No Peace For The Wicked rgafp-1 Page 15

  “What for?”

  “Ray Grossman’s dying. I don’t know how he’s hung on so long. They were advised to get him to a warmer climate, which is why they bought the villa. But with a visiting nurse and the medicines, they need more money to keep him out here. If he goes home he’ll be dead within a week.”

  Riley’s mouth was dry. She felt he wasn’t telling her everything, but trying to force the issue probably wouldn’t work. Instead she changed tack. “What about you?” she asked coolly. “You could get out. Leave them to it.”

  “I can’t do that. Not yet.” He spoke with an air of finality.

  “Why? What do you owe them?” She stood and walked across the room. “And what do you mean, not yet? John, why are you even involved with these people? I can’t understand it. Something tells me this isn’t you… not the real you, anyway.”

  He swung round, the movement bringing them within inches of each other. Riley was so close she could see her own reflection in the depth of his eyes, like a portrait in miniature looking up at him.

  “I can’t explain,” he said simply. “It’s…it doesn’t make much sense to a-”

  “To a what? A woman? Oh, please.”

  “To an outsider.” He looked away from her, shaking his head. “I feel a… a responsibility to the men.”

  Riley stared up at him. “You’re right — I don’t understand. They’re men, that’s all. Grown men at that. They can think for themselves, can’t they?” Then she realised what he was hinting at: they were all ex-army. “Honour? Is that what you’re saying? You feel you’d be betraying them if you pulled out? For heaven’s sake, John, that’s insane!” She put out her hand and rested her fingertips on his chest, instantly aware of the beat of his heart and the warmth of his body through the thin shirt. Suddenly he was holding her, and she swallowed and closed her eyes, finally giving in and moving against him. Their bodies touched and she heard a brief moan as their lips met. She responded, her body moving hungrily against him in spite of herself.

  Mitcheson’s hands pressed against her bare back where the sun-dress was cut low, and she felt his fingers spread wide across her skin. One hand slid lower, caressing the swell of her buttocks, while his other hand moved up to her ribcage, sliding up and round with a whisper against the fabric of the dress until he was gently cupping her breast. She felt herself respond to his touch.

  Then, as the last vestiges of her resistance began to slip away, her mind flashed back to the image of the man in the trees, and the dog, followed by the snapping of branches. In that instant, the moment was gone, the passion and hunger draining away to be replaced by the shocking reminder of what this man was involved in. She pulled away, her hands flat against his chest. “No!” she said sharply, pushing his arms down. “John, no.”

  He looked surprised as she stepped away, his hands reaching for her. For a second he seemed about to protest, then his eyes cleared.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his words slurred with passion. “I thought you- ” He shrugged helplessly.

  “Me, too,” Riley muttered, and walked past him to the door. She felt guilty for having succumbed briefly to the temptation, but oddly, felt even worse for pulling back. “But this is impossible.”

  “Only if you let it.” His voice was bleak.

  “It’s just… all those deaths.” Then she remembered Benson’s sudden disappearance that morning. “Did your men take Benson away and kill him, too?”

  Mitcheson looked blank. “Benson? I don’t know any Benson.” He shook his head. “If it’s any consolation,” he continued, “none of the ones who’ve died were nice people.”

  “Maybe not,” she said. “But doesn’t it bother you that so casually getting rid of people who are in the way has an inevitable outcome?”

  His eyes flickered for a moment. “What’s that?”

  “That it might not be long before someone decides it’s your turn… or mine.”

  Frank Palmer stood in the gloom of a laundry room at the end of the corridor and watched as Riley stepped outside and closed the door of room 1221 behind her. He breathed with relief as she walked away and disappeared down the stairs. She seemed to have come to no harm, although she appeared flushed. Maybe Mitcheson had tried something on and she’d had to knee-drop him on to the carpet. The thought brought a smile to his face. Serves the bastard right for sending those two goons to smash up my computer…

  He heard the clank of a cleaning trolley and decided it was time to go before a maid found him in here and screamed the place down. If Riley knew he’d been watching here watching over her instead of at the villa, she’d throw seven kinds of a fit. He stepped out of the laundry room and walked along the corridor towards the emergency stairs at the far end. As he did so, the door to room 1221 opened and Mitcheson emerged. Palmer instantly fought down a wild instinct to turn back, and hoped the ex-soldier still didn’t know what he looked like.

