Prime Deception (27 page)

Her tiny feet powered down the cobbles of the alley, the exertion of such swift movement making her breath come in short, sharp gasps, but still Laurie didn’t stop. She didn’t like the darkness or the confined space of the alley. She was so lost in her sprint that she didn’t notice the shadowy figure appear at the far end of the alley, disguised by the dark and blocking her immediate exit.

With about ten feet to go, Laurie sensed the presence of another and looked up and stopped abruptly, her feet almost skidding beneath her. The lack of light made it hard to discern if it were a man or a woman up ahead, but whoever it was stood blocking the end of the alley with a stance which hinted at malicious intent.

Fearful, Laurie turned and began to retrace her steps back up the alley, in her mind resolving to just call a taxi as soon as she was back beneath the street lamp. Perhaps she would go all the way back to work and wait for the taxi there with the night guard to watch over her.

Glancing back, Laurie noticed that the shadowy figure had been lost to the darkness and she wondered if she had imagined them altogether. But she wasn’t prepared to go back and find out, so she carried on. She was almost out of the alley when the gunshot blasted through the night, shattering the silence in its attempt to reach her soul.

Some sort of innate animal instinct forced Laurie to the ground, her face against the cobbles. Her body shook with what she took to be fear but it soon became apparent it was shock. She felt the warm hot trickle of blood began to fall down her face and then the searing pain from her right ear surged throughout her body. Laurie gasped at the realisation that she had been shot. She remained still on the ground for a few moments in the hope that whoever had shot at her would believe her incapacitated and their work done. When she could wait no more, Laurie scrambled to her feet and ran out of the alley, her blood now trickling down and soaking her coat and clothes.

Panting, Laurie stood at the end of the alley, shock clouding her judgement. Adrenaline was surging through her veins, urging her to just keep running until her legs collapsed beneath her. But even in her shocked state she knew that was foolish. She needed to call someone; needed to get to somewhere safe.

Tentatively, Laurie raised a hand to her right ear. The instant her fingertips connected to one of the ribbons which had once formed part of the upper cartilage, thunderbolts of pain shot through her body. She immediately retracted her hand which was now painted crimson with her own blood. She regarded it with strange interest, for a moment feeling surreally detached from the whole situation. Then her fight-or-flight hardwiring kicked in once more and hurriedly she retrieved her mobile phone from her bag.

Stood beneath the street lamp, she held her phone in her shaking hand, hesitating on who exactly she should call. The obvious answer was the emergency services, but Laurie wanted to see a familiar face, not be swept up into a sea of strangers. Her family weren’t an option. Back home was too far away, it would be hours before they reached her and whoever had shot at her might well return by then to complete the job.

There was only one person Laurie felt she could call. Even though she was still reluctant to trust him implicitly, she knew that he would come and she knew that he would care. Laurie struggled to dial the number, her fingers proving almost useless from the amount they continued to shake. At last she was able to press the green button and the call connected.

Laurie had lost all concept of time; she only knew that the hour was late. If she allowed herself to dwell on it she assumed it was near eleven. The majority of people would be sleeping, preparing themselves for the following working day. She could only hope that the Deputy Prime Minister was not.

After three rings Charles answered, his voice thankfully bright and alert.

‘Laurie?’ he whispered with nervous excitement.

‘Help me!’ Laurie blurted out in a state of panic, tears forming in her eyes and falling down her cheeks, washing away some of the blood which was there.

‘Help you?’ Charles asked, confused. ‘What’s wrong?’ There was immediately concern in his voice which offered Laurie some comfort.

‘I’ve been shot!’

‘Shot? What? Oh my God, are you alright? Do you need an ambulance?’ Charles asked these questions as he was already pulling on his clothes, preparing to leave his house.

‘No, no. They missed me, well they got my ear. I just …’ Laurie tried to find the words to convey how she was feeling whilst trying to suppress the mounting sense of terror growing within her. ‘I need you.’ The plea was simple and heartfelt. Charles knew that this was his chance, his opportunity for redemption. He had failed to be there for Lorna when she needed him most, he would not let Laurie down too.

