The Payback (37 page)

Except nothing happened. She was out of bullets. And Wise was escaping.

‘Shit!’ she yelled, realizing they were sitting ducks.

And then, with an almost superhuman effort, Milne tightened his grip on the case, regained his feet, and he and Tina lurched through the French windows and on to another veranda.

‘Get out of here, now!’ grunted Milne, his bone-white face contorted, as he stumbled over to the far balustrade.

Tina could see Wise running along a grass verge at the bottom of a flight of steps that ran down from the end of the veranda. She had to get him.

At that moment, the doors to the lounge were flung open and three Filipinos came charging into the room, all of them holding
guns. Seeing Tina, the first one fired, his bullet shattering glass.

Tina took one last look at Milne, saw him topple over the edge of the balustrade, still clutching the briefcase, and then, keeping her body as low as possible, she darted across the veranda in pursuit of Wise.

Wise had a head start of twenty yards, but he was middle-aged and out of shape, and Tina was fitter now than she’d been in years, a legacy of all that time in the gym. A year and a half ago she’d been walking with a slight limp, courtesy of the bullet in the foot she’d received from a man who was working for Paul Wise, but now her only reminder of the injury was a raised misshapen scar. Now she ran ten K three times a week.

Now she was running for her life.

And for payback.

She took the steps three at a time, jumped the last four, and sprinted along the narrow verge, with the wall of the villa on one side and a steep drop down to the tree line on the other. There was more shouting in Filipino from up on the veranda, and a shot cracked past her head. Holding her nerve, and trusting that handguns fired at moving targets in darkness were rarely accurate, she kept running, bursting through the tree line just as three more shots rang out in quick succession, ricocheting through the undergrowth.

The trees ended, to reveal a rectangular swimming pool sitting in the midst of a newly mown lawn, with views down to the sea cut out of the greenery. Wise was ten yards ahead of her, making for more trees on the other side. As her feet hit the flagstones by the pool’s edge, he looked over his shoulder, saw her, and tried to increase his pace.

But as he passed a summer house and ran through some palms into a secluded little copse with a love seat at one end, Tina caught up with him. Hearing her approach, Wise let out a desperate howl of terror, but it was too late. She leapt on his back, bringing him to the ground like a lion taking down a wildebeest.

He hit the grass hard and she flipped him over, raining punches down on his face as he begged for mercy, making no effort to resist, his eyes filling with tears.

‘I’m sorry!’ he wailed through the blood as she hit him again and again until finally her fists ached and all she could hear were his weak, tortured sobs and her laboured breathing.

She sat up straight then, keeping his arms pinned at his sides with her knees, looking down at him. His face was a bloody mess, his eyes already beginning to swell up. She knew she had to kill him. This was the moment she’d fantasized about a thousand times.

Yet something stopped her. The realization that she was a serving police officer, paid to uphold the law. That she couldn’t commit cold-blooded murder, whatever the provocation.

‘Please don’t do this,’ whispered Wise, his voice cracking. ‘I know I’ve done wrong, but even I don’t deserve this.’

She felt herself wavering. She couldn’t do it. Not with her bare hands. Not with anything.

And then she saw it. Two yards away, in the shadow of an acacia tree. A little mound of polished stones.

And then another, just the same, next to it.

‘Oh Jesus.’

This secluded copse with the love seat in one corner was a graveyard. It was the burial ground for Wise’s child victims, a place where he could sit and relive his experiences with those he’d murdered. Lene Haagen lay here. Other girls too. Tina would have ended up here if Wise had had his way.

He knew she knew. She could see it in his eyes.

‘Please . . .’ he begged.

But it was too late, because suddenly the rage came flooding back in a great avenging wave, and everything that Paul Wise had ever done – not just to her and to those close to her, but also to every poor child who would never go home because of his savage, twisted lusts – tore across her vision, and her hands clamped round his neck in a grip so tight that in that moment nothing could have broken it.

Wise kicked and bucked beneath her, but it did him no good. It was as if a madness had consumed Tina, and even as she watched his face go blue and his eyes widen as the last breaths were dragged from his body, she kept squeezing. Harder and harder, until the pain in her hands was almost unbearable. And even when he lay there unmoving, his tongue lolling obscenely from his mouth, she maintained her iron grip, repeatedly lifting his head from the ground and smacking it back down again, as if trying to expel all the evil that had festered within him.

It was only when she heard footfalls on the pool’s flagstones and turned to see one of the gunmen approaching that Tina realized she had to move. He hadn’t seen her yet, but he would in a few seconds. And suddenly she was reminded that Milne had armed the bomb and told her to run. It was possible that he was going to detonate it, in which case she had to get out. And fast.

The moment she got to her feet, the gunman saw her and raised the gun.

But Tina was faster. As he opened fire, she sprinted past the love seat and into the warm embrace of the forest, her legs going faster and faster as a strange euphoria overcame her. She’d done it. Paul Wise was dead, and she was going to make it out of here alive. She felt like laughing out loud.

She’d won.

And so now here I am, leaning back against a tree, the stars just about visible through the forest canopy. When I fell over the balustrade – five, ten, however many minutes ago – I toppled down a steep bank, rolling over and over, somehow remaining conscious and keeping hold of the case, until finally I stopped here. I’m hugging the briefcase to my chest, my thumb resting on the detonation button, and I’m amazed that I’ve lasted this long.

A steadily building coldness is enveloping me, and I can barely see. I know the gunmen who came here to buy the bomb are looking for me. I can hear them moving about in the bushes, shouting to each other in angry, panicked voices as they hunt for their prize.