  Their eyes met briefly and Palmer felt himself being scanned and noted. But if Mitcheson saw anything in his face he didn’t show it. Palmer heard the lift button being thumbed impatiently behind him and grinned to himself. Definitely a case of a knee-drop. That must have put a serious kink in his plans.

  He passed through the emergency door and ran down the bare concrete stairs to the ground floor, where he emerged through a single door into the reception area. If he drove like a maniac, he might just get to the villa before Riley. If not, he was going to have some explaining to do. As he stepped into the hothouse atmosphere of the street, he saw the Mercedes pull away from the kerb and accelerate through the traffic. Mitcheson. He tugged his car keys from his pocket and ran for his car, pointing the nose towards an alternative route which might bring him ahead of Mitcheson if he was lucky. If it brought him ahead of Riley, too, it would be a miracle, but he firmly believed that good things happened to nice people.

  As he reached the suburbs close to the coast road, dog-legging through an area of small, low commercial units and houses, Palmer saw a flashing blue light ahead. His bowels constricted as he remembered Riley’s arrest, and he slowed down, looking for a side turning. But he was now locked in traffic and already saw a policeman striding along the line of cars, waving them to move on.

  As he neared the police car, Palmer saw it was parked alongside a large builder’s skip between two small warehouses. A crowd had gathered and were being pushed back by a uniformed motorcycle cop who was trying to pull a strip of bright tape across the gap between the buildings to form a barrier.

  Another police car arrived and bullied its way across the road, forcing Palmer to slow even further. As he inched past the scene, he looked down and saw what had drawn the crowd. A body lay behind the skip, the legs twisted awkwardly in an ungainly pose. But what caught his eye specifically was that the crumpled trousers covering the legs ended in a familiar pair of scuffed brown shoes with frayed, red laces.

  Chapter 32

  Riley was angry with herself as she left Malaga behind and headed out north onto the coast road. She was trying to blot out what had happened in the room at the Hotel Palacio. Well, nearly happened. She was even angrier with Mitcheson. With herself for losing control and with him for being the person he was and doing the job he claimed not to be able to walk away from.

  Now she needed to absorb herself in the assignment, partly as a salve against her damaged feelings, but partly, she realised, to bring it to an end. Quite how she was going to do that, she didn’t know. Maybe she would have to hand what she had to the local police, although if they were so easily swayed by the Grossmans, it might be tougher than it looked to get them on-side. There was, of course, the local anti-drugs squad — UDYCOS, as Benson had called them — but she knew even less about them or how to contact them. There was also the question of proof. All she had so far was a vague collection of allegations, which wouldn’t fly far. She needed more facts.

  She turned onto the road that led past the villa and coasted to a stop just past the bend, near where the
dog had attacked the gunman. She frowned. There was no sign of Palmer’s car.

  She pulled a pair of Chinos and a T-shirt from a bag behind the seat and quickly squirmed out of her dress. If a local farmer happened to come by now, she reflected, he was going to get one hell of an eyeful. On the other hand, if it were a policeman, she’d end up back in a cell — and this time Palmer wouldn’t get her out again so easily.

  She locked the car and slipped over the wall into the trees, creeping forward until she had a clear view of the rear of the villa. A cloth-covered table bore the remains of a buffet, and she recognised all but two of the people clustered around the patio. The two men Palmer had described as the baseball fans stood at either corner of the house, while a third patrolled the paved area between the house and the pool. He was shorter than his companions, with a neat, compact build, and looked very fit. Riley couldn’t see any guns, but she had no doubt they were there.

