Bitter End Part 42

'Get moving. Jerry Kincaid won't keep us waiting much longer. And Fizz, stay in the car till I join you, right?'

Fizz would have loved to argue but it would have been a waste of time and, if the truth were told, she didn't have the bottle. She had expended every trace of adrenalin in her entire glandular system and if Jerry Kincaid were to pop up right now she knew she'd be nothing but a liability.

She grabbed up the plastic mac and a coat for Poppy and the pair of them, tightly clasped like a couple of refugees, staggered round the corner to the Saab. 259. * * *

Buchanan took off his tie and belt and immobilised the comatose centurion. He didn't look like he would be a nuisance to anybody for at least a couple of days but Buchanan wasn't taking any chances. That done, he phoned Hawick police station and told them what was happening and suggested that they inform the WAS plus the ambulance service in case a stomach pump was needed.

There was no movement to be seen outside yet but, regardless of who'd get here first, he knew he wouldn't have long to wait. He went into the hall and unlatched the front door, then he got his hands under the centurion's armpits and dragged him into the bedroom. It was icy cold in there because the window had been lying open since the centurion's felonious entry, but that wasn't a big worry. He stuffed a handful of Poppy's briefs into the guy's mouth -it took five to fill it -and lashed them in place with a pair of nylon tights. More nylon tights reinforced his makes.h.i.+ft fetters and attached the still snoring centurion to the radiator.

Back in the living room, he swung the smashed door back against the wall, kicked the centurion's black leather jerkin out of sight behind the couch, and sat down to wait.

If Kincaid was the first to arrive, he was going to make b.l.o.o.d.y sure he stayed here till the police showed up.

And Kincaid did come first: moving almost soundlessly through the unlocked front door and along the pa.s.sageway to appear framed in the doorway with his hands casually in his coat pockets and his blond hair dark with rain.

'h.e.l.lo Giles,' Buchanan said, understanding swamping his brief flash of surprise. 'Or do I call you Jerry now?'

'Jerry would be nice,' he said, grinning his white grin and swaggering forward to glance around the room. 'Am I too late for the party?'

'I fear so. But there's some booze left. Can I offer you a drink?' 260. Giles paused for a second as though he were listening for something and then said, 'Just a small one, I'm driving.'

Buchanan held out the whisky bottle and Jerry took his left hand out of his coat pocket to accept it. One didn't have to ask oneself what he held in his right.

'So let's talk, Tam,' he said, propping his behind against the edge of the drinks cupboard.

Buchanan himself had chosen the arm of the couch hoping that Jerry would fall for the charms of the overstuffed armchair but Jerry had been too long at the game to fall for that one.

'Sure. What would you like to talk about, Jerry?'

'Sylvie Bennett, alias Poppy Ford. Where is she now?'

'Gone,' said Buchanan obtusely, playing for time.

'Didn't you know that already?'

Jerry narrowed his focus. 'You mean Bragg's taken her?'

'Bragg? I don't think I know anyone of that name.'

'Let's stop playing silly b.u.g.g.e.rs, Tam,' Giles barked, suddenly losing his cool and whipping forth his pistol.

'You know d.a.m.n well who Bragg is. Is Sylvie with him?'

'If you mean the chap you've had following Fizz -and no doubt myself -I'd be very surprised if Sylvie were with him. '

'So, where is she? And stop wasting time, Buchanan, or I'll put a bullet in your head.'

Buchanan, straining his ears for the arrival of the police, heard a faint sound from the hallway, and could have cheered with relief. 'That wouldn't be a good idea -would

it? -since I'm the only person who knows where she is?'

Saying that turned out not to be such a good idea, either. Jerry's face suddenly contorted with fury and, before Buchanan could react, he brought up his pistol and pulled the trigger.

Buchanan went over backwards on to the fat cus.h.i.+ons of the couch. For a couple of seconds shock and outrage blotted out the pain, and for the next couple of seconds real terror gripped him as he heard Fizz's voice yell, 'You b.a.s.t.a.r.d!' 261. As he clawed his way out of the clutch of the upholstery he saw Jerry swing the gun round on Fizz and, without wasting time on deliberation, he grabbed the centurion's cannot from where he'd concealed it between the cus.h.i.+ons and shot Jerry, as luck would have it, in the b.u.t.tock.

