Keeping Bad Company (30 page)

‘He’s a weirdo,’ she said, as if that explained everything. ‘They lurk about,’ she continued, kindly explaining the nature of the animal to me. ‘They get a kick out of the daftest things.’ She tapped her forehead. ‘It’s all in here. Not that he’s shown any interest in me.’ She paused to survey me with a critical eye. ‘I wonder why he took a fancy to you.’

I told her I appreciated the plain speaking and had no more idea than she did why Baz had taken an interest in me. She should think herself lucky he hadn’t taken an interest in her. ‘And please,’ I begged, ‘don’t say I must be his type.’

Lauren wasn’t really interested in Baz’s sexual preferences. ‘Does it matter?’ She shrugged before briskly getting on with her story. ‘He decided there was easy money to be got. So he and Merv hatched their little plan. They grabbed me off the street by St Agatha’s church!’ She started getting worked up as the insult of the snatch was relived in her mind. ‘They doped me and brought me here, the bastards.’

‘Yes, they’re good at snatching people,’ I said. ‘I know. But at what point did the rules of the game change?’

‘When they started talking money, boasting what they’d do when they got the paltry thousand or two they hoped to make.’ Lauren’s eyes opened wide. ‘God, they hadn’t a clue. They had no idea how much real money they could make out of this. They thought if they got enough –’ here Lauren’s voice changed, mimicking the two men’s speech –
“‘to buy a flash motor, some new gear, pull a few birds
– ”’ she resumed her normal tones and finished – ‘and drink themselves senseless too, I suppose. Well, that was it. That was living it up! Talk about pathetic. I said, “Look, fellers, we can play it your way. You keep me here against my will, which I guarantee will be a lot of hard work and cut into your drinking time, and if you’re lucky you get a minuscule payoff at the end of it all. Or we all work together. You don’t have to guard me because I’ll stay put. We ask for a hell of a lot more, and we split it three ways.” I worked out just how much I thought we could sting Vinnie for. You should’ve seen their faces, Merv’s and the other one’s. They were awe-struck. They stood here in this room, staring at me as if I was a holy vision, dispensing salvation. After that, it was easy. They did everything I suggested. They’re simple souls.’

‘Just in case you’re under the impression,’ I said coldly, ‘I am not a simple soul.’

She leaned forward. ‘I know that! Look, my share of the money will go to the women’s refuge. They need the cash and I’ll make it an anonymous donation, once Vinnie’s paid up. You see why you mustn’t rock the boat. Vinnie’s got the money. He’s got it piled up in offshore investment companies, numbered Swiss accounts, you name it.’

I looked at her while I thought about it. If all she’d told me was true, and I guessed it was, then Szabo certainly ought to pay up. I oughtn’t to feel pity for him. But I still felt uneasy. I think it was Lauren herself, her intensity and the deep hatred she nursed for the man. It had been eating away at her for years, and somehow I didn’t think this one act of vengeance would appease it. I began to wonder if she wasn’t just a bit unhinged on this point. She certainly seemed focused on her immediate revenge to the exclusion of all else.

I began, ‘Supposing it had worked, this scheme of yours – ’

‘It will work,’ she interrupted. ‘If you don’t screw it up!’

‘All right, let’s assume it all goes according to your plans. What then?’

She goggled at me and then snapped, ‘What do you mean, what then?’

I was right. She hadn’t thought any of it through. ‘What do you do next?’ I asked. ‘Do you just go home?’

She shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter what I do next.’

‘Of course it does!’ I argued. ‘Are you going to feel better about Szabo when this is over? Will you be ready to call it quits?’

She stared at me, her face showing something of the hatred infesting her. ‘Call it quits? Are you out of your mind? Of course I’ll never forgive him!’

‘I didn’t say forgive,’ I pointed out. ‘I wouldn’t expect that. But are you going to just go on trying to get even with him, for years and years, the rest of your life? Because if you do, you’re letting him win. You’re throwing your life away worrying about Vincent Szabo. That doesn’t seem very clever to me.’

