Die Twice (72 page)

There was a deafening roar as Joe pushed us aside and pulled the trigger on the shotgun. A huge chunk of skirting and wall disappeared and Mick leapt back out of sight. We immediately pushed Krys into the lift, and I kneed him hard in the groin to minimize any further disruption. He went down to his knees and I turned and pointed the Glock back down the hall. Big Mick appeared again, his body crouched down, and let off a couple of wild shots. Joe and I held our ground and returned fire, sending dust and skirting flying in all directions. Tugger held on to Krys.

Then, without warning, the door opposite the Lovers Suite flew open and Fitz appeared in view with a revolver in hand, firing wildly in our general direction. A bullet whizzed straight past my head and into the lift, narrowly missing Krys. It hit the full-length mirror at the lift's rear, shattering it instantly. Taking advantage of the covering fire, Mick also appeared again, firing off another series of rounds. Joe's shotgun erupted in return, blowing a huge hole in the doorway where Mick's head had just been, while Fitz was forced to retreat as I unloaded a steady burst of gunfire in his direction. I then jumped to one side and disappeared into the stairwell while Joe retreated into the lift as the doors closed.

I dashed down the first flight of stairs until I was in the second floor stairwell. The lift carrying Krys and the others was going all the way to the ground, and from there they were going straight into the back of the Mercedes van. My job now was to make sure Big Mick and Fitz didn't get a chance to balls anything up. I ejected the Glock's magazine and replaced it with a full one, chambering the first round. Above me the door on the next floor up banged open and heavy footfalls came down the stairs. Taking a deep breath, I stepped back so I was leaning against the door that led into the reception area, and raised the gun. Behind me, I could hear people crying out and shouting in the bar, and I hoped Kalinski was calm and ruthless enough to keep a lid on things until it was time for him to go.

Big Mick came crashing into view, dressed only in trousers, almost slipping up in his haste to get down the stairs and intercept the lift before it escaped with his boss. Fitz was right behind him. Mick's eyes momentarily widened when he saw me, but before he could react I pulled the trigger, holding the gun two-handed.

Mick never had a chance. He took a bullet in the gut, then the chest, then the neck, the force of the rounds knocking him back in the direction of the wall. He tottered for a moment, then fell heavily. Fitz dived out of the way, but I kept shooting, my bullets ricocheting off the carpet and taking chunks out of the paintwork. From his position lying on the stairs, and partially covered by his friend, Fitz returned fire, his bullets passing dangerously close. But I stayed calm, adjusted my aim, and hit him in the shoulder and chest as he sat up and tried to get a better shot at me. He fell back down again with hardly a sound, and I turned and charged through the door and into the reception area. Kalinski was already retreating out of the bar, his weapon trained on the spot where I appeared. I gave him the thumbs up and the two of us went back into the stairwell where the bodies of Fitz and Big Mick lay sprawled above us, their blood mingling as it dribbled onto the carpet. Kalinski paused for a moment to view the men who'd almost certainly helped to murder his brother.

Then, without warning, Fitz sat back up, blood dribbling from the corner of the mouth, and aimed his weapon at us. There followed an excruciatingly long one-second pause, as if we were all just frozen there, and then I pulled the trigger. My first bullet missed but the second ripped the top of his head off, depositing a lump of something nasty on the wall behind. Fitz continued sitting where he was for maybe a couple of seconds, then tipped straight back. I didn't need any more encouragement to get the hell out of there, and turned and charged down the stairs in the direction of the ground floor, Kalinski in hot pursuit.

The van was still double-parked with the engine idling when we got outside. We ran straight for it, pulling the balaclavas from our heads, Kalinski heading for the back, me for the front. In the distance we could hear the first faint sirens.

‘What the fuck's going on?' howled Johnny as I jumped inside. ‘I saw them shove some naked geezer with an Elvis barnet in the back!'

The back door shut as Kalinski got in, and there were two knocks on the interior panel to tell us they were ready to go.

‘Shut the fuck up and drive! Now!'

Johnny took one look at me, saw something in my face he didn't like, and did exactly what he was told.