The impact threw Jerry forward at Fizz's feet and she promptly stood on his hand and s.n.a.t.c.hed his gun. 'b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, Buchanan,' she said, above Jerry's agonised roars, 'I can't leave you alone for a minute.'

Buchanan was swamped by pain and wallowing in the blood that appeared to be gus.h.i.+ng from the side of his chest.

'Fizz,' he got out between gritted teeth. 'You're sacked.' 262.

Chapter Twenty-Two.

Fizz decided against visiting Buchanan in hospital on

Sunday. Admittedly, she would have liked to a.s.sure herself

that his wound was not as serious as it had appeared to be

the night before but this was well outweighed by three facts:

(1) she hated hospitals, (2) she didn't feel all that good

herself, and (3) a cooling-off period wouldn't do any harm. Buchanan, when last seen, had been ready to make her his second victim and so potent had been his vituperation and abuse that she had begun to admit to herself that he might have a point. At the same time, it was all very well for Buchanan to yell, he wasn't the one who'd had to sit in that freezing car watching the arrival of sodding Jerry Kincaid and wondering what the h.e.l.l was going on. And anyway, Kincaid wouldn't have stopped at one bullet. If she hadn't shown up when she did he'd have kept on shooting bits off Buchanan till he established Poppy's whereabouts. Which just showed what a thankless b.a.s.t.a.r.d Buchanan was. He didn't deserve a visit.

The shock of finding that Jerry Kincaid and Giles Cambridge were one and the same person had just about worn off but it galled her to think how easily he had won her confidence. It was the first time in many years that she'd been taken for a ride and, she had to admit, it stung.

Which was another reason she was in no hurry to face Buchanan's pitying smile.

She spent the day alternately trying to study and thinking about Vanessa. Now that she had all the jigsaw pieces 263. that made up the picture of her demise, the only question to be answered was how to make the best use of them.

And by Monday morning she had the answer to that.

She got up early and washed her hair and braided it tightly while it was still wet, that being the only way she could make it look businesslike. Then she dressed carefully in her grey jacket, black skirt and tights, and buffed up her solitary pair of heels. A touch of make-up, and she was ready to go into battle.

Eleven-fifteen saw her breaching the outer defences of Lawrence Gra.s.sick's retreat, buzzing all over with a not entirely pleasant feeling of antic.i.p.ation. She gave her name, adding the clarification that Mr Gra.s.sick and she had met at Brora Lodge on Friday, and wasn't surprised to be admitted, presently, to the inner sanctum.

Gra.s.sick was seated behind a desk the size of a table for eight and didn't rise when she came in.

'I won't ask you to sit down,' he said, with a cold stare.

'I'm sure your business won't take long.'

Fizz gave him her sweetest smile and took a chair. 'Well, I hope you're right, Mr Gra.s.sick, but I'll take the weight off my feet anyway.' She parked her bag on the floor and plunged straight on without giving him time for any more of his childish behaviour. 'I thought you should know right away that Tam Buchanan and I have now completed our investigation into your wife's death.'

'Oh, really?' he sneered, a layer of fake interest applied to cover the very real curiosity that lit his eyes. 'You wasted two weeks on proving the facts to be precisely what I claimed them to be. Congratulations.'

'Yes,' Fizz said. 'You told us the truth, as far as it went.'

His black brows snapped down. 'What d'you mean, "as far as it went"? I don't have time to listen to any of Tam Buchanan's daft imaginings. You've told me all I need to know; now you can take yourself off.'

Fizz crossed her legs and put on a look of profound sympathy. She could already feel her hair wriggling its way 264. out of her braids but she resisted raising a hand to tidy it.

'There is just the question of what we should do with our information,' she said gently.

Gra.s.sick sat slowly back in his chair and returned her smile with suppressed venom. 'If you want my opinion on that, Miss Fitzpatrick, I'll have to know specifically what information you're referring to.'