Dead and Buried (24 page)

‘I see them,’ Joshua said, his voice in a whisper as if they might hear him.

Rose lowered the glasses and watched the trio go past the marquees and past the place where James Munroe had been standing. She wondered where he had gone. Mikey had his arm around her mother’s shoulder and one of his hands was in her mother’s pocket, Joshua must have seen it clearly as well.

‘I think Mikey’s got a gun on Kathy.’

‘I see it.’

Rose felt her stomach contract. She put the binoculars in her pocket and walked closer to the south end of the Hungerford Bridge. She saw that the three had slowed as they came up to Brendan. Brendan gave them a scowl, not seeming to pay any attention to her mum. Baranski stood apart from the couple and spoke to Brendan pointing towards the Royal Festival Hall. Brendan shook his head.

‘He must be asking Dad to go with him,’ Joshua said.

Rose lifted the binoculars again. She focused on the four faces. Her mother’s face was calm but Mikey looked annoyed. Baranski was gesticulating with his hands, pointing up the embankment as though he wanted Brendan to walk there. Looking through the group, she thought she saw Joshua mingling on the other side of the queue, Skeggsie’s heavy-framed glasses standing out. She hoped he wasn’t going to try and do anything – they’d promised to leave it to James Munroe.

Where was James Munroe?

Brendan and Baranski started to walk away from her mum and Mikey. She heard Joshua’s voice.

‘Mikey’s staying with Kathy. Maybe he’s not going to let her go until he gets a call from Baranski to say that Dad’s got into a car. I don’t like this. I don’t see Munroe. I don’t like the idea of Dad getting into a car. Rosie, follow them, keep your eye on where Baranski takes Dad.’

Rose headed for the stairs. She had to wait as a party of tourists meandered up before she could get off the bridge on to the South Bank of the river. All the while she kept her eye on Brendan’s blue jacket. Once off the bridge she saw them up ahead. Brendan was lagging behind Baranski. Baranski wasn’t touching him or holding him and didn’t seem to have a weapon of any sort. It was her mother who had a gun pointed at her. That was the only reason why Brendan was going quietly.

‘I see them. I’m following,’ she said breathlessly.

‘I’m staying with Mikey. Cut the call for now.’

Rose ended the call. She continued to follow Brendan and Baranski. They walked ahead, like dozens of other tourists and sightseers, passing the Royal Festival Hall and the shops and restaurants that fronted the river. Brendan stopped for a moment and tied his shoelaces while Baranski appeared to be berating him. Rose stopped for a second. Was Brendan trying to slow Baranski down? She leant her elbows on the river wall, as if looking at the beach below. Then she continued after them. Up ahead was Waterloo Bridge. Rose wondered where Baranski was heading – somewhere where there was a car waiting, she thought. The man was clearly losing patience. He was tugging at Brendan’s arm, hurrying him along.

Someone bumped into her. Something hit her ankle, making her gasp with pain. She turned round but by then the person had gone past.

It was a man pulling a small suitcase on wheels. A tall man in a flowing overcoat walking swiftly as if he was terribly late for something. It was the suitcase that had mounted her ankle and he hadn’t seemed to notice.

She kept going, panicking as her view of Brendan and Baranski became obscured by other people. She sidestepped them and quickened up just as the pair went under Waterloo Bridge. The man with the suitcase had caught up with them. He was walking alongside Baranski. He seemed to have slowed down as if he was joining the pair.

Rose watched.

The man did an unexpected thing.

He raised his left arm straight out until it was level with his own shoulder. He seemed to be pointing a finger at Baranski’s head. A moment passed and Rose suddenly
knew
what was going to happen.

Her mouth opened with shock. She was just stepping under Waterloo Bridge when she heard the sound like a whip, a loud crack echoing. It came from the man’s hand.
The man with the suitcase on wheels.
Baranski’s head jerked to one side and there was a puff of vapour in the air, so slight that it vanished in an instant.

Baranski collapsed.

Brendan stepped away from him and carried on walking.

