Gone to ground dci boyd.., p.24
Gone to Ground (DCI BOYD CRIME SERIES Book 6),
p.24
‘Not as well as hoped, Father,’ he began. ‘Those idiots you sent down with me really screwed things up.’
He noticed his mother shaking her head, vigorously yet almost imperceptibly.
What’s she trying to…?
‘They screwed up, eh?’ Rovshan tutted. He let out a long rasping sigh. ‘Come here, son. I… I’m too tired to raise my voice.’
Roland walked across the room and joined them overlooking Eaton Square. He could see his father in his entirety now. He was dressed today in a suit and waistcoat, with one of his burgundy silk ties hanging loose around his collar. In one hand he held a cigarette with a long and drooping ash head. In the other his phone.
‘Mistakes…’ Rovshan began. ‘I blame no one, so long as they correct them.’
Roland felt the tension in his body release a notch. This was going to be a dressing down, then. A lecture on leadership, a rap across the knuckles for his carelessness. A teachable moment for the time when he would one day be running the family firm.
‘Betrayal, however…’ Rovshan swiped at the phone’s screen and jabbed it with one of his gnarly fingers.
‘He’s double-crossed some dangerous people. If you’re thinking you can play games with them… Boyd, you have no idea who you’re messing around with.’
‘The FSB.’
A long pause. ‘Right… and so…you fuck with me, then you’re fucking with them too.’
Rovshan Salikov tapped the screen to pause the playback, then he dipped his hand into the left hip pocket of his waistcoat. He pulled out a small brown bottle with an eyedropper lid.
‘KGB tea,’ he said, placing it gently on the side table.
‘Oh, God.’ His mother’s barely restrained composure collapsed at the sight of it. She let out a small yelp of fear and began to sob into her hands.
Roland felt his gut roll over inside his belly, a somersault that almost made him retch.
‘Miko!’ Rovshan called out.
The doors clicked open. Roland spun round to see the old lawyer standing in the doorway, and beside him was a scruffy and dishevelled-looking man, a foot taller.
‘Mr Boyd,’ said Rovshan softly, ‘you can now get your daughter and leave.’
TWO WEEKS LATER
59
Okeke reached out and rubbed Jay’s back as the big man’s shoulders heaved with grief. She watched him catch his tears in a scrappy handkerchief. She caught Boyd looking sympathetically over at them. She wiped away the tear that had escaped down her cheek and scowled back at him.
The coffin had disappeared behind the drapes and the rollers ceased their squeaking as ‘Come Up and See Me’ faded away to silence.
‘And let us now say our final goodbyes to Louie David Collins, a gentle soul taken far too early from this world to be with Our Lord in the next…’
Boyd left Jay and Okeke to console Louie’s family and emerged from the crematorium into daylight. Scudding clouds crossed the blue sky as pools of light and shade bathed the crematorium’s garden with subtle and shifting tones.
The car park was full, as had been the seats inside. It was good to see that Louie had had a decent turn-out. There was nothing so bleak as attending a funeral in an official role and discovering you’d just doubled the numbers. He’d been to a few like that.
He spotted a solitary figure, a woman, standing beside a car. He didn’t recognise her at first, dressed in her civvies.
It was Hatcher.
He nodded politely and ambled over to her.
‘Morning, Ma’am. I wasn’t expecting to see you here,’ he said.
‘Sutherland told me you were attending on behalf of the force,’ she replied. ‘Can we walk and talk?’
He glanced at his watch. He needed to be somewhere else by midday. ‘I’ve got a bit of time.’ He looked around; they had the garden to themselves.
Hatcher led the way along a gravel path, between two patches of daffodils that had chanced an early arrival.
‘How are you doing?’ asked Boyd.
She nodded. ‘Okay. I’m thinking of extending my sick leave. I’ve even considered the prospect of early retirement.’
‘What?’ Boyd asked, surprised.
‘I… All this has forced me to re-evaluate my work–life balance,’ she explained.
Boyd smiled. ‘As in: they don’t pay me enough to put up with this kind of crap?’
She nodded. ‘Policing is policing until you get to force-command level, then it turns political.’ She looked at him. ‘First Gerald Nix, then Sutton, and now with Salikov – I keep getting leaned on.’
‘Leaned on?’
‘Leant on, then.’
‘No, I wasn’t challenging your English,’ he said, chuckling lightly.
‘I had a visit from a couple of gentlemen a few years ago. Not long after I met Zophia Salikov for the first time,’ she continued. ‘They didn’t say as much but they were obviously MI6.’
‘Jesus.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Last year, I was made to bury everything that went on with Nix and had to take your shit for it. And now this whole Salikov incident is to be buried too.’ She stopped and turned to him. ‘Well, I’ve had enough. It’s time you knew: Rovshan Salikov has a deal with MI6.’
