Ardent Justice

by Research Professor Of Social Policy Peter Taylor-Gooby

  ‘Chief Inspector,’ remarked the woman as if commenting on the weather.

  The sergeant followed Denny with his eyes as she moved to the door.

  ‘I’ll be outside if you need me.’

  He didn’t answer. The door closed. He picked up Denny’s chair and positioned it in front of the desk.

  ‘Sit down.’

  He remained standing.

  ‘Ms Corey,’ said the woman. ‘Sorry to take up your time. I know you must be very busy. This is about one of your, what do you call them? Tax-payers? Clients?’ She smiled. ‘Files?’

  ‘Cases.’

  ‘Good. A Mr Rex Webster.’

  Ade felt her chest tighten. The Chief Inspector continued. ‘Mr Webster was admitted to A and E at St George’s in the early hours of this morning. He had been assaulted.’

  ‘How is he?’

  Sergeant Jones looked at her sharply.

  ‘He’s fine,’ said the Chief Inspector. ‘Minor injuries to the neck. Quite nasty at the time. Probably frightening.’

  Jones cut in. ‘Someone stabbed him with a pointed instrument in the fleshy part of the neck.’ He shot out a long arm and tapped Ade on the back of the neck before she could jerk back. It felt like a peck. ‘Just there. And a bite wound to the throat. Superficial. He doesn’t really remember what happened.’

  ‘That’s what started off all this nonsense about vampires,’ said Mayland. ‘Now all the no-hopers have joined in. Copy-cats. Selfies of time-wasters with vampire-teeth, ghouls chasing businessmen everywhere on Facebook. It’s a carnival out there.’

  She smiled and Ade warmed to her. She continued: ‘Fun, but we won’t allow it. Affects the overseas trade. Nip it in the bud. The City needs stability and security.’

  She paused

  ‘You’ve got to ask yourself,’ said Jones, ‘was it an amateur? Some kind of crime passionelle?’ He pronounced it to rhyme with “jelly”. ‘Was it revenge or a warning? Or maybe it was a publicity stunt. It’s the kind of thing that gets a lot of attention on the net.’

  Ade said nothing. Jones slipped out a newspaper he’d been carrying folded under his arm, a tabloid. Eighty-point headlines screamed: ‘CITY BLOOD-SUCKER’ Superimposed in one corner was the photo of Webster, his eyes glaring, bandages wrapped round his neck and scalp, his cheeks showing bruises.

  Ade felt the laughter surging up within her. I must not laugh, she thought. She rammed a fist in her mouth and snorted. Jones stared at her. ‘That your reaction? You think it’s funny? Some people do.’ Mayland looked at her like she was passing judgement.

  Ade breathed out carefully. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s the headline. Some economists do see city brokers as essentially parasitic on the productive sectors of the economy.’

  I said that so fluently, she thought.

  ‘You can argue about that at your university. Please read it, out loud.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Best to cooperate,’ said Mayland. ‘Indulge us.’

  Ade picked up the paper. ‘Vampires Stalk City Streets.’ She glanced up at them and continued, keeping her voice level. ‘Respected businessman Mr Rex Webster, 58, was attacked near Tooley Street on his way home from a business meeting. The attacker, who has not been identified, inflicted wounds to his neck, including a bite. He was admitted to St George’s Hospital and then transferred to the Consultancy Clinic. He was later allowed home.’

  Jones held up a hand. ‘That’s enough. There’s a lot more about urban vampires and copycat attacks and Occupy St Pauls and the 99 per cent. Did the City a lot of damage, that lot. The City is the world’s leading business centre. We cannot afford more trouble.’

  ‘Now,’ Mayland consulted the file in front of her, ‘We understand from Mr Webster’s accountant that you had a meeting yesterday afternoon and that Mr Webster took you to dinner.’

  Ade nodded.

  ‘Was that normal?’

  ‘Not exactly. We seek to confine our relationship with cases to professional matters. However, I had been encouraged to be more cordial in this case – business-friendly, it’s called. The instructions came from the Minister. I’m sure his office will confirm.’

