Time to Go

by Time to Go (retail) (epub)

  Penrith had driven back to his office from Enfield, but Caelan had wanted some time alone to think about her conversation with Mulligan, and made the return journey using public transport. Achebe and Penrith hadn’t been happy when she told them Mulligan’s conditions, but that was their problem, not hers. If she went undercover, side by side with Mulligan, she wouldn’t be doing it for them. Pleasing her bosses wasn’t what drove her, as Penrith should know by now.

  As she approached Penrith’s office, she saw a familiar figure waiting in the corridor outside. Ewan Davies stood straight-backed as though he was still on the parade ground, and Caelan couldn’t help smiling.

  ‘Did you get your keys back?’

  He grinned. ‘Cheeky sod, isn’t he? Yeah, he brought them to me last night. Woke everyone in the house including the baby when he hammered on the door, but he brought them.’

  ‘I couldn’t believe it when I walked in and found him sitting at the kitchen table.’

  ‘Couldn’t you?’

  She laughed. ‘All right, yeah. It was typical Ian.’

  ‘He’s waiting for you.’ Ewan jerked a thumb towards the office door.

  ‘And probably listening to every word we’re saying.’

  The door opened, and on cue, Penrith appeared. ‘Sullying my reputation again, Caelan?’ he said.

  ‘No need. You did it yourself years ago.’

  Penrith crooked a finger. ‘Come in, both of you, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.’

  She followed him into his office, dropped into a chair. ‘Really? Makes a change.’

  Squeezing around his desk, Penrith shook his head. ‘I’ve told you, this is my show. I don’t work like Elizabeth Beckett. She believes that the less you lot know the better, because if you aren’t aware of the full story, you can’t give any of it away if your cover’s blown and everything goes up shit creek. I don’t agree.’ He picked up the phone on his desk. ‘Coffee? Might even be able to rustle up some biscuits.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Caelan crossed her legs. Penrith requested the drinks and waited until Ewan had settled in the chair beside Caelan’s before he spoke again.

  ‘You know we’re not going to be able to give Mulligan everything he wants, of course.’

  ‘You wanted me to talk to him, which I did.’ Caelan spread her hands. ‘Do we need him?’

  ‘You know we do. He’s our way in,’ Penrith said.

  ‘You mean it’ll be easier if he’s around. I don’t trust him.’

  ‘None of us trust him, but he’ll have to do as he’s told.’

  ‘Still. He’d expose me without a second thought if it helped him, or if he was in danger. He’s already proved he can kill without regret.’

  Penrith was nodding. ‘That’s the point.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He’s dealt in things most people don’t even want to think about, like human trafficking. He can help us.’

  ‘Until someone else moves into the area.’

  This was why she had walked away with no intention of looking back. The endless seething mass of filth that polluted every part of London and beyond. The drug dealers, pimps and gangs, the shootings and stabbings. The relentless tide of misery and waste. People getting rich by any dishonest means they could imagine. And she and her colleagues stumbling around trying to stem the flow.

  It was hopeless.

  Penrith stared at her. ‘Cheerful this morning, aren’t you?’

  There was a knock on the door and he heaved himself to his feet. He pushed past Caelan and Ewan and pulled the door open.

  ‘Thank you.’ He tutted. ‘Digestives? Is that all we can stretch to?’

  There was a mumbled reply and Penrith reappeared. Closing the door with a shove of his backside, he shuffled back to his desk and set the tray down on it. He poured them each a mug from an insulated coffee pot and held them out. Caelan took hers but didn’t drink, and Penrith seemed to read the defeat on her face.

  ‘Mulligan must have contacts,’ he said. ‘We need to know who they are, and they won’t be small fry.’

  ‘Hasn’t he given you any names?’ Ewan asked. Penrith stared at him, as though surprised to find he could speak.

  ‘No, and he’s not likely to until we guarantee he’ll receive what he’s asked for.’ Penrith took three biscuits and piled them together, biting into them all at once.

  ‘Is it worth it?’ Should have stayed away, Caelan thought. Should have gone to Nicky, told Penrith where to stick it and started again.

  Should have stayed away.

