The Borgia Ring (28 page)

Stepney, Saturday 11 June, 8.35 p.m.

Nellie’s was a new restaurant in Bethnal Green, a kilometre or so north of Mile End Road. It had received a rave review in
Time Out
and had quickly become
the
place to eat locally. Pendragon was lucky to get a table for two on a Friday night. The owners had designed the restaurant to suit the modern and moneyed East Londoner. It reminded Pendragon of a reception space in an office building: white and grey walls, huge post-modernist paintings, stone floor, spindly chairs that looked like they would collapse if you shifted about on them too much. He hated it.

‘Isn’t this gorgeous?’ Sue said as a very skinny and almost bald waitress dressed in black took their coats.

‘Impressive,’ he replied, looking around.

At their table they were given enormous menus, single pieces of thick black card with a very small block of grey writing, just off-centre. Pendragon looked at his, slightly bewildered. The restaurant resonated to the hubbub of dozens of conversations, and just audible behind this was the sound of ambient electronic music, Brian Eno or perhaps it was Moby.

Pendragon was about to ask for the wine list when, from behind his chair, he heard a male voice he recognised.

‘Well, well, well,’ the man said.

Pendragon turned to see Fred Taylor, the
Gazette
journalist. As usual, he had a photographer in tow. Pendragon glanced back at Sue, and sighed.

‘DCI Pendragon,’ said Taylor ingratiatingly. ‘Well, this is cosy, isn’t it? And who is your lady friend?’

Pendragon was about to speak when Sue intervened. ‘I find it extraordinarily rude when someone doesn’t address me directly,’ she said. ‘I am Dr Sue Latimer. And you are?’

Taylor looked momentarily stunned, but recovered very well. With a sickly smile, he stepped forward and offered his hand to her. ‘Fred Taylor, from the
Gazette
.’

‘Oh,’ she said quietly. ‘You wrote that tawdry little piece the other day.’

‘Sue … it’s okay,’ Pendragon told her.

To their surprise, Taylor was giggling. ‘You do pick the feisty ones, don’t you, Jack, old boy?’ he said, eyes darting from Sue to Pendragon and back again. ‘Gaz?’ He turned to his photographer friend. ‘Could you get a snap or two of the happy couple?’

‘Now hold on!’ Pendragon exclaimed. But it was too late, the flash had gone off. He took a deep breath and managed to control his mounting anger, but Sue was out of her chair and reaching for the camera slung around the photographer’s neck.

‘Don’t touch the gear, lady,’ Gaz squealed, and took a step back, colliding with the table behind him.

Taylor was laughing out loud. ‘Fantastic!’ he said, turning to go. ‘I have the headline already, Jack.
DCI OUT ON THE TOWN
:
KILLER STILL AT LARGE
.’ And with that he strode out, still chuckling to himself, Gaz trotting after him.

‘Jack, you’re not letting them get away with that, are you?’ Sue challenged.

Pendragon was gritting his teeth and mentally counting to
ten. When he spoke, he sounded so calm he surprised himself. ‘Retaliating plays into their hands,’ he explained. ‘Believe me, getting angry makes everything ten times worse.’

‘But it’s not fair! You’re allowed to have some time out, like everyone else.’

‘Yes, but that man has had it in for me from the moment he first set eyes on me. There’s nothing I could say to him that would make any difference. He’s on a witch hunt. The best thing I can do is break the case. Success is the sweetest revenge.’

Sue took a deep breath. ‘You’re right,’ she conceded, and broke into a smile. ‘Forget about the stupid little man.’

‘What stupid little man?’ he retorted.

Despite the bad start, Jack found himself quickly relaxing. Sue seemed to have a calming effect on him. He had noticed that when he had gone for dinner at her flat a few days before. There was also the fact that he had chosen a good wine, a five-year-old Saint Emilion, and the crusty French bread served from a wicker basket was delicious.

‘It’s good to see you outside the police station and away from the flats,’ she said. ‘And I do like your tie.’

