Someone To Save you (36 page)

‘Maybe.’

‘Do you know when he drew it?’

‘Recently - Louisa said all the artworks were produced in the past few weeks, especially for the exhibition.’

‘So there might be clues in it?’

‘Hopefully – I just need something to go on. I can’t stand feeling so powerless.’

‘You’re not tempted to call the police?’

‘I’m fighting my instincts not to call them,’ Sam revealed. ‘But I’m scared that this guy isn’t bluffing. What if I get them involved and he carries out his threat?’

‘I know,’ Marcus replied. ‘I think you’re doing the right thing, for the moment anyway.’

They spent the majority of the journey in silence, and Sam’s thoughts turned again to Anna. It hurt so much to think that someone had her, maybe the same person who had murdered Cathy, and that the police didn’t even know about it. There were no search teams, no rooms full of officers chasing up leads and considering possibilities; just him, Marcus, Louisa and Doug. As the tube pulled into Embankment, he uttered a silent prayer that she was safe. It seemed futile, but there was little else to do.

On the way to Tate Modern, Louisa called to check how things were going. Sam updated her on the revelations about Wayne Cartwright and their suspicions that Richard might have been involved somehow in his death. She was just as puzzled as to a connection with Anna’s disappearance as they were.

Reaching the gallery, Marcus followed Sam through the main hall and up the stairs towards the exhibition space. Both stood in front of the large canvas and took in the powerful feeling of chaos and despair that it exuded.

Sam pointed. ‘See the figure in the top right hand corner.’

Marcus nodded.

Sam examined it carefully. ‘It’s exactly the same figure. Exactly the same pose.’ He glanced at Marcus, whose eyes seemed to be taking in every detail of the piece. ‘It’s disturbing, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

Sam turned back to the work, looking for anything that might shed some light on things. But he saw nothing that seemed relevant. There was no message, no sign of Cathy’s necklace, just the tortured image of Richard Friedman staring out from a mass of gravestones and twisted faces.

‘I can’t see anything new,’ Sam said. He turned again to Marcus and was shocked to see the expression on his face, drained of colour. His eyes were fixed on the drawing. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah,’ Marcus answered unconvincingly. He looked away. ‘I’ve just remembered I’ve got to be somewhere really important, Sam. I’m sorry; I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise.’

Sam watched Marcus walk away at pace and noticed that even before he had left the hall he’d pulled out his mobile phone.

He followed, pulling him back at the shoulder as Marcus reached the stairs. ‘Marcus.’

Marcus turned around.

Sam held on to his friend. ‘You saw something in the drawing, didn’t you? What was it?’

‘Nothing,’ Marcus replied.

‘You’re lying,’ Sam hit back. ‘You saw something, I know you did. Tell me what you saw.’

People were watching.

Marcus tried to shrug him off. ‘Let me go, Sam.’

Sam tightened his hold. He would be damned if Marcus was going to keep something from him that could help them find Anna. ‘Tell me.’

They had now attracted the attention of a security guard, who was watching them from across the hall. He moved slowly towards them.

Marcus glanced across at the guard, then back at Sam. ‘You’ve got to trust me, Sam, please. I want to help, but you’ve got to let me go.’

Sam considered his response as the guard neared. He released his grip.

‘I’ll phone you later, I promise,’ Marcus added. He turned and made for the stairs.

Sam waited until Marcus had disappeared from view before following.

40

Sam spotted Marcus about fifty metres ahead, walking along the side of the Thames, and heading towards the direction of the hospital. He was walking purposefully. Sam hung back and hoped that Marcus wouldn’t turn around. Fortunately, being just after half five, there was a lot of cover, with commuters on their way home or for a post-work drink, mixing with late afternoon tourists enjoying the autumn sun.

Up at the front, Marcus reached Westminster Bridge and crossed, entering the hospital grounds.

Why was he heading back there?

He didn’t head for the main entrance; instead he moved towards the rear of the building – the gardens. Sam thought for a second about following further. The grounds were invariably quiet, and it would be much harder to hide from view. But then he remembered the alternative route. It was around the back, via a small gate that emerged just behind a thick clump of bushes. It would give him cover. He hurried across the road and arced around towards the back entrance, losing sight of Marcus for about half a minute.

Sam entered through the gate and crouched low behind the bushes, watching as Marcus took a place on the very same bench where Sam had been so upset days earlier. It did feel wrong, spying like this, but he was doing this for Anna.

Marcus’s body folded; his head in his hands.

What the hell was going on?

For a good two minutes, Marcus held that position. And then, from the left, came Louisa. She approached from behind, touching Marcus on the shoulder, before moving around and sitting next to him. They exchanged words – it was too far away for Sam to hear, but from their facial expressions the conversation looked intense. Marcus stood up, with Louisa clinging to his arm. There was a hug, and then a kiss. Not a friendly kiss goodbye.

A lovers’ kiss, full on the lips, held there for seconds.

What the hell?

And with that Marcus walked away. Sam decided not to follow. Realistically, the chances of him being able to pursue Marcus across the city were slim. Instead, stunned by what he had just seen, he watched Louisa as she dabbed at her eyes, before she turned back towards the main entrance. Only when she was gone did he emerge into the main gardens, already rehearsing how he was going to play this.

It was time he found out the truth.

Sam made his way up to Louisa’s office, still trying to decide how to tackle this. He felt angry, betrayed, although in reality there was no real reason for him to be – Louisa had every right to date whoever she liked. But still, she’d kept it a secret, even at Marcus’s flat, when she’d had the chance to tell Sam everything, to bring it all out into the open. He approached the door, spotting Louisa sat at her desk. He knocked and she looked up, startled. Her eyes were swollen with recent tears. Sam opened the door.