She explained pithily that my opinion was of no value where she was concerned. She wasn’t doing it for herself, she was doing it for her mother.

‘Your mother’s dead, Lauren. She went through all those years of hell for one reason – so that you could have what she saw as opportunity. You’re throwing away all her sacrifice, aren’t you?’

‘Shut up!’ she said in a low, cold voice.

I tried another tack. I told her how my mother had walked out on us when I was seven. It still hurt if I thought about it. So I’d learned not to think about it. ‘You’ve got to put it behind you,’ I argue, ‘or you’ll go nowhere.’

She told me to stop preaching. Right, I would. What did I care whether she messed up the rest of her life? Besides, who was I to tell people how to live? My life hadn’t been a spectacular success to date. But at least I wasn’t carrying the burden of old resentments around with me. I’d be kidding myself if I pretended I wasn’t carrying any left-over baggage from the past. We all do that to some extent or other. But I was doing my level best not to let it screw up my future.

It occurred to me that she’d succeeded, through the intensity of this single obsession of hers, in excluding everything but herself from the situation. She’d even hijacked me into addressing her personal problems. It meant there was something I’d been in danger of forgetting, and which she was overlooking completely. I wasn’t there just because of her. There was someone else and I was his advocate. If he didn’t speak through me, he had no voice.

‘What about Albie?’ I asked.

My question appeared to puzzle her. Her face went blank and then her eyebrows rose. ‘Who’s he?’

‘He’s the down-and-out who saw you snatched. Only he’s dead now, which is convenient. The one and only witness.’

She looked at me as if I were mad. ‘There wasn’t anyone to see. The street was empty.’

I told her Albie had been in the church porch.

She thought about it, shrugged and dismissed it. ‘I didn’t see anyone. I don’t know anything about him. Does it matter? I mean, if he’s dead now?’

I lost my temper. ‘Matter? Of course it matters! If he’s dead, it’s because of you, because of what he saw!’

Her features tightened again. She was a pretty girl but when she looked like that, she appeared shrewish. She was wearing jeans, a pullover and a jeans jacket, basically the same gear she’d been wearing the night Albie saw her grabbed off the street. Missing was the Alice band.

The accusation in my voice made her restless. She blurted out, ‘Look, I’m sorry if he’s dead, and if what you say is true. But I don’t know that it is true, and I don’t know a damn thing about any old drunk!’

‘You didn’t send Merv and Baz out to take care of him, by any chance?’ I asked. I was so angry with her by now, I was ready to accuse her of anything.

‘Of course I bloody didn’t!’ she shouted. She leaned forward in the chair in emotion but fell back again into place immediately.

‘Right!’ I snapped. ‘Out of that chair, now!’

She stayed put, pushing herself right back into the well of the chair and grabbing the arms defensively. ‘Why?’

‘Because I say so!’ I dived at her and grabbed her.

We were about evenly matched in build but she’d never had to take care of herself physically as I had. She was no street-fighter. I got her out of the chair and down on the floor, and planted a boot on her neck.

‘Let me go!’ she gurgled, threshing about. She seized my leg but pressure on her throat soon changed her mind.

‘All I want to see,’ I said, ‘is what’s hidden in this chair that you’re so keen I don’t find.’

Well, would you know? It was a mobile phone, pushed down between the cushioned seat and the arm. I picked it up and waved it at her.

‘Control line to your heavies?’

She spluttered and swore at me from the floor. I pulled out the aerial and punched in 999.

Lauren twisted beneath my foot and threw me off balance. I staggered and fell backwards into the armchair. She launched herself at me and I kicked out. She stumbled and landed on her backside on the floor. Her eyes blazed through the tumbled mess of her long fair hair. If she could have done it, she’d have torn me limb from limb. I jumped out of the chair and got clear of her.