‘Where are you?’ Charles grabbed his car keys as he asked the question and opened his front door, not caring for any noise he created in the process.

‘I’m …’ glancing around Laurie tried to gain some clarity and relay her location. It was no good, the street seemed unfamiliar and there was no sign within her peripheral vision to help her place herself. Then, vaguely she recalled that The 10 Stop was just down the next street, and that it was open twenty-four hours a day, which was the norm for London but incredibly obscure to outsiders like Laurie. She remembered noting the sign on the café’s door and pondering on who would ever want to visit the place in the small hours of the morning. Then again, the people who went at that time were probably of a salubrious nature.

But The 10 Stop would be warm, light and full of people. Laurie didn’t want to wait for Charles out on the street alone, a target just waiting for a second shot, which may well not miss this time.

‘The 10 Stop, do you know it?’

‘What?’ Charles was now backing off his drive, his limbs easily remembering the logistics of driving even though it had been a considerable length of time since he had been behind the wheel.

‘It’s a little café, near Downing Street.’ Laurie suddenly felt extremely lucid as she felt a plan formulating. Her mind was already mapping out the exact route she would have to take to reach The 10 Stop, and bizarrely she found herself wondering if she had enough change in her coat pocket for a cup of tea.

‘Yes, I know where you mean, I’ve driven past there a couple of times.’

‘Well, I’ll meet you in there,’ Laurie explained. Then, with an edge of uncertainty she asked, ‘How long will you be?’

‘I’m on my way now,’ Charles replied. ‘I’ll be there in twenty minutes at the very most.’

‘Thank you,’ Laurie said into her phone and then disconnected the call, cutting off Charles as he relayed the last part of his message to her.

‘I love you,’ Charles told the empty car, disheartened to realise that Laurie had already hung up.

Laurie began to walk towards The 10 Stop and safety. She felt light-headed as she navigated the dark and deserted streets of London, no doubt due to the amount of blood she had lost. Her ear continued to throb with a warm discomfort which told her that it was still bleeding out, which wasn’t a good sign. Once she was with Charles she would have to go to the hospital. Laurie was so consumed by her own thoughts that she failed to notice that the shadowy figure from the alley had returned and was now following her.

Chapter Fourteen

When you can’t see for looking

It had been a considerable number of years since Charles Lloyd had driven a car. When he lived in central London, there was no need to drive due to the abundance of public transportation options. Then, when he assumed the role of Deputy Prime Minister, it was no longer a viable option for him to risk driving himself around and he was assigned Henry, his driver.

But as the ability to swim lies dormant in the mind until needed, so does the function of driving. Charles easily navigated between gears and sped through the suburbs, his heart racing.

His own personal car was a black Mercedes-Benz. It was top of the line and, Charles felt, completely pretentious. The car had been a gift from Elaine’s side of the family when he became Deputy Prime Minister. At the time, he did ponder on what a strange choice of gift it was as he would have little use for it in his new political capacity. And so Elaine had inherited the vehicle, which Charles imagined had been her family’s intention with the gift all along.

Not that Elaine ever drove the Mercedes herself. Apparently the two litre engine was ‘far too much to expect a lady to manoeuvre’. And so she had hired her own driver. Or rather, there had been a succession of drivers employed because, sooner of later, they said something out of turn and annoyed Elaine to the point where she refused to be in the same car as them. Charles never got into the details of these frays; he merely agreed to let her appoint a new driver. He knew his wife and how difficult she could be.

As the Mercedes drew closer to the city-centre, the buildings which lined the streets grew in height and felt as though were encroaching in upon the vehicle. Charles had never noticed before how suffocating London could be. Despite the late hour, there were people wandering along the pavement. The lights from various cafes and nightclubs spilled out into the night, giving the darkness an eerie, artificial glow.