  Penrith bared his teeth. ‘I don’t know. Is anything we do worth it?’

  She stared at him, wondering if he could read her mind after all. ‘I’m the wrong person to ask, Ian.’

  He spread his hands on the desk. ‘Bottom line, it’s a fishing expedition. We want to find the person who killed our unidentified victim, and we don’t want to upset anyone important who’s watching Lucy Mulligan. You follow her delightful brother James around and see what happens. Keep your head down, your nose clean and all those other clichés.’

  ‘It’s a waste of time.’

  His expression darkened. ‘You’ve been in brothels before. Tell that to the girls who are drugged and starved, forced to have sex with as many men as their bodies can cope with, and then twenty more. If you hadn’t gone in, they’d still be there. Ask them if they think what we do is worth it. Ask them if they want us to pursue the men who bought them and kept them as slaves.’

  She glared at him. ‘You’re as bad as Beckett.’

  ‘Maybe, and I know you better than she does.’ He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘The only reason you’re here is because we’ve a chance of putting more of these bastards away. The desire for justice can be a strength or a weakness. In you, it’s both. It always has been.’

  She stared at him. ‘Come on, Ian. That’s a line from a soap opera, it has to be.’

  He shook his head. ‘Possibly, but I’m right. You want to rescue everyone, and sometimes you can’t. That’s what keeps you coming back for more, the ones you lost. We lost. Every operation is an attempt to save them all over again.’

  She didn’t look at him. ‘You’ve made your point.’

  Penrith said nothing.

  Caelan took a breath. ‘What’s your plan?’ She would do what they wanted, for a time. A short time.

  ‘Mulligan has a house in Greenford. We’re going to release him and he’ll go there, pick up where he left off.’

  ‘Greenford is near Northolt, and you know I can’t go back there.’ People knew who she was in that area of London. Who she really was. She had been unguarded, reckless, poking around in a case she should have stayed away from. It didn’t matter that in the end she had been proved right.

  ‘You mean the Rainey family?’ Penrith snorted. ‘Stay away from their house and their church and I don’t think they’ll trouble you.’

  ‘The kids are old enough to be out, maybe in pubs or clubs. I could bump into them anywhere.’

  ‘Rubbish. They’ll never remember you.’

  Caelan didn’t agree. ‘Fine. Send me in when you know there’s a risk, when you know I could be compromised.’

  Penrith ignored her. ‘Ewan will be Mulligan’s new muscle; you’ll be his latest girlfriend.’

  ‘No. I’ll be his cousin, an old school friend, anything but that.’

  He flapped a hand. ‘It won’t work. You need to be someone he’s met before, and that means Kay Summers. Take a good variety of clothes, and the usual precautions. You know the drill.’ He removed a thick brown envelope from his desk drawer and pushed it towards her. Caelan knew what it would contain.

  ‘I’m not being Kay Summers again,’ she told him. ‘Too many people have heard that name.’

  ‘You’ll have to be. Kay is the one Mulligan was supposed to buy a kilo of coke from. She’s the one with the fictional drug-dealing boyfriend, the criminal record. She’s the one who was in the building with Mulligan whe
n he was shot, and she was arrested with him and his men. You’re Kay.’

  Caelan gave the envelope a shove. It skittered past Penrith’s meaty forearms and fell from the edge of the desk, disappearing onto the carpet beneath. He stared at her.

  ‘Any need?’

  ‘Every need,’ she said. ‘You’re not listening. I need a new identity, someone I’ve never used before.’

  ‘No. It’ll take too long to set up.’

  ‘Bollocks. Come on, Ian, I know how this works. You have identities ready, waiting for someone to come along and need them. Find me one that works.’

  He pressed his lips together. ‘You’re putting me in a difficult position.’

  ‘Really? Then the tables have turned for once.’

  ‘You’re supposed to use your own name, or one similar. Kay was all we had that works for you.’

  Caelan folded her arms. ‘I’m sure I’ll manage.’

