The Killing Club, Part 3 by Paul Finch

Author:Paul Finch [Paul Finch]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2014-04-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

‘I’m going to kill you slowly,’ Heck said through gritted teeth. ‘And I’m going to kill you last … so you know exactly what’s coming to you.’

He was seated on the floor, propped up against the Discovery’s wheel-arch. But even though his eyes had only just fluttered open and his head still thumped, he was struggling to get to grips with the sight of his captor. ‘You know why I’m going to do that, Ben?’ he said. ‘Quite simply, because you deserve nothing less.’

DCI Ben Kane chuckled, but noticeably kept the Glock trained squarely on his prisoner, while at the same time stuffing the Nice Guys’ client list and their iPhone into his jacket pocket. ‘Codswallop, Heck. You’re the one who’s operating outside the law … again. You’re the one who’s here when you should be in custody; you’re the one who stole a police vehicle and a police firearm. On which subject, thanks for this. It would have been difficult me leaving the office and for no good reason drawing a pistol on the way. You’ve solved that problem for me.’

Heck could still hardly believe it. There had never been a second mole. There’d only ever been one – and they’d even got his identity wrong. ‘Just for clarity’s sake, Ben, does this seriously mean you were the Nice Guys’ insider all along?’

Kane chuckled again. ‘You mean you hadn’t worked that out? Perhaps I blew my cover too soon.’

‘I thought their original snout was Jim Laycock.’

‘Laycock was certainly guilty … but in his case of arrogance and incompetence. I’m a cannier operator.’

‘No … no, just let me get this straight,’ Heck said. ‘You’re telling me Jim Laycock had nothing to do with the Nice Guys?’

‘Nothing whatsoever. He was never their client, never their snitch.’ Kane’s grin widened, the eyes strained and glassy behind his spectacle lenses. ‘Talk about getting things arse-about-tit, Heck. You genuinely never thought it might be me? An unmarried bloke of my age … who never spoke to anyone about the women in his life, never brought a girlfriend to a Christmas do?’

Heck shook his head, at first too appalled to reply, not just by the critical error he’d made, but also embarrassed at how easily Ben Kane – studious, scholarly ‘Mr Prissy’ Ben Kane – had pulled the wool over all their eyes.

‘How the world changes, eh?’ Kane said. ‘Twenty years ago it would have been “Shirt-lifter Ben”, not “Schoolmaster Ben”. But of course they’d have been wrong then too. I prefer women, but I prefer them subservient. Very subservient. Hey, don’t look so stunned, Heck … you’re the arch psycho-hunter. You ought to know deep in your gut by now that it’s – what’s that phrase? – always the quiet ones.’

‘I’m more surprised they even took you on,’ Heck replied. ‘One look at you, Ben, and most crims piss themselves laughing.’

Kane’s grin tightened. ‘I think you’ll find the Nice Guys knew my capabilities from an early stage. I first fell in with them as a paying customer.

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