it into the ditch, the driver waving his arms like he was sending an irate message in semaphore.

‘Where’s that fucking helicopter?’ Heck said, as he drove past the ARU van, holding up his warrant card.

‘On its way from Sunderland. Boy racers in a stolen Merc.’

‘Brilliant.’ He drove over a couple of crushed bollards into the Favon estate and slammed the accelerator to the floor.

‘Sir!’ Rokeby yelled. ‘Let’s get there in one piece.’

‘Shut up, Pancake. Joni’s up there with a houseful of maniacs.’

‘Ah, my shoulder!’

‘Take it like a man. Nearly there.’

Heck swung across the drive, gravel spraying all over the place. ‘Come on!’

They ran towards the main entrance of the Hall. As they got to the top of the steps, Evie Favon appeared, her face pale and her limp more pronounced.

‘Where’s Joni?’ Heck yelled. ‘DI Pax?’

Evie shrugged listlessly.

‘She’s with that Albanian whore,’ Lady Favon said, putting on a leather coat.

‘Pancake, look after the ladies. Make sure they stay here.’

Victoria Favon sighed and Evie laughed bitterly.

‘How do, my lord?’ Heck said, as he ran into the drawing room. ‘Jesus, what happened to you?’

‘Eh? Whisky and soda?’

‘Where are they?’ Heck yelled.

‘What? Oh, upstairs, last room on the right.’

Heck took two steps at a time, feeling fitter than he had since his operation. This was about Joni. She was what mattered. He pounded down the pink walled hallway, realising as he got closer to the open door that there was a strong smell of gunsmoke.

‘Fuck!’ he said, slowing to turn into the room.

The bodies were sprawled in a welter of blood.

‘No!’ he screamed. ‘Joni? No!’

‘This way,’ Joni said, leading Suzana along the passage to the basement stairs. She opened the door. A dark blue BMW was parked near the house, presumably the assassin’s. About two hundred yards beyond, there was a thick line of trees.

‘You go first,’ Joni said, in Italian. She felt for the Albanian girl, but she didn’t want to sacrifice her career. ‘I’ll pretend I’m chasing you in case anyone sees us.’

Suzana nodded and hared away. Joni gave her ten seconds and followed, not running as fast as she could, but making it look as if she was. Once she reached the trees, she saw Suzana waiting.

‘We don’t have much time,’ Joni said. ‘Listen to me. I know how dangerous it would be for you in prison and I think you were right to do what you did to those bastards in the brothel.’

‘Slave house,’ said Suzana.

Joni looked into her grey eyes, bottomless pools of pain. ‘You were right to defend yourselves against the fools in the park, too. And against the piece of shit with the motorbike. I’m so sorry
for everything that’s happened to you.’ She glanced back towards the house. There was no one in the vicinity.

‘I see your photo in newspaper,’ Suzana said, smiling shyly. ‘You are more beautiful in real.’

Joni’s heart broke, but she concealed it. If Suzana was to get away and survive, the girl – because that was what she was – had to stay tough. She took out her wallet and handed over all the cash. ‘Stay away from big cities. Use the public libraries to learn English.’ She let out a sob. ‘Oh, Suzana, I wish I could help you more.’

‘Is all right,’ the Albanian said. ‘I can look after me.’ She smiled again. ‘I will become great businesswoman, you will see. Not any more slave.’

Joni nodded, her eyes damp, and leaned forward to embrace Suzana. Then she watched the slim form move through the trees until she disappeared in the gloom. Did Suzana have a chance of staying below her countrymen’s radar? If so, it wouldn’t be much of one.

When she returned to the back of the Hall, she turned on her phone. She had missed numerous calls and it immediately started ringing. There was also a text from Mrs Normal: ‘Do NOT go 2 Favon Hall.’ Too late for that. She put the device on the floor as if she’d lost it and went upstairs. The entrance hall was full of people, including several ARU men; Pete Rokeby, who gave her a huge smile; and Heck Rutherford, who ran towards her with surprising speed and grabbed her in a tight hug.

Heck set about organising a search for the people Joni told him about. Because there may have been other armed men around – Albanians, Dan Reston, friends of General Etherington – the ARU took the lead. They found Cheryl Reston in the small
bathroom on the top floor of the tower and Oliver Forrest in the room below. The former had lost a lot of blood, but was stabilised by paramedics, while the latter was still jittery from the touch of the cattle prod.

‘What the hell happened, Ollie?’ Heck asked.

‘You won’t believe me when I tell you.’ The farmer described his experiences in the darkened room – the woman who covered him, as he put it, the way she stood on her head afterwards; the bastard in the balaclava who had cuffed him to the bed and jabbed him with the prod; the crazy-eyed girl who had used it on him before he was rescued

‘You know who the woman was?’

Ollie Forrest looked at the Hall and the grounds. ‘Lady Vicky, eh?’

