‘Let’s not panic,’ Caelan said quietly to Ewan, though in truth she was worried. Like Lucy, would Haslam have left his possessions behind? If he wasn’t using his Oyster card, did he not want his movements to be traced? He would still be able to buy a Travelcard for the Underground with cash if he wanted to get around London, but wouldn’t he have taken his wallet? His phone? She closed the drawer. ‘We need to get out of here,’ she said. Ewan nodded, understanding immediately. This was not the place to discuss what they’d found.
Downstairs, Kingsley was waiting by the front door.
‘Do I need to call the police?’ he asked.
‘I’d leave it for now,’ Caelan said. ‘Maybe you missed Tom leaving, if you had your music on.’
‘Maybe,’ Kingsley said, though he didn’t sound convinced. ‘No one came into the house, though, I know that for sure. I would have heard anyone knocking at the front door.’
Not if they walked in without asking, Caelan thought. She didn’t believe it was likely that Haslam had been taken against his will, but they had to consider all possibilities.
‘What about the back door?’ she asked.
‘No one uses it,’ Kingsley said. ‘We have keys, but it’s kept bolted. I’ve never seen it open.’
‘But you could let someone in through it?’
He shrugged. ‘Yeah, if you wanted to, but why would you?’
‘Who knows.’ She smiled at him. ‘Thanks for your help.’
She turned, reaching out to open the front door.
‘What shall I do?’ Kingsley demanded. ‘What if Tom’s in trouble?’
‘He’ll be fine. If he’s not home tomorrow and you’re worried, go to the police.’ She knew he would be wasting his time since Haslam was already involved in a police investigation and no one would tell him anything, but she needed to reassure him.
As they left the house, Kingsley stood on the doorstep watching them go down the street.
‘This gets weirder,’ Ewan said softly.
‘Does it mean Haslam was working with whoever has Lucy, or that they see him as a threat because he knows more than he told us?’ Caelan slid her phone out of her pocket, checked the time. ‘Assuming Lucy hasn’t just taken herself off on holiday.’ She felt like screaming. Picking up the pace, she strode towards the station. ‘Does it mean Jolene was in touch with Haslam, that she told him we know what he’s been up to? She could be selling to him too. No one else knew we’d been to see him.’
‘Except Penrith and Liss Tucker,’ Ewan pointed out.
‘I don’t see Tucker being involved, but who knows. Anyway, she has no idea about the camera.’
‘Unless Lucy really did suspect she was being watched and told her.’
‘Tucker said they aren’t close, but it’s possible. Then again, Haslam might have panicked when we showed up, especially if he has been watching Lucy. He could have done a runner, left his stuff behind so we’d think it was linked to Lucy’s disappearance.’
‘Are we going to Reuben’s?
‘I am. You should see Penrith, or at least speak to him. He can get Achebe and Somerville onto trying to trace Haslam.’
Ewan nodded. ‘Maybe we should have told Kingsley to call the police straight away. Then he’d be expecting them to arrive and start poking around.’
Caelan smiled. ‘Fair point, but it’s early days and Haslam won’t be considered vulnerable. It’s unlikely the police would take Kingsley seriously.’
‘Even though Lucy disappeared from the same house in the same way?’
‘They’re not kids. Anyway, I don’t know if the information on Lucy’s appearance will be available to everyone in the force. I’d guess it’s been restricted because of…’ She waved a hand, gesturing to herself and Ewan.
They parted at the station, Caelan dropping a kiss onto Ewan’s cheek for appearance’s sake. She didn’t believe they were being followed, but someone knew they had spoken to Tom Haslam and had acted, or Haslam had decided it was time to disappear. Either way, she guessed it was a hint that they were on the right track, and it was best to keep up the pretence. She watched Ewan turn away and wondered what he was thinking. His confidence was growing; he was making suggestions, giving opinions, but she knew he wasn’t always comfortable with the way she had to work. Any police officer took risks on every shift. Their role could be more dangerous than most, but it wasn’t a job you could do unless you were entirely committed. Caelan had seen marriages and relationships disintegrate, colleagues develop addictions, people burned out and defeated by the constant pressure of living as someone else. She didn’t know what it said about her that she kept going, but she doubted it was because she was any different to the others she had known. She probably just had less to lose.
