Page 52

Pulling her hoodie up round her face, Emilia walked briskly along the street.

She was on her own, in a dubious part of town and keen to keep a low profile.

The scarring on the left side of her face made her an easily identifiable figure and it wouldn’t do for her to be recognized around here.

Not when she was walking directly into harm’s way.

It hadn’t taken her long to track down Tommy Barnes.

Driving back to Southampton from Winchester prison, she’d put in a call to the office, seeking out Elaine Martin on the news desk, who was able to give Emilia a speedy rundown of the dealer’s chequered career.

Tommy Barnes wasn’t anyone particularly high up in the drugs world, but he was a persistent offender, having been picked up numerous times for minor offences.

The authorities had never been able to make a supplying charge stick though it was clear that this was his line of work.

According to Elaine’s sources at Southampton Central, his role was on the distribution side, more dependable mule than drugs baron, and he’d always been a bit part player in all honesty.

The street in question was Leighton Avenue, a shabby, neglected residential enclave that seemed oddly peaceful this afternoon.

Padding along the uneven pavement, Emilia kept her head down, but her eyes open, taking in the street scene, alive to possible problems or threats.

But the street was deserted, with no sign of stand-up rows, blaring music or indeed dealing today.

This should have reassured Emilia, but actually the opposite was true.

The silence had a brooding quality, as if it was the quiet before the storm, and the lack of activity meant her arrival was much more noticeable.

And that was the one thing she didn’t want today.

Number fifty-two was coming up fast on the other side of the street, so Emilia now slowed her pace, pulling her phone from her pocket and checking it carefully, as if reading a message.

In reality, her eyes strayed to survey the terraced house opposite.

It certainly didn’t seem very welcoming, with rubbish discarded in the small front garden and a peeling front door, but perhaps that was the point.

It was not a house that religious zealots, political activists or charity muggers would approach with enthusiasm.

Emilia, however, was very interested in it, her attention seized by the battered black moped half concealed amidst overgrown foliage out front.

During last night’s smash and grab, she hadn’t had the presence of mind to note any number plate, but she had registered that it was a black Vespa with a brown leather saddle, exactly like the one now parked outside Barnes’ house.

Realizing she’d slowed almost to a halt, Emilia picked up her pace again, passing the shabby terraced house without a second glance.

Inside, her heart was soaring, however, convinced now that the same man who’d strong-armed her father into betraying his family was also the low-life who’d snatched the gold from her.

A double shot at revenge now presented itself.

But was Tommy Barnes at home? It was late in the afternoon, which might suggest he was out, his daily routine presumably starting around lunchtime and progressing late into the night.

Would she have to come back tomorrow morning, surprising the minor criminal when he was still slumbering?

Or was there a chance she would catch up with him tonight?

Footsteps now made her look up sharply, a young man hurrying directly towards her.

Alarmed, Emilia moved quickly to her right, her hand reaching into her handbag for her pepper spray.

But the young guy hurried past as if he hadn’t seen her, his eyes wide and unfocused.

Pale, skinny and determined, he had the look of an addict and it was no surprise to her when, dropping her gaze to the reflection in a car’s side mirror, she saw the young man enter Barnes’ front yard.

Seconds later, she heard the muffled report of the doorbell.

Immediately, Emilia was on the move, darting into another resident’s front garden, taking cover behind an unruly hedge.

She had no right to be here, of course, but her vantage point gave her an unobstructed view of Barnes’ house.

She was hoping to spot her quarry, assuming the young addict had come here by appointment, but to her annoyance, the front door now buzzed loudly and the visitor let himself in.

Irked, Emilia let her eyes drift to the first floor and now finally she got a break.

The curtains in the front bedroom hung loosely apart, with a clear gap down the middle.

Already Emilia could make out figures within, a tall, thin man now joined by another, presumably his customer.

Screwing up her eyes, Emilia peered intently at the pair, watching as the deal was done in plain sight, cash being taken in return for a small package.

It was blatant, a testament to Barnes’ feeling of invulnerability, given that he was currently still on probation here.

But was it definitely him? There could, after all, be other low-lifes residing in this dump.

Seconds later, Emilia had her answer, Barnes moving forwards to send the addict on his way, stepping into the gap between the curtains.

Emilia took in the shaven head, the tattoos on his neck, the broad shoulders.

A quick check of the mug shot Elaine had sent her confirmed it – this was Tommy Barnes alright. She had found her mark.

Now it was time to take her revenge.