‘Looks like it. Apparently she was desperate for a kid.’

The farmer laughed. ‘Well, she won’t have got any little swimmers from me. Lizzie made me have a vasectomy a couple of years back.’

Heck sent him to the paramedics for a check-up, then allowed him home. He’d ask him what he was doing on his quad bike on Lord Favon’s side of the moor, and why Suzana laid into him, another day.

His radio crackled. ‘CI Bonnett here. We’ve surrounded the Dower House. I’m watching Dan Reston through the window. You’d better get down here.’

Pancake Rokeby was sitting outside the entrance to the Hall with Joni Pax. Heck waved to them. Seconds later they were in the Land Rover, Joni driving it deftly down an unmetalled road. The ARU van was blocking it, about fifty yards from the old building. An armed operative guided them to the team commander’s location.

‘Take a look,’ Bonnett said, handing Heck his binoculars.

The image was blurred and Heck rolled his finger over the focus wheel. ‘Jesus!’ he said. ‘Has he had a bath in blood? Are those bodies he’s got his arms round?’

‘Dobermans, as far as I can tell,’ the CI said. ‘He’s crying.’

‘Wonder what happened to them,’ Pete said.

‘The general shot them this morning,’ Joni said. She’d been speaking to Evie Favon. ‘Apparently they were about to rip his throat out.’

‘Gary Frizzell,’ Heck said.

Joni nodded. ‘I think Lady Favon got the Albanians to bring him out here.’

‘Maybe he was in the tower before Ollie.’ Heck told them what the farmer had said. ‘We’ll need to question Reston and his wife – if she survives – to find out what happened.’

‘Another victim of Suzana Noli,’ Pete said.

Heck looked at Joni. ‘You reckon?’

She raised her shoulders. ‘No more than she deserved since she and her husband locked Suzana up.’

Heck and Rokeby exchanged glances.

‘The helicopter’s trying to locate her, you know,’ Heck said.

Joni took the binoculars from him. ‘It’ll be dark soon.’

Shortly afterwards, the ACU went in. Dan Reston hardy registered their arrival. He struggled briefly when he was separated from the dogs, then allowed himself to be taken outside.

‘You killed Nick Etherington,’ Joni said, leaning towards him.

Reston’s eyes were wide and bloodshot. He looked as if he was many galaxies away.

It didn’t take them long to find the evidence. A six-inch-wide stone in a plastic bag had been stuffed behind cans of food on a shelf in the filthy kitchen. There was blood on it, and visible fingerprints. Pete Rokeby opened the fridge.

‘Fuck!’ he said, swerving away.

Heck and Joni took deep breaths and opened the door wider.

The head, on its side, and hands were on a platter on the top shelf. Despite the loose skin and agonised expression, there was no doubt that the head, at least, belonged to Gary Frizzell. Fingerprints would show whether the hands did too.

‘Whose else would they be?’ Pete asked, his face pale.

‘In this hellhole, anything’s possible,’ Heck said. ‘Right, out. The SOCOs are in charge here now.’

It was almost full dark by the time they got back to the Hall. A powder blue Mercedes was parked as near the steps as the driver could get. Heck and Joni went into the drawing room. A uniformed WPC was at the door.

‘Ah, DCI Rutherford,’ said the tall man sitting next to Lady Favon. His hair swept back from his patrician features in blonde waves.

‘Mr Lennox,’ Heck replied. ‘Not a surprise to see you.’

‘Ha! I take it this is the famous DI Pax.’ He stood up and ran an appraising eye over Joni. She ignored the hand he extended.

‘Terrible day,’ the lawyer said, resuming his seat. ‘By the way, I’m representing Neritan Dibra, the man who was hit on the head at your house. I do hope he isn’t seriously injured.’

Heck took a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was low and controlled. ‘They came into my house, him and that birdbrain Ian Sacker. You represented his brother. This is personal now. My wife and kids, let alone my old man, aren’t targets for your fucking clients, you…’

‘That’ll do, Detective Chief Inspector.’

All eyes turned to ACC Dickie. She was wearing full dress uniform, braided hat under her arm. She regarded Richard Lennox with undisguised disdain.

‘I understand Lady Favon is an important client, but you might need to revise your priorities.’

‘Why would I do that?’ the lawyer asked, with a wide smile.

‘Because DCI Lee Young is currently being questioned by officers from Professional Standards. He’s being extremely cooperative.’

Richard Lennox’s smile disappeared. He leaned over to
Victoria
Favon and whispered to her, before getting up and leaving.

Mrs Normal beckoned to Heck and Joni to follow her. They went into a huddle in the entrance hall.

‘I gather Michael Etherington has been killed,’ the ACC said.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ replied Joni. ‘He shot the Albanian assassin then was hit himself. Suzana Noli told me the man was a Popi. He was going to kill Lady Favon.’

