I phoned Simone.
‘Where are you?’
‘I told you, with my solicitor. Excuse me,’ I heard her say to someone, ‘I have to take this call.’ Next, the sound of high heels on wood in a hollow, empty space. ‘What is it?’ Her voice sounded low and a little tetchy.
‘Where are you going afterwards?’
‘Why?’ she brightened. ‘Are you still here in London?’
‘No. Look, there’s no easy way to put this, China Hayes is gunning for you.’
‘What?’
‘He wants you dead. I’m serious. Your life is in danger, Simone.’
‘But you said it would be all right.’
I didn’t remember saying this. ‘It’s has nothing to do with the drug mules. It’s a complicated story and I don’t have time to explain.’
‘Shall I come to you?’ I heard the catch in her voice.
‘You must stay away.’
‘But I don’t understand.’
‘Listen to me. Don’t go to a friend. Don’t visit favourite haunts. Book yourself into a cheap hotel and stay there. You don’t surface for anything. Keep your phone switched on but only answer if I call. I’ll come to you as soon as I can. It might take a couple of days.’
Her voice soared. ‘Forty-eight hours, why?’
‘I need to take care of something here first. Trust me. Can you do that?’ It was a big ask for a woman whose trust was as limited as my own.
‘I have no choice?’
‘None whatsoever.’
‘D’accord. I will do as you say.’
Relieved, I phoned Jat. ‘Have you made a start?’
‘I have a day job, remember?’
I’d forgotten. ‘Look, things have changed. I really need as much information as you can pull off as soon as possible and as quickly as possible.’
Jat let out a patient sigh. I felt like a writer who’s accidentally deleted a novel he’s been working on for a year and Jat, my computer geek, was my only hope of salvation.
‘I’m looking for a location.’
‘Anywhere in particular?’
‘Cheltenham.’ I didn’t know this. She could be held in London, or anywhere, but as McCallen had disappeared from Cheltenham, it was a fair bet. ‘Look for any links, addresses, references to a remote spot – warehouses, basements, lock-ups, somewhere you might hold a kidnap victim.’
‘A what?’
Jat was accustomed to my more arcane questions. He knew what my line of work had been, although it was never mentioned. My remark obviously struck him as unusual and outside my usual sphere. ‘I’m one of the good guys,’ I said in an effort to convince him that he was batting on the side of the angels, albeit fallen.
‘Right,’ he said, uncertainly. ‘I’ll get on it.’
Next, working to China rules, I made plans. Nine times out of ten, Hayes would keep his victims chained or manacled. A set of bolt cutters was top of my shopping list. I sped down the street and around the corner to the hardware store and shot in before they closed. On the way, I drummed my fingers lightly on the window of the watchmaker’s, nodded thanks. He nodded back – no smile, no light in his eyes, nothing more to report.
The choice was limited to very cheap and very expensive. I picked out an industrial strength heavy-duty pair of bolt cutters with high carbon steel blades that cost me almost two hundred pounds. It was a risk because monumental strength was needed to open the blades and I was at a disadvantage because the wounds to my arms had weakened the muscles. However anything less powerful wouldn’t work. I added nylon high-tensile rope, strong enough to strap McCallen to me if she was too weak to walk. After paying in cash, I nipped into the butcher’s, the counter already cleared for the day. I must have looked hungry because they sorted out a rump steak in no time. Next door I paid for two high-energy drinks with enough glucose to bring back a diabetic from a hypo. Back home I raided the medicine chest for an illicit brand of painkiller, which, if used in the right quantity, would knock out a donkey.
I’d done as much as I could for the day so I cooked and ate and pushed McCallen as far from my mind as possible, somewhere indistinct and on the edge. China’s motivation, however, continued to baffle me. He’d never been a pal of Billy’s and was happy to do his best to help me nail him. I offered no threat to China – I never had done – and only a foolish man takes out others without a damn good reason. China could be inconsistent and unpredictable, yet he’d always ticked to an internal logic. The way he was acting now suggested he’d had a brainstorm, the use of the electronically disguised voice a particularly unusual move. Maybe the guy was ill, I really didn’t know. What I did know was that I was up against a formidable enemy, the equivalent of Cheltenham Town FC versus Bayern-Munich. In one way it played to my strength. Against impossible odds, I became motivated and aggressive.
I itched for a gun in my hand. I knew how to get hold of one, even at short notice. In the circumstances, it was desirable. To do so would cross the line. There would be no going back.
That was my big dilemma.