  Penrith exhaled, closed his eyes for a second. ‘All right. I’ll need a couple of hours.’ He pushed a second envelope towards Ewan, who reached for it, his face apprehensive. ‘You’re Owen Davison,’ Penrith told him. ‘Ex-army, convictions for GBH and assault. Born in some tongue-twister place in Wales on the same date as your own birthday. Passport, driving licence, cash, bank and credit cards, phone and charger, all inside the envelope.’ He pushed himself to his feet. ‘Now get out of here and let me rustle up a new legend for her ladyship.’

  Caelan stood. ‘We’ll go and grab a coffee.’

  ‘Grab whatever you like. Have lunch, enjoy yourselves. Use my credit card if you like.’ Penrith hooked his suit jacket from the back of his chair and struggled into it, not bothering to attempt to fasten the buttons over his belly.

  Ewan took the envelope, tucked it inside his coat. Penrith saw the expression on his face and paused. ‘You can still say no.’

  Caelan waited, her eyes on the ground, not wanting to hear that Ewan had changed his mind. If she was going to pull this off, she needed him with her. From their first meeting she had known she could trust him, and in this job, being able to rely on your colleagues could save your life.

  ‘No, I want to do it.’ Ewan patted his pocket, as though to reassure himself that his new profile would keep him safe. Caelan knew better. No fake identity could, not really.

  * * *

  ‘What have you been doing since we last worked together?’ Caelan asked Ewan as they walked.

  ‘Training. All the stuff I should have learnt before you forced me to start working with you.’ He flashed her a grin, letting her know he was joking.

  ‘Before you got shot, you mean.’ He might be teasing her, but Caelan couldn’t forgive herself. Ewan could have died because she had been arrogant and headstrong. Recognising her behaviour for what it was didn’t make it any easier to stomach.

  He grimaced. ‘That too.’

  They passed Whitehall Gardens, glimpses of the ravaged flower beds and drab grass visible through the bare trees. Caelan shivered, huddling deeper inside her coat.

  As they turned onto Northumberland Avenue Ewan said, ‘And I’ve been staying out of Penrith’s way.’

  ‘What was the problem?’

  Ewan snorted. ‘He’s been a miserable bastard. Even more so than usual, I’m told.’

  ‘Miserable? Why?’

  He glanced at her. ‘I’m guessing you disappearing had something to do with it.’

  She wasn’t going to comment. ‘Who did you train with? Richard Adamson?’

  ‘Yeah. Followed him across London, had him following me. Tried to lose him, failed miserably. He jumped me in an alleyway, had a knife to my throat before I realised he was there.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘Won’t be making that mistake again.’

  ‘Letting him catch you?’

  ‘Letting him come back and tell Penrith about it.’

  She smiled. ‘What else? No need for firearms training.’

  He glanced at her. ‘Except… Well, you know.’

  It wasn’t a question, and Caelan guessed what he meant. When they had been shot at during their first assignment together, Ewan had gone to pieces. An experienced soldier, he had been discharged from the army after an incident in Afghanistan. Caelan couldn’t imagine the horror, but she knew Ewan was someone she wanted on her side, regardless of his past and its impact on his future.

  ‘Penrith knows about it now too,’ Ewan said. ‘Guess who told him?’

  Caelan shook her head. There was only one other person who had seen Ewan freeze as he heard the gunshots. ‘Nasenby.’

  ‘The very chap.’ Ewan affected an upper-class accent. Michael Nasenby, Caelan’s former boss, had lost his job and been imprisoned in the most unforgivable circumstances. He wasn’t someone she wanted to waste time thinking about.

  ‘What did Penrith say about it?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t think he cares.’

  ‘Good. Hopefully you’ll never be shot at again.’

  A smile. ‘If I am, I’ll hide behind you.’

  * * *

  Penrith was back behind his desk, three white paper bags and a fresh mug of coffee waiting for his attention. ‘Feeling suitably refreshed?’ he asked.

  Caelan pulled a bag towards her to look inside, but Penrith slapped her hand away.

  ‘Almond croissant. Not for children.’

  She scowled at him. ‘Are we ready?’

  Penrith raised his eyebrows. ‘If you mean have I had half of London rushing around to do your bidding, yes.’

  Another envelope appeared. Caelan took it, pulled out a passport. ‘You’ve even had time to kick it around on the floor so it looks battered. I’m impressed.’

