The Catch (57 page)

A different trail.

If Jerry knew about Hank O’Brien’s death, he’d also know that Cate and the two men who’d helped her were engaged in a conspiracy to evade justice – and thus couldn’t go anywhere near the police.

He’d be aware that one of those two men was Robbie – and Robbie had mentioned that he might have been followed. But Dan hadn’t noticed anything untoward.

They don’t know about me, he thought. Jerry, the Blakes: they had two of the three of us, Cate and Robbie. But they weren’t able to identify me.

I’m the key to this
.

That was when he had it. That simple. That dangerous.

I’m the key to this
.

Cate felt sure that something dreadful had happened during the last stop. Jerry hadn’t been gone for long, but upon his return he had whistled with quiet satisfaction, then sat in silence for about twenty minutes.

In Cate’s view, this was another stage of a plan that went beyond simply eradicating the people who stood in his way. If you considered it rationally, she decided, the other element he required for success was a fall guy. He had to craft a scenario that would supply the police with an obvious suspect.

Either it was her – which might explain why she was still alive – or it was somebody else: Robbie or Dan. Certainly one of the three. But that only worked if the other two were dead—

No. It worked even better if all three of them were dead.

He seemed to confirm that when they set off again. He said he was following the other man from the pub, and that soon she’d be ‘reunited’ with her brother. Cate didn’t believe a word of it.

She asked herself: what was the most reliable, the most elegant solution here?

And the answer filled her with terror.

****

The young man surprised Stemper by turning south when he reached Petworth. That wasn’t the natural route towards Box Hill. Maybe Robbie hadn’t told him about the Blakes. Maybe he was just going to return to Brighton and forget what he’d witnessed this evening.

That was fine with Stemper, though a showdown at the Blakes’ home would have made his job much easier.

He had killed Patricia and Gordon – and now Robbie – with the same gun. That gun would also be used on Cate, and then, most crucially, on their accomplice – but the young man’s death would be made to look self-inflicted. The result: a bizarre and puzzling sequence of events with no obvious motives, but with a chain of evidence so unequivocal that Stemper doubted anyone would search beyond this little group for the killer.

He’d arranged many such endings before: for peace campaigners, trade unionists, rogue government employees. So long as the deaths were grisly and plausible, it didn’t matter what unanswered questions they raised. In fact, sometimes his paymasters welcomed outlandish speculation. Let the conspiracy theorists have their fun. Nobody ever listened to conspiracy theorists.

****

The traffic thinned out as Dan joined the A283 south of Petworth. He was able to drive at between forty and fifty miles an hour, a speed that normally was quite fast enough for him. It was a meandering single-lane road with only occasional stretches where overtaking was permitted.

At the first opportunity, Dan shifted into third gear and moved up tight on the car in front, nudging out towards the centre line to make his intentions clear. Several cars passed in the opposite direction, and then there was a gap of several hundred yards, although he could see the headlights of more oncoming traffic in the distance.

Had to risk it
. He floored the accelerator and moved out, passing a couple of cars easily, then ignored a chance to slip into the gap behind a high-sided lorry that was doing about forty-five miles per hour.

Dan was squarely alongside the lorry when he saw that he wouldn’t make it. The first of the oncoming cars had reached the same conclusion, the driver flashing his main beams in warning. Dan moved in closer to the lorry, his wing mirror almost touching the side of a massive wheel arch as he willed the Corsa to find a little extra speed. He could hear the long blast of a horn as the approaching traffic had to veer on to the grass verge to avoid a head-on collision.

Then he was past the lorry, with a clear road ahead. He pushed the speed up from sixty to seventy, then to eighty. He met the next group of slow vehicles on a straight section and this time he didn’t hesitate, sailing around them as if the road was his alone to command.

He was driving like a maniac, breaking every rule imaginable, and he knew full well that if he resembled anyone right now it was the man whose driving had robbed him and Louis of their mother and father.

****

Stemper noted the burst of speed, the reckless overtaking, and he was intrigued. He didn’t think this was merely an urge to flee from his friend’s murder. More likely that the young man saw himself as the white knight, riding to Cate’s rescue.

That explained where he was heading. Not back to Brighton, but to the most credible hiding place within close range.

****

Jerry was on his trail. That was Dan’s assumption, although he hoped that the way he’d driven for the past few miles had been enough to open up a good distance between them. He needed to buy some time.

He’d concluded that the rendezvous in Midhurst hadn’t just been about handing over the paperwork. It was also a chance to lure Robbie’s partner into the open – and Dan had walked right into that trap.

The road conditions forced him to trundle slowly through the villages of Pulborough and Storrington, but he managed one or two more bursts of speed. It was around seven-thirty when he reached the Steyning bypass, and a few minutes after that he was racing north along the same road where, six days before, a moment’s foolishness had set so much tragedy in motion.

Dan slowed for the tight turn into the lane that led to O’Brien’s farmhouse. He was obsessively checking his mirror, but there were no other vehicles in sight.

He rolled along the lane until the farm’s double gates came into view. They were standing open, which meant either Robbie had left them like this after the Fiesta had been collected, or else it was another trap.

Dan had to take the chance. He sped up, crossing the driveway and on to the grass. The sky overhead glowed with the last of the light, a subtle purple-blue sheen, while the trees and bushes around him were retreating into the gloom.

He parked behind the barn, cut the engine and got out, armed with the wheelbrace. He ran back the way he’d come, listening for an approaching car, but all he could hear was some sporadic birdsong and the distant thrum of traffic.

The farmhouse seemed like the ideal place to hide Cate away until Dan had been captured. He felt sure she would be kept alive until the last possible moment: Jerry needed her as an insurance policy, as well as a source of information.