The queue outside Reuben’s was shorter tonight, though Caelan had arrived earlier than she had when Mulligan had brought them here. The same two bouncers were on the door, and both smiled when they saw her.
‘Victoria Smith?’ the male bouncer asked. ‘Mr Nash is waiting for you in his office.’
He spoke politely, without a hint of a leer and Caelan smiled back, though her heartbeat quickened. ‘Thank you.’
The female bouncer met her eyes as she passed them, her expression difficult to read. Caelan thought she read sympathy there, and the realisation did nothing to calm the anxiety she was already feeling. After her encounter with Harris, she had been expecting the meeting with Nash to be easier, safer, but she had to remember her first impression of him. Nash and Harris might hate each other, but Caelan knew they were two of a kind. Harris might never get his hands dirty and Nash might fancy himself a businessman, but in the end they both peddled misery. The question was, which of them was also selling people? Maybe it was neither, but Mulligan had made a point of introducing Caelan to them both. Now she had to work out why.
Inside, the same bartenders were already hard at work. One of them, the man with the beard, waved Caelan over when he saw her and handed her a glass.
‘Champagne,’ he said with a smile. ‘Compliments of the boss.’
Caelan thanked him, held it up to her lips as she walked away but didn’t drink, then headed for the darkest corner she could see. With a quick, surreptitious movement she tipped the liquid onto the carpet and left the empty glass on the nearest table. She knew of many things that could be slipped into a drink and didn’t feel like sampling any of them. Even if the glass had only contained champagne, she wanted to keep a clear head.
She crossed the dance floor, her eyes fixed on the stairs that led up to Nash’s office, as though she was keen to see him. In truth, now that she was here, she realised, she would rather have dealt with Harris again. Harris was predictable, Nash was anything but. His anguish when he’d sobbed over the body of his brother had appeared genuine, but Caelan had seen parents cry over children they’d killed, husbands and wives weeping while still clutching a bloodstained knife or a length of rope.
There was a man at the bottom of the stairs, one of the bouncers who had dragged Stefan Harris away from her when he’d grabbed her arm, who had held onto Harris when Nathan Nash punched him. He caught her eye, looked her up and down and winked at her.
‘Evening. The boss is ready for you.’
Caelan forced a smile. ‘Is he now?’
He laughed. ‘As he’ll ever be, I reckon.’
She kept walking, aware of his eyes on her body. She’d been back to the hotel to shower and change, knowing she had to pay enough attention to her outfit, hair and make-up to make it look as though she wanted to impress when all she’d really wanted to do was crawl into bed. From the bouncer’s reaction, she had achieved her aim, though the realisation made her skin crawl.
At the top of the stairs she paused and glanced around. There were a few people there, but none she recognised. Standing by the door to Nash’s office was another bouncer, this one stern-faced, stocky, his arms folded. Caelan couldn’t see if he wore an earpiece, but he had clearly been warned of her arrival, as his eyes immediately fixed on her. She approached him and he nodded, as though giving her permission to knock.
Caelan’s anxiety had increased, her senses heightened. She already knew where the exits were from her previous visit, but she found herself running over them again in her mind. Why had the bouncers been told to watch for her? The fact that she had arrived must have been passed up the chain, from the bouncers at the club’s entrance to the one at the bottom of the stairs and now this man. No doubt Reuben Nash himself had also been following her progress. She didn’t like it. It was different, unexpected, and in her business that could mean trouble.
She remembered the expression on the female bouncer’s face and wondered again what it meant. It could be as simple as the woman having had the same sort of casual relationship with Nash as Jolene Townsend, and her sympathising with Nash’s potential next plaything. Another possibility was one Caelan had been trying to ignore since she’d approached the building – that she was walking into a trap. She couldn’t rule out the possibility that Nash was suspicious of her motivations for talking to Jolene, to Tom Haslam. She had no doubt Jolene was feeding information back to him, probably to Harris too.
‘Are you going in, or not?’ the bouncer said.
Caelan lifted her chin, looked him in the eye. ‘That’s the idea.’
He stepped back, arms still crossed, looking down his nose at her, and Caelan suspected he also guessed she would be Nash’s latest conquest.