  Keep it serious, she thought. You’re doing well.

  ‘We understand that you left the restaurant separately.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It wasn’t a question; we have information on your movements. Where did you go?’

  Ade kept her eyes fixed on Mayland’s. ‘Where did I go? I walked about for a bit, then I visited a friend.’

  Jones glanced at Mayland. She ignored him.

  ‘An old friend or a new friend?’

  ‘I met him quite recently.’

  ‘His name?’

  ‘Mr Paul Affarn.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Mayland smiled, her forehead wrinkling sympathetically. ‘It’s not for me to give you advice, but you should be careful whom you associate with.’ She put a slight emphasis on the ‘m’ of whom.

  ‘I agree,’ said Ade. ‘Not for you.’ Did I say that?

  She folded her arms. Mayland nodded to the sergeant.

  ‘Tell Ms Corey what we have on Mr Paul Affarn.’

  Jones opened a notebook and read in a formal voice, like a school-boy in class: ‘Mr Paul Conroy a.k.a. Speedy Paul a.k.a. Paul Affarn born Brick Lane 1993, degree course in social work, Greenwich University, 2014, left without a qualification, six months unattached youth work Tower Hamlets, left when non-statutory services shut down, worked for Centrepoint, CRISIS, Haringey against Homelessness, short term contracts. Believed associated with Occupy, active in Occupation of St Pauls, arrests for vagrancy, incitement to public disorder, theft, aggravated disorder.’

  Jones stared at Ade and continued: ‘He was in the Harrods riot, said he was trying to calm things down, but the magistrates didn’t believe him. Three months. Multiple arrests for residential trespass – that’s squatting to you. He’s a ring-leader, likes to make trouble. That kind of lad. We’ll get him properly one day.’

  Mayland ignored him. ‘So you went visiting Mr Affarn?’

  ‘Yes. There were at least ten witnesses there.’

  ‘I’m sure there were. Mr Affarn is a squatter I believe. No fixed address. Weakens credibility in court.’ She looked seriously at Ade. ‘You really should be more careful about your friends.’

  She held up a hand

  ‘I know. None of my business.’

  She scratched at her ear.

  ‘Back to Mr Webster. I want you to think carefully before you answer, Ms Corey. Mr Webster was just a case to you? You can’t think of anyone who would wish to assault him?’

  ‘No. He may have made enemies in business, but I just dealt with his tax accounts. We approved them yesterday. The case is now resolved.’ Ade looked at Jones, then Mayland. ‘May I go?’

  ‘You’re sure you have nothing to tell us about Webster?’

  ‘I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything.’ Except he’s a bastard, she thought.

  ‘We may need to talk to you again. Don’t go away. And don’t talk to anyone about this. That means: do not talk to anyone about anything to do with this case.’

  Mayland sighed. ‘I had hoped to clear this up today. Come on, Jeremy. Legwork.’

  Jones grunted, nodded at Ade and moved to the door. Mayland beat him to the handle, held the door open and waved him through. She glanced back at Ade. Ade felt that she was appraising her, and that she couldn’t quite make up her mind.

  14

  The office door opened and Denny came in.

  ‘Don’t go, Ade, we’d better have a chat.’

  She crossed to the desk and sat in her chair, leaning back, her eyes closed. She’s been in this job a long time, thought Ade. The outer office was completely quiet.
/>   Ade wished Morwen was with her, that it was like it had been when they’d started, when the models and the spreadsheets were just an idea that the rest of the office made jokes about and they talked over in coffee-breaks, with doughnuts if it was going well. Denny had approved the project and given them time to develop it. None of the others ever mentioned Morwen now, only Denny.

  Denny opened her eyes and leaned forward, her elbows on the desk. ‘Webster paid up: your original assessment, first thing this morning. Didn’t argue about it, just wired the money. Biggest single item this office has ever taken. You’ve done well. Very well.’

