Gregory's Game (30 page)

They had made it to the front door, wrenched it wide. Gregory prayed the car was still there and no one had made the connection that it was theirs. He had left it unlocked.

As they came out of the house someone fired another shot and Gregory turned and fired back, using the moment when they dived for cover to exit through the gate. He reached the car, shoved Nathan on to the back seat and leaped into the front.

The shooter had broken cover now and fired towards their car. Gregory heard the bullet hit, but nothing shattered, nothing stopped; he floored the accelerator and sped away, praying that he could lose his pursuers in the side roads and then make it back on to the motorway.

Only after ten minutes of frantic driving did he risk a stop and examine Nathan.

He was barely conscious, his chest and back bloodied. It was hard to see how badly he was really hurt, but Gregory feared the worst.

And so he had called the one person he knew Nathan would trust. He just hoped he could reach her in time and that she'd know what to do when he did.

M
ae Tourino's body was fished from the River Pen on the Monday morning. She'd been in the water for a couple of days and there had been no attempt to hide the fact that she'd been shot in the head.

‘The body count is rising,' Vin observed. ‘I suppose she should be grateful it was quick.'

Tess said nothing. She looked at the woman's face, bloated and bruised, flesh nibbled by something – she tried not to think of what. Skin already starting to slip. Another day or so and it would have begun to slough from the under layers; as it was, she was still recognizable – just – as the woman in red in Nathan's photograph.

‘We're close to town,' said the local officer, acting as their liaison. ‘A half-mile across that field and you're almost on the high street.'

Tess nodded. ‘Maybe she'd come from there. No car or anything?'

‘Nothing we've found as yet. You want to take a walk?'

She told Vin to stay put. They were still dragging the river and it was possible something useful would turn up. She walked with PC Dale across what he called the field and she'd have called waste ground. ‘This is the wakes,' he told her. ‘Where the fair used to be held. Still is, twice a year; the fun fair comes back and the council cleans up the land for them. Rest of the time, it's just the field.'

Tess scanned the area. Scrubby bushes separated it from the river; a couple of horses, tethered on long ropes, grazed the rough grass. ‘What about the owners of the horses?'

‘We talked to them. Didn't see a thing; wouldn't tell if they had. We keep an eye on the nags, make sure they've got water and they don't get stranded when the floods come. This is a flood plain,' he explained. ‘That's all that's kept it from being snapped up by some developer.'

Tess glanced sideways at him, wondering if he was serious. Why the hell would anyone want to build here? Mosham was a little market town. It had, she figured, once been a slightly bigger market town, maybe even had aspirations, but what was there here?

He was right about the proximity of the high street to the field, though. Dale let her through a narrow alleyway and they were there, standing in a surprisingly lively street of shops and pubs and little cafes. It looked prosperous, Tess thought, surprised, and some of that surprise must have shown on her face. Dale's lips twitched in a swiftly hidden smile. ‘We've survived the worst of the recession,' he told her. ‘Most of the shops are still occupied and not by pound stores and charity shops either.'

‘And how did you manage that, then?' She was genuinely curious.

Dale frowned, thinking. ‘The way I figure it, this is a rural economy, but it's mostly still tenant farmers and the same landowners who've owned the land since the year dot. It's still a mixed economy, a bit of arable, some cattle, some market gardens, cottages to let and so on. It's never been a rich economy and it's always been kind of locally based, you know, selling to local people, trading with other little towns. Me mam reckons we could go back to the Domesday Book and you'd find the same names doing the same things. It's stable.' He shrugged. ‘Maybe we didn't have that far to fall. Whatever it is, I'm not going to complain. You got that picture?'

She nodded. ‘Where do you suggest we start?'

He pointed up to his right. ‘Top of the road and work down this side, back up the other?'

‘Sounds like a plan. I don't suppose there's much in the way of CCTV?'

Dale laughed. ‘The pub over there, The Lamb. He's got a camera. The George Hotel, just down that a way. I think they've got a couple. This is hardly crime central. I've already put the word out for everyone to make copies of anything they've got for the last week; we might get lucky.'

