Running Scared Read online

  ‘Grice needs to recover that strip of negatives and any prints made from it, Miss Varady,’ Foxley said. ‘His hired help has bungled the job. He can’t afford another body in a basement. Above all, you see, he seeks to avoid publicity. Pictures in magazines, murder reports on the evening news, police enquiries such as the one set in motion by Coverdale’s death, all these things are anathema to Grice. Successful big-time crooks, you have to understand, view themselves as successful businessmen. It irks them that they make the money but can’t spend it except in the society of underworld characters. They want out of that world. They’re social climbers. They long to be on the Town Hall invitation list. They hanker to join the world of Rotary dinners and mornings on the golf course. In a word, they want to be legit. A respectable businessman is probably how Grice is passing himself off somewhere and the worst thing that can happen to him is that his new friends learn the truth, depend on it. It makes him vulnerable now in a way he wasn’t when he was just a villain. He’s displaying an Achilles’ heel, you might say.’ Foxley paused and then asked me, ‘You know what that is?’

  Prat, I thought. ‘Yes, I do know,’ I said aloud, crossly. ‘I went to a good school, you know. Achilles’ mother dunked him in the river Styx to make him invulnerable but forgot about the heel she held him by.’

  ‘That a fact?’ asked Parry, looking interested. ‘I didn’t know that. You’d think the poor little bugger would’ve drowned.’

  Foxley gave him a dirty look and me an only slightly less dirty one. ‘Your education wasn’t wasted then, I see.’

  He scored a hit, if only he knew it, but I wasn’t going to let him see it.

  Foxley regained his position effortlessly. ‘To return to Grice. He’ll try negotiation. To put it bluntly, he believes you have the film Coverdale hid – or you are in a position to obtain it. We are confident he’ll offer to buy it off you.’

  Oh, they were, were they? ‘What if I tell the truth and say you lot have what he wants?’ I asked.

  His smile grew wider but no pleasanter. ‘In Grice’s world, people don’t speak the truth. Why should he believe you? We haven’t released any statement about the photographs. They are worth money. You could take them to a newspaper. They’d pay you well. Probably that was what Coverdale intended to –do. Why should you not do the same? Grice will make you a pre-emptive bid, that’s all.’

  ‘An offer I can’t refuse,’ I said caustically.

  ‘That’s right.’ His mouth stretched in a genuine grin. ‘Got it in one.’

  I thought it over, but not for long. ‘What do you want me to do?’

  There was a palpable relaxation of tension all round. This was what they’d all been in a huddle discussing before I arrived. How to get me to co-operate in this. Well, here I was, putting my head on the block. I had about as much choice as one of Henry the Eighth’s wives. Grice was on his way and I was his target anyway. Either I worked with the police or it didn’t bear thinking about.

  ‘Good!’ Foxley sat back in his chair. ‘I’m glad we’ve got all that sorted.’

  ‘What sorted?’ I protested. ‘What am I supposed to do?’

  They’d been discussing that one, too. I got an encouraging nod.

  ‘It’s highly unlikely that Grice himself will approach you in the first place. An underling will do that. He’ll tell you the deal. You agree, saying you don’t have the negatives to hand, but you can get hold of them. You have one condition only, you’ll only hand the negatives over to Grice himself. His representative will argue. But you stand firm. You say you don’t trust intermediaries in view of what’s happened before. They know they’ve screwed up and they’ll take the point. So you say you want to be sure the deal’s gone down as planned and the only way you can do that is for Grice to be there. It’s likely Grice himself feels the same way. He’ll want to be sure, too. The only way he can be is by collecting the negatives from you himself. Say you’ll meet Grice wherever he wants, provided it’s a public place in broad daylight. You’ll bring the negatives. He brings the money. Straight swap. You then let us know where the exchange is to take place and we’ll pick him up.’

  Just like that. I must have looked unconvinced.

  ‘He needs those pictures badly, Fran,’ Harford said, beside me.

