Pauline Rowson - In for the Kill

Miles was Andover. I was in the corridor when Scarlett called after me.

‘I can’t stop now,’ I shouted back.

‘You might like to know your friend Ray called.’

I’d almost forgotten about him. That was quick. I halted. ‘And?’

‘He said it’s drugs and it’s not Jamie but Joanne.

She nearly got done six years ago but got off the charge. Some clever bugger lawyer were his words. Fits your friend quite nicely, don’t you think?’

Oh, indeed it did. I rushed towards her, took her face in my hands and kissed her. Before she could respond I had gone. Westnam, Couldner and Brookes – all with a secret they didn’t want exposed. Who would they have told their secrets too? Who could they have trusted? There were only two answers to that question: a priest and a clever bugger lawyer. If I needed confirmation that Miles was Andover this was it. But knowing it didn’t mean I knew where my family was, or that I would get them safely away from Rowde’s clutches. I did know where Miles was though.

I drove through the empty streets as fast as I could praying there were no traffic cops about.

When I reached the curve in Embankment Road I saw his car. Parking behind it I climbed out, my fists clenched, my body rigid with anger. At last I was going to meet Andover face to face.

Finally I was going to learn the truth. With a quickening heartbeat I pushed back the door of my houseboat and stepped inside.

CHAPTER 17

Spread out before Miles were my mother’s diaries and jewellery. He looked up surprised, then smiled warily. My instinct was to rush at him and beat the truth from him, but I wasn’t certain I would be able to stop myself from killing him. With difficulty I controlled my raging anger.

There were questions that I needed answers to first. Like where were my family?

‘You won’t find what you’re looking for there,’

I said, tautly.

‘What? Oh sorry, didn’t mean to pry. I was curious. It was rude of me.’ His green eyes were scrutinising me. ‘What are you doing back here?’

He was still trying to be friendly. He hadn’t yet worked out that I knew. Time to enlighten him.

‘I reckoned that Rowde had Vanessa and the boys on the Island. Where are they, Miles?’ I crossed to stand opposite him.

‘How should I know?’ He pulled himself up to face me.

‘Because you asked Rowde to kidnap them.’

His surprise was so genuine that I doubted myself. Then I told myself that Miles was a consummate actor. He had to be to have fooled the courts, the police and me all these years.

‘Why did you frame me? Is it really because my mother betrayed your grandfather? Seems a bit ridiculous to me.’ I spoke with what I hoped was calculated contempt. I saw just a flicker of anger flash in his eyes. He made to speak, then decided against it.

‘You also killed Deeta so that Steven could be accused of murder. You got your own back on Percy too. He’s dead by the way. You’re Andover, Miles, and you framed me for something that happened to your grandfather almost seventy years ago. For the sake of revenge you killed my mother and stripped me of everything I owned and loved. You destroyed my life.’ My fists clenched. The blood pounded in my head. I willed myself not to strike him. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed.

Miles looked as though he was about to deny it. If he did I knew I wouldn’t be able to contain myself any longer.

He said, ‘How did you find out?’

‘Joanne Brookes, drug smuggling charge, some clever bugger lawyer got her off.’

‘And you’ve put it all together from that?’

‘And this.’ I held out the photograph. ‘Your grandfather, I believe: Hugo Wildern. I take it you killed Joe before I could get to him and you took my file from the warehouse?’

I could see him weighing it up: truth or more lies. In the end he saw he didn’t really have a choice. He sat down. ‘Your file didn’t contain much but I couldn’t take the risk. Joe gave me the reports, but I wasn’t sure if he had kept copies. As it was, I needn’t have bothered.’

Jesus! The arrogance of the man. ‘And Darren?

The man in the warehouse? Did you kill him?’

Miles didn’t answer. He didn’t have to; I could see that he had.

I said, ‘I know Joanne Brookes was into drug smuggling at one time and that you managed to get the charges dropped but what about Westnam and Couldner? What were their secrets?’

I forced myself to sit opposite him and emulate his causal manner whilst my heart was screaming kill him, beat him to a pulp. My mind, however, was racing, wondering how this might get me to my family. Was Rowde working alone? I needed to find out and quickly. I could see though I wouldn’t be able to hurry Miles.

‘I suppose there’s no harm in your knowing now. Westnam left a banker’s dinner early. I was there. He was drunk. On his way home on a quiet country road he knocked over and badly injured a woman. He couldn’t afford the scandal.

He called me. I collected him and took him home to bed. I told the police that I had been talking to Westnam and that he and I had been together at the time of the incident. The car had been stolen and flashed up.’

‘When it hadn’t. And Couldner?’

‘We were at a party at Couldner’s managing director’s house. Couldner got carried away with the MD’s daughter. She was fifteen. He always did like them young. I told the girl that if she breathed a word about it, her father would be dismissed.’

I wanted to hit him hard. With difficulty I contained my fury and disgust. I couldn’t afford to rattle him. Prison had trained me well. If Miles attacked me I guessed I could give as good as I got, but I wasn’t going to take any chances yet.

Not until Vanessa and my sons were safe. And if I couldn’t find my family on time…? If Miles wouldn’t tell me where they were…? Then I had to keep that meeting with Rowde.

Miles said, ‘How did you find out about Joanne Brookes?’

‘I’ve got contacts too, Miles. Who told you about your grandfather?’

‘It was a coincidence really. Life is full of them.

It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? I think it was meant to be. I saw it as justice. Fate had put it within my grasp and I couldn’t ignore it, Alex.’

‘You’ll be telling me you hear voices next.’

Miles lips twitched but his eyes glared. Why hadn’t I seen before how mad he was? The answer was because he had defended me with passion and vigour, because he was my friend.

My only friend, after all the others faded away.

And I had needed a friend so badly.

Miles said, ‘I was defending the usual thug on a charge of manslaughter. It was about fifteen years ago. His grandfather was in court and he came up to me after I got his beloved grandson off. He said, “You must be related to Hugo Wildern. I’ll never forget him. You look so alike.” I told him he must be mistaken. My grandfather’s name was Baxter. But when my mother died about two months after that I was going through her papers and I found a letter from Amelia, my grandmother, to Hugo.

‘I found the old man and asked him what he knew of Hugo. He told me he’d been in the prison service during the war when Hugo had been arrested for treason in 1940. He said that Hugo always maintained he was not a German spy but nobody believed him. Hugo told him that he had been helping Jews get out of Germany for money and that a man called Max had betrayed him and that he was the German spy. One of the warders was a terrible bully, he regularly beat Hugo.’

Miles expression darkened and his body tensed.

‘Hugo offered them the proceeds of his ventures if they would just stop hitting him but it didn’t do any good. My grandfather was beaten to death and then his death covered up, forgotten, swept away, where’s the justice in that?’