Maybe that was what the sofas in Nash’s office were for.
She knocked, and the door opened. Nash stood there smiling at her. He wore a charcoal suit with a white shirt and smelled as though he had bathed in aftershave. Caelan forced herself to stay relaxed as he bent to kiss her cheek, though her instinct was to recoil.
‘Victoria. I’ve been waiting for you.’ There was no admonishment in his voice, though his hand snaked around her wrist and held it. He looked over her head towards the man outside. ‘Make sure we’re not disturbed.’ He flashed Caelan another grin and playfully pulled her inside. She allowed it to happen, knowing he assumed she was here for more than a business meeting and accepting she needed to play along for now.
For now.
Nash released her and closed the door. Caelan held her breath, but he didn’t lock it.
‘Did they give you the champagne?’ he asked.
‘They did. Thank you.’
He nodded towards the sofas at the other end of the room. On the coffee table, a bottle of champagne stood in a silver bucket, two glasses beside it. Caelan saw that the cork was still in the bottle and was reassured: she could risk drinking a glass if she had to.
‘Fancy another?’ Nash asked.
‘Why not?’
He poured the drinks, moved towards the nearest sofa, beckoning for her to join him. It was a three-seater, though there wasn’t much room. Predictably Nash settled in the middle, forcing Caelan to sit far too close for comfort. He handed her a glass and leant back, crossing his legs. Caelan knew she should relax her own posture, but lounging against the cushions would leave her in a more vulnerable position than she was comfortable with, and she stayed on the edge of the seat.
Nash laughed. ‘What’s wrong?’
Caelan took a deep breath as though to steady herself. It wasn’t entirely an act. ‘I need to talk to you about Stefan Harris,’ she said.
The reaction was instantaneous. Nash’s eyes narrowed, his nostrils flaring. ‘That murdering fucker. What’s he done now?’
Wordlessly Caelan pointed at the bruising on her throat. ‘He wasn’t happy when I told him I didn’t have his money.’
Nash peered at her injuries. ‘The bastard. Who did it, Johnny or Chris?’
‘Neither of them,’ she said. ‘I had the pleasure of a private meeting with Harris himself.’
‘Aren’t you the lucky one? And now you’re having one with me.’ Nash got up, wandered over to his desk. He drank half of his champagne, watching her. ‘What does he want from you? I doubt he’d have suggested a payment plan.’
Caelan took a sip of her own drink. ‘Well, in a way. He offered me the chance to work off the debt. Apparently he owns me now.’
Nash looked incredulous. ‘Owns you? He said that?’
‘Yeah, he made it pretty clear. He also asked questions about my relationship with you, what we’d talked about.’
‘And?’
‘I told him the truth, that we’d discussed business but that the conversation came to an end after his name was mentioned.’ She swallowed, again not having to pretend to be bothered by the memory. ‘It’s not easy to think of a convincing lie with someone’s hands around your throat.’
Nash finished his champagne. ‘I can imagine.’ He went back to the bottle, held it up to Caelan, who shook her head. With a shrug, he poured himself another glass. ‘You can tell Stefan anything you like. I’m not worried about him. Anyway,’ he grinned, ‘it’s not as though you know much about me – yet.’
She ignored that. ‘He also gave me instructions.’
‘Which were?’
‘He wants me to find out what I can about your business and report back to him. He wants to get his hands on this place.’
‘The club?’ His laugh was scornful. ‘Not a chance.’
‘He told me he tried to buy it before but the previous owner wouldn’t sell to him.’
Nash nodded. ‘For once he was telling the truth. The bloke I bought it from wouldn’t give Harris the time of day. I offered less, but he took me up on it. I think he’d have given the place away rather than let Harris buy it.’
‘Why?’
‘He hated Harris almost as much as I do, but with him, it was personal.’
‘What do you mean?’
Nash moved back to sit on the sofa again, his thigh pressed against Caelan’s. ‘You already know how Harris treats women – you’ve experienced it for yourself. Shaun had a sister – Hayley. She was quiet, sensible, focused on her studies – none of the usual teenager shit. Then she met Harris. A week later she was smoking anything she could get her hands on, and within a month she was injecting heroin.’ He paused for a drink. ‘Six weeks after she met Harris, she was dead.’