‘What kind of a deal?’ Boyd asked, astonished.
‘Immunity. His dirty money gets whitewashed. He’s left alone, plus he gets MI6 protection.’
Boyd shook his head. ‘So which government minister did he bribe to get all that?’
‘It’s down to what he knows,’ she replied. ‘Essentially where the KGB stashed their blood money back when things went pear-shaped for the Soviet Union. They had connections with a number of criminal families. Rovshan Salikov was one of their go-to men. One of their “trustees”.’
‘And he’s rolling over for MI6?’
Hatcher nodded. ‘Something like that. He’ll help them locate and recover it, and in exchange they’ll keep him safe, comfortable and living the good life.’
‘So, his son, Hammond... I’m guessing –’
‘Was approached by the FSB to silence his dad.’ She shrugged. ‘With a promise that he’d be their new tame, controllable trustee.’
‘And what’s happened to him?’ Boyd asked.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. And I don’t want to know.’
‘MI6 presumably have him?’
Hatcher shrugged. ‘I get the distinct impression that he’s no longer around.’ She glanced at him. ‘Do you happen to know anything about that side of things?’
He hesitated for a moment too long.
‘Well, I’ll take it that you do,’ she continued. ‘I heard on the grapevine that there was a “turf war” between some unsavoury types in Brighton round about the time we were looking for Mr Turner.’
He nodded. ‘I heard about that too.’
‘A couple of dead East Europeans. Georgians? One shot by a crossbow. One, apparently, attacked by a samurai warrior.’
‘Really? Blimey,’ Boyd said.
They resumed walking through the garden. Boyd could now see the first of Louie’s family and friends emerging from the building.
‘So where does this leave us, ma’am? You were quite clear before that you weren’t prepared to have me or Okeke under your command any longer.’
‘For obvious reasons,’ she replied. ‘It makes command somewhat awkward if your junior officers think they have something on you. And what about you, Boyd? I’m somewhat uncomfortable having a DCI under my command who’s prepared to go off-procedure when it suits him.’
‘I believe we’ve both done a bit of that this time,‘ Boyd replied. ‘But it was an exceptional scenario.’
She eyed him over the rim of her glasses. ‘That’s the term for it, is it?’
He shrugged. ‘Well, I’m assuming we’re all done with Russian OCGs for now.’
She nodded. ‘Let’s hope.’ She looked over his shoulder at the people spilling out of the building. ‘Let’s end this conversation here, shall we? I’m meant to be on sick leave, not standing around in gardens spilling national secrets.’ She raised her brows, turned away from him and begin walking back along the path to her car.
‘How long will you be off, ma’am?’ he called after her.
She stopped, turned and looked back at him, her demeanour business-like once again. ‘Don’t push your luck, Boyd.’
60
Boyd watched the four-carriage train come to rest just short of the bumper. A moment later the doors opened and several dozen passengers emerged.
He spotted Charlotte immediately, being pulled by Mia on her leash and struggling to get the handle of her suitcase to extend properly, then equally struggling to get the cantankerous thing to stay standing.
He hurried forward to give her a hand. Mia started to dance in circles as soon as she spotted him approaching, tangling her lead around Charlotte’s legs and almost pulling her and the wheelie bag over.
‘Here let me,’ he said grabbing the leash and the extended handle at the same time.
‘Oh, thank God,’ she gasped. ‘The flipping left wheel’s fallen off,’ she said as he approached. ‘I had to drag the wretched thing across London from King’s Cross with Mia being a complete pain. If it wasn’t for a lovely lady called Marcie who stopped to help, we wouldn’t have made it here.’
Boyd untangled Mia and extended an arm around Charlotte. ‘Well I’m glad you made it, you’re a sight for sore eyes,’ he mumbled into her hair.
She was a little taken aback. ‘Mr Boyd!’ she replied into his chest, with a fair degree of theatrical indignation. ‘This really is most forward.’
‘Sod it. I’ve missed you,’ he said softly.
She hugged him in return. ‘I’ve missed you too.’
He released her and then took a step back. ‘Too much, too soon?’ he asked, suddenly worried.
She smiled, stretched up and parked a kiss on his cheek. ‘Not at all.’
‘Here, you have Mia, I’ll take the bag.’ He reached for the handle of her case, pushed it back down and picked it up. ‘Christ, what have you got in here?’
‘A dead body, naturally,’ she replied, deadpan.
He led her out of the station; at some point, as they emerged from the building, he realised they were holding hands.
‘How was it seeing your parents again?’ he asked.
‘Lovely,’ she replied. ‘And a little strange. I felt like I was eighteen again. Which is both comforting and suffocating in equal measure. But yes, it was lovely. We had so much to catch up on. It really had been too long.’
Boyd clicked his car fob and his Captur beeped and unlocked. ‘Hop in, m’dear, and I’ll just stow this thing in the back.’
