Page 93 of Tell No One
One short word that told him everything. Henry was in on it. Delaney wasn’t sure he could trust himself to speak without yelling.
“The plan is sound,” Henry said.
“So was mine.”
“You hadn’t given me a plan.”
“There was no need to involve Tag.”
“It makes your involvement more authentic.”
Delaney ground his teeth. “I’d already agreed to go even if they couldn’t find Tag. Do not deliver him to Norbury.”
“We wouldn’t be so obvious. He’ll be asking Norbury for his money.”
And he’ll probably kill him.“Whose idea was this?”
The slight hesitation told Delaney what he needed to know.
“We’re sending a team up to Edinburgh so they’re at least in the vicinity,” Henry said.
“Have you forgotten that you had a tracker put in Tag’s shoe? What if they’ve found it? Fuck you, Henry, and fuck Barker.” Delaney ended the call and almost threw his phone across the yard. This was what happened when he let his guard down and allowed himself to get involved.
When he’d calmed down, he went back inside and put his house back together. It was a good way to double check if they’d left anything behind. He’d thought this place was unknown. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling knowing that one by one his safe houses were becoming unsafe. This would have to be sold too and he liked it here.
He kept his phones with him as he cleaned up. They hadn’t found his guns, which were hidden in the garage along with the money and the other items he’d dug up. Now Delaney went to put some of those things back underground. He was unsure about every single one of the identities he’d purchased. Nothing felt safe.
If Delaney didn’t have Tag to rescue, he’d have walked away from all of it. He had cash and enough money in the Swiss banking system to never have to work again. But the trouble with being someone who’d killed for a living was that retirement wasn’t an option. He’d tried to give it up once and been persuaded to stay on and do other work. Delaney had been under the misapprehension that after doing that different sort of work for a while, he’d be able to bow out. They were never going to fucking let him go.
Tag would stand little chance of running away from hunters with rifles. He’d stand a better chance if Delaney could get a backpack to him with a knife, emergency blanket, compass, map, water and food. It wasn’t unreasonable for him to have those things if he was hunting, so maybe he could find a place to leave them for Tag.
But when he didn’t know where this hunt was going to take place, or when, or if either of them would be part of it, there was nothing he could do but wait for a call. Not here though. He’d drive back to London. He wrapped up the clay models and took them with him.
The three men took Tag back to London without stopping. He’d come up with plans to persuade them to let him go to the bathroom, then make a run for it at a service station, but requests for everything were ignored. AndSmiler, as Tag had named the one sitting next to him, had made sure Tag had seen his gun. Tag felt as though all the energy had been sucked out of him. He pressed his head against the window and stayed quiet. It was hard to be optimistic, hard to believe Delaney would care.
The car finally pulled up outside a multi-storey hotel in Woking.
“Behave or else,” Smiler said.
He took Tag up to a room on the sixth floor. Two men were already in there: Posh Git and Bruiser. Great, so it was Delaney’s lot again. Smiler stood with his back to the door, though Tag had given up hopes of running away.
His backpack was taken and emptied out onto the bed. Everything was carefully searched and most of his money—Delaney’s money—taken from his wallet before it was handed back to him. There was just four pounds in coins inside.
“Do you know why you’re here?” asked Posh Git who was sitting on the room’s only chair.
“You all want to fuck me? Or rather fuck me over again?”
“I’m the only one who might be interested in the former, but Christ knows where you’ve been. Oh wait, Idoknow where you’ve been. I have no interest in Delaney’s sloppy seconds. My name is Anthony Barker, Mr Connelly, or should I use your birth name? Richard Jones, the little shit who battered your baby sister, then suffocated her.”
“I didn’t,” Tag said quietly.
“Does any child killer admit to it? Did Delaney believe you? I can’t think that he did. He’s not that stupid. You must be good in bed. He likes dirty little whores. Who knew?”
Tag kept his face expressionless.Nothing you say will get to me.Tag had been through such heartache, he wouldn’t let these words hurt him.
Barker smiled. “You know what we want you to do.”
Probably, but Tag didn’t speak.
