Chapter 32

Hager stared at the empty hook on which the spare key to David’s room normally hung. Why had Tucker removed it? He had the only other key. Footsteps on the stairs. Tucker was coming down. Hager moved into the hall.

‘Ah, there you are, Hager. All the envelopes checked?’

‘Yes, sir. When will we post them?’

Tucker was carrying two empty canvas bags as well as his briefcase. ‘I’ve decided to take them into Aldeburgh now. I’ll get to the post office with plenty of time to spare before they close. You can get on with the final clearing up. Are you packed ready to leave?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good. As soon as I’m back we’ll leave for Dover. No point in waiting for Laurel Bowman’s friends to turn up.’

Tucker was blustering. ‘Why don’t we both leave now? Stop in Aldeburgh on our way to Dover. It would save you coming back.’

The skin under Tucker’s left eye twitched. ‘Yes, that would make sense, but this is how I’ve been ordered to carry out this part of the operation. I won’t be long, although I do need to go into the gallery and collect a few things.’

‘What about the woman and the boy? Shall I make sure they’ve got some food in case no one comes for a few days? You never know, her friends might not be worried when she doesn’t turn up. Perhaps she sometimes goes off by herself.’

Tucker placed the canvas bags on the floor near the envelopes on the hall table. He rubbed his right index finger over his top lip. ‘We can do that when I get back.’ He turned and went into the parlour. ‘I need to check I’ve got enough money for the postage.’

Hager followed him, tensing his muscles, flexing his shoulders, his right hand by his side, fingers in line. Tucker had his back to him, opening his briefcase.

‘Where is the key to David’s room?’ Tucker’s back stiffened. ‘It isn’t on the hook in the kitchen.’ Hager edged towards Tucker, his hand moving from his side.

Tucker turned. In his right hand was a semi-automatic pistol. Before he could aim and fire, Hagar leapt towards him, right arm leading, and with great force hit him a downward blow with the edge of his hand below Tucker’s ear.

There was a gasp of expelling air. Tucker’s knees buckled and he slumped to the floor, the pistol falling from his hand. Hager kicked the gun away, then booted Tucker’s body straight, cursing him as the steel caps of his shoe thudded into flesh and bone. Tucker’s head lolled obscenely to one side. Hager stopped; breathing deeply he rubbed the edge of his hand. Tucker’s lifeless eyes stared at him. As dead as a dodo, whatever one of those was. He picked up the pistol. A Makarov. Bloody useless gun. Heavy and clumsy. Cheap-skate Russians. Give him a Luger any day. Where was the skill and fun in shooting someone dead? He preferred to use his hands. To feel the flesh, the direct contact between him and his victims, and hear the crunch of bones breaking. That’s what turned him on. Shooting someone? No fun at all. He threw the gun onto the floor beside Tucker.

He emptied Tucker’s briefcase onto the sofa. Tickets for a boat from Newcastle to Bergen. His British passport. A wallet of money. He’d been right. Tucker was sodding off leaving him here with the bloody boy and woman. Thinking he wouldn’t be able to get at them because he hadn’t a key and he couldn’t get through the steel door. His heart was beating faster than its normal fifty-five a minute and he felt blood suffusing his face. He looked down at the avuncular face of Nicholas Tucker, his boss for all these years, the man he’d looked up to, and respected. Who’d betrayed him. Lied to him. All the dirty work Hagar had done, all the perverts he’s fed and watered, photographed and scared to death. Tucker had been going to leave him up to the neck in shit. He turned and kicked Tucker’s head until it was a ball of pulp. He looked at his steel-capped boots and grimaced with disgust. Tucker had even made a mess of them.

He gave one last vicious kick into the body on the floor, and smiled as he heard ribs crack. Pity the shite wasn’t alive. He looked again at the contents of the briefcase. Where were they? He bent down and rummaged through Tucker’s jacket pockets. He touched the cold steel of the two keys and smiled in anticipation.

Now for those two bastards upstairs.