‘Oh,’ he said, looking down. ‘Thanks. I’ve had it for years.’

She rearranged the napkin on her lap. ‘You must be exhausted. Hardly a normal week, I imagine.’

‘Never a dull moment, though. Now, you have to promise me – no police talk and no psychology. Is that a deal?’

She smiled. ‘A deal.’

He gazed around the room for a second. The place wasn’t actually that bad, he thought. At least it had a good ambience. Most of the tables were for two, with a few small groups and the odd solo diner. To either side of them were other couples,
engrossed in conversation. Perhaps they were on first dates too. He surprised himself by the thought. He hadn’t been on a date for … what? Twenty years? He glanced away from the couples. A few tables ahead of him a woman sat alone, her back to them, long black hair draped over the back of her chair. Nearby sat a party of four. They seemed to be a little merry already and were laughing loudly.

‘Jack, excuse me a moment. I just need to powder my nose,’ Sue said, snapping him out of his reverie.

‘Of course.’ He stood up and helped her with her chair. She looked into his eyes and smiled as she left him.

Sue was at the hand basin when the door to the Ladies opened. She took no notice as a woman with long black hair and wearing a dark blue dress came in. Sue pulled a lipstick from her clutch bag and leaned forward to apply it. The flush sounded in one of the cubicles. Sue was fishing through her bag looking for eyeliner when the black-haired woman came out and walked slowly towards the mirror. Sue looked up and glanced at the woman properly for the first time.

She was unusually big, with broad shoulders and what looked to be thick arms under the sleeves of the dress. The woman caught Sue staring and smiled briefly before leaning forward to wash her hands at the adjacent basin. Sue put away her lipstick, checked her hair and closed the clutch bag. The woman glanced up from the basin, catching Sue’s eye in the mirror, sending a shudder of anxiety through her. Turning to face her, she took a step towards Sue. She was just about to say something when the door crashed open and two women stumbled in, laughing drunkenly.

‘Did you hear what he said to me?’ one of them guffawed.

‘Yeah, I did, Sal. Dirty bugger!’

Sue sidestepped the new arrivals and slipped out of the
Ladies into the narrow corridor leading back to the dining-room.

At the table, Jack was trying to make sense of the menu once again when Sue dropped into her chair. ‘If I’ve translated this correctly,’ he said, ‘I think I might go for the beef carpaccio.’ He looked up at her. ‘What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

She shook her head and took a gulp of her wine. Placing the glass back on the table, she said, ‘I just saw the weirdest-looking woman in the Ladies.’

Pendragon gave her a quizzical look.

‘I think it was a trans-sexual. She … he … was just too big …’

Pendragon grabbed her wrist involuntarily. ‘What exactly did they look like?’

‘Well, er … tall. Um … long, black hair. And this strange dress …’

Pendragon was out of his chair and dodging between the tables.

‘Jack!’ Sue exclaimed, standing up.

Dashing into the corridor leading to the toilets, he paused for a second at the door to the Ladies, took a deep breath and pushed it open. He squinted in the glaring light and saw two women standing at the hand basins. They saw him. One of them faked a scream and the other burst out laughing.

‘Sorry …’ Pendragon said, and ducked back into the corridor.

‘What the hell’s going on, Jack?’ Sue said as he returned to their table.

‘I think you just met our killer,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘I’m sorry, Sue. We have to go.’

At the front desk, he began to pay the bill while talking into his mobile tucked under his chin. ‘Turner … I’m at
Nellie’s restaurant. Yes, the new one on Bethnal Green Road. I need you here pronto with back-up. I think we’ve had a positive sighting of our prime suspect … No, I can’t explain now. Where are you? … Just leaving the station? Good. Get here
ASAP
.’

The girl at the front desk was making a fuss about them leaving. The manager passed by just as Pendragon started to explain. Losing patience, he whipped out his ID, tossed a few large notes on to the desk and turned to Sue. ‘Come on. I need to get you home.’

