The address was on an industrial estate in Alstone, a suburb of Cheltenham, the type of area where nice streets with tended homes and gardens co-existed with not so nice streets with boarded-up houses and broken-down cars outside. As soon as I reached the no-through road, I realised the hopelessness of the situation. China’s men would be everywhere, waiting to pick me off. More than ever, I wished I’d procured a gun. Martyrdom is never a good look.
I pulled up, cut the engine and, grabbing the bolt cutters, stepped quietly out of the car. Immediately, I was flooded in light. An image of another site, lit up like Wembley Stadium and crawling with men out to get me, rattled through my brain. Smashing the thought, I darted for the shadowy cover of a low, blocky concrete building with metal shutters in the doorway. Hunkered down inside, I worked out the immediate layout. At my back a front door made from toughened glass; beyond, a set of shallow stone steps; and, to the right, a reinforced door. I looked above my head for cameras and signs of an alarm. I couldn’t see anything but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. As soon as I made a move, the whole place could go off. However, if I were China and wanted to get rid of a couple of people, I’d hardly want an alarm to sound and grab the attention of the local police. I was only grateful there were no dogs. To date, I’ve never killed one, not even in self-defence. I wasn’t about to change the habit of a lifetime.
I tried the door, which was locked. At any moment I expected a figure to explode in front of me, a gun shoved up against my temple, but aside from me, there seemed nobody around. Actually it was quiet – too quiet.
I bent low and, scuttling on the balls of my feet, covered the perimeter, meticulously checking entrances and exits, by touch and by sight. It must have taken twenty long minutes. Each one I believed might be my last.
About to turn the final corner, a chink of light ghosted into the night from between a metal grille set low down and into the wall of the building. I squatted, resting on my heels, and put my eye to the slit. It was difficult to make out anything very much, but there was definitely an empty space, a single forlorn bulb swinging from the ceiling the only source of light. Realising my vulnerability, I glanced back over my shoulder, watching out for a puff of warm breath in the chill night air and the specific sound of a hard man’s footsteps. The only noise was the frantic beat of my heart. I was alone. It made no sense. It had to be a trap.
Putting my mouth against the metal, I called McCallen’s name softly. Getting no response, I called again, louder. Frustrated, I took out the bolt cutters and started on the grille when, suddenly, my phone vibrated. Ripping it from my pocket, I pressed it close to my ear.
‘Managed to break in?’
I said nothing.
‘I’ll take that as a no.’
‘Where is she?’
‘Who?’
‘You know damn well who. Stop fucking me about.’
And then it hit me. The call, my drive here, my fruitless search was nothing more than a smokescreen. Simone. He had Simone.
I stood up, tore back across the yard to the car, China’s disembodied voice blaring in my ear. ‘You’ve slipped up, Hex, might have cost you your girl’s life. Careless.’
In spite of everything, I stopped dead and spoke with the utmost clarity and cold determination. I did not want China to be in any doubt what I would do to him. I also had to openly kill any emotional attachment to Simone. He had to believe the women were straight business. ‘If you’ve damaged either set of goods, I’m going to hunt you down and make you scream until you beg me to put a bullet in your brain.’
‘Threaten all you like. I had enormous fun, by the way. I’ll call you tomorrow night about the intelligence officer.’
‘So you can play another of your games? I don’t think so.’
‘If you care anything for McCallen, be ready.’