  ‘Wow!’ Ade stared at her. I should be delighted. I hate him. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Something’s scared him. And there’s this city vampire business. Some of the others are paying up too. And there’s the visit from the Special Advisor. And cops in the office. Something happened.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Denny. I just wanted the thing to work.’

  ‘Denny? Is that what they call me? I didn’t know.’ Denny seemed to be thinking about it. ‘Better than Denise any day. I always hated Denise at school.’

  ‘I settled the Webster account yesterday afternoon, before all this happened. If that’s any help.’

  Denny didn’t seem to be listening to her. ‘Mayland and Jones are City of London. Richest patch in Europe. Biggest Fraud Division. Lowest clear-up rate. They don’t investigate fraud, they license it. They’re trouble. It was City of London that came for Morwen.’ She paused for a moment. ‘What are they doing, coming here about a minor assault which isn’t anything to do with us?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I’m on your side,’ said Denny. ‘You know that don’t you?’

  If you stared long enough you could just make out the bricks in the wall behind her. Ade thought of the wall in the alleyway, the cardboard boxes stacked against it.

  ‘There was a problem.’ She felt she was choking. He tried to rape me. Should I say that? Who would believe me? Am I going to be the one who got raped, is that how they’ll know me, any office I go to? ‘I handled it.’

  Denny nodded slowly. ‘Perhaps it’s best I don’t know.’ She paused again, her brown eyes fixed on Ade’s.

  ‘They’re bastards, they think they own everything.’ Ade tried to smile at her, but she felt something pricking in the corner of her eye. She kept her voice flat.

  ‘I followed the rules, business-friendly, like that advisor said. The office has taken more tax in a morning than it usually does in a month. It’s really down to Morwen’s model. The government’s desperate to cut the deficit. You’ll be a hero.’

  ‘Maybe. I’d like to think it worked like that.’

  Denny reached across the table and put her hand on Ade’s then slid it back. ‘You have to watch out for the City of London lot. They’re poison. Just remember you’ve done better than anyone in this office. And take a week off. Discretionary leave. You’ve been working very hard. Anyone else I’d have said too hard. You deserve a rest and you need one.’

  She stared down at her hand on the desk and at Ade’s. ‘Anything I can do, just ask.’

  ‘Thanks. It’s OK. I handled it.’

  Ade closed the door to Denny’s room behind her and turned round to face the office. Nebay was rushing towards her down the aisle between the desks. ‘She’s here. Congratulations!’

  They were all on their feet clapping her. Nebay made a whooping sound and flung her arms round her. Ade gently disentangled herself.

  ‘Thanks, but it’s just my job.’

  Aidan stepped forward: ‘Biggest tax take of anyone in the history of the office. That’s a real achievement, Ade. We all want to congratulate you.’

  She shook his hand then Joe’s then the others, and finally Jimmy the Kid’s. She swallowed. ‘Just everyone remember: it’s really all down to the Model, Morwen’s model.’

  No-one spoke. She found she couldn’t look at them. Then Nebay turned round from something she’d been doing at her desk and shouted: ‘Cake all round.’

  She had the double-chocolate sponge already cut into big slices, the cream spilling out thick onto the paper napkins. She offered the biggest slice to Ade.

  ‘Gosh, this is wonderful. Let me sit down.’ She took a bite of the sugary mixture then crammed it into her mouth. She remembered Morwen in the coffee shop with the pain aux raisins. The coarse sweetness flooded her senses. ‘That’s some cake,’ she said.

  ‘Went out for it as soon as we heard. And there’s squirty cream.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ade, ‘Thank you so much. You’re a great team, it’s really good to have your support.’

  She looked round at them. And Morwen, she thought. Morwen did this.

  She stood on the pavement looking down the street. A steady rain was falling. It was dark, but not four o’clock yet. She’d never left the office before 6.30. Crowds of people were streaming towards her. A business man in a trilby and a black raincoat shoved past and she moved back so he didn’t step on her toes. He was followed by a group of office workers chattering noisily, their umbrellas jostling each other and dripping on all sides. She pushed her way into the flow. Everyone ignored her.

