Page 51 of Nothing But the Night (Basic Instincts 2)

“No, but I can find it.”

“Just walk down from the hall, it’s about five minutes along the river.”

“Why don’t we just meet inside the hall?”

“Cause I don’t wanna be fucking seen with you in public, that’s why? Don’t wanna become Blyham’s next piece of roadkill, do I? I’ll be there at four, or thereabouts.”

Tyrone hung up before Marc could respond.

Jason hadn’t been kidding about the kid’s attitude. It stunk. He wondered how well Theo had known him. Though Theo hadn’t been hung up on things like class.It wouldn’t have bothered him how rough or unmannered Tyrone was. Besides, they’d been collaborators, rather than friends.

Marc poured the tea and settled back in his chair. He had a few hours to kill before he met Tyrone. He wasted time on his phone, searching for news reports on their hit-and-run. There was nothing online that he didn’t already know. The car that had hit them was a Mercedes E-class saloon. It had been stolen from a side street in the west of the city earlier that afternoon and had been found burned out soon after the incident. Thankfully, neither he nor Jason had been named as victims in any of the reports.

Marc’s parents were still unaware of what had taken place. It pained him to hold back from them, but it would only cause so much worry. They had been through enough. If he could keep it from them until they made a breakthrough in the investigation, it could only be for the better. It wouldn’t just be the attack he would have to tell them about. The entire story of Theo and his lifestyle would have to be revealed and he wasn’t prepared for that conversation yet.

He spent an hour going through his work emails and making phone calls. His heart wasn’t in the job, but it gave him a distraction from everything else. Afterwards, he moved on to another café further along the street, where he ordered lunch and did some further research into Soloman Archer, reading up on his backstory and voting history in Parliament.

It made for grim reading. Soloman was as far right as it was possible to go. Anti-European, anti-union, anti-migrant. He’d voted against several progressive LGBTQ and trans policies. He also had his fingers inprivate health companies with an interest in dismantling the NHS.

What a piece of shit. Marc doubted whether his brother would have been aware of any of this, or if he would even have cared. Theo had never shown any interest in politics or national issues. He rarely had anything to say about current affairs or news. The only reason he would have even known Soloman was an MP was if Soloman had told him. Soloman would have been a source of finance and little else to him.

And what had Theo been to Soloman? A disposable piece of arse? An inconvenience? A liability?

Marc took his next dose of painkillers and got an Uber to take him from the city centre to the concert hall. This was as far as the vehicle could get to the river side footpath. He would have to walk the rest of the way. It was a cold, gloomy afternoon, but there had been no rain for several hours and he hoped it would stay that way.

Fastening his jacket to the neck, his shoved his good hand in his pocket and set off along the trail. The exposed fingers beneath the plaster cast immediately felt the chill but he had no way of warming them. Maybe he would be able to convince Tyrone to come back to the warmth of the concert hall once he’d gained his trust.If I gain his trust.

Marc had been aware of this footpath but couldn’t recall walking along it before. It was a lot nicer than he’d expected and he was sure he would have remembered it. With the wide river Bly on one side and a well-established park on the other, it was lined with trees, cycling lanes and a children’s play area. The Vermont Hotel was directly opposite on the other side of the river.

Marc consulted the tourist direction sign. According to the map, the footpath followed the course of the river all the way to the North Sea, six miles down. Tyrone hadn’t told him exactly where to meet. Surely, he couldn’t mean that far.

After a few minutes, Marc reached a park bench and paused. It was five to four. He checked the path in either direction. There was no one else in sight. He keyed a quick message to Tyrone, telling him where he was.

There was a splash in the river ahead of him. A quick flick of a fish tail on the surface before it darted away. Something sizeable by the disturbance it caused.

For the first time, Marc doubted the wisdom of coming alone here, especially with three thousand pounds of cash in his pocket.

Four o’clock came and went with no sign of Tyrone.

Jason had shown him photos of the young man, so he knew who to expect. He checked his phone again. There was no reply to his message.

The cold quickly intensified as a chill wind came off the water.

By ten past four he was still waiting. Marc shivered. He couldn’t stay here for much longer. He decided to give Tyrone until quarter past. If he failed to show by then, he would go to his apartment with Jason once he had finished work.

As the sky darkened, the path took on an ominous aspect. The trees were bare of leaves. Spring had yet to stake a claim on the long, cold winter. In another month, this same area would look very different. He imagined it thronged with dog walkers and joggers, but on this bleak afternoon in March, it had a sad, haunted quality.

He waited five minutes beyond the cut-off he’d already decided upon. His fingers and toes were numb. He couldn’t wait here any longer. Tyrone was a no-show. Marc decided he would head for the warmth of the concert hall café and let Tryone know he could find him there until six o’clock. The kid was likely messing him around. Fucking with him for some twisted reason. Though Jason was adamant Tyrone was all about money. Why would he set up an exchange with no intention of collecting? Even if he made up a pack of lies about Theo—which in all likelihood was what he’d do—he would still expect payment for it.

Fuck it.

Marc started walking back along the river and pulled out his phone. He dialled Tyrone’s number.

Jason is right. The kid is a grifter.No doubt the price would go up the next time they spoke to him.

He got the dial tone.

Marc froze, half a step forward. He moved the phone away from his ear, convinced he could hear something.Ringing?The wind coming down the river whipped the sound away.

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