Safe Page 11

  “And you know who they were, the men who came? Were they your father’s people, or were they from the Perrins?”

  Lauren looked at her in astonishment.

  “Let’s just say I’m aware of what’s going on and leave it at that. Or at least, I’m aware of part of it. You’ll have to accept that I can’t tell you any more.”

  Lauren looked at her more closely but nodded. “My father was with them. He’s Kyle Sykes, but I take it you know that already.”

  “I know who you are, yes. So what have you done that put a price on your head? Has it got something to do with Charlie Perrin’s death?”

  Lauren took a deep breath. “He tried to rape me, so I shot him.”

  “I’d say ‘Well done’ but that’s probably not the accepted reaction. But well done, anyway. No wonder your father’s annoyed.”

  “Incandescent, more like.”

  Petra was shaking her head. “I don’t think so. On the Kyle Sykes tantrum scale, we are currently still in mild annoyance mode. Believe me, I’ve seen the results when he’s been fully, as you put it, incandescent. But then I suppose you have, too.”

  When my mother died, Lauren thought. She nodded. “It’s ramping up though, you didn’t see what he did to Harry.”

  Petra took that in. “OK, so I want you to tell me absolutely everything. Start with the night Charlie Perrin died and go from there. Every single detail, you got that? In about an hour, we’ll be changing cars, and then we’ll stop and have some breakfast.”

  “This is not your car?”

  “Not my car, not my dogs, though I wish they were. Don’t worry, the car and the dogs belong to a good friend and there is absolutely nothing to connect me, Harry, them or you.”

  Lauren wasn’t sure about that. “Harry didn’t think there was anything to connect him to the cottage, but my father found him anyway.”

  “Harry had been there before?”

  “He found it by accident when Jean died. He went away, just drove, ended up there.”

  “Well, he must have told somebody about it. Or maybe just a few details that gave your father the clues he needed. He’s got a hell of a network has Kyle Sykes.”

  “And how do you know so much about it? What are you?”

  “What, not who. An interesting choice of words,” Petra said. “No — your story first. Don’t leave anything out, it doesn’t matter how random. Just don’t leave anything out.”

  * * *

  Over the next hour, Lauren talked. She ate chocolate and drank coffee and she began to warm up and feel a little more human. Somehow, explaining everything to this stranger was helpful. It allowed Lauren to clarify her own thoughts. She found it hard to believe that only three full days had passed since she’d left Charlie Perrin’s body lying dead on her bedroom floor. The man was a brute, he had deserved what had happened to him.

  Petra asked the odd question, clarified the details, but otherwise let her talk. After they had travelled about an hour and a quarter, Petra pulled into a layby behind another car. “This is us,” Petra said. Lauren got out, bringing the rest of the chocolate, the coffee and the blanket with her. A young man with dark hair took Petra’s place in the driving seat. He didn’t speak to either of them but from the cheerful yapping of the dogs, it was obvious that they knew him well.

  They got into the second car, a smaller hatchback and Petra adjusted the driver’s seat. “He’s got such long legs,” she complained. The estate car had already gone, turning back the way they had come.

  “His dogs and his car?”

  “No, borrowed dogs, borrowed car.”

  “Borrowed from yet another friend? How big is your network, Petra?”

  “Not as big or extensive as your father’s. Certainly not as big or extensive as the Perrins’”

  “So what now?”

  “In about another hour, we’ll change cars again. Then I put you in a hotel for the night, and I go back to being Pat for a bit. You can order room service, you can watch as much TV as you like, and you can sleep. Just don’t leave the hotel. And then we’ll figure out what to do with you next.”

  “And who is Pat?” Lauren asked. She was beginning to formulate some ideas about this woman but wasn’t certain yet. “You’re someone who’s pretending to be someone else and you know a great deal about my father and the Perrins. I can only think of a few reasons why that should be.”

  “What did Harry tell you about me?”