‘Thanks,' she said. ‘Let's hope.'

It was a slow process, going shop to shop, pub, café, asking if anyone had seen a woman who might well have changed her appearance several times since the photo had been taken. Dale was a great help, Tess thought. A familiar face that the locals seemed ready to respond to. He spent a few extra minutes at each place, chatting and introducing Tess, making it easy for her to ask her questions, but she still felt impatient, wanting to press on more quickly, even while she reminded herself that his method was getting her further than she'd have managed alone.

Then they struck lucky.

‘I remember her,' the waitress said. ‘She was drinking coffee with a man. At least, he drank coffee, she didn't touch hers. She didn't stop long.'

‘Who paid?' Tess asked.

‘Oh, he did.'

‘In cash?'

‘Yes. Left me a nice tip too.'

Tess showed her Nathan's picture. ‘Was it this man?'

‘No.' The waitress shook her head. ‘I'd have remembered him. The man was older. Short grey hair, tallish, but … I don't know, ordinary?'

‘Would you recognize him if you saw him again?'

‘I might. I'm pretty good with faces.'

It might be worth getting a sketch artist, Tess thought. ‘Did they leave together?'

‘Uh, no. She left in a hurry, like she had to be somewhere. He sat for a minute or two more, then asked for the bill, paid me and then he left.'

‘Did you notice which way he went? And you've no CCTV here, I guess.'

‘No, but he turned that way.' She pointed back the way they'd come. ‘He passed The Lamb, so they might have caught him, I suppose.' She looked from one to the other, eyes bright with interest, obviously hoping to be enlightened.

‘Thank you,' Tess said. ‘You've been very helpful. You didn't see which way the woman went?'

‘Oh, the other way, I think. I'm almost sure. I was serving someone, so … Is this to do with the body in the water? My boyfriend said his mate Ken said they'd found a body. The fishermen this morning?'

Tess thanked her again and Dale paused to exchange a few more words as Tess waited outside. ‘You'll not keep a thing like this quiet,' he told her as he joined her on the pavement. ‘It's the most excitement they've had since …'

He tried to think of something comparable and then gave up. Shrugged. ‘To The Lamb, then,' he said. ‘Hope we get another lucky break.'

They were walking back up the high street when Tess's phone rang. It was Vin.

‘I think we've just found Professor Marsh,' he said.

G
regory was heading north again. He'd left Nathan with Annie and, unexpectedly, with Bob Taylor.

‘If she needs anything, she can't leave him,' Bob said.

‘If the neighbours want to know …'

‘I'll think of something. Go, we'll cope.'

He had been forced to stop briefly at a motorway services. He took the opportunity to grab some coffee and food and check the newspapers and the Internet for news. He called Patrick and told him Nathan was hurt and where he'd left him.

‘Can you let Alec know? He'll probably be mad as hell, but—'

‘No, he won't. If Molly was home, she'd help out. Alec knows that.'

True, Gregory conceded. But Alec was still an ex-policeman. Gregory was asking him to hide a crime.

‘You could do with some help,' Patrick said. ‘Maybe you should talk to this Charles Duncan bloke.'

‘I doubt he'd like our methods,' Gregory said.

‘Gregory, no one is going to like your methods. But there's just you now. I'm guessing there's an awful lot more of them.'

Quite a lot more, Gregory thought. He knew the boy was right. ‘Patrick, tell him I'm headed north. That we've got a lead on a place Desi might be. Rico's been investing heavily in property. Mostly old warehouses. I've got some intel, but that Charles Duncan bloke will have more resources he can throw at it. All I've managed to find out is that she's in one of them. Some are going to be demolished, but one or two are being renovated, turned into expensive flats. You need to tell Charles Duncan that we believe Rico's using them for storage. No, I don't know what. But it's the best we've got. Desi has to be in one of them. I'm off to try and narrow the search. Tell him that.'

‘OK,' Patrick said. Gregory could hear him scribbling. ‘Be careful. Please.'