‘Interesting. The Albanian connection is going to take a lot of working out.’ She gave a fleeting smile. ‘But Lee Young’s spilling his guts, as I believe the Americans say.’

Heck was impressed, Joni less so.

‘We should have searched these premises and the estate days ago, ma’am.’ There was little respect in her tone.

‘That’s as may be, DI Pax. I appreciate your work today and I understand your mother was injured, but you acted
irresponsibly
by coming here on your own and out of contact. Plus, you let the Albanian girl go.’

‘Excuse me, ma’am,’ Heck said. ‘That isn’t the case. I saw Suzana…’

‘Noli,’ Joni supplied.

‘Aye, her … I was at a back window down the corridor and I saw her run like a hare into the woods behind the kitchen garden. Joni … DI Pax made a valiant effort to catch up with her, but she couldn’t manage it. Once the Albanian was in the trees, there was nothing she could do.’

Ruth Dickie gave him a searching look. ‘Very well. I’ll expect to read that in both your reports. DI Pax, you should go and check on your mother.’ She turned on her heel and went back into the drawing room.

‘Thanks,’ Joni said. ‘Did you really see me?’

Heck grinned. ‘Oh aye. Pancake did too.’

Joni shook her head and smiled. If she hadn’t been so tired, she’d have danced the tango with her boss over the black-and-white tiles. Then she remembered Rosie Etherington. She had volunteered to tell her about the general’s death. The prospect was as attractive as an evening walk through Ironflatts.

Joni met Eileen Andrews at the edge of the Etheringtons’ village.

‘Glad to see you’re in one piece, ma’am,’ the DC said, getting out of her Escort.

‘Call me Joni when there’s no one else around, Eileen. Under the surface I’m a wreck. I hope I can get through this.’

‘I heard your mother was hurt.’

‘She’s had surgery and is all right. It’s touch and go with Morrie Simmons, though.’

Eileen nodded, but was discreet enough not to ask what the head of the Corham MCU had been doing at Joni’s mother’s place.

‘You know the gist of what happened?’

‘Yes, m’a— Joni. I spoke to Pancake. Pete.’

‘I’m going to call him Pancake like everyone else. He doesn’t seem to mind.’

‘He’s a good lad. Shall we get this over with? I’ll drive you down to the house.’

Joni went along with that. When they arrived, she looked at herself in the mirror. ‘Shit. Have you got a tissue?’ Her face was dirty and her hair all over the place.

‘Have a comb too.’

When Joni was ready, they headed for the door. There was only a single light on, in the kitchen. The light above the door came on before it was opened.

‘DI Pax,’ Rosie Etherington said. ‘And DS…’

‘Andrews,’ Eileen said, with a soft smile. ‘Can we come in?’ She pushed Joni gently forwards.

‘Have you got any news?’ Rosie asked, running an unsteady hand over her hair. In the days since Nick’s death, she had
suffered
a rapid decline. Her clothes were crumpled and deep lines had appeared on her face.

‘Shall we go into the kitchen?’ Eileen said.

The other two women followed her, walking slowly.

‘What is it?’ Rosie asked, when they were on opposite sides of the table. There was a half-eaten biscuit on the tabletop, no crockery in sight. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Joni said.

‘Just tell me!’

‘Major General Etherington is dead.’ Joni told the story, leaving nothing that was relevant out. Rosie listened intently, her breathing uneven. When Joni finished, she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her brown jumper.

‘I don’t … I can’t take this in,’ she said, her lips trembling. ‘Victoria Favon got her factor to run Nick off the road and he took a rock to him because he was jealous?’

‘Nick rejected her; he wanted Evie. And Reston was jealous of Lady Favon’s lovers.’

‘But that … that’s ridiculous. You don’t … you don’t do
something
like that because you were … rejected…’

Joni stretched across the table and put her hand on Rosie’s. ‘Also, Nick saw Lord Favon coming out of the brothel on Burwell Street last Sunday night.’

‘You mean … you mean Andrew was involved too? But we … we know them socially. Michael…’ The words were overtaken by a rush of sobs.

Eileen sat by Rosie, passing her tissues.

‘Poor Michael,’ the bereaved woman said. ‘He knew … those horrible Favons were involved in Nick’s death. I wish he’d killed
them
.’

Joni was struck by the irony. Michael Etherington had given his life to save the woman who had brought about his grandson’s death.

‘I’ll stay overnight, ma’am,’ Eileen said, putting her arm round Rosie’s collapsed shoulders.

Joni mouthed her thanks and went quietly out. On the way back to the Land Rover, she tried to get her thoughts in order. It was pointless. Her mind was a maelstrom. Then she remembered Suzana’s face before she turned away in the wood. The
girl was exhilarated by her freedom. That was something to hold on to.