  “He said you were someone I was to call in case of an emergency. He didn’t call you a friend. He just said you were someone who would help me, if the worst came to the worst. I asked him why we didn’t call you straight away if he thought you could help, but he said there were strings attached to the kind of help you could give, so we should wait.”

  Petra nodded, accepting that.

  “You’d have liked it more if Harry had called you a friend,” Lauren suggested. “You liked Harry.”

  “I liked Harry,” Petra confirmed. “Look, there’s not a lot I can tell you. I’m really not supposed to get involved like this. I’m really not supposed to break cover — I figure you’ve worked that one out.”

  Lauren nodded. “So, you’re an undercover cop? Believe me, I’m not about to dob you in. Who am I going to tell?”

  “Your dad, if he catches up with you. You won’t want to, but he won’t give you any option. You’d be telling him anything just to stop the pain, you and I both know that.”

  “Better make sure he doesn’t catch up with me then,” Lauren said.

  Chapter 23

  In the hotel, Lauren took a long bath and finally got warm. They had stopped off on the way to the hotel and in a shopping centre bought her a small wheeled suitcase, an overnight bag and some clothes. She got dressed in new jeans, a T-shirt and a hoody, relishing the soft fleeciness of the inside. They had also picked up a loose-leaf pad and some envelopes and pens. When Lauren came out of the bathroom, Petra was sitting at the desk scribbling notes.

  Someone knocked on the door and called out, “Room service.” Lauren was immediately alarmed.

  “It’s OK,” Petra told her. “I ordered us food. You need something a bit more nourishing than chocolate.”

  Even so, Lauren ducked out of sight, angry with herself that her coat was hanging over a chair close to the radiator, by the window and out of her reach. The gun, the cash, the phone, they were all still in the pockets. How could she have been so careless?

  The door closed and Petra set an overladen tray down on the bed. “Eat,” she said. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

  The food immediately reminded Lauren of Harry’s offerings. Harry had not been much of a cook, so eating with him had mostly been pizzas and burgers and chips. Petra had obviously resorted to that now, presumably going with the reasoning that all teenagers liked pizzas and burgers and chips. Right now, Lauren was just happy to have something to eat, but she noted that there were also little plastic cartons of fresh fruit and she quietly put both of those on her bedside cabinet. She didn’t think that Petra would mind.

  The woman came over and perched on the other bed, helping herself to a slice of pizza and some napkins. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I played it safe. But there’s a room service menu over there, you can order anything. If you don’t want to open the door, then just shout through the door that you’re getting out of the shower and to leave it outside. I’ll put the ‘do not disturb’ notice on the door when I leave and that will keep the cleaning staff at bay.”

  “What were you doing?” Lauren gestured to the notes Petra had been making. “You writing a report?”

  “I’ve got to let somebody know what’s going on. Don’t worry, I’m not telling them where you are. But this is bigger than I can deal with and definitely bigger than you can deal with.” She reached for a second slice of pizza and Lauren grabbed a burger. For a few minutes, they just munched in silence. Lauren finally acknowledged how exhausted she was feeling, the carbohydrate-heavy meal addi
ng to the feeling of lethargy.

  “I’m knackered,” she said. “I think I could sleep for a week.”

  “Sleep is probably the best thing you can do.” Petra leaned across and took Lauren’s hand. “I promise I’ll look after you.”

  Lauren pulled her hand away. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You can promise to try, if you like, but that’s all you can do.”

  Petra nodded. “OK, we’ll settle for that. I promise I’ll do my best.”

  Lauren giggled. “You sound like a Girl Scout.”

  “I’ll have you know I was a Brownie.” Petra laughed too. “Admittedly, I don’t think I was a very good one.”

  “So what do we do now? I have some money, and I don’t do stupid things just because I’m scared, so you can tell me what you think my chances are. I don’t want to put anybody else at risk, you understand that? I’m grateful for what you’ve done, but I’d rather just leave here and go off on my own rather than risk someone else.”