She let Mia onto the backseat and climbed in while Boyd went to lift the boot open. It was then that he noticed a small parcel placed beside the left rear tyre. Curious, he bent down to take a closer look. He picked it up, then turned it over… and froze.
The untidy scrawl smeared across the side was the exact same handwriting as on the note in his safe.
He stood up straight, feeling a moment of light-headedness as he did so, the blood draining from his face. He tossed the parcel into the boot and pulled Ozzie’s muddy drying towel over the top of it. He looked around the car park and caught a glimpse of an old man with cropped silver hair and a hoodie walking swiftly away from him.
He recognised the scrawny son-of-a-bitch’s cocky swagger.
The man paused for a moment, glanced back and saw Boyd staring at him. He cocked his head and grinned, revealing a glint of grisly teeth. He lifted his hand in salute, swung round and carried on his way.
Boyd looked down at the lump under the towel in his boot. God knows what was going to be in the gift box this time. He really didn’t want to know. Maybe he’d just dump it in his safe and forget it. Or, better still, just dump it.
He hefted Charlotte’s suitcase into the boot and pulled the rear door down.
‘Everything okay there, Bill?’ Charlotte asked as he climbed into the car beside her. ‘You look a little pale.’
‘I’m fine,’ he replied. ‘It’s all good.’
‘Are you sure?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘No. I’m starving,’ she replied.
‘How does fish and chips on the pier sound?’
She smiled. ‘It sounds perfect.’
THE END
DCI BOYD RETURNS IN
ARGYLE HOUSE available to pre-order
here
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Over the last sixteen years, award-winning author Alex Scarrow has published seventeen novels with Penguin Random House, Orion and Pan Macmillan. A number of these have been optioned for film/TV development, including his bestselling Last Light.
When he is not busy writing and painting, Alex spends most of his time trying to keep Ozzie away from the food bin. He lives in the wilds of East Anglia with his wife Deborah and five, permanently muddy, dogs.
Ozzie came to live with him in January 2017. He was adopted from Spaniel Aid UK and was believed to be seven at the time. Ozzie loves food, his mum, food, his ball, food, walks and more food…
He dreams of unrestricted access to the food bin.
For up-to-date information on the DCI BOYD series, visit: www.alexscarrow.com
ALSO BY ALEX SCARROW
DCI Boyd
SILENT TIDE
OLD BONES NEW BONES
BURNING TRUTH
THE LAST TRAIN
THE SAFE PLACE
Thrillers
LAST LIGHT
AFTERLIGHT
OCTOBER SKIES
THE CANDLEMAN
A THOUSAND SUNS
The TimeRiders series (in reading order)
TIMERIDERS
TIMERIDERS: DAY OF THE PREDATOR
TIMERIDERS: THE DOOMSDAY CODE
TIMERIDERS: THE ETERNAL WAR
TIMERIDERS: THE CITY OF SHADOWS
TIMERIDERS: THE PIRATE KINGS
TIMERIDERS: THE MAYAN PROPHECY
TIMERIDERS: THE INFINITY CAGE
The Plague Land series
PLAGUE LAND
PLAGUE NATION
PLAGUE WORLD
The Ellie Quin series
THE LEGEND OF ELLIE QUIN
THE WORLD ACCORDING TO ELLIE QUIN
ELLIE QUIN BENEATH A NEON SKY
ELLIE QUIN THROUGH THE GATEWAY
ELLIE QUIN: A GIRL REBORN
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Here we are again with a big debt of gratitude owed to my wife, Deborah, who sanity-checks my pidgin english and incoherent plotting and Wendy Shakespeare who rigorously copy-edits and continuity-checks the series.
I also have to extend a big thank you to our team of beta-readers who once again have saved me from looking like an utter fool with various errata-‘gotchas’. In no specific order they are; Maureen Webb, Donna Morfett, Susan Burns, Steve Dimmer, Paula Shaw, Pippa Cahill-Watson, Lynda Checkley, Andrew White, Lesley Lloyd and Marcie Whitecotton-Carroll - ‘all dogs must be accounted for’ - good save Marcie! :)
Once more, Boyd, Ozzie and I must thank the UKCBC group on Facebook for their continuing support for the series.
As always, my heartfelt thanks go to Spaniel Aid UK for allowing us to adopt our adorable boy Ozzie in 2017. He’s loving being the most impawtant member of Team Boyd. If you would like to know more about Spaniel Aid UK and the work they do, please visit their website: www.spanielaid.co.uk
We share another of our dogs with Team Boyd. We adopted Charlotte’s Mia from Brittany’s Needing Homes in 2019. They work tirelessly to save dogs at risk in Spain and find them their forever homes in the UK. If you would like to know more, please look them up on Facebook.
Alex Scarrow, Gone to Ground (DCI BOYD CRIME SERIES Book 6)