Charles tried to concentrate on the task at hand. City driving was difficult, even on roads which were almost deserted. There was a maze of interlinking streets and one-way systems to navigate with the added obstacles of numerous roundabouts, pelican crossings and red light systems. The Deputy Prime Minister began to feel overwhelmed. In his current state, his mind had gone into autopilot and plotted the route he had seen Henry drive so many times before, but now he was close to his destination and panic started to set in, disrupting his thought process.

His biggest fear was finding the nearest hospital. Charles had no concept as to the extent of the wounds Laurie had sustained. If she needed immediate help she would be relying on him to get her to the hospital. There was a built in satellite navigation system in the Mercedes, but Charles had no idea how to sync it all up.

As he drove, Charles kept a keen eye on the time. The digital clock on the dashboard told him that it had been fifteen minutes since Laurie had called. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time, each minute was precious.

The impressive structure of Big Ben loomed up in the distance, signalling to Charles that he was almost at The 10 Stop, and also reminding him of the frightening rate at which time was slipping away.

The streets were quieter now as the medley of people who came out at night thinned away. There were no nightclubs in this area, no theatres. Only dark shadows existed down the various side streets, and apparently people with guns. Charles tried to push the thought of the gunman to the back of his mind. He could deal with that later. Right now, he had to focus on getting Laurie to safety.

His hands gripped the wheel tightly as he continued to turn and weave through the streets of London. The Mercedes slid effortlessly through the darkness like a black missile locked onto its destination.

For reasons unbeknown to even himself, Charles’ mind decided to taunt him, reminding him of the excruciating pain he had felt when Lorna died, the way his heart had felt as though it had been ripped in two. His chest gave a dull ache, a reminder that the pain would never be truly gone, that he would carry it with him until the end of his days.

He drove past the familiar entrance to Downing Street. The black gates were sealed shut, preventing access.

The 10 Stop was not somewhere Charles had previously frequented, having only ever driven past. His heart felt as though it had surged upward and placed itself in his throat when he saw the small illuminated sign twinkle out at him from the dark. A neon sign on the glass door indicated that the café remained open all twenty-four hours of the day.

Luckily, the road was quiet and Charles was able to park right in front of the café. The Mercedes looked awfully out of place; something so expensive and exotic parked up outside a modest little café. It suddenly occurred to Charles that his presence would attract unwanted attention. The car itself stood out like a diamond in a bowl of pebbles. He could only hope that it was quiet within the café and that he could enter and collect Laurie without being seen.

Charles felt almost frozen with fear as he left the sanctuary of the Mercedes, the night air cooling his already ice-cold skin as it swept across his cheeks. He steeled himself for the sight of Laurie injured and pushed open the door to The 10 Stop Café.

It was a nice enough little café. Modest by London standards but with a cheerful and welcoming ambiance no doubt attributed to the lack of excess which tainted most eateries within the city.

Had Charles come in under other circumstances he would have quite liked The 10 Stop Café, and had he not been such a famous face in the country it would potentially be somewhere he could stop and enjoy a cup of tea whilst reading the paper. But as it was, he had no time to take in the quirks of the venue. Instead, he entered through the glass door to the gentle chime of the soft bell placed above it and desperately scoured the scattering of late-night patrons for Laurie.

Due to the hour, the café was all but empty. Only two booths were occupied. At one, sat a young man in a cheap suit, furiously typing in to his laptop and neglecting the plate of sausages and mash beside him. He probably worked for one of the prestigious law firms nearby and was desperately trying to meet an important deadline before the sun rose the next day.

At the other booth sat a woman who appeared to be in her late twenties. She was wearing a considerable amount of make-up and a low cut top which accentuated her heaving cleavage. She nursed a cup of tea and glanced up momentarily when Charles entered. He didn’t like to make assumptions about people or cast judgement but he guessed that she was a prostitute. A number of politicians had a real taste for whores, Charles had discovered during his time at Parliament, and it was not uncommon for late night rendezvous to be set up so close to Downing street at unassuming locations such as this.