‘How?’
‘Overdose. They could never prove it was Harris who gave her the stuff, but it’s not like he would have allowed her to buy it from anyone else.’
‘She was a teenager?’
Nash waved a hand. ‘Eighteen when she died, I think. Anyway, my mate hates him.’
‘That’s understandable.’
‘And I benefited, got this place at a knockdown price.’ He grinned, nodded at her glass. ‘Aren’t you drinking that?’
Sickened, Caelan sipped the champagne. She knew she had to keep Nash talking, see what else he would tell her. ‘What do I say to Harris?’
‘Let me think about it. If he thinks he’s got you trapped, we might be able to use it to our advantage.’
Now she met his eyes. ‘Our?’
He nodded, not smiling now, his face expressionless. ‘I’ve been asking around about you,’ he said.
‘I’m flattered.’ Caelan kept her breathing steady, a slight smile on her face, though her heart was hammering. She hoped Penrith had done his bit and given her a plausible background.
‘You should be. It means I’m interested in you… in working with you, I mean.’ He chuckled, the sound knowing and unpleasant. ‘Where’s your boyfriend tonight?’
‘I left him with a crate of beers and the TV remote. He’s probably asleep by now.’
‘More fool him.’ Nash shifted so he was sitting even closer to her. ‘I have contacts in Glasgow, in Edinburgh,’ he went on. ‘No one in Glasgow had heard of you, but in Edinburgh you were on the radar.’ He nudged her. ‘Small-time, I was told. Keeping your head down, making your money.’
‘Depends what you call small-time.’
Nash raised his hands. ‘I’m not criticising. It makes sense. You know the main man up there? The one with most of Edinburgh in his pocket?’
Was this a test? Caelan dredged her memory and took a chance. ‘Alastair Gordon? Only by reputation.’
Nash leant even closer, his breath tickling her ear as Harris’s had done. Again Caelan didn’t react, though she knew she might need to. She had to remain in control, of both herself and the situation. ‘You’re out of touch,’ he said softly, his voice cold. ‘Ali Gordon died a month ago.’
Caelan froze. She knew she had to respond, and quickly. It was a stupid mistake, one that shouldn’t have happened. She should have known more about the Scottish drug trade, especially when Mulligan had mentioned Edinburgh specifically. Her first thought was that Penrith shouldn’t have sent her in unprepared, but she knew she couldn’t blame him. It was her responsibility too. Now she had to reassure Nash, make him believe she knew what she was talking about. If she couldn’t, she was in trouble.
‘News to me,’ she said. ‘I haven’t been back to Edinburgh, and there was no one I wanted to keep in touch with.’
Abruptly Nash got to his feet. He took a few steps away before turning back to face her. ‘It means there’s a gap in the city. Ali’s son Robbie is making moves to fill it, but my mate thinks he’s too weak.’
Relieved, Caelan tipped her head to the side, pretending to think it over. ‘Maybe I should head back up there.’ Her mouth was dry and she took another sip of champagne. As she lifted the glass again, her mouth hidden behind her hand, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to bring her racing thoughts and thumping heart under control. She couldn’t let Nash see she was rattled.
‘Don’t you want to know what happened to Ali Gordon?’ Nash asked.
‘Does it matter?’
‘The police seem to think so. They say he was murdered.’
Caelan raised an eyebrow. ‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. With a baseball bat. Head like a smashed pumpkin, I’m told.’ He pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘Interesting, wouldn’t you say?’
‘It’s the risk you take. You’ll always have rivals in this game, people who want you out of the way.’
‘I mean it’s interesting you left Edinburgh recently and came down here. Even more interesting that people immediately started being attacked with baseball bats.’
She managed a laugh. ‘Are you serious? You think I’ve got something to do with Gordon’s death?’
‘No, but I’m wondering if it gave you some ideas.’
‘Even though I didn’t know about it until you mentioned it?’
‘So you say.’ His glass was empty again and he moved over to the bottle. This time, he didn’t offer her any. ‘The way I see it, you’ve recognised an opportunity down here. I understand that, I respect it. Your cousin Mulligan’s out of your way now.’
‘Come on, you think I was behind the attack on him? That’s ridiculous.’
