Crash Course by Derek Fee (pdf to ebook reader .txt) 📕

The kind of people I mix with leave a smell on your skin that irritates the nostrils of decent people. Lots of the blokes I work with don’t make it to the pipe and slippers stage with their wives. The women who do hang in usually bear the scars.”

“You know, Mark, people like me generally envy people like you. I’ve built up a business worth twenty million pounds but I never risked my life on anything. Aye, I’ve risked my own and other people’s money. My stomach’s been in knots and I’ve not slept as much as I should have but my life was always intact. Yesterday or earlier today I might have envied the fact that you’ve seen action. In our minds, we all want to be Clint Eastwood or Bruce Willis. We all think that maybe having our lives on the line gives us a greater appreciation of life itself. Now I’m not so sure. Knowing my wife and daughter was my greatest life experience and I wouldn’t have all the high-speed chases in the world for missing one second of the time I spent with them.”

“Keep the memories,” Mark said, realising what a hypocrite he was. “But let the vengeance go.”

“It’s all I’ve got,” Bell said.

“Your mistake.” Kane wanted to say, ‘Get a life’. But he knew that catching Monika Bell’s killer had become her father’s obsession and the man would not rest until that itch had been scratched. He wondered whether he would be able to bring closure. Great word ‘closure’. It was a new concept invented by Oprah Winfrey and the psychobabble gang. Few people managed to achieve closure. It meant being able to get on with your life and to put a traumatic event behind you. Didn’t those bouncing well-coiffed assholes with the microphones in their hands realise that every life event leaves a scar? And the more severe that event, the harder it is to excise that scar. So Bell was probably living a lie. Find the killer and find peace. He might find the killer but that would not necessarily bring peace. The photograph in his pocket was ample evidence of that. And nobody knew how hard it was to achieve closure than Mark Kane.

The traffic had begun to ease off when they reached the outskirts of the city. The road towards the West Country opened before them and the Rolls purred smoothly along the M4.

“Everybody says you’re the best at what you do,” Bell said after a pause. “Even that ponced up popinjay de Vries says so.”

Kane didn’t answer.

“At that first meeting at Europol,” Bell continued. “I got the distinct impression that you weren’t too keen on this little escapade.”

“Very perceptive of you.”

“I want Monica’s killer brought to justice and you appear to be my best chance of accomplishing that aim. I don’t particularly like the fact that you don’t seem to be committed. It’s been my experience in business that you get the best results from a committed workforce. I’ve been thinking of how I could increase your commitment and I’ve come up with the classic answer, money. I intend to pay you fifty thousand pounds if you succeed in nailing the bastard that killed my lass. Think about it. Fifty thousand pounds directly into your hand. Think what you could do with that kind of money.”

I must be getting old, Kane thought. The leather seats appeared to suck him in as he contemplated the effect on his life that fifty thousand pounds in his pocket would have. New car, holidays, a bit of relief for his mother and father. Fifty thousand pounds would go a hell of a long way in a life like Kane’s. Maybe now was the time to stick his nose in the trough. There were plenty of his colleagues in the Met who had already gone that road. And they had taken money from villains. He could pick up fifty grand for doing his job.

Bell watched Kane’s face. “I’ve been in thousands of negotiations where money was the prime object of discussion and that experience permits me to read your mind. The old Gilbert and Sullivan song said that a ‘policeman’s lot is not a happy one’. Neither is the salary. I was poor once and I know the effect of dangling fifty thousand pounds in front of you. I’ve been told that you’re the best. And I want you to give your best.”

“Keep your money.” Kane could scarcely believe the words which came out of his mouth. What the hell was he thinking? He’d turned down a life-changing sum of money. “I’m a copper. When I signed on, I knew what the conditions were and I’m not about to climb into someone’s pocket because I took their money.”

Bell tried to open his mouth but Kane cut him off.

“And don’t tell me there won’t be any comeback. I take your money and I’ll always be yours. And don’t worry about my commitment. I’m in this job because I hate villains. I’ve seen at first hand the lives that have been destroyed by drugs, or murder, or sexual abuse, or even mugging. I don’t need an incentive to increase my commitment. You’ll get one hundred per cent whether I succeed or I fail.”

“I’m proud to be your uncle.” Bell smiled broadly but the smile quickly vanished from his face. “That’s another thing that’s been worrying me, Mark. Say I screw up with this uncle-nephew bit. You’re bloody experienced in this business but I’ve never been involved in anything like this before.”

“That’s what I was talking about back in The Hague,” Kane said. “I’m used to working alone. I screw up and I get sussed then that’s my problem. You screw up and I get sussed then you might end up getting me killed. Remember Lamont. These guys are playing for keeps so you’d better keep your mind on the cover story. No matter what happens you must keep thinking of me as your sister’s pride and