  The shop at the corner was doing good business. She took a diet coke out of the fridge. The assistant leaned over the counter and looked at the money she’d put down.

  ‘Cheers,’ he grunted, raising soft brown eyes. ‘Take care of yourself.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I know you. You been coming here every day for two years. You’ve never been this early and you look … different.’

  ‘Oh, thank you. No, it’s just… I got a dental appointment.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Good luck.’

  He picked up the money carefully.

  She poured the saccharin drink into her mouth. The exhilaration swept through her again. The city vampire. Bad for business, good for taxes. Someone’s on our side. And I bit that bastard. And Paul knew I wasn’t a murderer.

  She thought of the pen sliding slick into the flesh. Once it had punctured the skin, it seemed to require no effort at all, as if it was someone else doing it and she was just watching. She shook her head and walked rapidly to the station.

  Suddenly there was a crackle of noise echoing off the buildings around her and a great crest of fireworks reached up, spreading out across the sky. Silver stars fanned out, tumbling slowly back to earth. More and more of them, further away across the city. And I’m going to see him again. Paul Affarn. I’ll see him again. And I’m carrying a stack of cash I don’t know what to do with. She looked up at the stars and at the black sky behind them. She couldn’t help laughing. The newsagent stood in the doorway of his shop, staring after her.

  15

  Ade breathed in the smell: burgers, chips, ketchup. She loved it. She was sitting in the corner against the window in her favourite café, in Whitechapel, just up the road from her flat in Sydney Street. She had on her best jeans and fleece jacket and the lime green ankle-boots.

  People from the city were all around her: workers catching something to eat on the way home, people who wanted something quick before going to the movies, locals who couldn’t be bothered to cook, none of them thinking about vampires. A family with two children was at the next table, laughing as the mother, a short blond-haired woman, opened her eyes wide and told the children she was going to magic their burgers into monkey-burgers – you had to look for the tails. Ade could see she had peanuts hidden in her other hand under the table. A hubbub of conversation rose up on all sides. No-one paid Ade any attention at all, but she kept the seat opposite her free.

  A slight dark figure entered and stood by the door looking round. Paul. She knew him before she saw his face. She felt the blood pulsing in her throat. Why am I feeling like this? Today, after everything? Because
I can be who I want to be. She half-rose and waved. He smiled at her and moved gracefully between the tables. He was still wearing the suit but his tie was loose and his hair ruffled. He leaned forward, took her hand and kissed her on the lips. He tasted of lollipops.

  ‘It’s really good to see you again,’ she said as he slid into the seat opposite.

  ‘You’re here. I knew you’d be here.’

  ‘’Course I’m here, it’s my favourite café. Do you like it?’

  ‘Wait til I’ve eaten something. What do they do that’s veggie?’

  ‘Ah… eggs? Beans? We can go somewhere else.’ She reached for her coat.

  ‘No, I want to try it.’

  He looked up at her from under the curly black hair. A young woman in a blue overall came up and took their order: burgers, chips and coke.

  ‘I’ve been happy all day,’ he said. He looked even younger when he smiled.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Actually it’s been a terrible day. I didn’t want to tell you last night, ‘cos you had enough. But we had the meeting with the Council about the Homeless Centre grant today.’

  The suit! That was why he was wearing a suit this morning. And he’d had his hair trimmed.

  ‘Oh Paul, I wish I’d known. Did you get it?’

  ‘No, course not, they’ve cut everything. But I’ve got a lottery ticket.’ He held it up and the smile was back. She stared at him.

  ‘You do the lottery? But it’s rubbish. You stand more chance of squatting being legalised.’

  ‘If I win, that funds the Centre. Then I can really do something for Johnno and Nadia and Casey and all of them. Organise. Get them their rights. I’m going to do it. Somehow I’ll get the money.’

  ‘Sure.’ She grimaced. ‘Actually, I’ve had a weird day. Everything went crazy.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  So she did.

  ‘That’s cool,’ he said. ‘That’s so cool. Not the bit about the cops, but the tax and your boss and the rest of it.’