‘Is it?’ His eyes were locked with hers. ‘It’s a handy weapon – anyone can use it, you don’t need much strength, and it’s easy to dispose of.’
‘Perfect for me, then.’ Caelan risked a smile. ‘Come on, Reuben. Are you serious?’
He kept staring at her, his eyes blank as stones. Caelan was reminded of the faces of those young victims again, three pairs of sightless eyes. She blinked, her throat tight, stomach knotted, running through the escape routes again in her head. Then Nash smiled.
‘Serious? Not really. I think Harris was behind it, just like I think he ordered the murder of my brother.’ Caelan heard him swallow. ‘We just need to prove it.’ He turned away, raising his arm once he’d turned his back. Caelan guessed he was wiping his eyes, composing himself, or pretending to. After a few seconds, he turned back. ‘The police came for me earlier,’ he said, his eyes on hers again.
Caelan raised her eyebrows. ‘The police? What do you mean?’
‘They said they wanted a chat, but I wasn’t given a choice about whether I wanted to go with them or not.’
‘I assume it was about Nathan?’ Was Nash surprised? His brother had been killed, whether by accident or design, and he wasn’t expecting the police to want to speak to him?
‘They… told me something. Something about Nathan.’
Caelan kept her eyes on his face, watching for signs he had known about Nathan’s injuries before today. She could see none but knew she couldn’t rely on her impressions.
‘What do you mean?’
Nash rubbed his face with both hands as he moved back to sit beside her. ‘Some fucker had beaten him, ruined his back.’
Caelan pulled her best bemused face. ‘How do you ruin someone’s back?’
‘Ripped it to fucking shreds.’ Nash exhaled sharply through his nose. ‘And when I find them…’
‘What do you mean? With a knife, or…?’
‘They said he’d been whipped, fucking whipped. I don’t get it. Why would he just take it? Who would even dare try? Nathan was my brother, but he was a fucking psycho. Even I was scared of him.’
She doubted it. ‘Whipped… You mean like an S and M thing?’ As she spoke, Caelan realised it was a possibility they hadn’t considered, though the injuries seemed far too extreme to be consensual.
‘If you like being half killed during sex, maybe.’ Nash gave a harsh laugh. ‘No, this was a punishment beating, or a warning to keep his mouth shut.’
‘About what?’ He was furious, and Caelan knew she would have to be careful how far she pushed him. He was too wound up to realise she was firing question after question at him, wanting to rant at someone, let out his anger and frustration. She didn’t want him to turn it on her.
‘I don’t know. He’s made enemies over the years, we both have. But this… You’ve got to be a cold-hearted bastard to do that to someone.’ He ran his hand over his mouth. ‘They showed me a photograph. His back was just… raw flesh. Meat.’
‘Didn’t Nathan tell you about it?’
He glared at her. ‘Don’t you think I’d have gone after the bastards if he had?’
Caelan waited a beat. ‘You think more than one person was involved?’ Careful, she told herself.
‘It’d have to be. How else could they have done it? It wasn’t like he was only hit once; it would have taken time to do that kind of damage.’ Nash stopped, frowning. ‘It’s got to be Harris again.’
‘Why?’
He spoke through clenched teeth, as though angry she wasn’t understanding. ‘Because Nathan knocked him on his arse. Harris would want to teach him a lesson, humiliate him.’
‘But the argument between Harris and Nathan happened just before Nathan was killed. He must have already had the injuries,’ Caelan pointed out.
Nash stared at her. ‘Yeah, I… You’re right, it couldn’t have happened like that. I’m not thinking straight.’
‘You said you’ve made enemies. What if Harris wasn’t involved at all?’
Again Nash pushed himself out of his seat. This time he stood over her, arms crossed. ‘He was. Maybe you can find me some proof.’
Caelan looked up at him. ‘You want me to spy on Harris while I’m spying on you for him?’
He laughed. ‘Got it in one. I’ll even make it worth your while.’
She wanted to get to her feet, but he was deliberately preventing her from doing so, using his body to try to intimidate her, his crotch almost level with her face. He was leaving himself vulnerable, but Caelan doubted he would realise until she landed a punch. She looked up, her eyes fixed on his, showing him she wasn’t going to be cowed.