I was through to the operator. I asked for the police, but as soon as I was connected Lauren took advantage of my momentary distraction and threw herself at me, screeching, ‘No!’

We were by the tin table and her wild lunge tipped it over. The paper plate fell on the floor and with it, the fork. I snatched it up a split second before she did and darted back with it held out ready to jab her.

‘This is about the Szabo kidnapping!’ I panted into the phone. ‘I’m Fran Varady and I’ve found Lauren Szabo. We’re in an empty office block.’

Hell’s teeth, I didn’t know where the block was! I scurried to the window at the end of the room, still holding the fork as a weapon, and keeping my eye on Lauren, who stood, panting and waiting her chance. I took the briefest possible glance out of the window.

What I saw gave me a shock. A road, railings, bushes and – the canal. My God, I thought, I ran past this place the night Baz chased me on his bike. Perhaps Lauren had even been standing here at this window, in a darkened room, watching me run for my life. Any lingering feeling I might have had that she and I were basically on the same side was scotched by the thought.

‘It’s a disused warehouse opposite the Grand Union Canal. Converted into offices inside but Victorian-looking outside. It’s about two or three blocks from – ’

Lauren flew at me screaming like a banshee. She struck the fork from my hand and grabbed at the phone. I was forced to release the mobile. It shot up in the air, crashed through the window pane and disappeared down into the street below.

We glared at each other.

‘You stupid bitch!’ Lauren hissed. Her face was twisted in anger and all her prettiness vanished. ‘You’ve spoiled everything!’

‘You should’ve left Albie alone!’ I riposted. ‘I don’t give a tinker’s cuss about Szabo, or you, come to that. But someone has to care about Albie and it seems it has to be me.’

‘I don’t know anything about your blasted Albie!’ she yelled. ‘You keep yammering on about him but I don’t give a damn, whoever he is! All I know is I’m getting out of here! Hand over that key!’ She held out her hand. ‘If you don’t,’ she added nastily, ‘you’re holding me against my will.’

She had brass neck, give her that. But she had convinced me she really didn’t know about Albie. Perhaps the two men had taken care of that little business all by themselves. I scrabbled in my bra for the key and handed it to her in silence.

She grabbed it with smirk of triumph and made for the door. But as she turned the key in the lock, I asked, ‘Where are you going, Lauren? You don’t have anywhere to go. The police have kept all this quiet until now because you were presumed an innocent victim of kidnap. Now they’ll go public, pull out all the stops looking for you. Your face will be flashed on the nation’s television screens. How long do you think you can last out there?’ I indicated the window. ‘Someone will recognise you and turn you in within twenty-four hours. I dare say there’ll be a reward.’

She froze, then turned back to face me and I had to give her credit for nimbleness of mind. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘You’re right. So I’ll stay here and when the police get here, it’ll be my word against yours. All I need to say is, you found the key on the outside of the door. I was locked in here.’

‘Don’t be too sure of yourself,’ I snapped. ‘Not only will I tell them the key was on the inside and you were free to walk out, but Merv and Baz, when they pick them up – which they will do – will say the same.’

‘They can say what they like.’ She smiled at me serenely. ‘So can you. Tell them about the key, it doesn’t matter. You forget, I know about victims conspiring with their tormentors in their own oppression. Vinnie showed me how it was done, with Mummy. Anyway, it’s a classic hostage situation. Stockholm syndrome. The prisoner ends up doing voluntarily whatever the captor wants, even to outright helping, in a weird partnership. As for me, I’ll claim I was too scared to try to escape, and later, too brain-washed to try anything independent.’

Crazy as it seemed, I wasn’t sure she couldn’t make that work for her. She was clever, manipulative, and I was certain she’d prove no mean actress. No one would take Merv’s word, or Baz’s. Parry might take mine, but in a witness box, a clever lawyer would destroy my credibility with the jury in minutes. It was all so neat and credible, except for one thing – something we’d both overlooked.