Louisa tried to gather her composure. She smiled. ‘Sam.’

Sam closed the door behind him without a word, and stood with his back against the glass. It felt cool through his shirt.

Louisa tensed. ‘What’s the matter? Have you heard something?’

‘I saw you,’ Sam replied.

Louisa looked confused. ‘What?’

Sam held his tongue in check. He needed to approach this in the right way, keep things calm, after all he hoped Louisa would be part of the solution, not the problem. ‘What’s going on, Louisa?’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Tell me about you and Marcus.’

Louisa let out a nervous, defensive laugh, but Sam could see the shockwave ripple across her face. ‘What?’

Her instinctive denial angered Sam. ‘I saw you together. I saw you kiss. Now tell me what’s going on.’

Louisa looked away, her face reddening. ‘I’m so sorry, Sam.’

Sam moved towards her. ‘Sorry for what?’

‘For lying to you – for not telling you what was going on. I should have told you. You weren’t meant to find out like this.’

‘Tell me now, Louisa. Tell me everything.’

‘I don’t know if I can.’

Sam brought his fist down hard on the desk. Louisa jumped in her seat. ‘Damn it, Louisa, Anna is in danger, held by God knows who, and you still don’t know if you can tell me? For God’s sake, this isn’t a game you know.’

Louisa winced. ‘Please, Sam, don’t shout. I’ll tell you everything I know, I promise, just sit down.’

Sam sat, already feeling remorse for his loss of temper. He looked at Louisa. ‘I’m sorry. I just want Anna back.’

‘I know,’ she replied.

‘Then tell me what you know. What were you and Marcus talking about in the gardens? Was it something to do with Anna?’

‘No,’ Louisa replied.

‘Then what? It was about the drawing?’

‘Drawing?’

‘Richard Friedman’s drawing in Tate Modern. We were looking at it for clues when Marcus left. I think he saw something in it.’

Louisa dabbed her eyes. ‘He didn’t mention anything.’

‘Then what?’

‘He called and asked to see me straight away; somewhere private, said it was really important. So we arranged to meet around the back of the hospital. He said he was in trouble but he was going to sort it out. I tried to get him to tell me what was wrong, but he wouldn’t. He said he just wanted to see me, in case things…didn’t…work…out.’

Louisa clamped a hand to her mouth.

‘Did he say where he was going?’

She shook her head. ‘No. He wouldn’t tell me.’

Despite her keeping so much from him, Sam believed her this time. ‘And you’ve got no idea at all what trouble he might be in?’

She closed her eyes.

So there was something else. Sam’s hopes rose. ‘Louisa? Anything might be helpful.’

Louisa nodded. ‘A few days ago I was with Marcus, in his flat, when two men came.’

‘Go on.’

‘I heard Marcus talking with them at the door, and then they just walked in and started taking things. They took the TV and some money.’

‘From you?’

Louisa nodded. ‘Fortunately I only had fifty pounds on me.’

‘And what did Marcus do?’

‘Nothing,’ she replied. ‘He just stood there, watching them. I don’t think he had a choice. They just did what they wanted.’

‘Who were they?’

‘Marcus wouldn’t say at first, said I was much better off not knowing. But later that night he told me. They know him from prison.’

‘The men were in the same prison?’

‘Not those two, but the gang, the same gang were in his prison. Marcus said they ruled the place, even had contacts with the prison guards. They bullied people in there.’

Sam remembered what Marcus had said to him about his time in jail, the punishments he had taken, and the playground hostility that pervaded. Maybe he’d been underplaying just how much he had suffered. ‘And now they’re harassing him on the outside?’

‘It started a few weeks after he was released. He got a call from one of the gang who offered him work – collecting money from people.’

‘A loan shark?’

‘I assume so. Marcus said no, and from that point on they’ve never left him alone.’

Sam thought back to the skinhead he had passed on the stairs when approaching Marcus’s flat. And then there was the shot-out window. Marcus had said it was local youths, but now Sam wasn’t convinced.

‘But why are they so interested in Marcus? Did he associate with them in the prison?’

Louisa shifted in her seat. ‘Marcus swore to me he wasn’t involved with them at all. He said he kept out of their way, was friendly to them when he had to be, but nothing more. He doesn’t know why they’re pursuing him. It’s been a nightmare for him.’

‘But he didn’t tell the police?’

‘He said it would just make things worse. He thought if he ignored them, they’d get bored and leave him alone.’

Sam thought for a second, trying to piece things together. Could this all be connected to Anna, and to Cathy? ‘The trouble he says he’s in, is it related to the gang?’

‘He wouldn’t say, but I think it must be. I’m really worried about him, Sam. These aren’t the kind of people you mess with.’

‘We need to find out how all of this is connected with what’s been happening.’

‘Do you really think it is?’

‘It must be, Louisa. Marcus saw something in that drawing and it made him run. Whatever trouble he says he’s in is connected to the picture, it’s connected to Richard Friedman, and it’s connected to the person who has Anna. It has to be.’

Louisa considered Sam’s theory. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘I need to speak to Marcus.’

Louisa took her cue and picked up the phone. ‘I’ll call him now.’ But the call rang through to his answer service. ‘Now what?’

Sam didn’t know whether she would agree to what he was about to suggest, but it was worth a try. ‘Have you got a key to his flat?’

Louisa nodded.

‘Maybe there will be something there…’

‘I can’t, Sam, I can’t just break in like that.’