Nick Oldham - A Time For Justice

And now, to compound all that, he’d made a third mistake by letting it slip to Kovaks that he knew about Damian’s leave to his mother’s in Clearwater.

Kovaks was very sharp: the chances were that he was probably meditating on that same disclosure at this very minute. Drastic measures were required — and these could include the sudden deaths of another Special Agent and a fingerprint expert.

Something was bugging Joe Kovaks, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He filtered through everything that had happened during the day: the visit to Laura, Tommo’s infantile remarks, Damian’s phone call, Ram Chander’s appearance.

What the hell was it?

Twenty minutes later he still didn’t have the answer. This is no good, he thought. I’m getting nowhere fast. He decided to take the rest of the day off. Give Chrissy a surprise.

He replaced the Corelli surveillance logs into a file and tucked it under his arm. He would take them home and study them there with a beer in his hand. Removing any official documents from the building, unless approved, was strictly against Bureau rules. But like most of the rules, Kovaks thought they were bullshit and often flouted them.

On the way home he would call in and see Laura, pep her up and discuss his idea of where to waste Corelli.

As he stepped into the elevator, the phone on his desk started to ring. He did not hear it.

Kovaks rubbed his temples wearily and stood up. He walked across to the large picture window of the apartment. From it there was a fine view of one of the inlets of the intracoastal waterway which ran up behind Fort Lauderdale. Yachts, motor boats, power boats, craft of all sizes and descriptions were moored there.

But Kovaks’ mind was not on the splendid vista. It was concentrated solely on the violent death — not before time — of Corelli.

Was this really the right way?

Using Laura, a no-hoper, who had never really done anyone any harm — could he live with that? Using her, knowing that she would almost certainly die.

The problem was that he’d known her before she became a drug user and a prostitute, and he could clearly remember her as a spirited, pretty and more or less honest girl. Given time, trouble and patience she could return to her former self.

But there was no time.

She had to do it soon. Corelli had to be wasted. Delay meant more lives destroyed.

Kovaks had purchased the murder weapon — a two-inch-barrelled Smith amp; Wesson model 31, Regulation Police, 32 calibre. It was just under 7 inches long and weighed 22 oz when empty. Laura needed to get in close and that meant a pistol or revolver, of a size and calibre she could hide and handle easily. And it had to be powerful enough to do the job. It was a wonderful gun to handle, though Kovaks found it too light for himself.

Laura had taken to the gun well. She knew a lot about them anyway. She’d spent their last session together practising, walking up to a lampshade with the empty gun tucked into her waistband, then drawing and pumping six imaginary shells into Corelli’s head.

She found it very exciting. She wanted to do it for real.

‘ You must say nothing,’ Kovaks coached her. ‘You stroll up to him like it’s a normal Sunday afternoon. Look relaxed. Smile. Pull the gun out at the last possible moment and shoot the bastard. Throw it down, turn and run. I’ll be outside in a car waiting for you.’ This lie almost stuck in his throat. ‘Don’t worry about the layout of the place yet. We’ll go there for a meal ourselves a couple of times beforehand and find out where he usually sits. Now… squeeze the trigger. Yes, like that. Don’t pull it.’

Kovaks didn’t hear Chrissy emerge from the bedroom. She padded barefoot and silent up to him, wearing a short nightshirt which only just managed to cover her. She touched his sleeve. He jumped.

‘ Hi,’ she said. ‘What’re you shaking your head for?’

‘ Oh nothing, just pondering.’

She slid an arm around his waist. It was as though a shock of electric current had passed through him. Surprised, but happy, he draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him.

She smiled.

He couldn’t believe it: a smile. He was almost overwhelmed with joy.

‘ I’ve been pretty awful to live with these past few months,’ she admitted.

‘ You’ve had good enough reason. It hasn’t been a problem.’ It was a brave attempt at a lie.

‘ Oh yes, it has,’ she insisted. She put her other arm around him and squeezed. ‘You’ve been so good to me. I’m a lucky lady. You’ve put up with me and my moods and my medical needs, stayed with me through everything, no complaining, nothing. I’m very grateful to you, Joe.’

‘ You don’t have to be grateful. It’s my job — I love you.’

‘ Do you? Even now, with a face like this and a chest that looks like a burned turkey dinner?’

‘ Honey,’ he told her tenderly, looking straight into her eyes, ‘I’ll admit that initially I was attracted by your looks, but I fell in love with the person behind them. I fell in love with the way you talk, the way you drag your feet, the way you have an answer for everything and a million more things. I’m still in love with that person, even if she is a bit burned.’

She swallowed. Her eyes became moist. ‘I thought you’d leave. I was terrified you’d go. I wouldn’t have blamed you.’

‘ Don’t be a dork. I love you.’ He spelled it out.

‘ I love you too, Joe.’

‘ Well, that’s all right then.’

One of her hands went to the back of his neck and pulled his head down towards hers. They kissed. A tingle of excitement made Kovaks curl up his toes. It was their first real kiss for many months. Slowly their lips parted and became wet and they began to explore each other’s mouths, tongues intertwining, sliding around each other like snakes.

‘ Joe, Joe,’ said Chrissy, breaking off, slightly breathless. ‘We need to make love.’

‘ I’ll second that.’ He bent down and scooped her up into his arms. Moments later they were on the bed and she was tugging hungrily at the belt on his trousers.

The next time Henry Christie looked at a clock it was 11.30 p.m. He had been busy all day setting up the incident room in the gymnasium at Lancaster police station. Then together with Karen and Donaldson he had brainstormed the lines of enquiry their team of detectives were going to follow the next day.

Henry was alone now; the other two had gone home. This was the last chance they would have for some time to get a good night’s sleep. He stood with his hands on his hips in front of the whiteboard upon which all their ideas had been scribbled down. There was a lot to go at. Tomorrow would be an even longer day.

Then he thought: Tomorrow — Christ! My day off!

He picked up a phone and dialled a sleepy-sounding Kate.

‘ Sorry,’ he apologised. ‘I know it’s late. I would’ve phoned earlier but I didn’t get a chance.’

‘ No, no, ‘sokay,’ she mumbled.

‘ About tomorrow,’ he began haltingly.

‘ You’re not coming, are you? I thought as much… er, I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I’ve seen the news, it’s a dreadful business.’

‘ Yeah,’ he said, stifling a yawn of his own. ‘I’m well involved in the investigation, so you’re right, I won’t be able to come round. You do understand, don’t you?’

‘ Yes,’ she said.

‘ I have to catch this bastard before he catches me,’ he said bleakly. ‘I think I may have to kill him.’

‘ Henry, that sounds rather dramatic.’

‘ He’s made it personal, love. He said he’s coming for me.’

‘ Christ,’ she breathed.

‘ Kate, I love you,’ he said. ‘When this is all really over, let’s get back together. No more talking, let’s just do it.’