Chapter 59 Ruby

59

Ruby

Bale swore, made a right off Riverside Drive, caught the on-ramp for the Henry Hudson Parkway headed north. Traffic was heavy and as soon as they joined, he had to slow and stop. His left hand was still holding the gun in his lap, still pointed at Ruby.

The car in front moved off, and he let his foot off the brake to trundle forward ten feet before stopping again.

‘What did she tell you about me?'

‘She said she loved you.' Ruby lied.

‘Did she say anything else?'

‘Just that you were seeing other women. You had betrayed her. And she felt bad because she had stood by you . . . after . . .'

‘After I drowned my wife?' asked Bale.

Ruby felt suddenly very cold.

The pain in Ruby's arm had not eased. If anything, it was getting worse. What occupied her mind more was that she was feeling something rare and electrifying. Fear. Total fear. She had no play here. No plan. She had to stop these strange feelings and think. The car was locked. She had watched Bale hit the button on his driver's door to lock all doors as soon as they'd moved off.

She couldn't get out. And if she tried, he would shoot her.

Somehow, she had to get that gun. There was no other way.

But her arm. Bale was strong and ruthless. She looked around the car. No weapons. Nothing other than a packet of gum in the console. The phone wasn't a weapon. And she had nothing on her that would work. Maybe the leather belt on her jeans, but he would see her taking it off before she could get it round his neck.

No, that wouldn't work.

The red priest hissed and buzzed.

Bite his throat. Stab his eyes. Get the gun . . .

For the first time in many years, Ruby felt helpless. She felt utterly alone. She knew she would die.

She shook her head, closed her eyes. What was this man going to do?

He didn't shoot her in the Jacksons' house. That was the same MO he'd used to kill Margaret Blakemore. Plus, Ruby's body would be found. The cops would look for a motive. They would find out she had paid a quarter of a million dollars to a care home for her mother, or they would at least search her financials and find the money coming into her account. They would trace it, working backwards, and that might lead them to Brett Bale.

Bale couldn't kill Ruby in the house and leave her body. He needed to make her disappear. That's why they were driving somewhere, and when they arrived at their destination, wherever that might be, Ruby knew that was when Bale would pull that trigger. It would be the end of the road for Ruby. No long days on desert highways with the wind in her hair – everything she had worked for, killed for, would be for nothing.

When she rubbed her face, her fingers came away wet. Only then did Ruby realize she was crying.

The car in front moved forward. A fat spot of rain hit the windshield of the Range Rover. Then another. And another. It was going to be one of those massive summer rain showers.

The windshield wipers activated on their own. Their car was in the left-hand lane, close to the barrier, with two more lanes on their right.

Bale moved the car forward, and then it lurched another five feet, violently, as it was hit from behind.

Bale swore and hit the brakes before he collided with the vehicle in front.

Ruby looked at the gun, but dared not make a move. In the rearview mirror, a man in a black hat got out of the car behind and made his way toward Bale's driver's window.

‘Shit, that's all I need. Don't say a word. I've still got this gun on you,' said Bale, and folded his arm over it, making sure the man who was coming to the window wouldn't be able to see it. ‘You hear me, bitch? Don't say a goddamn—'

Ruby flinched, gasped, as glass and the front of Bale's skull blew out through the windshield.

Ruby hesitated. She didn't know what had happened, but the red priest was telling her what to do.

Get out! Get out! Get out!

Ruby leaned over and hit the unlock button on the driver's door. She then opened her passenger door and swiveled and turned, both feet hitting the blacktop at the same time. The jarring motion of landing on the asphalt sent a shockwave of pain through her arm. Saliva filled her mouth and her stomach heaved. Ruby couldn't remember the last time she had eaten, and she only wretched water and spit at her feet. She hadn't noticed the downpour until she wiped her mouth, felt the cold rain seeping through her clothes and soaking her hair.

Mr. Christmas stood in front of her.

‘Good evening, my dear. Please switch on the vehicle's hazard lights.'

Her door was still open. Ruby leaned back in, hit the hazard lights.

‘Thank you. Now, may I offer you a lift?'

Ruby didn't move.

‘It's alright, our business has concluded. You have nothing to fear. Mr. Ellis is dead.'

Mr. Christmas watched Ruby as she gingerly got into his car. He tilted his head, then raised his chin, as he examined her arm.

‘Roll up your sleeve, please,' he said.