The man with the suitcase kept on going as if nothing had happened. She knew then and there that the man was Frank Richards. Maybe he had bumped into her deliberately, to slow her up, to keep her back. Now he veered to the right, pulling his suitcase with him.

People stopped and looked round not sure what the sound had been. Rose couldn’t move. Frank Richards had executed Baranski, coldly and efficiently. Her eyes dropped down to the Russian who had fallen untidily, his head at an odd angle to his neck, a dark viscous shape expanding beneath his head.

Rose felt her legs tremble.

She turned and saw a few metres away the figure of Mikey running towards the bridge. He was sprinting, his face hard and angry.

Rose pulled the earpiece from her ear and walked away, passing Mikey before he reached his boss. Other people were heading towards the bridge, some breaking into a run. Behind her she heard people shouting, ‘He’s been shot!’ ‘Someone has shot this man!’ ‘Call the police, a man’s been killed!’ She glanced round and saw Mikey on his knees beside Baranski’s body. She quickened her step staggering towards the river wall, pulling off the Union Jack cap and letting it drop by her feet. Just then she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.

She spun round.

It was Joshua. She grabbed his wrist.

‘Frank Richards killed Baranski. I saw him. I
know
it was him,’ she said, her voice high-pitched, squeaky.

Joshua put his arms round her and shushed her.

‘He shot him in the head. It was horrible,’ she whispered.

‘He was going to kill my dad, Rosie,’ he said, manoeuvring her, moving her further along the wall.

‘What about Mum?’ she said.

‘Safe. She’s gone with Munroe.’

There was the sound of sirens in the distance and Rose could see a policeman hurrying along the pathway in the direction of Waterloo Bridge. Rose’s eyes stayed on him as he approached the bloody mess on the ground that was Baranski. Her eyes searched the area for Mikey but it didn’t look as though he was there any more. She looked back to Joshua’s face. He didn’t seem upset in the slightest.

‘It was perfectly organised,’ he was saying with awe. ‘And it happened in seconds. Mikey was holding Kathy’s arm at the London Eye when she seemed to swoon. Her legs gave way and she just crumpled on to the ground. He had to try and pull her up and then Munroe was there behind him. Munroe must have been holding a knife or gun at his back because Mikey seemed to freeze and Kathy stepped away from him. Then Mikey gave Munroe his gun and at that minute Frank Richards came past and Munroe handed it to him. No one saw a thing. The man walked on, pulling his suitcase. Just like any other tourist.’

Rose remembered Frank Richards moving quickly and purposefully. Like a relay runner he’d already picked up the baton and then overtook everyone until he got level with Baranski.

‘Munroe held Mikey there for a few minutes. He was talking in his ear and Mikey was getting more and more angry. It was like holding a dog on a leash and then letting it go. Munroe must have put his weapon away because Mikey shot off after Baranski. Maybe he thought he could get there in time.’

Rose didn’t want to hear any more but Joshua went on.

‘The gun will have Mikey’s prints on it.’

Crowds were gathering and the police siren sounded as if it was close. Rose felt unwell.

‘I want to see Mum.’

‘Soon. For the moment we’re joining in with the shocked public. We’re onlookers. Give us a chance to calm down.’

Rose stood while other people surrounded her. She felt Joshua’s arm around her waist, holding her up. There were people talking excitedly. ‘Murder! In daylight!’

Rose’s stomach churned with nerves. Joshua wanted her to calm down. She doubted she would ever be calm again.

TWENTY-FOUR

An hour later they were in a cafe a couple of streets away from Liverpool Street Station. Munroe had told them to meet there. Rose was drinking black coffee. It wasn’t a drink she liked much but she needed a jolt of something to shake her out of the malaise that was gripping her. She was in a corner seat and Joshua was across from her. She needed to adjust, to rearrange all the things in her head. Her mum was alive, so was Brendan. That was the important thing. She could smell food cooking and felt pangs of hunger but she couldn’t imagine herself eating a thing.

The door of the cafe opened and James Munroe came in. Brendan was following him. They were both wearing macs. Munroe’s was a dark colour, black maybe, Brendan’s was beige. Munroe spoke to Brendan then walked towards the counter.