  I fully realised that. Something on those pics not only betrayed Grice’s location, it betrayed his current game. A project he’d planned carefully and executed beautifully had been thrown into jeopardy by Gray Coverdale, the man who took risks. Even Coverdale’s death hadn’t made Grice secure. Only getting his hands on the film could do that.

  Foxley was speaking. ‘Oh, another thing. You make your own way to the meeting place. On no account get into a car. Just make it clear to them that you’re broke, you have no interest in Grice’s business, and your entire aim is to make a little cash. They’ll believe that.’

  I had an idea this last remark was probably insulting but I let it pass.

  ‘How much money do I ask for?’

  ‘They’ll make an offer. I doubt it’ll be extravagant. You can look a little disappointed if you like, but accept it. If you try to haggle, things might get nasty. It’ll be enough to tempt someone in your circumstances, don’t worry, but they won’t make the mistake of dangling huge sums before your eyes. They’ll calculate you’re not a person used to dealing in large amounts of money and too many noughts could turn your head. You might decide that anything worth that much could find a higher bidder, and attempt a double-cross. Oh, and Miss Varady –’ he wasn’t smiling now and his eyes reminded me of a dead fish – ‘you wouldn’t try that, would you? A double-cross, I mean. I wouldn’t take it kindly. You’d find trying to be clever at our expense wouldn’t pay you, Miss Varady.’

  ‘Do me a favour,’ I said wearily. ‘All I want is for this business to be over and done with. One small point you seem to have overlooked . . .’

  ‘Yes?’ The sparse eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. Parry, in the background, looked affronted.

  ‘I don’t have the negatives,’ I said. ‘You do. If I do go to meet Grice, he won’t hand over an envelope of dosh without checking first that I’ve given him the kosher goods.’

  There was a pause. ‘When the deal’s set up, we’ll let you have the negatives.’

  They would have as many prints as they needed, anyway. But then Grice might be concerned about prints, too. I pointed this out, though not mentioning the extra print I’d got from Joleen’s waste bin.

  ‘A fair point.’ Foxley nodded. ‘We’ll put a set of prints in with the negatives. You swear to them that’s all there are.’ He gave his thin smile. ‘I hear you’re an actress, Miss Varady. I’m sure you can make it convincing.’

  If only some casting agent somewhere had the same confidence in me.

  Foxley’s parting instructions were not to discuss this with anyone, understand? Anyone at all.

  Parry made a move to escort me out, but Harford was ahead of him. He led me downstairs, through reception and out on to the station steps, where beneath the overhead lamp he made a very neat speech.

  ‘I want you to know, Fran, that I admire your courage. It’s really brave of you to agree to this and we’re very grateful.’

  That was easy on the ear, but I’d expected something of the sort. Now, however, Harford unbent sufficiently to add, ‘The super’s an old miseryguts but he’s really chuffed that you’re playing along with us in this. I don’t want you to worry. Everything will be all right, I promise. I’m making it my personal responsibility to see nothing goes wrong. Whatever else happens, I’ll be looking out for you.’

  It was nice to think I had someone to look after me but since their priority would be to nab Grice, I couldn’t help but be less than completely convinced all eyes would be anywhere but on the main prize.

  He noticed the indecision on my face. ‘What’s worrying you?’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘Nothing,’ I told him. ‘I was just waiting for the spotlight to shine on us a
nd the unseen choir to strike up.’

  Concern faded in his face and the touchy look came back. He straightened up, stiff and wooden as a toy soldier.

  ‘Relax!’ I told him. ‘It was a joke. I watch too many old films in the early hours of the morning.’

  He looked faintly embarrassed and managed a smile. ‘You see,’ he said, taking my hand and squeezing it. ‘You can even joke about it. That’s what I mean, Fran. You’ve got guts.’

  Another explanation would be that I was missing a few marbles but I just gave a noble smile back because it’s not often someone tells me I’m a heroine, and it was nice to bask in approval for once.