  Another man sat in the shade with his back to the villa, and she thought she recognised him as one of the two men she had seen walking along the road near here yesterday, only minutes before his companion had appeared among the trees.

  She concentrated on the two other people seated at a table with a large parasol fluttering above their heads. One was Lottie Grossman, while the other was a slim, swarthy man in a cream suit and gold-framed sunglasses. He didn’t appear to be saying much. He looked more at ease in this setting than the others, and Riley wondered if he was one of the late Jerry Bignell’s Moroccan contacts.

  The woman’s voice suddenly echoed sharply across the lawn, and Riley realised she was using a mobile phone. She slammed the phone on the table and said something to the slim man opposite. He pushed back from the table and stood up, angrily flicking down the cuffs of his jacket. In an instant the man seated near the house was on his feet and the three bodyguards tensed.

  Another short exchange and Lottie Grossman levered herself up from her seat and approached the slim man, her hand patting him on the arm in a placatory manner. He nodded twice and shrugged, then returned to the table and sat down. His companion did the same and calm was restored.

  Minutes ticked by, during which the slim man made two calls on his mobile. During each one he paused briefly to confer with Lottie Grossman, his hand over the receiver. Riley guessed they were in the middle of negotiations, with the dark man acting as go-between. At the end of the call he sat back and Lottie Grossman did most of the talking.

  A car approached with a crunch of tyres on the gravel drive at the front of the villa. One of the baseball fans disappeared to investigate, and returned moments later followed by John Mitcheson.

  Riley felt a jolt at seeing him again, and remembered with uncomfortable clarity what had happened in the Palacio. She ducked further down into the cover of the trees, sliding into the undergrowth and glad she had thought to change her clothes.

  From behind her came the noise of another engine and tyres on the road. She wriggled backwards, risking a quick peek. It was Palmer. He got out of the car and hopped over the wall to squat beside her.

  “Where the hell have you been?” she grated. “I thought you’d already be here.”

  “I fancied an ice-cream,” he murmured breezily. Then his expression became sombre. “Benson’s dead.” He explained what he had just seen.

  Riley didn’t say anything for a while. Then she said: “I asked Mitcheson about him, but he didn't seem to know the name.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t. He might not be as much inside as you think.”

  She shook her head. “Christ, are you defending him?”

  “He could be telling the truth,” Palmer suggested. “Left hand and right, I expect. What’s going on here?”

  “Another meeting. Looks like some high-level horse-trading is going on with the man in the cream suit. I think that’s his minder against the house. Mitcheson said they’re trying to raise money from drugs to keep Grossman out here. My guess is, that’s where cream suit comes in.”

  “Drugs.” Palmer wiped a bead of perspiration off his cheek. “Hell of a way to fund a retirement plan.”

  “The cream suit and Lottie G had a set-to earlier on. He looked ready to walk but they seem to have patched it up. By the way the Black Widow smarmed all over him, she must have realised she’d come close to losing it.”

  “Good. Shows they’re desperate.”

  Whatever had been agreed or not, the talking seemed finally to have ended. The man in the cream suit stood up and shook hands with Lottie, nodded at Mitcheson, then beckoned to his bodyguard. With Lottie leading, the three disappeared through the house, while the baseball fans and the third man drifted out of sight towards the front.

  Left by himself, Mitcheson stood by the edge of the pool staring out across the lawn. For a second Riley could have sworn their eyes met. She froze, her breathing suspended. Then his gaze moved on, inspecting the tree-line foot by foot, before turning and walking into the house.

  “Jesus… ” Palmer breathed, and Riley realised he, too, thought they had been seen.

  “Come on,” she said, moving backwards towards the wall. “I need to find out who these people are and where they’re based.”

  Palmer followed, and before reaching their cars, they agreed to switch positions periodically, with Palmer going first to get ahead of the Moroccans’ vehicle. Riley waited until the Lexus nosed out of the gate, then set off in pursuit. As the Lexus drew up at the junction with the main coast road and signalled to turn right towards Malaga, Riley spotted Palmer’s car parked outside a shop near the corner. There was no sign of him and she wondered what he was playing at.

