‘Nobody hurt me, Karl. This hurts me, though. Are you okay? Where are you?’
It felt like a supreme betrayal to not tell her, but he couldn’t. Most of the stuff in his shop was the sort sold to law enforcement. Recording devices hidden in plugs, in business cards, surveillance gear so small it could be planted anywhere in a house. Or on a person.
Was Katie bugged? He was losing his mind.
‘I’m going to see a special solicitor,’ he said, which seemed like a safe answer. He explained, and she listened, and she didn’t shoot him down afterwards. Which seemed like acceptance.
‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘I heard things about that police officer. I knew he was… something was wrong. He’ll be arrested. Is he part of this?’
‘Hell yes,’ Karl almost shouted, just in case. For the bugs. He liked to imagine a team of guys in a surveillance van jotting down the name McDevitt.
‘He’ll be arrested,’ she said again. ‘You can hand yourself in. I want to meet you there, outside, so I can come in with you.’
‘Okay.’ The moment the word was out of his mouth, he had to bite back tears. But not because of his wife’s affection. Because he needed her, and what kind of a man couldn’t face what he was up against without desiring his partner to be with him? The right thing to do, surely, was face this thing alone and keep his pregnant wife away from stress. Or was it? Maybe they should face this problem together? Maybe her stress would be amplified if she was out of the loop.
Hell, he didn’t know. He only knew he wanted her there, and she wanted to be there, and there she would be. Even if he said no, probably.
‘But not at the station,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to see you with cops all around. We’re going to come to your dad’s house.’
Silence as she digested this. Would she think it a good idea, or foolish?
‘Outside,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure if my dad would call the police. I’m not sure if the police are watching this house. I’ll get out, and meet you nearby, and then we’ll go to the police station together.’
‘Good.’ A good plan indeed. There was nothing he wanted more.
‘Oh, and by the way, Mr Karl James Seabury, boy or girl, we are not calling our child Michael.’
That made him laugh. She giggled, too, and he figured this rare moment of levity was the optimum time to shoehorn in: ‘Liz is with me.’
Not a beat missed: ‘Good, because the police will need her as well.’
He relaxed. ‘I love you. I want to hug you.’
‘Same, babe. But I probably stink. I’m just going in the bath. For you.’ She said it with a hint of cheekiness there that made him miss her more than ever. They’d been apart only hours – he’d spent longer away from her when at work – but it felt like weeks.
The tension flooded away for two hundred seconds. The flirting reminded him of way back when they’d been a week-old couple. Arranging dates with a nervous voice. Unsure of what would happen next. Worried whether it would be the last time they kissed, the last time they saw each other. The world around him vanished, and with it every worry, every bad guy, every cop.
After he hung up, he was ready. He turned to his comrades, and he said: ‘Let’s go.’
Eighty-Five
Katie
Katie sank into the bath, and that was when she heard the noise.
It sounded like the back door shuddering open, and her first thought was that her father had returned quickly. But then she discarded that notion because her father knew the trick with the back door. If it was opened at speed the draught excluder, fixed too low, slid over the lino easily, but if opened slowly it caught and caused the whole door to vibrate loudly enough to hear it throughout the house.
Her father knew about the fault, of course. But Karl didn’t!
‘Karl?’ she shouted down. The faint vibration halted. No answer, but he was probably staying silent in case the police were with her, waiting for him. Maybe even suspecting she was trying to trick him into handcuffs.
She rose slowly from the bath, trying not to make a splash. Even as she did this, she knew it was a futile action because her earlier shouts would have given away the fact that there was someone in the house. And that, right there, was the inescapable truth.
Hearing her shout, Karl would not have remained silent. Her nakedness and delicate condition heightened her fear as she realised what that meant… a stranger was in the house.
She nearly slipped on slick tiles as she stumbled to the towel rail on the wall. Her vision swam, and her head throbbed because of the heat of the bath. She wrapped herself in a towel, opened the bathroom door and staggered to the top of the stairs. Out on the landing it was much cooler, and her head cleared quickly.
The stairs had a bulb at both top and bottom, and she lit up the one below, leaving herself in darkness. She listened, praying that she’d been wrong about the sounds she heard.
Too late she realised she should have run for the phone in the bedroom. Someone appeared at the foot of the stairs. A man in a boiler suit and a balaclava. He looked up into the darkness, and she froze. Despite knowing he couldn’t see her, she didn’t dare move, couldn’t bring herself to. But then the man reached for the light switch, and she was no longer frozen.
It was a mistake. He did not light her up, but instead turned off the lower bulb to envelop himself in darkness once again. But she moved, and he heard it.
His feet thumped the stairs, and she heard an Irish voice say: ‘C’m’ere, darling.’ Her fear spiked at the realisation that he hadn’t seen her but clearly knew who to expect. This wasn’t some impatient burglar unwilling to wait for late night. He was here for her. He had to be one of the men chasing Karl.
She ran into the dark bedroom, turned, threw the door shut. It bounced right back at her as the hooded man crashed into it, knocking her into the bed. The moment she landed on her back, he was right there, right above her. Even in the gloom, she saw his lascivious eyes behind his balaclava. Hands pinned her arms, then forced them above her head. He cast her towel aside, and to cover her naked waist she threw up a leg. Her knee caught the guy in the balls, and he grunted. It didn’t help her cause, though. He lowered himself onto her, closing the gap so she couldn’t strike again. She felt his clothing against her skin and it sickened her. His head dropped onto her chest, and she could hear his panting.
‘Help!’ she yelled, at the top of her voice, giving it all her lungs had. The neighbours were young people, good ears, and surely they’d hear and come rushing round. Thirty seconds, she figured. All she had to do was fight this guy off for thirty seconds and she’d be saved.
His knee went between her legs, forcing through and up, until she felt coarse material, very cold, between her legs. She yelled again.
One of his hands released her arm and grabbed her between the legs. Her free hand lashed out, slapping his head. He seemed to barely feel it. In fact, he laughed.
She heard something downstairs. The door again. No vibration this time but a heavy thump, as if someone had slammed it all the way open. Then footsteps on the stairs, just as loud as her attacker’s had been.
‘You kill that dude, bro?’ the guy on top of her said as she saw the black shape of another man framed in the doorway.
The last of her resolve was crushed under a wave of horror as she realised the two men knew each other. She could not defend against two. There was no hope and she felt her muscles relax as her brain gave up the fight.
‘Sure did,’ the new guy said, then moved forward to help his partner hold her down.
Eighty-Six
Showdown