The papers Gregory had scanned had been full of speculation. Where was the Marsh child? Where was her father? Then, a little later, the news came on the car radio that Ian Marsh's body had been found, along with that of an unknown woman …

‘Well, at least we know where he got to,' Gregory said. ‘Rico got the pair of them. I'm sorry.' He apologized to the absent Nathan. ‘I know they were friends of yours.'

An hour later and the news reported a shooting at the house of international lawyer Gordon Phelps.

‘I didn't shoot him,' Gregory commented, ‘and I'm pretty sure Nathan didn't.' Rico's cleaning house, then. It was all happening too fast. We're not going to be in time, are we? Gregory thought.

What do you want me to do, Nathan?

He knew what the answer would be. Gregory nodded. ‘We do what we said we'd do. We keep going. Keep looking. Hugh Ryder, Phelps said. He's the one handling the deal. He's got to know where she is.'

And they'll guess that's where I'm headed, he thought. I've always been the man when there's long odds, but even I don't think much to these.

The bullet was in flight and Gregory knew he had been named.

Vin sat beside Kat's bed. Tess stood in the ante room with the doctor and the armed officer who'd been guarding her, but he had the job of telling her the news.

Logical, he supposed. She'd been talking to him. They'd formed a relationship, but even so he'd rather be anywhere else.

‘Is it Desi?' she asked as he entered the room. His face must have given him away. Vin sat down and shook his head.

‘We've no news of Desiree,' he said. ‘It's Ian. I'm sorry, Kat, but Ian's dead.'

She stared at him, shaking her head, disbelieving. He thought she'd break down. He got ready to summon help. Instead she seemed to gather her resources. ‘How?' she said.

‘He was pulled from a river this morning.'

‘He drowned?'

‘No. He was shot. I'm so sorry, Kat.'

‘Shot?'

He watched as she absorbed that. ‘The people who took Desi. Did they shoot him? And please don't tell me you don't know.'

‘It's likely,' he said. ‘We're still trying to piece it all together. Kat, did you ever hear the name Mae Tourino?'

She frowned, began to shake her head. ‘It sounds sort of familiar,' she said. ‘But I can't place where from. She sounds like an actress. Maybe that's what I'm thinking of.'

An actress, Vin thought. Truer than she knew. ‘I have to go,' he said. ‘But I thought you should hear it from … from someone familiar.'

She smiled at him. A watery, despairing smile, but still a smile. ‘Thank you,' she said. ‘You've been kind.'

Patrick caught a bus to Naomi's flat, hoping she'd be back from the advice bureau. Alec wasn't home either and he wasn't answering his phone, which meant he was probably at the hospital having physio. The only times they didn't answer their phones were when they'd gone to the hospital or Naomi was working at the advice bureau.

Naomi, at least, should be back soon. He hoped. Patrick perched impatiently on the cold, damp steps outside the house, waiting for someone to return and wishing he'd insisted on them giving him Charles Duncan's number. Naomi arrived half an hour later, by which time he was wet and cold and feeling pretty resentful. Alec was with her.

‘Patrick? What's wrong? You're frozen. Come inside.'

By the time they'd got up the stairs, Patrick was practically dancing with impatience. He told them about Gregory's phone call and, to his relief, they took over. Naomi was on the phone to Charles Duncan within minutes. Patrick got the impression that someone had tried to pass her around or fob her off, but she'd yelled down the phone and Duncan was miraculously produced.

Alec called Harry – much to Patrick's surprise – and the two of them went off to Molly's place.

‘Why call my dad?' Patrick asked when Naomi was off the phone.

‘Because Alec still can't drive very far,' Naomi said. ‘His arm can cope with the local stuff, but Molly's place is a good fifty miles away. Anyway, can you imagine anyone more reliable than Harry for the practical stuff?'

Patrick couldn't. ‘So what do
we
do?'

‘We sit tight and act as control,' she said. ‘If Gregory calls, we pass the message on. If Charles Duncan calls we do the same.'

Patrick felt oddly let down. ‘He said Nathan was badly hurt,' Patrick said.

‘Well, Alec and Harry can both do first aid and I'd imagine Annie Raven knows a hell of a lot more than that. Patrick, I'm sure Gregory will be all right.'