  Harford still had hold of my hand and I found I didn’t mind too much. If he’d just get the chips off both shoulders, we might even get along quite well.

  ‘We’ll have the place completely covered,’ he was saying. ‘As soon as Grice has taken the envelope, we’ll move in on him.’

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘he’s going to be suspicious, you know. He hasn’t stayed out of gaol this long by making silly mistakes.’

  Harford leaned towards me earnestly. ‘Let me tell you something, Fran. Sooner or later, they all make mistakes. They get to think they’re invincible, you know? They’re too used to calling the shots and getting away with anything. They really get to believe they can’t be caught.’

  ‘Grice thinks he can get caught,’ I said. ‘That’s why he wants those photos back. The person who thought he could get away with it was Coverdale. Instead he got himself into something nasty and it caught up with him in my basement!’

  Harford’s hand, holding mine, gave a convulsive twitch before he let my fingers drop. ‘Don’t forget, tell us the moment he makes contact.’ He turned on his heel and ran back up the steps into the station. A couple of uniformed men coming out gave me a curious look.

  I went back to the shop to collect Bonnie. Both she and Ganesh welcomed me with flattering enthusiasm.

  ‘Well, how did you two get on together?’ I asked heartily. ‘Friends?’

  ‘I needed to go in the storeroom,’ Ganesh said with emotion.

  ‘And every time that animal growled at me. I had to keep feeding it crisps. It was the only way I could get past.’

  Bonnie, sitting on her cardboard bed, thumped her tail. She looked pleased with herself.

  ‘So?’ Ganesh prompted. ‘How did you get on with your police mates, then?’

  ‘We’re not mates. I told them it was Grice in the pics. They admitted it was. They told me not to discuss it with anyone.’

  ‘Well,’ said Ganesh. ‘Now I hope you’re satisfied and you’ll leave it alone.’

  I was glad I hadn’t told him any more about the setup I’d agreed to back there at the nick. Gan wouldn’t think me a heroine. He’d say I was nuts and make no bones about it.

  A customer came in and he left me to go and deal with him. I untied Bonnie, called out goodbye, and set off slowly homewards, Bonnie pattering beside me.

  Light was fading already. If I was to meet Grice in daylight, it would have to be quite early in the day to make sure of not being caught by gathering evening shades. I wandered down my street, lost in this and other depressing thoughts, and was almost at the house before my eye was taken by a glitter on the pavement ahead, just outside Daphne’s front door. I approached wonderingly and gazed down at a silver patch of water which ran across the pavement slabs, over the kerb, into the gutter, and down that to the nearest drain. The silver patch had its origins in a tiny spring which had forced its way up between slabs. Around it were some painted marks which hadn’t been there earlier. Bonnie sniffed around and tried to drink the spring. It bubbled up her nose and she jumped back and barked at it. Daphne’s door opened and light beamed on me.

  ‘Oh, Fran,’ my landlady called. ‘I’ve been watching out for you. The water board has been to inspect it and they’re coming first thing in the morning to mend it. Unfortunately, they’ve got another emergency on and couldn’t deal with it straight away.’

  ‘But it’s coming up through the pavement,’ I pointed out.

  Daphne came down the steps to view it. ‘So it is. That’s new. It wasn’t doing that earlier when the water-board men came. There was just a lot of water seeping out. I have been worried. You know, there was a big puddle out here which never seemed to dry up? I assumed it was the aftermath of the rain, but it did seem odd.’

  I told her I’d noticed it, too. We told each other we should have got in touch with the water board earlier.

  ‘But they are coming in the morning,’ Daphne comforted us. ‘If it gets worse before bedtime or if they’re late in the morning, I’ll be on the phone straight away.’

  She returned indoors. I dragged the fascinated Bonnie away from the spring, picked her up and carried her down the basement steps. As I felt for my key, she wriggled and growled.

  ‘It’s only water,’ I told her. ‘We’ll go out and look at it later, see if it’s worse, OK?’