‘How?’ she asked.
‘The fifteen grand you owe Harris?’ He rocked back on his heels, well pleased with himself. ‘How about I lend you some money, get him off your back?’
‘If I pay him, there’s no reason for him to keep me hanging around.’
He smirked. ‘Oh, I think there is. Anyway, I’m not talking about the full fifteen. Just enough to keep him sweet.’
Caelan hesitated. This was unexpected, and unwelcome. How was she going to wriggle out of it? ‘Why would you do that?’
‘Because I like you. Because I want you to stay close to Harris, and because I can.’ He smiled, took a step backwards. ‘And… well, it’d mean I’d own part of you too.’
She said nothing, hating him and his attitude. She studied her champagne glass, determined not to be the one to break the silence. Nash took another step back, still smirking at her. ‘Best offer you’ve had all day, isn’t it?’
‘If not all week.’ Caelan stood, moved away to study the print of New York City on the wall. She tensed as Nash came to stand close behind her, trapping her.
‘Have you ever been?’ he asked softly.
‘To New York? No.’ It was true.
‘You should. Maybe I could show you the sights?’
His hand was on her wrist. Gently he pulled her arm so she had to turn to face him. Looking down at her, he smiled. ‘What would your boyfriend do if you didn’t come home?’
‘Come looking for me? He knows where I am.’
‘And he still let you come here alone.’
She pretended to be indignant. ‘He didn’t let me do anything. He doesn’t own me.’
Nash found that amusing, as Caelan had guessed he would. ‘No, Stefan Harris does. Until…’ He waved a hand towards the room’s other door, the one Caelan had wondered about on her first visit.
She glanced at it. ‘What’s in there, the Royal Mint?’
Nash laughed. ‘Almost.’
He pulled a bunch of keys from his trouser pocket. Caelan saw they were attached to a chain, which she guessed was secured to his belt. He worked through them but kept the bunch in his hand, not allowing her to see which ones he’d selected. ‘Follow me.’ He approached the door and knocked on it approvingly. ‘As secure as it gets.’
‘Steel-reinforced?’ Caelan had guessed it would be when she’d seen it before.
‘And then some. Twelve-point locking system, upgraded reinforcement.’ He knocked again. ‘Bullet-resistant.’
She ran a hand down the frame. ‘Get shot at often, do you?’
‘Only once.’ He stepped between Caelan and the door and worked at the locks. Glancing over his shoulder, he winked. ‘They missed.’
The door swung open and Nash flicked on an overhead light, the bulb unshaded. The room was small, around ten feet by six. There were no windows, and no other door. The walls had been painted white but the floor was bare boards. There was a black safe, over a metre tall, against the back wall, but otherwise the space was empty.
Caelan made a point of not gazing around, but she was intrigued. The room was smaller than she’d expected, based on the size of Nash’s office. If the door was steel-reinforced, bullet-resistant, wouldn’t he have decided that the walls, even the floor and ceiling, should be too? Some strongrooms might be too heavy for an upstairs location, but she knew more lightweight options were available.
Nash moved to the safe and crouched in front of it. ‘You won’t take offence if I ask you to look away while I open it? We have to have some secrets, don’t we?’
Caelan turned her back. ‘I’m sure we both have plenty.’
She heard keys, clicking and the creak of the metal door opening.
‘Who needs the Royal Mint?’ Nash stood back, grinning as Caelan turned.
Inside the safe were closely packed bundles of used banknotes, four shelves stacked high.
She whistled. ‘Wow.’
Nash laughed. ‘I thought you’d be impressed.’
‘Makes my earnings look pathetic.’
‘Rubbish. From what I’ve heard, you were doing okay.’
She smiled. ‘If only I hadn’t spent it all.’
He raised a finger. ‘First rule of business: don’t blow all your profits.’
‘I’ll try to remember that,’ was her only comment, whatever else she felt like saying. There was a locked box at the bottom of the safe, and she wondered what was inside. She doubted Brady’s search team would have been authorised to access the strongroom. ‘Is this your income from the club?’
‘Officially, yeah. As you can see, I do pretty well.’ Nash seemed to be waiting for applause.