  Petra nodded, seeing the truth of that. “Look, like I said, this is bigger than you are, bigger than me and we need some outside help. Some protection.”

  “You mean the police. Harry said . . .”

  “No offence, love, but Harry is dead. I understand his reasoning, I know that your dad’s got fingers in every pie going, but the only organization big enough to go up against him is the police. They’re not all corrupt, you know.”

  “I get that, but how do you know who to trust?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  If Petra had been hoping for an instant positive response, she was disappointed. She watched as Lauren gave this question her full attention, her deepest thought.

  “I think you see me as a commodity,” Lauren said. “I do think you want to protect me but — and don’t take offence at this because I do understand, I do get it — you’re also looking at this to see what advantage it brings you. Look, I know you’re police. I figured out you’re undercover. But I don’t know exactly what you’re trying to do, I don’t want to know, because I don’t want to be able to tell, you understand?”

  Petra nodded. Lauren already knew too much for her to be comfortable with.

  “So, rescuing me gives you some leverage, yeah?”

  “It might,” Petra agreed.

  “Because you must realize that I know a fair bit about my dad’s organization. I can name names. I can tell you stuff he doesn’t know I’m aware of. So that’s what you must be thinking. And of course, that’s what he must be thinking too. He wants me shut up for good and so do the Perrins. And it’s not just about Charlie. Though I get that it’s a matter of pride. I shot Charlie when, well, more experienced people than me have taken pot-shots at him and missed. So a lot of people are going to be very offended by that.”

  Petra was looking at her with fresh eyes. Young she might be, but this kid was not stupid and she was also more in control than Petra expected. Petra had served in the military before joining the police and she’d seen well-trained men and women go to pieces under this kind of pressure. She was fully aware that the kid must be raging inside, fearful and desperate, but she was maintaining her control. “OK,” Petra agreed. “Yes, I’m looking for an angle, you could be the answer to a lot of questions or you could be such a big complication it blows the whole operation apart.”

  “Either way,” Lauren said. “Chances are you’re already compromised, and you should get out now.”

  “What makes you say that? Look, you drew your conclusions because of the circumstances. Admittedly, you were quick, but—”

  Lauren was shaking her head. “My dad’s organization has been infiltrated twice before. That’s right, isn’t it?”

  Petra nodded. On both occasions, the UCs had disappeared. No trace of either of her colleagues having been found.

  “I’m guessing you’ve not tried anything with my dad’s organization this time. I think I’d have recognized you. So it’s got to be the Perrins. And you must have been part of the scene for a while, because Gus Perrin likes to keep his people close and he trains his lieutenants to do the same. I don’t think you’re a lesbian — Gus isn’t exactly known for his openness and tolerance — so you’ve been getting involved with one of the men. That was who was on the phone to you. So he’ll be wanting to see you later, because not seeing his girlfriend for more than twenty-four hours would be unnatural. So you’re already compromised by having broken your habits.”

  “I’ll be seeing him this evening,” Petra agreed.

  “So, you must have gone into really deep cover. Getting out of this mess isn’t going to be easy. You don’t really have cavalry to call.”

  “I have an emergency ‘out’, should I need it. But I don’t want to use it because, yes, it would blow the whole thing wide open.”

  Petra watched Lauren consider that. “So what’s the aim? Get rid of Gus Perrin, get rid of Kyle Sykes? And what then? You know as well as I do that nature abhors a vacuum and so does the world of organized crime. You cut the heads off the organization, the organization’s still there — someone will just step into the void. You won’t smash it, it’s too big.”

  She has a point, Petra thought. Right now, the salient question that sprang to her mind was, What to do with Lauren Sykes?

  * * *

  When Petra had gone, Lauren finished eating, put the tray out in the hall as she’d been told to and made herself a cup of tea. Then she sat down on the end of the bed to think. She knew that Harry had made mistakes, and that Petra didn’t think much of him as a strategist, but that was missing the point. Harry had done everything out of love and loyalty.