‘Where’s Mum?’ Rose said as soon as Brendan got to them.

‘She’s at the hotel sleeping it off. She’s had a bad night,’ he said, sitting down, pushing his chair back from the table a bit as if he wanted to distance himself.

Rose felt pained. She’d been so worried about her mother, so desperate to see her, and yet her mother had gone back to a hotel room rather than come and see Rose. She couldn’t understand why she wasn’t there sitting next to her. She couldn’t bring herself to ask. It would seem churlish.

Joshua reached across and put his hand on his father’s.

‘Dad, I’m so glad you’re all right,’ he said.

Rose wondered what had happened to the blue ski jacket. Had it been splattered when Baranski was shot? Had Brendan got rid of it, left it somewhere because it might identify him in some way?

‘I think we all need to discuss what happens next,’ Munroe said, putting two hot drinks on the table and sitting down.

‘Was Mum hurt?’ Rose said.

‘They tied her up and left her in an empty room. She’s a bit bruised and her wrists are chafed but apart from that . . .’

‘Kathy’s OK. There are other pressing matters here . . .’ Munroe said. ‘Brendan, I’ll leave it to you.’

Rose noticed that no one was using code names any more. Brendan seemed to think for a moment then began to speak.

‘I know that you two have had your differences with James but you should understand that we’re all on the same side here. What happened to your friend was an awful mistake and it happened because James was trying to protect Kathy and me. Perhaps after this Baranski business you will see that the threat we were under was very real.’

‘Skeggsie is still dead,’ Joshua said sullenly.

‘That’s true and no one regrets it more than James or Kathy or me. And it’s all the more reason for us to finish our work with Parker. Otherwise it seems that your friend’s death will really have been for nothing.’

Brendan was speaking in a low voice, looking round at people sitting at nearby tables. He picked his drink up and sipped it. Rose could see his hand was shaking slightly.

‘Dad, I don’t think you should do this.’

‘I told you both when I saw you on Sunday that we were going to carry this through.’

‘But things are different now. Now that we’ve found the two of you. Now that Baranski’s . . . gone.’

‘Parker’s crimes are still the same as they were when we made the judgement. He is still a killer who has evaded the law.’

‘You shouldn’t go back there.’

‘Your mother will stay at the hotel. Tomorrow evening she’ll join me for Parker’s birthday celebrations at Tate Modern.’

‘The art gallery?’

‘Private party on the seventh floor. I drive Parker and his wife up from Essex and then I will finish this business. I have to be sure that you will not interfere any more. The time for a deeper, more thorough explanation is later when our work is finished.’

Brendan looked at Rose and Joshua for some sort of confirmation. Joshua nodded his head in a dejected way. Rose just stared at Brendan. He was definitely thinner than when they had lived together – then he was always on a diet.
Lose a few pounds, eh, Petal.
Then he was soft round the edges and looked like someone’s dad. Now he looked slim, harder, angular.

‘I have to go now,’ Brendan said, pushing his cup away untouched. ‘I need to get back.’

‘Isn’t anyone going to talk about what just happened?’ Rose said, her voice lowered to an angry whisper. ‘I just watched a man being executed under Waterloo Bridge.’

‘Baranski brought that on himself, Rosie,’ Brendan said. ‘He might have killed Kathy. Or me. Or both. We had to do something.’

‘And Mikey? Won’t he come looking for you? Tit for tat?’

‘Mikey won’t be able to do a thing. The gun which killed his boss has his fingerprints on it.’

‘But people nearby will have seen
you
. And Frank Richards. They’ll remember.’

‘No. They’ll recall a blue jacket but not the man in it,’ Brendan said. ‘They’ll remember a tourist with a suitcase on wheels but not the face, not the man. And the police have a recording of an anonymous call from a Russian voice who said they saw Mikhail Gavlik shooting his boss under Waterloo Bridge. They’ll either catch him or he’ll go on the run. My bet is he’ll go back to Russia.’