He’d said ‘I’, Caelan noted, not ‘we’. Often the newly bereaved spoke about the person they had lost as though they were still alive, until acceptance of their situation began to creep in. Either Nash had reached this state of mind quicker than most, or his brother’s presence had never registered much in the first place.
‘And if the taxman followed me in here, you’d be able to account for all this?’ She put a hand on her hip, tipping her head to the side as she studied him; not flirtatious, but definitely teasing. He moved towards her, sliding his arm around her shoulders.
‘Why don’t you let me worry about that?’
‘Happy to.’ She ducked away from him, went over to admire the safe. She wasn’t an expert, but she knew an expensive bit of kit when she saw it. ‘This must have cost a fortune,’ she said.
‘Almost ten grand. Worth it when you’re storing an actual fortune inside – amongst other things.’ Nash squatted by the safe and reached inside, pulling out a bundle of banknotes at random and holding it towards her. ‘How many do you want?’
Caelan didn’t move to take it. ‘Depends on the interest rate. Harris’s is extortionate.’
‘Interest? Nothing – for now. I want you close to Harris, feeding back whatever information you can. He has people on the streets selling for him, and I want to put him out of business.’
‘Expand your empire?’
Nash smiled. ‘Empire. I like that.’
‘Do you mean…’ Caelan hesitated. ‘You want Harris put out of business permanently?’
He stood up, laughing, the money still in his hand. ‘You mean am I planning to have him killed? Come on, what do you think I am? I’m a businessman, not a mobster.’
It can be a fine line, Caelan thought. Again there was no hint of grief for his brother. He’d also let information slip, telling her he had people he could call on to do his bidding. She knew she had to be cautious. Maybe he was behind Nathan’s death, even if he hadn’t swung the bat himself. He was showing a great deal of trust in her by inviting her into this room, showing her the safe and the cash inside. If he only wanted to use her to get at Harris, it seemed like overkill, so what else did he want?
‘But you’ve got a decent set-up here,’ she said. ‘Why get your hands dirty?’
‘I wouldn’t have to.’ Nash was watching her. ‘Harris has other ways of making money than running knackered taxis and forcing smackheads to sell for him.’
‘He said the same about you.’
‘Yeah, well he’s wrong, and that’s why I want a piece of whatever he’s up to. More than a piece.’
‘You don’t know what he’s involved in?’
‘I have my suspicions, but I want you to find out for sure.’ He threw the bundle of money to her, forcing her to catch it or let it fall to the floor. ‘I know I can trust you to help me out.’
‘Do you?’
‘Why do you think I brought you in here?’ Then he was beside her, his hand on her shoulder. ‘I told you – you help me, and I’ll help you. But if you let me down, if Harris gets to hear about what I’ve got tucked away in here, I’ll know you were the one who told him.’ His fingers dug into her shoulder for a second, but it was long enough and painful enough to make his point. ‘This is our secret, you understand? Not a word to your boyfriend either. In fact, why don’t you send him back to Scotland?’ This time he pulled her close and kissed her cheek. ‘I think we’d work well together.’
She wanted to scrub at her face with her sleeve, but she forced a tiny smile. ‘Maybe. I’ll see what I can do.’
Abruptly he released her, making her stumble. ‘Good. Don’t keep me waiting.’ He pulled out his phone, checked the screen. ‘I need to be downstairs soon, making sure everything’s running smoothly. Do you have a bag?’
Shaken now, Caelan feigned confusion. ‘No. Why do I need one?’
Nash nodded at the safe. ‘Don’t think seven grand will fit in your purse, do you?’
He was actually going to give her the money, and Caelan knew she’d have to take it. This pretence was becoming more complicated by the second, and she had no idea how she was going to wriggle out from her current position, trapped between Harris and Nash with both of them expecting information, loyalty, money and sex.
Maybe she and Ewan should both disappear and pretend none of this had ever happened. If it wasn’t for Lucy Mulligan, she would seriously consider it. As it was, for now, Victoria Smith would have to do as she was told.
‘I can’t walk around carrying seven thousand pounds in a carrier bag,’ she said.
Nash moved to the door. ‘You need a handbag or something. You don’t want to raise suspicion. I’ll go and see what I can find.’