  What would Harry do now, and how could Lauren improve on that?

  She glanced at the clock. It was three thirty, more than twelve hours since Harry had roused her from sleep. No wonder she was tired. Despite the room being warm, she felt chilled, but it was not the kind of chill that central heating could easily cure.

  She went over to the window and looked out. The room was on the thirteenth floor and as they had come up, Petra had made sure she knew where the exits were and where the fire escapes came out. This high up, she had a good view across the city. She’d noticed that there were tourist maps and information in one of the drawers and she pulled them out now, trying to figure out where the hotel was in relation to everything else. It turned out there was a railway station close by. If she needed to, she could get out of here. A five-minute walk to the station would get her on a train. She had plenty of cash.

  And then what? Her father would not give up. Nor, she guessed, would Perrin, if Sykes failed to deal with her. She would have to keep moving, pick up casual work where she could, stay where she could. Although she had cash at the moment, that money would not last for ever.

  Sheer exhaustion was winning and Lauren could no longer think straight. Oddly, she felt safer in the anonymity of this standardized chain hotel, in a city she’d never been to and which, she calculated, was at least a ninety-minute drive from where she had grown up, than she had in that tiny, remote, exposed little cottage by the sea. It was easier, she thought, to disappear in a crowd, because no one took any notice of anyone else. Your presence was diluted by the presence of all the other people going about their business and getting on with their day. With that thought in her head, Lauren pulled the duvet tight and fell into a deep and heavy sleep.

  Chapter 24

  A couple of hours after Lauren had been deposited in her room, Petra was in search of a hairdresser. Having used that as an excuse not to meet Billy for lunch, she knew she’d better not see him until she’d had her hair sorted out some way or other — the colour changed, or the cut, something dramatic.

  Dealing with Lauren Sykes had not been on her agenda and she knew she had to report it. In the hotel room, she’d written a brief account of what she’d been doing and the mess she found herself drawn into. Then she found a post office, a first-class stamp and posted her report to her handler. Old-fashioned it might be, but it was
still the simplest and safest way. She had refrained from telling them where she had stashed the girl. The fewer people who knew that the better. It wasn’t particularly that she didn’t trust her handler; more that she didn’t know who he’d be reporting to or whether she could trust them.

  She was surprised that the incident from which Lauren had fled and in which Harry Prentice had died had not made it onto the national news. She eventually found a local news report while flicking through her phone in a decent-looking hairdressers that accepted walk-ins. It went against the grain — she had a favourite stylist who did her colour and she was very reluctant to let somebody else have a go.

  The hairdresser ran practised fingers through her already pristine shoulder-length bob, clearly puzzled as to why she thought it required attention. Petra found herself making up a half-truth about going to a special event at the weekend, and wanting her cut sharpened up so that it looked absolutely pristine. Maybe even a complete change of style? And that she thought she could do with a few more lowlights. Later, she managed to discover a couple of news items that talked of a suspicious death and reports of a major police incident. It had been reported as an RTA. Obviously, someone was trying to keep this under wraps. She figured she was going to have to get her news through other routes.

  Sitting in the hairdresser’s chair, Petra turned her thoughts to Lauren. She couldn’t believe how stupid Harry had been, taking the girl somewhere that might be connected to him. While it was probably true that he hadn’t told anyone exactly where he’d gone after his wife had died, he would almost certainly have given bits and pieces of information away without realizing it. After all, he’d had no reason to suspect he should be keeping it secret at the time.

  She wondered who was leading the team looking into Charlie Perrin’s death. No way her colleagues would take it at face value and accept that it was accidental. But even had she personally known any officer in the local force, which she did not, she had no direct line to anyone. It had been decided she would have no contact with anyone apart from her handler and that was distant enough. She’d been in deep cover for too long, she thought — not for the first time. She’d been involved with Billy Hunter for three years and she was aware that she was riding her luck. This thing with Lauren Sykes just highlighted that.