They’re getting closer. I heard one a little while back fumbling about somewhere not far to my right. I kept quiet, wanting to give Tina as long as possible to get out. I hope she made it. And that she killed Wise. I have faith that she did. She was some woman. Probably the toughest I’ve ever met – and I’ve met a few in my time. It was a pleasure to know her, even if it was for barely
forty-eight hours. So much has happened in that time. My life has gone from thoughts of a long and contented retirement to thoughts of my imminent death.

And yet I feel strangely peaceful.

I take a deep breath and try to readjust my position against the tree so I’m more comfortable, but in the end, I just don’t have the strength.

I’m not sure if I’ve imagined it, but I’m pretty sure I just heard the sound of a boat’s engine in the distance, and I’m thinking that this means Tina’s got out. Immediately, I feel myself relax.

And I think back over my life. My childhood; my long, infuriating, but sometimes happy career as a copper. And then the descent into corruption that led me ultimately to this place, where I will die a lonely death.

And then I push such negative thoughts from my mind, and I think of Emma. But not what might have been if we’d stayed together. Instead I go back in time. To when I was eighteen years old. And I dream.

I dream of a different life. One in which after my A levels I didn’t become a copper but went to university. I dream that I got a degree and went travelling round the world. That I met Emma as a young woman somewhere beautiful, like here in the Philippines. Or maybe Thailand, where we did genuinely spend so much time together. I dream that we travelled together. Saw magnificent sights; shared incredible experiences; stood hand in hand at the top of mountains; kayaked down mighty rivers. Together. Always together. Until finally we settled down in the beautiful verdant hills of Laos where we ran our own business. I dream that we had children – two, a boy and a girl. Jack and Rosie. The names we’d always had in mind.

I dream that I’m walking up to our house in Luang Prabang,
having been away for a few days, and Emma’s on the doorstep, her auburn hair falling round her shoulders, wearing the white dress I used to love so much. And standing with her are our children, and they come running to greet me. And I dream that I take them in my arms and squeeze them tight, because they are so, so precious to me. And then, still carrying them, I walk over to Emma, and we kiss and stare into each other’s eyes. And I can see the love radiating out at me, and I know that I’m radiating it in return, because she really is the most beautiful woman in the world, and I really am the luckiest man . . .

And then a dark shadow falls across my vision, and the shadow’s holding a gun, and I press the button with the last of my strength.

And dream of nothing.

When Tina heard the blast, she was on the boat and already several hundred yards out to sea, having hotwired the engine in the absence of any keys.

As she turned towards the noise, she caught a bright flash illuminating the night sky, followed by a second loud boom as the shock waves carried across the sea towards her. A moment later, a huge fire erupted where Paul Wise’s villa had been, and thick black smoke poured upwards into the sky.

Tina’s first thought was practical. There were other people on the island, and they were going to have to be evacuated. She still had her mobile on her and she pulled it from her shorts pocket. There was a decent reception, and she racked her brains, trying to work out who to phone. Then it came to her. Scrolling down the list of her outgoing calls, she found the number for the
Manila Post
, and dialled it.

As soon as the call was answered at the other end, Tina explained that there’d been a bomb with a radioactive leak, gave the location, and told the person to contact Alan Cheesman in the
Defense Attaché Office at the US Embassy and repeat what he’d just been told. Then she hung up, switched off the phone and threw it into the sea. It was a pay-as-you-go model, not registered in her name, so there’d be no way of tracing it, or the call, back to her. Tina had long ago learned to cover her tracks.

She steered the boat round the headland, careful to dodge the rocks Milne had shown her earlier, before accelerating again when she rounded the southern point of the island, wanting to put as much distance between her and the bomb site as possible. She tried not to think about the man who’d just detonated it, saving her own life as well as those of God knows how many others, because she knew that if she did, she’d break down. When it had come to it, Milne had been there for her. There were few people in her life whom Tina could say that about.

And now he was gone.

So was the euphoria at finally killing Wise. Now she just felt drained, shocked, and vaguely depressed.

Taking a deep breath and steeling herself against the emotions threatening to overwhelm her, she set a course for the bright lights of the mainland, and thought about home.

‘Are you ready?’ asked Mike Bolt, poking his head round the door of the interview room.

‘They’re letting me go, are they?’

‘Believe it or not, yes. And it took a hell of a lot of string pulling, I can promise you.’

Tina got to her feet, picking up the bag containing the few possessions she had left from her journey to Manila. ‘Thanks, Mike. I really appreciate it.’

‘Christ, Tina,’ he said, moving aside to let her through. ‘You really are incapable of doing anything by the book, aren’t you? The way you get into these scrapes doesn’t help anyone. Least of all you.’

‘All I’ve ever wanted was justice,’ said Tina obstinately, following him down the empty corridor, unable to stomach the idea of a lecture from Mike about all her faults, even though she knew he had a pretty sizeable point.

Mike gave her a sidewards glance. ‘I’m sure that’s what Dennis Milne used to say.’

Tina sighed but didn’t say anything. She wasn’t going to rise to the bait. Not after close to a week of resisting it.

After she’d fled the island that night, she’d managed to get back to the mainland and the port city of Batangas without getting intercepted by any of the police boats coming out of the city in the direction of where the bomb had exploded. She’d docked the boat on a deserted stretch of waterfront east of the city. Unable to locate the Toyota she and Milne had travelled down in, she’d managed to get a cab to take her back to Manila, and found a private hospital where they’d cleaned her up and stitched the deep scalpel cut on her cheek. Finally, she’d holed up in a small hotel where she spent the rest of the night watching live news reports covering the explosion on Verde Island.