  In a sudden change of manoeuvre, the Lexus turned left and surged into the traffic heading east towards Almeria. Riley, already indicating right, was caught out as a small delivery van rattled alongside on her left, blocking her path.

  Just then Palmer stepped out of the shop doorway, eating an apple. He signalled with a flattened palm movement for Riley to hold it where she was and climbed unhurriedly into his own car. Then he set off after the Lexus.

  Riley waited until both cars were out of sight. She wasn’t sure if the sudden change of direction by the Lexus was because she had been spotted or whether the Moroccans had genuinely decided to go elsewhere. She decided not to risk getting too close, and let three cars similar to her own go by before easing out and following Palmer.

  Chapter 33

  Three cars back from the Lexus, Palmer chewed on his apple and wondered where they were going. He glanced in the wing mirror, spotting Riley some distance behind. Luckily she had caught his delaying signal and had not immediately given chase.

  Forty minutes later the road began to veer inland as it approached the small town of Motril. The Lexus signalled left and disappeared up a narrow road. Palmer waited until he was sure another car was still between them, then followed.

  The road passed through an area of uninspired, dusty houses and emerged into a development of small, neat villas set amid landscaped gardens. Traffic was light and the streets too straight, with little available cover, and Palmer was beginning to feel conspicuous. He had done a lot of surveillance and pursuit exercises, but had never quite lost the feeling of vulnerability that came over him whenever circumstances brought him too close to his quarry. It was difficult not to imagine the driver in front peering into his rear-view mirror and knowing precisely what you were up to.

  He tapped his brakes as the car between him and the Lexus — a rickety Datsun with puffy grey smoke blowing from the exhaust — slowed and pulled into the side of the road. As he steered round it, a trio of children burst out of the rear door and raced across the pavement towards an elderly couple waiting at a gate to a small villa.

  The Lexus was now ahead of him, but had slowed dramatically, and Palmer could see the driver looking in his rear-view mirror. Damn, it, he’d been spotted. All his instincts cried out to make an instantaneous decision and abort the chase. With no defence and no back-up, he was too exposed. He d
id the only thing he could think of: he signalled and pulled in just ahead of the Datsun.

  Ignoring the Lexus, Palmer hopped out of his car and raised both arms to the couple outside the villa as if greeting long-lost friends. Then he strolled back to the Datsun and thrust his hand out to the male driver, who automatically responded, although clearly puzzled. From the corner of his eye Palmer saw Riley drive by. The Lexus had now reached a corner a hundred yards away, but was still moving slowly. Maybe the driver had been convinced by his little role-play.

  “Am I in Motril?” Palmer asked the driver. It was the first thing he could think of.

  The man looked blank, but his wife appeared to understand. Or maybe she just anted to get rid of this strange man who’d leapt out of nowhere. She pointed towards the east, in the direction where the Lexus and Riley had gone. “Si. Motril… one kilometre.”

  ‘Muy gracias,’ Palmer said.

  As he turned back to the car, another vehicle passed by. It was a dusty Seat with two male passengers in dark glasses, their attention on the road ahead. A car like so many others in the area, except that, with a cold feeling in his gut, Palmer sensed their interest was focused specifically on Riley Gavin.

  He jumped into his car and took out his mobile, keying Riley’s number. But the screen remained blank. They must be in a blank spot for mobile reception. He turned the ignition and screamed away from the kerb, tyres spinning.

  As the Lexus turned a corner and headed back towards the coast road, Riley dropped a gear and followed. She hoped Palmer’s quick thinking had dropped him out of the frame. Now all she had to do was avoid being detected herself. Following the car too quickly round a blind corner risked finding it waiting to see who was on its tail, but it was a chance worth taking if she could find out who these people were.

  Another sharp turn and the Lexus disappeared. Riley spun the wheel and followed, and knew instantly that she’d made a mistake. She was on an unpaved track between housing developments, and the Lexus was parked just fifty yards away, waiting.