  I pushed the door open. Bonnie’s growls intensified. In my arms, her body was stiff. The ridge of hair had risen along her back, the whites of her eyes showed and her ears were flattened.

  A nasty sick feeling gripped the pit of my stomach. I peered into the darkness of the flat. There was complete silence but an odd feel to the place, something I could only sense. Bonnie sensed it too and to her it meant another presence. I stretched out my hand for the light and flipped it on. I could see into my living room and it was empty. Nothing looked as if it had been disturbed. Leaving the door open, I edged in. I put Bonnie on the floor and remaining by the exit, ready to run, watched to see what she’d do.

  She ran round the place, nose to carpet and fetched up by the curtain and plastic strips which covered the entrance to the kitchenette. Here she stopped, pricked her ears and began to bark in short repetitive bursts.

  That was enough for me. No way was I going in there unaccompanied. If I had to go back to the shop and wait for Ganesh to finish there and come back with me later that evening, so be it. But I couldn’t leave Bonnie here with whatever danger threatened. I called to her but she wouldn’t come. She remained in front of the curtain, barking, alternately rushing forward a little, then scuttling back as if caution tempered her combativeness.

  I edged in a little further. ‘Bonnie – come here, come on.’ I crouched and whistled to her, but she was deaf to my urging.

  The curtain shimmered, rustled and parted, and a man stepped out into the room. In my guts I felt sicker than ever, even though the dog’s behaviour had told me he must be there. Bonnie hurled herself forward but the next moment yelped shrilly as she was propelled across the floor by a well-aimed kick.

  ‘Hey!’ I darted forward, heedless of the fact that I was distancing myself from the open front door and my escape route. ‘Don’t hurt my dog! She’s only small.’

  ‘Shut the door,’ he said. His voice was low, cold, expressionless. ‘Pick the dog up and shut it in another room. If you don’t, I’ll kill it.’

  He meant it. I closed the front door behind me. I was shut in now with him, at his mercy. Bonnie wasn’t easy to catch. She skittered round my outstretched hands, her eyes fixed on the intruder, still barking. At last I managed to grab her and shut her in the bathroom. In there, she began to scrabble at the door and keep up a noisy protest.

  My visitor had remained by the kitchenette, his hands folded in the stance of the professional bodyguard. He was a big fellow in a dark suit, balding but with his remaining fairish hair tied back in a ponytail. His skull appeared to be perfectly round like a football. He wasn’t so young – I supposed him in his forties – but as solid as a brick barn. I hadn’t seen a Mercedes car on my way home – but no doubt that was parked nearby, possibly in the next street.

  ‘Switch the light out,’ he ordered in the same expressionless tone he’d used throughout our short conversation. For all that, it was an educated voice. ‘And sit down there – on that sofa. We’re going to have a talk.’

&n
bsp; Chapter Fifteen

  Once I’d switched out the light, the basement room was plunged into gloom, made worse by the fact that the medicine cabinet still blocked the small garden window. Ridiculously, I found time for a spasm of embarrassment. He had probably seen and guessed the reason for that pathetic attempt at barricading myself in. Totally futile, as it turned out. This fellow hadn’t needed to break in by burglars’ methods as had his Spanish-speaking colleague. This was the man who’d got into the shop, and, on the night the Spaniard (as I thought of him) had been trying to get in here, had effortlessly entered Mrs Stevens’ Putney home. There he’d drawn a blank. Here the Spaniard had also been unsuccessful, thanks to Bonnie. He hadn’t even got in. Ponytail had been forced to come here and try himself. I fancied a hierarchy was emerging. This sinister intruder, with whom I shared the darkness, was Grice’s lieutenant, entrusted with his messages and orders. The other guy was a regular foot soldier. That Grice had sent his right-hand man suggested Foxley had been correct. Grice was taking personal control, albeit at one remove. Foxley would be pleased about that. I wasn’t so sure.