Uneasy, Caelan said, ‘You’re not leaving me here with the safe open?’
He smiled. ‘I am, but I’m locking you in.’ He disappeared through the door, and Caelan heard keys turning before she could react.
She didn’t move, guessing there would be cameras watching her, though she couldn’t see any. What was Nash’s game? Did he want her to go to the safe and rummage through the contents? Help herself to more of his money? Like Harris, he wanted power over her, using the money he was forcing her to borrow to ensure her subservience. Having been manipulated and threatened by him, she could easily imagine him trafficking people. Had that been what he’d meant when he’d mentioned Harris making money from more than his legitimate businesses and drug dealing? Harris also wanted to know how Nash made his money, and Caelan had no way of telling who was selling what unless she stuck close to them both.
With her head bowed, her eyes scanned the room. If Reuben Nash had slipped out of his office to attack his brother, she couldn’t see an alternative way out here. It was built for security, and an escape route would compromise that. She studied the safe again, though it seemed unlikely there was a door or hatch concealed behind it. In any case, she doubted Nash would be able to move it on his own. She needed to know whether this room had been searched, and she was also intrigued by the box in the bottom of the safe. She judged it big enough to hold a pistol of some kind, but why would Nash keep such a thing in a property that had already been searched by the police? He could have brought it here once the search had been completed, but he would still be taking a huge risk.
She looked down at the money in her hand. If Nash did insist on her accepting the rest he had promised, she decided she would take it straight to Stefan Harris. She didn’t want to see him, not so soon after he had attacked her, but she knew she had no choice. She didn’t want the cash in her possession for any longer than was necessary.
What was taking Nash so long? A thought crossed her mind, an unpleasant and unwelcome one. What if he wasn’t coming back? What if he’d intended to trap her in here all along? She didn’t know why he would, but she closed her eyes, cursing her stupidity. The most basic of basic errors. Taking out her phone, she glanced at the screen, already knowing what she would see. No signal.
Refusing to panic, she shuffled her feet, stretched her back as though tiring of waiting. The room would do just as well as a prison cell, as effective at keeping people in as it would be at keeping them out. The thought gave her pause. They had no proof that Nash was involved in the disappearance of Lucy Mulligan, but here was a room ready-made for holding a captive. There were no signs anyone had ever spent more than a few minutes in here, but Nash would have cleaned up carefully. Then again, Caelan was probably reaching, finding answers where none existed.
She heard keys jangle on the other side of the door and tensed. On the balls of her feet, she waited as the door opened and Reuben Nash appeared.
‘Miss me?’
‘I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me,’ she said.
‘You? Never.’ He held out a rucksack. ‘Here you go. I see you didn’t help yourself.’
Caelan took the bag from him. ‘I didn’t think you’d appreciate it.’
He nodded. ‘Didn’t even move from where you were standing.’
‘Were you watching me?’ Caelan allowed some indignation into her voice. Again he was telling her he was in charge, he had power over her.
That he owned her.
‘Watching you? Not personally, but…’ He grinned. ‘Can’t be too careful.’
‘I’m surprised you let me in here at all.’
He spread his hands. ‘I wanted you to see I’m not some small-timer like your cousin Mulligan. I have the money and the contacts to take over this part of the city.’
Good, Caelan thought. Now tell me about them. ‘Who runs it at the moment?’
He went to the safe and grabbed some more bundles of notes. ‘Depends who you ask. I know of at least three people who think they do. They all need to learn they’re wrong.’ Holding out the money, he beckoned to her. Caelan took the bundles and pushed them into the rucksack. Seven thousand pounds carried in something that looked like a kid’s school bag. Nash smiled at her like a proud parent.
‘I’m glad you’re letting me help you.’
She wouldn’t call it that. ‘I’d rather work with you than Harris.’
He moved close, stroked her cheek. Caelan looked into his eyes, knowing she would have to let him kiss her. It went against every instinct, but this was her job.
In the end, it was over quickly; a lingering peck and Nash stepped away. ‘Take the money to Harris and call me when you’ve done it. I want to know what he says.’
Caelan hoisted the bag onto her shoulder, bridling at his tone. ‘Talk to you soon.’
He watched her leave, his smirk following her out of the door.