‘But our coats …’

They walked out into the car park at the rear of the building. It was badly lit and night had set in. A pale milky light from the crescent moon fell across the tarmac. Pendragon flicked his remote. Doors clicked and lights flashed. He walked to the passenger door and helped Sue in, then strode around the back of the car. As he reached the driver’s door, a figure burst out of the shadows on the passenger side and dived for the door to the car. In an instant, he had it open and was reaching in. Sue recoiled in terror, banging her head on the rear-view mirror and colliding painfully with the central console.

Pendragon dashed back around the rear of the car. A pair of blazing headlights bore down on them from one side, and he heard the screech of tyres as a car skidded to a halt nearby. The dark figure at Sue’s side of the car looked up, his face caught in the powerful headlights. The long wig had slipped, revealing greased-back black hair in a net. Even through the pancake and eyeshadow, the man was immediately recognisable as Max Rainer.

Turner and Inspector Grant were jumping out of the police car as Pendragon darted forward. Rainer slammed shut the door of the car and swung his hand, reaching to within an
inch of the DCI’s face. Pendragon caught the glimmer of a jewel and a deadly-looking metal spike protruding from Rainer’s fifth finger. He fell back and his attacker twisted round with remarkable agility, sliding away and bending low in front of the car bonnet. Pendragon crouched down and peered into the deep shadow just beyond the front of his car. Rainer had vanished.

‘He went that way!’ Pendragon yelled to Turner and Grant. ‘I lost him in the shadows. Be careful, he’s armed.’ He yanked the door open again and saw Sue, pale and sick-looking. ‘You’re hurt,’ he said, squatting down and turning her head towards him. She winced and clutched her side. A line of blood ran down her temple.

‘I banged my head on that thing,’ she said, pointing to the mirror. ‘And I think I’ve cracked a rib.’

‘Okay, just sit back. Take slow, short breaths.’

Pendragon heard a sound and spun round to see Turner and Grant emerging from some shrubs a short distance away. They each held a torch, the beams bouncing in the gloom.

‘No sign of him,’ Turner called.

‘Okay. Grant, I’d like you to take Dr Latimer to the London Hospital in my car. Turner, you come with me in the squad car.’ He tossed his keys to Grant who ran round to the driver’s door.

Crouching down again, Pendragon checked, ‘You okay?’

Sue nodded. ‘Never a dull moment, Jack.’ She smiled and screwed up her face in agony. ‘Remind me not to laugh,’ she added. Then, reaching for his arm, she said: ‘Take care.’

He leaned into the car and kissed her on the lips before running over to the squad car where the sergeant was waiting with the engine turning over.

Turner had the siren on before they had left the car park and they made it to Rainer’s apartment building in the Barbican in four minutes flat. Pendragon called the station for back-up and an armed team was sent out.

He and Turner took the lift and ran along the corridor to flat 402. Turner was brandishing a truncheon.

‘Knock it in,’ Pendragon ordered.

‘You serious?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Cool.’ Turner took two steps back and charged at the door. It creaked but held. Pendragon gave it two hard kicks near the lock. Turner rammed it with his shoulder again and finally it gave way. The door flew back with the wood around the lock splintered, one of the handles drooping.

Pendragon flicked on the light and a gentle halogen glow lit up the hall. Straight ahead was the sitting-room they had been in twice before. Turner stood at the entrance to the room, reached in and flicked on the lights, then slid to the other side of the door frame before slinking into the room. It was empty. The curtains were open, the neon of the Barbican Centre flooding into the room.

Turner walked slowly into the kitchen, his truncheon in front of him, while Pendragon headed for the dining-room leading off the lounge. It was in semi-darkness, the only illumination spilling in from the neighbouring room. A narrow
door stood in the centre of the far wall. Light was visible under it. Pendragon crept over, turned the handle and pulled the door slowly towards him.