  ‘Does the name meet with your approval?’ Penrith said.

  ‘Victoria Smith.’ Caelan looked up at him. ‘Was that the best you could come up with?’

  ‘Smith is the surname of some of James Mulligan’s real cousins.’

  ‘And half of the population of Britain.’ Caelan flicked through the pages of the passport. ‘At least she wasn’t born in Glasgow, like Mulligan. I’m not sure I’d manage the accent.’

  ‘Everything you need is there.’ Penrith nodded at the envelope ‘Satisfied?’

  Caelan examined the driving licence, saw her own face staring back at her. ‘This is an old photograph. You don’t want me to change my hair?’

  ‘No.’ Penrith looked her over. ‘You’re fine as you are.’ He passed her a slip of paper and held up a bunch of keys. He grinned at Ewan. ‘Not yours this time. Here’s the address in Greenford. You need to go there as soon as possible. Mulligan will be arriving at six tonight.’

  ‘And you don’t want him disappearing before we get there.’

  ‘Wouldn’t be a great start, would it? I’ll phone you later.’ Penrith sat back, folded his arms. ‘Remember what I said. Just stick close to him. I’ll action our movements based on what you tell me.’

  Caelan picked up the envelope, keys and piece of paper. ‘No weapon?’

  Penrith sniffed. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘And if I’m offered one?’

  ‘Up to you. Come on, Caelan, you know how this works. Use your judgement.’ He leant forward, studying her face. ‘Not lost your nerve, have you?’

  Caelan felt Ewan flinch beside her. ‘You know better. I’ll talk to you later.’ She looked at Ewan, smiled. ‘Come on then. Time to go.’

  7

  The address Penrith had provided led them to a residential street, properties built in pairs, most of the small front gardens converted to hard standing for cars. A few houses were well looked after; more were run-down or heading that way. Mulligan’s house had been rendered, then painted white. It had two bay windows at the front and a smart black front door. Caelan raised an eyebrow. She’d been expecting a dump, but this place looked anything but.

  Ewan parked on the paving at the front of the house and they climbed out, retrieved their bags. Caelan had the keys ready, wanting to look as though she knew what she was doing, giving the i
mpression she belonged here. The house next door had no cars parked outside and was in darkness. Hopefully the residents were still out at work.

  They were in a hallway, the stairs to the left and a door to the right. Caelan opened it. The living room beyond was in darkness, and when she flicked on the light, she saw it was comfortably furnished with two large sofas, a huge TV and a couple of games consoles. She beckoned Ewan inside and turned off the light again.

  ‘Penrith said Mulligan owns several houses. He won’t be able to hold on to them, will he?’ Ewan asked.

  ‘Not if he bought them with the money he made from dealing and whatever else, which seems likely. They’ll be working out how much of his assets were the proceeds of crime and he’ll probably be looking at a hefty repayment.’

  Ewan smiled. ‘Hard to feel sympathetic.’

  She snorted. ‘Don’t waste any time on him.’

  The living room led to a dining area, and there was another door to the kitchen, which was modern, kitted out with shiny appliances and gleaming cupboards. Caelan filled the kettle from a complicated tap while Ewan wandered around examining everything.

  ‘He’s spent thousands on the gear in here, I reckon,’ he said.

  Caelan leant against the nearest work surface. ‘He looks after himself.’ She opened a wall cupboard, searching for mugs. ‘Could you find the milk please? Someone should have been in and cleaned the place up, filled the fridge with fresh stuff.’

  Ewan checked cupboards until he located the fridge, and handed the milk over. He opened a drawer, held up a sheaf of takeaway menus with a smile. ‘How about some food?’

  She considered it. ‘We should probably wait for Mulligan.’

  Ewan pouted. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because the people around here will be used to him. The takeaway owners will probably know him. A couple of strangers ordering food to be delivered to his house might look weird, especially if they know he was arrested.’

  ‘But we don’t even know if this was Mulligan’s home.’

  Caelan spread her arms. ‘Look around. I doubt he rented the place out. Would you, if you could live here? It’s an ordinary house on the outside, but in here, where it matters, everything’s top of the range, or near enough.’