Silencing the Dead Will Harker (free ebooks for android TXT) 📖

I pictured Nick fleeing both the scene of the crime and the dark memories that pursued him.

“But if they were Thorn’s, why would he be carrying them loose?” Tallis said.

Our eyes met and I asked, “Any CCTV installed?”

“Not that we can find.” He led the way back to the SOCO tent where we started to change out of our forensics gear. “We’ll check any local cameras for vehicles coming this way, but it’s a pretty rural spot. I doubt there’ll be much we can work with.”

He walked me to my car, where we shook hands again.

“Do you think they’ll go ahead with the broadcast after this?” I asked.

“I haven’t managed to speak with Everwood yet,” Tallis said. “But I have touched base with the network people this morning. They tell me that postponing the event would be the last thing Sebastian Thorn would have wanted.”

I almost laughed. “That, I do believe. Well, I suppose with millions watching, Darrel’s as safe as he can be, although I imagine his paranoia will go into overdrive when he hears about Thorn. If it is paranoia.”

The inspector gave me one last, long look. “Let me know if anything else occurs to you, Scott. And thanks for the tipoff about Thorn.”

Cursing myself for not having taken Nick’s number, I’d just got back into the car when my phone rang. No caller ID. Praying that this was him, I started rehearsing a couple of reassuring lines that might settle his nerves and bring him out of hiding. I had no doubt he’d scurried away to some bolthole, terrified that the police would take one look at his record and implicate him in the murder. If I could convince Nick that Tallis would give him a fair hearing, then everything might still work out.

I answered the call.

“Hello Scottster, long time no speaky, eh? If I didn’t know better, I could swear you’ve been avoiding me.”

As soon as I heard that voice, I knew it was too late for Nick.

“What do you want, Mark?”

The mobster Mark Noonan cooed softly in my ear. “Now, is that any way to speak to an old friend? Let’s keep our manners nice and sociable, shall we? Cos if you do get snappish with me, Scottster, I might have to start snapping back.”

I took a breath. “Have you heard from Nick?”

“Yes indeed, I might have to snap back very, very hard.” He laughed. “You stabbed me right to the heart when you went off and joined the filth, but I didn’t bear a grudge. Long as you kept shtum about my business, I was happy enough to let you run around with your new detective friends. Oh, I heard you got into a bit of trouble, though. Beat up some Nazi cunt, wasn’t it? Landed yourself a nice little stretch. I also heard,” he said in a delicate whisper, “that some boys jumped you in the showers up at Hazelhurst. Well, I want you to know, Scottster, that unpleasantness was nothing to do with me.”

I closed my eyes, fought back the vision of myself curled up on those blood-streaked tiles. I didn’t have time for this.

“Say what you’ve got to say, Mark. I’m listening.”

“No, no,” he cooed again. “This ain’t no kind of reunion. If you want to know what Nick has just told me regarding a certain murder he might have witnessed last night, you come see me at Nana’s. I’ll have the kettle on ready.”

The line went dead.

“Fuck,” I muttered. “Nick, what have you done?”

It was hardly a question worth asking. Frightened and confused, high on his illegal meds, Nick had sought the protection of the only man in his life who had ever offered it. Executing a quick three-point-turn in the lane, I wondered why he hadn’t come to me. The answer was equally as obvious—he knew that I was just starting again and that I had someone I cared for. Conscious of his own now-shattered hopes for a new life, he wouldn’t have wanted to bring trouble to my door. In the end, Nick had seen Noonan as his only option.

Now I ran through mine. I could inform Tallis that Nick was being held against his will and that he possessed information about Thorn’s murder but required police protection. Even if the DCI was willing to action a raid on Noonan’s base, however, that sort of operation would require time to organise and implement. Meanwhile, any delay in me reaching the house would arouse Noonan’s suspicion. In any case, it was likely that Nick was being kept at a separate location.

Time wasn’t the only factor. I could call my dad and have a crowd of local Travellers waiting for me outside the house when I arrived. Backup in case things turned nasty. But given the ingenious setup of the place, that probably wasn’t wise. If I wanted to learn what Nick had seen last night, then I had to play by Noonan’s rules. I checked the dashboard clock. 9:50 am. Plenty of time to swing by the house in Hounslow and get back to Purley for the broadcast at eight.

If I survived, of course.

An hour and twenty minutes later, I pulled into a charming crescent of semi-detached houses that backed onto the Hounslow Loop railway. At one end stood the overground station, at the other, a community allotment and the humpbacked railway bridge. The street was clean and litter-free, its pavements weeded, its hedges neatly trimmed. Pensioners in old-fashioned housecoats and peaked caps looked out from their gardens as I parked up. They all smiled and waved as if they knew me. Lending a hand in the gardens, washing cars, carrying shopping were a few good-looking young men with biceps for days and necks like tree trunks. I felt every eye on me as I pushed open Nana’s gate and walked up the path to number 56 Sanford Crescent.

This wasn’t only Noonan’s base, it was his street. He owned every house and let them rent-free to a select club