Paul Johnson - The Death List

I took a shower, dressed and went down the corridor to find the others.

“’Morning, Andy,” I said, drawing gold-embroidered curtains and looking out over a huge expanse of lawn. “How are you feeling?” Last night he’d been a bit woozy from the drugs he’d been given in hospital.

“I’ll survive, man,” he said, touching the dressing on his upper chest gingerly. “God knows how, but the blade missed the lot-heart, lungs and major arteries. I’ve always been a lucky son of a bitch.” His expression darkened. “I’m going to get that little fuck in the mask.”

“No, you’re not. He’s mine.”

He laughed. “Like you could take anyone out. You’re a winger, a flyboy. Did you spend the night screwing Bonehead?”

I put my finger to my lips. All we needed now was to be turfed out of our temporary refuge. Andy wasn’t really a homophobe and he hadn’t voted against the Bisons’ onetime benefactor, but he could scarcely be classed as one of nature’s diplomats.

“Come on, then,” he said, pulling on a dressing gown. “I’m starving.” He headed off downstairs.

I put my head round Rog’s door. He was at the computer, his bed undisturbed. “Jesus, have you been at it all night, Dodger?” I asked

He glanced round and nodded, his eyes ringed in black.

“Any luck?”

“Sort of.”

I went over and looked at the heaps of printouts. The pages were covered in numbers. I picked one up. “Manston Investment Bank, British Virgin Islands?”

“Yup.” Rog pushed his chair back and stretched his arms. “I’ll tell you something, Matt. This guy’s bloody smart.”

“You’re tracing him via his financial transactions?”

He nodded. “Starting off was easy enough. Leslie Dunn paid the check that was made out to him into an ordinary account. I tracked it down pretty quickly.” He thrust a printout at me. “You see the deposit? Nine and a half million, September 24, 2001.”

“You hacked into the bank’s system?”

He shrugged. “Piece of piss. The thing is, he soon started shifting his newfound wealth all over the place. Mainly offshore accounts. Now they really are tricky to get into, but…well, you know how good I am.”

I slapped him on the back, harder than he expected.

“Ow, that hurt.”

“Get on with it.”

He turned back to the screen. “There are deposits in Jersey, in the British Virgin Islands, in various dodgy South American countries, even in Cuba.” His head dropped. “The problem is, the accounts are all code-numbered in the databases. No names appear anywhere.” He grunted. “So that people like me can’t find out how much has been squirreled away by bent politicians, rock stars and supposedly honest businessmen like Boney.”

“What about the National Lottery system?”

Rog bit his lip. “I’ve had several goes at that. It really is a bastard.”

I squeezed his shoulder. “Come on, you need to eat and sleep. You can try again later.”

We went downstairs and found Bonehead and Andy shouting abuse at each other across the kitchen table.

“-and my old dad knows more about bloody cooking than you ever will, you Yankee-”

“Boys, boys,” I said, raising my arms. “We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

“Oh yeah,” Andy muttered.

I glared at him. “In case it’s escaped your notice, you’re eating this man’s bacon and sausages. At least hold off putting the boot into him till you’ve finished breakfast.”

Our host grinned combatively. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Matt.”

“I know you don’t,” I said, sitting down next to him. “But I might be needing you to do that for me.” I glanced at the other two. “We’ve got to get this guy before he tracks me down. If he gets me, then Lucy, Sara, Dave, his family, maybe you are next. Are you with me?”

The three of them took less than a second to respond positively, with a worrying amount of enthusiasm.

“What do you want me to do?” Bonehead asked, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke at Andy.

“Can you take a look at the financial trail Rog has found? You know about that kind of stuff. Maybe we can find the Devil’s new name that way. That’ll free Rog up to concentrate on the lottery archive.”

“Why?” Andy asked, looking puzzled. “Won’t the bastard’s old name be the only one in there?”

“That’s right,” Rog said wearily. “But even people who request privacy are asked to give a forwarding address so that they can be passed messages. It’s amazing how many friends and relatives lottery winners suddenly find they have.”

“Yeah, but surely this guy would just have given a fake one,” Andy said.

I shrugged. “Maybe. But you never know. He might have had a long-lost cousin he always fancied. It’s worth a try, anyway.” I looked at Rog. “After you’ve had a kip.”

He shook his head and poured himself more coffee. “Nah, I’m okay. I want to get this finished. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit worried about Dave.”

Bonehead laughed. “You’re worried about Psycho Cummings? You must be joking.”

Rog grinned. “The poor bloke will be in hell. He’s shacked up somewhere with Ginny the Sour and kids, not to mention Wellsy’s Lucy, and he’s not allowed to play with his demolition machines. He’ll be going round the bend.”

That provoked a round of laughter. Ginny Cummings had never been popular with the lads. Then again, I don’t suppose Caroline had been, either. That was one reason why I hadn’t been bothered about not introducing them to Sara. It was a rule of life that most people learned too late-whatever they might pretend, lovers and mates rarely get on.

I went out to the hall and called my mother on Pete’s line. She had her phone turned off again. I needed to have a serious conversation with her about that. Before I could get back to the kitchen, my mobile rang.

“Matt, you all right?”

“Hiya, Dave. We were just talking about you.”

“All good, I hope.” He paused. “Who’s we?”

I told him where I was and in whose company. “Christ, good thought, lad,” Dave said. “Bonehead’ll look after you. And he’s got such a lovely complexion.”

“Shut up, you idiot. How’s Lucy?”

“Fine. She’s been asking after you.”

I didn’t have it in me to talk to my little girl. I wanted to keep her as far from the Devil’s filth as I could. “Tell her I’ve had to go on a trip, with her mother, and that we’ll be back soon.” I hated to get Lucy’s hopes up about Caroline and me, but it was the only way I could think of to keep her happy.

“Um, Matt?”

It was obvious that Dave wanted something. “Spit it out.”

“The thing is, I’ve got a big job on today. Old house in Orpington. It’s worth a lot of money.”

“Can’t you get your guys to do it without you?” I asked, my heart sinking.

“Not really, mate. They’re headless chickens.” Dave was like a terrier-he always got his way in the end.

I thought about it. I couldn’t see how the Devil could have tracked Dave. “All right,” I said reluctantly. “But be careful you aren’t followed back from the job, yeah? And remember not to use your old mobile again.”

There was silence on the line.

“Tell me you haven’t used it, Dave,” I said, my heart well and truly sunk.

“Sorry, Matt. I had to check my messages. Some of them were to do with the job today.”

I closed my eyes. What had he done? Could the Devil have been monitoring him out of London? On balance, it was pretty improbable. “All right,” I said. “Just don’t use it again. Take care.”

“Aye, you too. What are you doing?”

“Need-to-know basis only, Dave,” I said, and cut the connection.