It was a corridor of a room, narrow and running the length of the dining-room. Along the back wall there were shelves from floor to ceiling. These were filled with an odd assortment of objects. There were rows of leather-bound books, a skull, laboratory apparatus, bottles of chemicals, jars of brightly coloured liquids. He turned and was confronted by an entire wall covered with pictures of a single woman. Some were reproductions of old portraits of Lucrezia Borgia, but some originals had obviously been produced by an unremarkable artist – probably Rainer himself, Pendragon mused. At the end of the room stood a tall mirror; beside it, a cabinet with drawers overspilling with sumptuous fabrics – silks and velvets. Over the cabinet lay a red velvet skirt and bodice. On the floor immediately in front of it lay a pair of gold-coloured slippers. On hooks along the wall to the other side of the mirror hung a row of wigs – one black, another blonde – long strands of hair trailing to the floor. Next to these was a curly blonde hairpiece with a pearl-adorned headband attached.

Pendragon spun round as Turner walked in. The sergeant gazed open-mouthed as his boss paced along the narrow space, studying the contents of the shelves. Just before the mirror stood a worktop. On top of it were beakers, pipettes and distillation equipment – a mass of glass cylinders and rubber piping. Next to these lay a notebook. Pendragon picked it up and flicked through a few pages. Turner looked over his boss’s shoulder. It was written in some sort of code, but the odd symbol jumped out at them: AsO
₃
, the chemical sign for arsenic trioxide, as well as a Latin name,
Abrus
precatorius
, which Pendragon knew was the proper name for the plant from which abric acid was refined.

‘Ah, I see you’ve found my lair.’

Pendragon and Turner looked round simultaneously. At the door stood Max Rainer, in full costume, his wig reinstated. He carried an ancient-looking dagger in one hand. ‘It’s like scissors-paper-stone, isn’t it, Sergeant?’ His voice was jaunty. ‘I think a dagger beats a truncheon any day.’ Then his voice hardened. ‘Drop it.’

Turner glanced at Pendragon, who nodded. The sergeant let the truncheon slide to the floor.

‘Kick it over.’

Turner complied.

‘Excellent. I’m sorry I can’t offer you a place to sit. This is my work space.’

‘Mr Rainer,’ Pendragon began calmly.

‘Don’t …’ Rainer hissed. ‘My name is Lucrezia Borgia, you snivelling nobody!’ In the low light, his eyes were black, fathomless.

Pendragon was taken aback for a second, but quickly recovered. ‘Don’t you think the game is up? I have an armed team outside. I’ve told them to move in if we’re not out in ten minutes. Meanwhile all I have to do to call them immediately is speed-dial with this.’ He held up his mobile. ‘They’ll be in here in thirty seconds.’

Rainer laughed suddenly. ‘Oh, just listen to yourself, you silly little man. Push your stupid speed-dial button. Bring your soldier boys up here. They’ll find you already covered in your own vomit and blood.’

‘All right,’ Pendragon placated him. He put his hands up. ‘What do you want?’

‘Him!’ And Rainer grabbed Sergeant Turner, spinning him round and twisting one arm up hard behind his back. Jez
yelped with pain. Rainer brought the knife up to the young man’s throat and drew blood. A line of red slithered along the blade.

‘Okay,’ Pendragon shouted. ‘Let him go!
I’ll
be your hostage.’

Rainer laughed again. ‘I need nothing from you.’ And he fixed Pendragon with a cold stare. Beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead and his make-up was beginning to run. A green streak slithered down his cheek. The pancake had started to bubble on his chin. ‘Actually, that’s not entirely true. I want you to
listen
. I want to make it clear to you just how
clever
I’ve been, how the divine Lucrezia has helped me.’

Pendragon opened his arms, palms upwards. ‘Fine,’ he replied evenly. ‘That’s fine. Just let Sergeant Turner go, okay?’

‘No.’

Jez was also sweating, beads of perspiration leaking from his temples and running down his neck.

‘Oh, no, no, no, DCI Pendragon. That would never do. All right, where do I start? Oh, such good fortune, such good fortune! Fate, of course.
DESTINY
!’ Rainer exclaimed. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment before turning his black eyes back to Pendragon.

