Hunter Hunted by Jack Gatland (best value ebook reader .TXT) 📗

all for show,’ she said. ‘Ex-army types, civil servants who got sick of flying economy, that sort of thing. They get paid a pretty penny for looking the part, but they don’t control Rattlestone. They don’t shape it. That happened after the Balkans.’

‘I’ve heard about that,’ Declan noted this down. ‘Was it Baker who leaked the itinerary?’

Francine shook her head. ‘As much as he was a craven bastard, he had a kind of moral compass. If it was anyone in his department, it was Will Harrison. He was a sneaky little runt at the best of times.’

‘So who controls them now?’

‘Last I heard, they were working for the Star Chamber,’ Francine offered. ‘Black bags always were a part of their remit, after all.’

‘What was your connection to Rattlestone?’

‘What makes you think I had one?’

‘You hired them.’

‘My company hired them as security consultants,’ Francine waggled her finger. ‘Not the same as I hired them.’

Declan leaned back in the chair, observing Francine for the moment, fidgeting, her right hand on the arm of her chair, tapping tunelessly as she spoke. ‘But you knew them,’ he said. ‘A Rattlestone employee was your driver to Devington Hall, and Shaun Donnal stated the same man on your orders beat him.’

‘Oh,’ Francine smiled again. ‘You mean the undercover officer, DI Frost, who you seem to play the part of right now.’

‘Did you know he was undercover?’

‘Sweetheart, I didn’t even know his name was Frost,’ Francine replied. ‘DI Frost? Check the warrant card you must hold. If his first name’s Jack, you know it’s fake.’

‘Why?’

Francine shook her head. ‘Christ, didn’t you watch TV? David Jason? A Touch of Frost? He played DI Jack Frost.’ She chuckled. ‘Good show. But either way, Frost isn’t his actual name. I never found it out. And neither will you. By the time you reach him, he’ll be gone all over again. Or didn’t you think it strange that the moment that you last arrested him, he was instantly whisked away?’

‘I thought it strange that he’d break cover and try to beat Alex Monroe to death.’

This genuinely surprised Francine. ‘He did it? You’re sure?’

‘We have him on tape.’

‘Sloppy,’ Francine mused. ‘He doesn’t have the sense to do something like that alone. He had to be ordered.’

‘Baker?’

‘He’s Star Chamber, so maybe. Only the Chamber gives kill orders these days.’

‘Sutcliffe?’

‘He’s police, but he has outside influences,’ Francine nodded. ‘More than happy to assist us when we needed him in Hurley, so I can see him sucking Rattlestone’s cock if it gives him a bigger pension.’

‘What if Baker passed the order to Will Harrison?’

‘Oh, I can see him screwing with orders,’ Francine sipped at her wine again. ‘And he’s been in the game since just before the 2010 election.’

‘Could Harrison be the genuine power behind Rattlestone?’ Declan asked. Francine almost spat out her wine as she laughed.

‘That would be a horror show and no mistake,’ she mused. ‘But no. They created Rattlestone a good five years before Baker and Harrison barged their way into the party. I was the one who got the two of them in, in fact.’

‘If you got them in, then you must know who was at the top.’

Francine stayed silent at this.

‘I was told that some unknown guy in the shadows named it with a bombing and some scrabble letters,’ Declan replied. ‘All I need is his name.’

‘I don’t play with secrets these days,’ Francine mock chided. ‘I’m a good girl. That’s more for people like Baker and Gladwell.’

Declan paused at the name. ‘Gladwell?’

‘Sickeningly fit ginger haired prick.’

Declan pulled out his phone, noting that as he scrolled through the photos on it, Francine was nervously fighting again. He found the photo of Kendis and the red-haired man in the park. He showed it to Francine.

‘Is that Malcolm Gladwell?’ he asked. Francine’s eyes brightened.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘Interesting. So Gladwell was talking to Kendis Taylor. I wonder why?’

‘You tell me,’ Declan placed the notebook away, but a gnawing sensation in his gut was telling him he was missing something.

And then, just like that, the memory snapped back.

Declan remembered seeing him in The Horse and Guard, sitting with a woman, her dyed blonde hair pulled back severely.

And Kendis had gone there to see her source.

Gladwell. Not Pearce.

Francine was still tapping, but it wasn’t fidgeting. It was rhythmic.

‘You’re not the source,’ Declan muttered.

‘Oh, Declan,’ Francine replied, pausing the incessant tapping the moment he spoke. ‘When did I ever say that?’

Declan stared in stark realisation at Francine Pearce. ‘Nasir named you.’

‘Nasir Gill worked for Rattlestone,’ Francine smiled. ‘And Nasir Gill sent you to me. To tell me who the source was.’

Declan thought back to the moment he’d told Francine that he knew she was Kendis Taylor’s source. She never denied it, simply asking who told him. And now he’d revealed Malcolm Gladwell.

Idiot idiot get out of here now

Francine’s fingers still tapped on the side of the chair. The side of the chair facing the CCTV camera.

‘What did you tell them?’ Declan rose now, looking at the hand. Francine shrugged.

‘Just morse code,’ she replied. Saying get help this is Declan Walsh repeatedly.’

Declan listened; in the background he could hear police sirens.

‘I guess Rattlestone owns you,’ he said. Francine shook her head.

’No, they owe me,’ she replied. ‘I’m giving them you, after all.’

As Declan turned to the door, it opened and the young police officer entered, a bright yellow X26 taser gun in his hand.

25

The Fugitive

‘Get on the floor,’ the police officer said nervously, his voice wavering as he raised it to aim at Declan, who stared at the officer, hands slowly raising.

‘There’s more here than you realise,’ he suggested, but the officer didn’t budge, the taser gun still aimed at him. However, he was nervous, and the taser was wavering a little in Francine’s direction.

‘Don’t point that near me, you bloody idiot!’ she snapped as it passed her a third time, and as the officer glanced in her direction, pulling the taser away, Declan took the momentary distraction to jump across the