Ruby pulled up her sleeve, but found that she couldn't straighten her arm. She winced, and bit down on her lip.

A car behind them blared its horn. Mr. Christmas tutted. Then took hold of her upper arm with one hand, her lower arm with the other.

‘Your elbow is dislocated. This will hurt.'

He pulled and shoved her arm and Ruby heard a loud click and screamed into her fist.

Then he gently leaned over her, took her seatbelt, drew it across her chest and locked it in place. He turned his attention to the road, indicated and changed lanes, leaving the sound of horns behind them as they moved off.

‘There is a medical bag on the back seat. There are some painkillers in there. But be careful – they are quite strong.'

Ruby turned around, managed to grab the bag with her injured arm. It was heavy, and she let out a moan as she brought it up front.

‘Thank you,' she said.

Mr. Christmas smiled and nodded. As if he was expecting it, but at the same time quite grateful to receive the courtesy.

‘What happened to Ellis?'

‘He was the one who employed me to retrieve his money. I won't go into details, but let's just say his manners let him down.'

‘Could you take me back to West 74 th Street? I need to finish this.'

‘Mr. Flynn is there. Or at least he was when I left.'

Ruby closed her eyes, shook her head. The red priest screamed at her, and she opened the medical bag and put a hand inside, searching for a bottle of pills.

‘Be careful. There are some sharp implements in there. They should all be wrapped up in a leather carry case, but, nonetheless, watch your fingers.'

Ruby found the pills. Swallowed one of them.

‘I didn't really get started. Bale came to the door. Flynn won't know what I was doing there. Take me back. I'll slip inside when they leave.'

‘If there is anything that I have learned this evening, it is not to underestimate Mr. Flynn. You have a little money. Why don't you leave this all behind? There's nothing else you can do now.'

‘I can't. Then they'll come after me. Maybe come after Mom. I can't risk it. Weren't you supposed to kill Eddie Flynn?'

He nodded, smiled. ‘And, if anything, I have more reason to do so now than when I first started out. However, I have come to the reluctant conclusion that it would not be in my long-term best interests.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I had my sights on Mr. Flynn. Ready to pull the trigger. I stopped when I saw a man with him. He was a former FBI agent. And, for a while, I'd been his target. Any damn fool can pull a trigger, but there are very few people in this world like us – true hunters of men. He is certainly one of them. I knew, when he was hunting me back then, that this man would find me. Then something unusual happened. He was set up. Someone in the FBI walked him into a house full of armed drug traffickers. He should not have survived, but he did. I followed him in, curious at first. I found him on the top floor of that house – out of ammunition, severely wounded. I killed the last man standing in front of him.'

‘You saved him? Even though he was hunting you?'

‘I did. And he saw me save him. That began something of an unspoken, but uneasy truce.'

‘Why did you save him? Surely you should have let him die?'

‘Do you play chess?'

‘I never learned.'

‘What is the point of being a grandmaster if everyone else is an amateur? Life would soon lose its pleasure. I know you don't play, but I trust you appreciate the analogy.'

Ruby nodded.

‘When I saw Mr. Flynn and this man together I had to learn more. Now, I understand that if I kill Mr. Flynn his compatriot will come after me. The thing about being a grandmaster chess player is that there will come a time when another grandmaster will defeat you. It is inevitable. If I kill Mr. Flynn, I know, in my bones, this man will hunt me down and I will die. In any event, Eddie Flynn's fate is likely out of my hands. He'll be killed tomorrow night at a meeting.'

‘It would be better if he died tonight,' said Ruby.

‘We can't always get what we want, young lady. What will you do now?'

‘I have to see this through. I have to go to court tomorrow. There's a chance I can get into the house again. I have to believe that.'

They drove in relative silence for a time, and Mr. Christmas took them back into the towering streets of the city. They drove down West 74 th Street, and Ruby checked the cars parked along the curb. None of them were from Flynn's team. She could get back into the house tonight.

‘Why have you been so kind to me?' she asked as Mr. Christmas pulled in.

‘Us grandmasters have to look out for one another from time to time,' he said, and then pulled a card from his jacket and gave it to her.

‘If you ever need me, call this number. My long-suffering colleague will ask for the nature of your enquiry. Tell him you're a movie fan and you'd like to speak to someone about Marlon Brando. He'll do the rest. Farewell, Ms. Johnson.'