‘It was Tim Middleton who opened the door for me,’ he went on. ‘Tim, that sickening bastard who liked to fiddle around with little boys. Even goddesses act in mysterious ways, it seems. You see, I’ve always been obsessed with Lucrezia Borgia. I built this shrine to her. I studied everything I could find about her. I knew all about the fabled ring. How it was lost. How I could find it.’

‘But that’s a ridiculous coincidence,’ Pendragon put in quietly.

Rainer paused and looked hard at him. ‘Perhaps, Chief Inspector. But good fortune comes to those who help themselves, those who are best prepared. As I said, I’ve made a very careful study of the Borgia family and everything associated with them. I’ve spent more hours than I care to remember in libraries and private collections across Europe. Then Timmy boy comes to me with photographs of the skeleton. I knew immediately what I was looking at, though I could hardly believe it.

‘That night we broke into the construction site. It was easy to persuade Middleton to help me. I knew a great deal about him, remember. And, yes, it was I who was blackmailing him. Tim had a tidy inheritance from his old dad. And, well, I needed to fund my research and expand my collection. Oh, and by the way, just to tidy up the loose ends, Chief Inspector, I never was being blackmailed myself and never did get a young girl pregnant years ago. I was just playing with you.’ Rainer cackled. Then his face darkened. ‘Unfortunately things at the construction site last Saturday did not go entirely to plan. The security guard turned up just after I had removed the ring. There was a scuffle … and he saw my face.’

‘So you killed him?’

‘Obviously. We dumped him in what we thought was a waste chute. Turned out it wasn’t!’ Rainer gave a sickly grin. ‘Middleton, being the arsehole he was, began to panic and I was sure he was going to blab. I warned him …’

‘And so you killed him too?’

‘Will you stop fucking interrupting me!’ Rainer cut Turner again. A second red line appeared on his neck.

‘The ring had the recipe for Cantarella inside it. I knew it would, of course. I didn’t waste a second. After all, I’d been dreaming of this day for so long. I’ve been making poisons
here for years. I knew Cantarella was based on arsenic, but I couldn’t even hazard a guess at its other components. I already had some arsenic from a local glass-maker, and when I knew what other chemicals to acquire, I broke into the Plant Biology Department at Queen Mary and produced the poison. Yes, I know what you want to ask now … the dogs, right?’

Pendragon gave an almost imperceptible nod.

‘
This
is why I love Lucrezia so much. She was just so … so gorgeously cruel. You see, Cantarella is no normal poison. It is, well, for want of a better expression, “fortified”. Lucrezia learned that if you gave an animal the raw poison, they would die quickly, but their body processed the poison and then you could collect the refined product from its blood or from its foaming mouth, its saliva. The dogs were the amplifiers of the poison.’ And he roared in delight. ‘Genius! Pure fucking genius.’

After a moment, he calmed down and suddenly seemed to become aware that time was passing quickly. ‘So, yes, DCI Pendragon, I killed Timmy boy. Jabbed him with the divine Lucrezia’s ring just before he was about to start his ridiculous speech. He was so drunk anyway, he didn’t even notice. Then I killed Tony Ketteridge because he was the one person who could have got me into trouble after I disposed of Tim. Tony and I go way back. He knew about my interest in the Borgias. He suspected I had taken the ring, and you were putting so much pressure on him, it was inevitable he would say something incriminating, without even realising what I was doing or how.’

‘And for that, you will suffer in Hell!’

The loud voice made them all jump. Pendragon stared towards the doorway. Rainer spun round, keeping Turner close before him, the knife at his throat. Pam Ketteridge
stood just inside the room, holding a revolver in her right hand. ‘Let the young man go,’ she ordered, her voice shaky.

The three men stared at her in shock. None of them moved.

‘Are you deaf, Rainer?’

‘I am Lucrezia Borgia,’ he snarled, and cut Turner a third time, making him gasp.