Now, having lost his target, what could Jerry do but come here and force his hostage to reveal Dan’s identity?

There was a hedge bordering the driveway. Dan managed to hide himself in a gap close to the gates. He crouched down, confident that he would be hard to spot in the growing darkness. He’d decided to wait here for fifteen minutes. If no one turned up he would search the property, and if that proved fruitless he’d have no option but to phone the police and tell them everything.

It was less than three minutes before he heard the engine, then saw the prowling lights of a car.

Stemper pulled up on the driveway and peered into the dark. The Corsa was nowhere to be seen. He’d lost sight of it fifteen minutes ago but had assumed it was heading this way. Had he got it wrong?

He picked up the gun, removed the magazine and checked how many shells remained: six. Plenty.

He looked around cautiously as he climbed out of the car. There was no sign of life, no lights on in the house. He opened the back door, untied the rope binding the woman’s feet, then moved to the other side, removed the hood and tore off the tape over her mouth. Caitlin spat and coughed, blinking in surprise that he had shown her his face again.

‘I was expecting to find your friend here,’ he said. ‘Clearly self-preservation overcame chivalry.’

Once he’d released the ropes, he hauled her out of the car. Cramp made her wince and gasp as she stood upright, stretching and flexing her muscles. Stemper kept one hand on the rope around her wrists, while the other held the gun at waist height.

‘My patience is running low,’ he said. ‘Who is he?’

‘Just one of Robbie’s friends.’

‘I saw him visit you yesterday afternoon. Think harder.’

A surly silence. He glanced at a line of bushes flanking the driveway. When he turned back Cate was shaking her head, a sudden defiance in her posture.

‘No. I’m not telling you.’

‘So you
do
know? That’s progress.’ He kicked the side of her knee. Her leg buckled and he forced her to the ground, driving the Glock into the back of her neck.

****

Cate felt the gun digging into her skin and thought:
This is my moment to die
.

She swallowed, took a breath. ‘You’re going to kill me anyway. Go ahead. But I won’t tell you. That way he wins, you lose.’

She forced her head up, turning so she had sight of the bland face gazing down at her, the pale eyes strangely expressionless, as if nothing ever truly mattered to him.

‘A fine speech, but I suspect your courage will be no match for the reality.’ A pause. ‘I can shoot you without killing you,’ he declared. ‘I can inflict half a dozen non-fatal wounds and still keep you conscious.’

She had the impression that the threat wasn’t intended for her ears. Sure enough, he spun and fired a shot into the bushes. Cate flinched, even though the noise was no louder than a click.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

Ignoring her, he called out: ‘I know you’re here. Are you prepared to see her suffer?’

****

Dan’s legs were starting to cramp, but he didn’t dare move an inch. The man – Jerry – had the gun aimed in his direction. The bullet had missed by a couple of feet; it was only when he heard it thudding into a tree that Dan understood he’d been shot at. If not for the silencer, the noise would almost certainly have freaked him into revealing his position.

Now he assessed the threat to Cate. She hadn’t been a prisoner in the house: Jerry had kept her with him all along. And if Dan was right about the gunman’s priorities, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her the moment that Dan showed himself.

Jerry was standing over Cate, some twenty feet away. The only weapon Dan had was the wheelbrace. He knew he couldn’t throw it with any accuracy; nor could he hope to get close enough to use it before Jerry opened fire.

The only option was to stay put and watch him carry out his threat, or take action, but accept that it was a suicide mission. At least Cate could use the distraction to make a run for it.

****

Cate realised that Dan must have come here after all. She had no idea why, but she wasn’t about to let this bastard kill them both. If she had to die, so be it, but she was going to die fighting.

Jerry was still staring at the bushes when she sprang up. Remembering how she’d made a mess of it earlier, she drove her head into his groin. Her arms were useless behind her back, so there was little chance of wrestling the gun away from him. All she could do was go on pushing forward and hope he would lose his footing and perhaps drop the gun as he fell.

****

Dan saw Cate fling herself at Jerry. She rammed her head into his midriff, driving him backwards, but although he stumbled he was better placed than Cate to keep his balance. He grabbed at her hair, meaning to take her with him if he went down.

As Dan burst from his hiding place Jerry struggled to raise the gun and let off a shot. It went past Dan at chest height, no more than inches away, and he was sure he felt its lethal power in the rush of displaced air.

But he kept on moving, head forward, the wheelbrace raised in his right hand. If he could cover the distance in time, he would take Jerry’s head off, even if it meant he ended up dead.

****

Cate turned to track the bullet’s trajectory, saw Dan and understood that Jerry was trying to get a better aim. She was already losing the battle to stay on her feet, but as her knees hit the ground she managed to throw her upper body against Jerry, clamping her mouth on his arm, just above the wrist.

She bit down with all her strength and felt skin split and tendons crush and blood begin to flow. She heard him scream and his other hand pushed against her forehead, his thumb seeking her eye socket, trying to blind her.

But he hadn’t dropped the gun. He let off three more shots, thankfully wasted, all of them driving into the ground a few yards away. And then Dan was on him, swinging some kind of metal bar, and Jerry twisted round, tearing his arm free of Cate’s mouth, and her teeth were dripping with hot blood as she collapsed and instinctively rolled to avoid smashing her face on the tarmac.

****

Dan’s swing was fast and strong but too well-telegraphed. Jerry dodged the worst of it, but still caught a heavy impact on his upper arm, the wheelbrace pounding against his bicep with a deep thwack. It should have knocked him off his feet but somehow he only reeled back, blood pouring down his other wrist from Cate’s attack.

He had dropped the gun. Both men saw it at the same moment, but Jerry was closer.