Halfway down the street was the back entrance into a pub yard, and to Alec’s surprise and discomfort, he saw the man open the gate and slip through.
What did that mean? Was he staying at the pub? Was this where Rupert had died? Impatiently, he reminded himself that he still had no direct connection between Rupert’s death and the men who had threatened Naomi, however strong his intuition was that they were involved.
Cautiously, he slowed even more and stood uncertainly a few yards from the gate.
He should wait. He should call Fine again. He glanced back towards the marketplace, hoping to see the cavalry racing to his assistance, but he saw only a middle-aged couple wandering hand in hand towards the square, and a woman with a pushchair, loaded down with shopping, walking slowly towards him.
He tried Fine’s mobile again. Engaged. He was on his own.
Alec sighed and knew he was now committed. He took the final steps and, cautiously, standing well back, pushed the gate. It swung open easily on well-oiled hinges and Alec stepped inside.
Fourteen
Alec scuffled, trying to find some purchase for his feet but they seemed to be too far off the ground. The man had him by the throat and he was struggling just to breathe. Alec grasped the hand with both of his own but the fingers gripped like steel bands.
He felt his assailant’s weight subtly shift and wondered what was coming next, but then the rabbit punch delivered to Alec’s kidneys drove all coherent thought from his head. He was dropped, unceremoniously, to the floor, sprawling on the concrete as the waves of pain surged through his body. A kick to his exposed abdomen, followed by another to the ribs, and all the air in his body followed through in its abandonment of him.
Alec lay curled in an instinctive, protective ball, just trying to draw breath back into his lungs. A shadow fell across his face and the man knelt down beside him. Alec did not have the breath to move even if he could have thought of some way of escape.
He waited, his body too pained to tense for the anticipated attack, although some corner of his mind still screamed in panic.
His attacker did not touch him again.
‘I know you, Friedman.’ The voice was surprisingly soft. ‘Take this as payment on account. Your uncle owed me, big time.’
‘Who … who the hell are you?’ Alec gasped.
The face split in a wide and mirthless grin. ‘Someone you really don’t want to know,’ he said. ‘Pity you don’t get a say in the matter, isn’t it?’
Then he was gone. Alec heard the gate swing closed behind him and struggled to move but his body had other ideas. Nothing seemed to work. His legs, his arms, even his head, were attached like dead, lead weights to a torso that throbbed and shrieked with pain. For a terrifying moment Alec was convinced that he was paralysed, that he would never be able to move again. Grimly, he forced his hands to close, his feet to push against the concrete, his head to lift. No one knew he was here. He tried to get his hand into a pocket to find his phone, not even sure which pocket it might be in, suspecting anyway that he might be lying on it. He managed to roll from his side on to his hands and knees though they shook and trembled as if he’d run a dozen marathons. He knew he couldn’t even attempt to stand. His head swam and his breath burned as he drew air hungrily into lungs that felt blocked as though the man’s hand still gripped his throat.
Somehow, he reached the gate, dragged it half open and began to crawl through. That was how they found him, barely conscious and half in, half out of the gate, one hand in his pocket clutching the now broken mobile phone.
Fifteen
There are times when you just know and Naomi knew when she first heard the sirens that they were coming for Alec. Desperately, Naomi tried to head towards the sound but she had no idea what obstacles were in her way. She stepped awkwardly off the pavement, urging Napoleon on when he tried to pull her back. A car horn sounded and a voice shouted. She jumped, stumbled on a raised paving stone, felt the dog press against her side and guide her towards the wall.
‘Are you all right?’ A woman’s voice, local from the sound of the accent. ‘Are you lost, dear?’ The voice was earnest, even slightly patronising, but at that moment Naomi was prepared to forgive that.
‘My friend …’ she began, then realized how mad it would sound if she tried to explain. She didn’t even know for sure what had been going on since Alec set off in pursuit of the man.
‘I got separated from my friend,’ she managed at last. ‘My dog doesn’t know the area.’ She shrugged helplessly. ‘So yes, we are lost,’ she admitted.
‘Oh, my poor girl! Where did you lose your friend? Oh, I’m sorry dear, of course, you wouldn’t know, would you. Now let me see. What best to do?’
Naomi, thankful of the help, but a little impatient with the procrastination, wondered how she could make use of her new-found friend. She didn’t have DS Fine’s number in her mobile otherwise calling him would have been her next move.
‘Look, I feel really stupid getting lost like this. I really don’t want to put you to any trouble. Is there a policeman about, or even a traffic warden? Someone like that?’
‘Well …’ Naomi could feel the woman turn and look around, then abruptly, she left her side.
‘Seems to be the day for it,’ Naomi muttered wondering if she was about to be deserted again. Then she heard her would-be rescuer calling out to someone from a few feet away.
‘I say. Yes, I say. Yes, officer. I’ve found one,’ she told Naomi triumphantly. ‘He’s coming over here now.’
Naomi sagged with relief as the officer arrived and took charge.
‘The ambulance,’ she demanded almost before he’d had the chance to ask her name. ‘The ambulance, were you on scene when it arrived?’
‘On scene? Miss, I was there but—’
‘The man they picked up. It was a man, wasn’t it? Was his name Alec? Alec Friedman.’
He was clearly taken aback. ‘We’re not certain yet,’ he said slowly. ‘Miss, what is going on here?’
‘Alec was with me,’ Naomi said. ‘He went off, chasing after a man I …’ It dawned on her that he had not been certain of the identification. ‘How badly is he hurt? Tell me, please.’
She reached out and grasped the officer’s sleeve. ‘Can you take me to him, please? Or put me in a taxi and send me to the hospital. I don’t care either way, but I’ve got to get to Alec.’
How many hours, Naomi wondered, had she spent hanging around in hospitals? In her days as a serving policewoman she had waited to interview suspects or victims. Since then, she’d waited with a friend for news of their son who had been stabbed. Now, she waited to hear about the man she loved and felt as guilty as sin because she had sent him out after his attacker.
It did no good to remind herself that Alec was his own person; that he had chosen to go racing off in pursuit of a very dangerous man; that Naomi hadn’t really had a say in the matter. All she could think was that she had alerted him to the presence of the thug who’d beaten him, half strangled him, left him unconscious.
‘Naomi?’ DS Fine sat down beside her on another of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. ‘Alec knows you’re here. He was worried sick.’
‘Any news?’
‘The doctor will be with you shortly. He was on his way then got called to another patient. Alec will be fine. He’s got a couple of cracked ribs and he’s bruised to hell, but nothing permanent; nothing life-threatening. Doc reckons the bastard kicked him in the ribs and belly and they want to keep an eye on him overnight, watch for any internal bleeding, but, apart from being bloody uncomfortable, he’s all right.’