D. Mitchell - The King of Terrors

‘If you’re after Evelyn Carter then you’re wasting your time,’ said Lambert-Chide. ‘The woman in there is probably nothing more than a con artist and the man a dupe.’

‘Whatever,’ she said absently. She looked at her watch. ‘Tremain should be here soon.’

‘So what do you want with them?’ he asked.

‘That’s my business.’

‘Did Doradus send you?’

She stared at him, unblinking. ‘Which part of my business don’t you understand?’

‘Look,’ he said. ‘We can come to some arrangement. There is nothing here that can’t be resolved in an amicable and mutually beneficial way.’ Her expression remained implacable. ‘Don’t harm them. Don’t kill them. Not yet. Let me do what I must with them, and if they’re impostors I’ll kill them; if they are genuine, let me finish my work and then I’ll hand them over to you. You can do with them what you will then. Look, I’ll pay well to keep them. What’s your price? Name it you can have it.’

‘A higher calling,’ she reiterated vaguely.

They both raised their heads to the sound of footsteps down the corridor, and observed Tremain’s unmistakable form striding towards them. As he drew closer it was easy to read the mild annoyance he was feeling at being disturbed at such an hour. He frowned on seeing Caroline at Lambert-Chide’s side.

‘What’s going on?’ he demanded. Something made him suspicious. A hunch. Years of training. He didn’t know what it was, but something didn’t feel right. Before he could make a move towards the weapon he carried Caroline had raised her gun.

‘Slow down, Tremain. Don’t do anything too hasty.’ She held out her hand. First hand me the gun — gently — then your swipe card to get through this door.

Tremain passed his gun over, speechless.

‘My offer still stands,’ said Lambert-Chide.

‘The money or Tremain’s job?’ she asked, next taking the card from Tremain.

Tremain’s brows lowered. His cheeks flushed as fury built up.

‘Both,’ said Lambert-Chide. ‘If you want them.’

Caroline paused, cocked her head in thought. ‘You know what, your working conditions suck.’

She swiped the card in the lock and green lights flicked on with a buzz.

He rose quickly to his feet on hearing the door lock’s distinctive click, and saw the door begin to open. This was his chance, he thought, his heart beginning to crash wildly in anticipation.

‘Maybe we could rush them,’ he said, but she reached up and grabbed his wrist, anchoring him firmly.

‘Don’t risk it,’ Erica said. ‘I know these people.’

It was Tremain who entered the room first, but Gareth noted how his face was different; the mocking self-assuredness had been wiped away, replaced, he thought, by tight-lipped edginess. The reason became immediately apparent; there was a gun being held to the back of his head.

‘Inside,’ said a voice very familiar to him.

Tremain was followed closely by Lambert-Chide, both men avoiding eye contact with the prisoners. Erica got up, but her grip didn’t loosen on Gareth’s wrist. He peeled her fingers away. ‘The bitch is back!’ he said, when the red hair and leather jacket of Caroline Cody appeared in the doorway. The comment didn’t appear to register with her.

‘Right, Tremain, I want you over there, by the far wall.’ Caroline gave him a hefty prod with the gun as additional encouragement. As Tremain did as he was told, the gun swung in a fast arc to settle on Gareth and Erica. They stared anxiously at the weapon.

‘Don’t harm them!’ pleaded Lambert-Chide one last time.

‘Give it a rest,’ she fired back in return. ‘Well you two, are you going to stop gawping and get your arses over here?’ she said, frustrated.

‘Don’t trust her,’ warned Gareth, feeling his stomach tightening like a twisted rope on seeing her again.

She rolled her eyes impatiently. ‘I’m busting you out,’ she said. ‘Get over here. You too, lady.’

‘You expect me to fall for that again?’ he said.

‘You have no other choice.’

‘I trusted you once before and look where it landed me.’

‘Then you’ll just have to fire up your trust again, won’t you?’

Erica came forward. ‘I know you,’ she said quietly.

‘Not me, lady,’ said Caroline.

Tremain’s face had been changing shades, from an angry red to a volcanic puce. ‘I’m going to kill you, you bitch!’ he snarled. ‘Wherever you go I’m going to find you, and then I’m going to watch you die for this.’

Caroline handed over Tremain’s gun to Erica. ‘I know you’re familiar with using these,’ she said. She nodded at Lambert-Chide. ‘Cover him. He may be over ninety but he’s as sharp as a needle and as slippery as a grease-covered banker. I have to take care of some unfinished business with Tremain here.’ The tone of her voice had changed dramatically, dropping instantly from cold to Siberian winter. She went over to him and put the gun to his forehead. Tremain didn’t flinch, his eyes twin balls of loathing. ‘You think I won’t use this, don’t you, Tremain?’

‘You know you won’t,’ he said.

‘You’re wrong. I came here for two reasons. Number two was to get these guys out of your filthy clutches. Number one was to settle an old score. I came to kill you.’

Something in her threat caused Tremain’s self-assurance to weaken. He felt the barrel of the gun press deeper into the skin of his forehead, saw how the knuckles of the woman’s hand whitened.

‘Who are you?’ he said.

‘I’m here on behalf of an old friend of yours,’ she said. ‘You might know her, since you murdered her.’

‘You’re crazy,’ he said, wincing at the discomfort.

‘Crazy? Yeah, maybe you’re right. On your knees, Tremain.’ He gave an obstinate shake of the head. Caroline lashed the gun across his face and he uttered a grunt of pain. He dropped to his knees, blood beginning to drip in a scarlet rivulet from a gash on his cheek. Caroline went calmly around to the back of the man, the gun now pressed against the base of his skull. There appeared to be no emotion in her face; even her eyes looked glassy and lifeless.

The lack of feeling was the frightening thing, like she was on automatic. Gareth had no doubt in his mind that she was going to make real her threat. ‘Jesus, Caroline! What are you doing? You can’t kill a man in cold blood!’

‘No? Watch me.’

‘Don’t do this,’ said Erica, holding out a pleading hand. ‘She wouldn’t have wanted you to do this. If you do you’ll only bring yourself down to their sick level.’

Caroline’s head flashed up, and Gareth thought he detected the tiniest glint of a tear in her eye; or perhaps he wanted it to be there. Her hand was undoubtedly trembling. ‘This man murdered my mother!’ she revealed.

Erica’s voice was calm. ‘Don’t do it, Caroline. Please, don’t let there be any more killing.’

‘You remember her, Tremain? Remember the woman you murdered? She was my mother,’ said Caroline. ‘Stephanie Jacobs. Doctor Stephanie Jacobs. Sound familiar?’

There was a moment’s silence as Tremain absorbed the words. ‘Yeah, I knew her. She was killed in a car accident. Hit a lamppost. Died outright.’

‘Hit a lamp post,’ she echoed. ‘Whilst running away from your goons. And it wasn’t outright, was it, Tremain? You helped it along, as she sat there unconscious and helpless. She might have been saved, but you couldn’t allow that to happen, could you? You killed her to keep her quiet and now I’m here to settle the score.’

‘Caroline,’ said Erica, taking a step closer to the distraught woman, ‘Your mother was a good woman. She was the only one who showed me any kindness. She gave her life rescuing me. Don’t soil her name, her memory, by killing Tremain, no matter how much you think he deserves it. I beg you, Caroline.’