When she was out of earshot, Chi rang Jubilee, trying to console her. ‘Look, by Monday lunchtime we’ll have twenty grand. That’s ten grand each. We can get down to Heathrow and book our tickets. Get on the next available plane.’
But Jubilee was inconsolable. ‘Monday will be too late,’ she said. ‘She wants me to …’ The words stuck in her throat. ‘And I don’t like her,’ she finished. ‘She has a nasty streak in her.’
‘She’s not really my friend and I know all about her nasty streak.’
‘Why did you tell her, Chi?’
‘I didn’t. She found out. Kath has a sort of instinct.’
‘Is it the money she wants?’
Chi shook her head.
‘So what is she intending to do with my poor man?’
It was up to Chi to convince her. ‘She just wants to get even with the detective who put her behind bars,’ she said. ‘She won’t want to do anything to your man. He’s just there to tempt the detective somewhere remote.’
‘So what will she do to the detective?’
Chi knew she had to sanitize this or everything would go awry. ‘Just rough her up a bit. Nothing’ll happen to your guy. He’ll be safe.’
‘You promise?’
‘I promise.’
‘I am very frightened,’ was Jubilee’s response, and Chi had to spend the next few minutes extolling Jamaica, adding in facts she’d learned from the internet. ‘It’s only just over nine hours away and then we’ll be in the bars listening to reggae music and …’
On the end of the line, Jubilee was silent. Chi sensed her doubt. ‘Listen, Jubilee, you don’t want to cross Kath, I promise you.’
‘Sometimes I wish I’d never met you.’
‘But if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had that lead to the dealer, would you?’
‘That is true.’
Chi didn’t like it that Jubilee was taking a lot of persuading.
‘There’s only one way out of this. Fall in with Kath or you’re dead meat.’
‘I will regret this for the rest of my born days. I just want out.’
‘OK, OK, calm down. It won’t help if you get panicky. Just do it.’
‘It’s OK for you. You’re not going to be asked to take an old man from his bed and hand him over to some psycho lady who will use him to get revenge on a police person, are you? I’m the one who will be implicated. Not you. I am the one who will betray someone who has trusted me.’
Chi was silent.
Fee-fi-fo-fum. I smell the blood of an Englishman.
Kath had spent hours thinking about this part of the plan. All she needed to do was remove Korpanski. But Korpanski had a family. If any one of his little brood was injured, he would take time off work, wouldn’t he?
So … Eeenie meenie miney mo. It was time to choose, fine-tune the plan.
Eeenie was the obvious one. AKA Detective Sergeant Mike Korpanski. He of the bulging biceps. Take him from Piercy’s side and she would be without her right-hand man. Her protector, behind whom she’d hidden probably on many occasions, but one time in particular which had reached the newspapers, when the DS had taken a bullet meant for his inspector. Although he would be the obvious target, the downside was that not only was the DS a big, burly man and thus harder to disable, but he was also a police officer. He would have instincts of self-protection.
So Meenie? The gangly boy he’d had his arm around as they had set off for their run. The boy? An easier target and much more vulnerable. He would be cycling or walking to school. How easy to stage an ‘accident’. But there was a downside to this too. If he just had a couple of broken ribs, maybe Korpanski would still go to work. Doing his job. Kath’s plan was to hang on to the old man for a week or so before instigating the next stage. Part of the punishment would be the ridicule that the police, and in particular DI Piercy, would be subjected to when they failed to find the missing geriatric. She wanted Piercy to look a pregnant fool. And then some.
Miney? The girl, the Mummy-clone – she would be even easier to hit, but the same problem as her brother.
So Mo? The wife? Kath stubbed her cigarette out. The trouble with Mrs Korpanski was that she appeared to work irregular hours. That would mean staking out and waiting for a suitable opportunity.
It had to be Eeenie. She couldn’t take too many chances. She wanted him out of the way. With injuries severe enough, even DS Korpanski couldn’t drag half a leg into work.
Everything was falling into place very nicely.
Sunday 21 October, 9 p.m.
Ryland’s Residential Home, Room 11
Jubilee was on the late shift and had worked out how to do this. She could hide in the linen store and wait. She had her mobile phone on Silent. She just had to keep telling herself. Tomorrow they would have the money. By Tuesday she could be on the plane. Nine hours later they would land in her country.
All she had to do was …
She swept conscience aside and popped the extra tablet out of its plastic bubble.
Zachary Foster looked up at her and smiled. And that smile touched her heart. It was childlike, trusting, innocent. Jubilee had been brought up a devout Christian. Did Christ look at Judas in that same trusting way when he had kissed him? Yes. Now she knew how Judas had felt too, how sour and deceitful that kiss, how he had known it would have been more honest had he slashed the Master with a sword.
Zachary Foster had the mind of a small child. He swallowed both tablets obediently, without question or demur, and she handed him his cocoa which he drank greedily. When he’d finished he had a rim of dark cocoa around his mouth and she wiped it clean. ‘Can you help me find my …’ His head was already on the pillow.
She leaned over him, speaking very softly so that nosey old Alf Dean couldn’t hear. ‘I’ll find him for you,’ she whispered. ‘We’ll find him together.’
Zac Foster gave a sleepy smile, wrapped his arm around the teddy she’d bought from the charity shop and gave a soft snore. Jubilee touched the top of his head, feeling his hair, sparse and soft. ‘Goodnight, Zachary,’ she said. ‘Goodnight.’ He never would remember her name, how many tablets he’d taken. Anything that had happened. She thought back to previous nights when he’d curled his arm round the ancient teddy bear and lain back on the pillow, his face calm in repose, looking not old but wise and relaxed. Jubilee watched him, feeling the guilt creep up her body until it reached her brain. Trying to convince herself. It was his fault. He never should have told her the story, shown her the article. That had been the start of it all. The sheer enormous value of that tatty little toy he dragged around all day and cuddled all night. She’d been surprised he’d made such a fuss when it had vanished. She’d thought he would forget quicker. But he hadn’t. His distress had remained. But when she was getting used to the guilt she realized. This was something she could use in readiness.
She practised saying it in all innocence. He must have gone to search for his teddy bear.
It sounded convincing. But she could hear the wobble in her voice, the words streaked with guilt.