Gallan

There were already at least a dozen police vehicles and several ambulances double-parked along the street when Ramsay pulled up about fifty yards down from the scene of the shooting. I pulled open the side door of the van and stepped out into the rain. I didn't wait for the others and started walking down in the direction of the brothel, Berrin following behind. The call had said that there'd been a serious shooting incident with several casualties, but it was the location that intrigued me. Heavenly Girls. The brothel Neil Vamen's girlfriend, the woman who had had nothing to say regarding the death of a man in her home, had worked in; the place in which the mysterious disappearing Roy Fowler had an alleged interest. Something was happening, and I desperately wanted to get a handle on what it was.

The front door of the brothel was under police guard, and in the doorway I could see a very concerned-looking DCI Knox with his back to the street, talking to someone. The person came into view as we mounted the steps, and I was pleased to see that it was Asif Malik.

Knox and Malik turned round as we approached them.

‘Hello, John,' said Knox grimly. ‘Dave,' he added, nodding towards Berrin. ‘You both know Asif, don't you?'

‘I do, Dave doesn't,' I said. We stepped out of the rain, then did the introductions. ‘So, what's happened?' I asked.

‘A double murder,' said Knox.

‘Off the record,' said Malik, ‘they're both associates of Krys Holtz: Danny Fitzgerald and Mick Noble. According to the witnesses here, a number of masked men came in, shot the two of them, and then, from what we can gather, abducted Krys himself.'

‘Shit,' was the only reply I could manage.

‘Exactly. God only knows what this is going to lead to.'

‘We think the Serious Crime Group are going to be taking this case, John,' said Knox, sounding not entirely unrelieved by the prospect, ‘but we're going to need some help taking statements. There must be thirty people up there we've got to talk to, quite a few of whom are not going to want to co-operate very much.'

‘Sure, no problem. We'll get on to it.'

Knox nodded, and headed up the stairs to the reception area. ‘I'd better get up there too,' said Malik.

‘Before you do, can I grab a moment?' I asked.

‘It'll have to be quick,' he answered. ‘This little lot has really complicated things.'

‘It will be.' I turned to Berrin. ‘I'll meet you up there, Dave.' Berrin looked put out but didn't say anything and did as he was told.

I took Malik by the arm and led him to the far corner of the foyer. ‘I spoke to the landlord,' I told him, giving him a brief synopsis of what had been said. ‘Something was going on in that house, something very illegal.'

‘And you haven't been able to get hold of this Franks guy?'

‘Not a word. He's disappeared, just like Roy Fowler, who, for your information, apparently had a share in this place.'

‘That's interesting, except it still doesn't prove anything. Whatever was going on in that house won't be going on now, and if there's no evidence of a criminal enterprise taking place, there's not a lot we can do.'

‘Does the company name mean anything to you? Dagmar Holdings?'

‘John, the Holtzes have God knows how many front companies washing their money. I honestly can't remember them all individually. But I promise I'll look into it for you.'

I could tell that Malik was beginning to think of me as an irritant, and I could hardly blame him. I might have unearthed a few matters that needed explanation, but in the end I had absolutely nothing concrete, and it was the concrete stuff that any police officer needed.

‘You know, Asif, you're always looking for a way into the Holtzes. If what I spoke about to you yesterday … If that actually happened, think what it could mean. Someone would definitely open his mouth.'

‘Ifs and maybes, John. At the moment the most important thing is trying to prevent some sort of gang war breaking out, and that means finding out which madmen decided it would be a good idea to snatch Krys Holtz.'

‘Do me one favour.'

‘What?'

‘I'm going to ask DCI Knox to authorize a full search of Franks's house for any traces that might back up my theory. I'd like to add that I've got your support for it as well. Please. If I can turn something up, I'm sure it'll help your investigations. If I don't, then it's no loss to you.'

Malik thought about it for a moment, then, deciding that it was probably easier to agree than put up with more hassle, said he would. ‘But that's the extent of my involvement. Is that clear?'

‘As daylight.' I patted him on the shoulder. ‘Thanks. I owe you one.'