‘I said, let him go, Rainer, you ridiculous little shit! Or I swear I will blow your fucking head off.’ Pam Ketteridge’s eyes were ablaze, her face scarlet.

Rainer flinched.

‘Now, you fuck!’

He lowered the knife.

‘Toss it over there,’ she said, her voice calmer.

Rainer stared at her, his eyes screwed up, muscles in his jaw twitching involuntarily. With a resigned sigh, he threw the knife to the floor. Turner yanked himself free and stepped back, clutching at his cut neck, fixing Max Rainer with a look of pure hatred.

‘Mrs Ketteridge,’ Pendragon said slowly, ‘I must say, I’m a little surprised.’

She flicked her eyes from Rainer to him. ‘Yes, I’m sure you are, Chief Inspector.’

‘What’s going on?’

‘I’m here to take this … this piece of garbage to Hell,’ she replied. Pendragon tilted his head and gave her a quizzical look. Rainer stood absolutely rigid, glaring at Tony Ketteridge’s widow.

‘I was there that night. I saw it all.’

‘At the construction site?’ Pendragon said.

‘I followed my husband out at two o’clock. He went then, not nine-thirty like I said before. I suspected he was having an affair. I kept out of sight and saw him go on to the site. He had a bag buried under a pile of soil. Tony was about to start
packing up the skeleton when
he
turned up with another man.’ She twitched her head in Rainer’s direction. ‘We both watched him take the ring while he and another man were down there with the Indian workman. There was a fight and Amal Karim pulled Rainer’s balaclava off and we all saw his face. He and Middleton, it must have been, chased Karim across the site, and my husband, God rest his soul, reappeared and took the skeleton …’

‘Why didn’t you just come to us?’ Pendragon asked.

‘Isn’t that obvious, Chief Inspector? The whole story would have come out then and Tony would have been arrested. Besides, this is not your job, it’s the Lord’s work, and I am his vessel.’ She took a step towards Rainer who retreated against the bookcase. Grabbing his upper arm, she rammed the gun against his neck. Shocked, he went limp. From her pocket, Mrs Ketteridge withdrew a length of twine.

‘Please tighten this around his wrists,’ she instructed Turner. The sergeant hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward.

‘Make it as tight as you like, young man,’ Pam added.

‘Look, is this really …’

‘Shut up, Rainer!’ she snapped, her voice shrill with emotion. ‘Don’t … just
don’t
… dare say a word.’ She checked the tightness of the twine about his wrists, then turned to Pendragon. ‘I’m going to have to take your mobile.’

He stared at her hard.

‘Please, Inspector. There’s only one person here I want to hurt.’

He reached into his pocket. She took her hand from Rainer’s arm for a second but pushed the gun into his neck harder, just to confirm that he should do absolutely nothing. She took Pendragon’s phone and slipped it into her pocket.

‘And yours.’ She turned to Jez.

‘Look, Mrs Ketteridge,’ Pendragon pleaded. ‘Can’t we discuss this?’

‘What’s there to discuss, Chief Inspector? I tried to kill the sinner once before and failed. Now …’

Rainer twisted towards her. ‘It was you?
You
hit me over the head?’

‘The Lord guided my hand, as he does now. I thought I had killed you, but when I discovered I had just knocked you out, God made me realise something important. I can’t
just
kill you, I have to take you to Our Lord first. That’s why He saved you. I need to show Him I have done His work. Then I will kill you.’

‘Mrs …’

‘No, DCI Pendragon,’ Pam Ketteridge hissed. ‘No. Please, just leave me to do the Lord’s work.’ She was backing towards the door. Rainer looked desperately towards the policemen as he was dragged after her. Then, captor and captive were gone.

Turner was the first to reach the door. It wouldn’t budge.

‘She’s probably wedged a chair against the handle,’ Pendragon said. ‘Here, let me.’ He stepped forward and gave the door a kick. It flew open into the dining-room.