Nick Oldham - Dead Heat

‘A source?’ asked Henry.

‘As I said — can’t say.’

Henry understood. Informants were fickle things. Getting them was like playing a trout on the fly. More often than not, they swam away never to be lured again. ‘What about Phillipa Bottram?’

Donaldson snorted, disgusted. ‘That bitch — ’ he almost spat the word — ‘as good as pulled the trigger on Zeke herself, and what happened? Ill-health pension.’

Henry snorted too. ‘The FBI sounds just like our lot.’

‘No cojones. She’s back home in the States, free as a bird. No blemish on her character. Not what you know, but who you know. She’s well in with the top political brass, I figure. . or is that me being cynical, but if I’d done what she’d done, my testicles would be stuck down my throat by now.’ Donaldson’s face mirrored his feelings.

‘Outrageous.’

‘We’re pretty sure the hit man’s killed at least two more people for Mendoza since. One in France, one in Andorra.’

‘Any leads?’

Donaldson shook his head. ‘It’s the weapon that links them, same as the one used for Zeke and Cragg. Your — Lancashire’s, that is — investigation is widening. Lots of trips to exotic locations for your boys. Barcelona and Paris, France, to name but two.’

‘Could’ve been me jetting off,’ Henry said wistfully. ‘Not to be, though.’ He rolled his eyes as he thought about what he was missing. Not just the ‘jollys’, as they called them, but the cut and thrust of high-profile inquiries. ‘But, I have been asked to do a bit of investigating work on the side for the mother of a friend of Leanne’s.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah and whilst it’s hardly international stuff, it might be a bit of something to do, have some fun.’ He drained his pint and did a time check. He looked at his and his companion’s empty glass. ‘At least two more, I reckon.’ He gathered them up. ‘Same again?’

Deep in the undergrowth, Verner smiled to himself as he looked through the night sights. He was enjoying himself because this was just a bit different from the usual stuff he was paid to do. It was fun and easy and for once, although this did not make any difference to him in the least, no one was going to get hurt. Only animals. Only horses. The people would just get a scare.

It was 9 p.m. He watched the security guard saunter boredly around the stables some 200 metres away from his position.

From where he was, on a hill to the south of the stables, he had a good view across the main yard, which was open at one side, but with stable blocks on the other three sides. Each stable door was now locked and bolted, the hired stable-lad having carried out this task an hour earlier, then left for home. Each horse was now locked up and safe for the night.

He watched the security guard walk from door to door, trying each lock. Then he spun his view around to the main house, again a good 200 metres away to his left. Lights blazed at most windows, the family at home. Not a problem, thought Verner.

The sound of the engine starting up made him arc the night sights back to the stables. It was the security guard driving away in his van, the ‘Wickson Security’ logo on the side of it. He watched the van drive past the front of the main house, then down the long driveway to the main road.

Now the yard was still. The fluorescent yellow lights shone brightly.

Verner relaxed and thought about the hours to come.

His orders were to up the stakes tonight. So far, things had been pretty mild. ‘Put the fear of God into them,’ he had been instructed.

He thought about the horses he had hurt previously. And smiled. He enjoyed hurting. He enjoyed killing, too. But hurting was like a sport, a pastime, whereas killing was a profession.

Hurting had been fun. He had wondered what it would be like to hurt a horse, wondered if he would actually have disliked doing it, hurting a poor, dumb, defenceless creature. But it had been excellent because they were not actually dumb enough not to show terror in their eyes. As he’d slashed them, their expressions had been glorious to behold.

Tonight, though, he had been told to go one step further.

The pair made it back with about thirty seconds to spare — just at the point where the ladies were getting a little agitated and the children, because it was late and they were tired, fractious.

Kate and Henry stood at the door and waved Karl and his family off. As the 4x4 turned out of sight, Henry slid his arm around Kate’s slim waist and planted a kiss on the side of her face.

She pulled away from him slightly.

‘Drink equals friskiness with you, doesn’t it?’

‘Not necessarily,’ he said, mocking offence. Then, ‘OK — yes it does.’

They closed the front door and melted into each other’s arms. ‘It’s a good job I’ve had half a bottle of Blossom Hill red then, isn’t it?’ Her face tilted up. He kissed her slowly, gently, deliberately.

‘Think we’ve got time to. . y’know? Before the girls get back?’

‘Is it going to be a slowie or a quickie?’

‘Long and slow. . I’ve had a drink, remember?’

She gulped. ‘Even if they come back, they wouldn’t interrupt us, would they?’

‘Wouldn’t dare.’ Henry took her hand and led her upstairs, feeling very frisky indeed.

The chill of the night did not bother Verner. He had been in far colder, more uncomfortable places.

It was an hour since the security patrol had left. At the main house, some lights had been turned off, leaving only the main lounge and one bedroom light on. The time was slowly approaching. His watch said 10.17.

There was some movement in the stable yard. Quickly he put the night sights to his eyes.

It was a teenage girl, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt top. She was edging her way around the yard, keeping to the shadows. What the hell was she up to? And who the hell was she? He could not quite get a sharp focus on her face, but he kept the glasses held firmly to his eyes, watching her movements. It was obvious she was trying to keep unseen. She dashed quickly across the yard, then back into the darkness of the stables. Verner could clearly see her at the door of one of the loose boxes. She was messing with the lock. Suddenly the door opened and she went inside, closing it behind her.

‘Shit,’ Verner breathed to himself. A delay, maybe a complication. What was she up to? He breathed out, relaxed, waited.

Ten minutes later she emerged, locking the stable door behind her. She paused, rushed across the yard and disappeared behind the building that was the tack room. Verner next picked her up in his sights as she ran towards the main house.

Twenty minutes after that, the security patrol car re-entered the grounds and parked in the middle of the stable yard. The driver got out and checked each stable door carefully, then left.

Security sure is tight, Verner thought.

Henry’s promise to Kate came true. Their lovemaking was long and sensual, not always slow, sometimes fast and furious and with abandon, but always — always — with love and respect. It was as though he and Kate had just invented sex. It reminded him of the times all the years before when they were courting and then newly wed when they went for it at every opportunity — and they were determined to enjoy it to the full today.

When their daughters arrived home together, Henry slowed down to a stop, remaining deep inside Kate, who, with mischief, used her internal muscles to drive him wild, making Henry gasp with pleasure.

‘Oi,’ he warned her.

‘What?’ she said innocently.

Jenny shouted, ‘Good night you two — we know what you’re doing!’ The girls giggled naughtily, then went to their respective bedrooms.

Henry and Kate laughed quietly. Sex had never been so much fun for them.