*   *   *

It was two hours before Berrin and I finished taking statements at Heavenly Girls. A number of the clientele and staff were severely traumatized, including one of the security people, a huge ex-boxer who'd had the misfortune to witness what was left of the two shot men, and who now kept bursting into tears, so it hadn't been an easy task.

The rain had stopped by the time the two of us descended the steps to the street. The van we'd been travelling around in all night remained parked further up and I could make out Ramsay behind the wheel eating a sandwich, lazy bastard.

‘Sarge?' said Berrin as we walked along.

I yawned. It was half two in the morning, a long way past my bedtime. ‘Yes, Dave?'

‘Have you got a problem with me?'

I stopped and looked at him, and realized how difficult I'd made things for him lately. ‘Of course I haven't. I'm sorry about the last few days. I've been trying to follow up on a couple of theories I've got, and I suppose I didn't want to share them until they'd come to something.'

‘But we're working together on this. I need to know what's happening otherwise I'm not going to be of any use to you at all.'

‘No, I understand that.'

‘So what was it you were talking to the SO7 bloke about?'

I sighed. ‘A theory I'm working on, but a real vague one.' And it was vague, too, but I was sure there was something in it.

Berrin lit a cigarette. ‘Well, let's hear it then. You never know, I might even be able to help.'

So I told him. By the time I'd finished talking, it had started to rain again. ‘What do you think?' I asked, wondering if I was really any good at man management.

Berrin finished his cigarette and chucked it in the gutter. ‘I think I hope it isn't right because if it is then it's a gruesome chain of events. But it wouldn't totally surprise me, you know. I reckon it's got the ring of truth about it.'

‘So do I,' I said. ‘So do I.'

Thursday, three days ago

Iversson

It was just after nine a.m. and raining hard when I stepped into a phone box on Seven Sisters Road. I dialled the number of a restaurant owned by Stefan Holtz. A foreign-sounding gentleman answered on about the tenth ring. ‘L'Espagnol,' he grunted miserably, which I thought was a bit cheeky. I might have been a punter looking to book a table, and that sort of tone would have put me right off.

‘Tell Stefan Holtz that the man from Heavenly Girls wants to get hold of him. He's got a message from Krys. I'm going to call this number back in fifteen minutes and I want to speak to him then.'

The guy on the other end didn't speak and I hung up, getting out of the phone box and walking along the street in the direction of Camden Road. Fifteen minutes later, I entered another phone box on York Road and dialled the L'Espagnol number again. This time it was answered on the first ring by the same guy as before. ‘I've got a number to ring,' he told me hurriedly. I wrote it down and rang off without further comment, then dialled it.

Four rings later and Stefan Holtz was on the line. ‘Where the fuck's my son?' were his first words, delivered in a rough north London rasp that made me think I'd been daft to start smoking again.

‘He's unhurt. If you want to see him again it'll cost you half a million quid in cash, used fifties. You've got twenty-four hours to come up with the money otherwise we'll chop his head off, and use his quiff as a bog brush.'

‘If you fucking touch him, I'll rip you limb from limb.'

‘I'm going to call back tomorrow morning at this time with further instructions.'

‘I need more fucking time,' said Holtz, the first signs of desperation in his voice. For all his money and influence, he was powerless in the current situation, and he knew it.

I put the phone down, confident that he'd follow the instructions he'd been set. The two bodies left behind the previous night should have been proof enough of that. I was pissed off that we'd had to kill two men to get what we wanted, particularly since the whole thing had almost gone completely to plan, but it was too late to worry about it now.

I hailed a cab and fifteen minutes later I was back at Elaine's apartment. I used the key she'd given me to let myself in and went up to the bedroom. The curtains were still closed and she was lying in bed, looking good. She opened her eyes and smiled when she saw me.

I grinned back at her. ‘We did it.' And then, coming forward towards the bed, ‘We fucking did it!' She sat up and we clutched each other tightly. I pushed my face into her neck, revelling in her smell. And do you know what? I almost said I love you, but stopped myself just in time. It wasn't the moment for that yet.