Ardent Justice

by Research Professor Of Social Policy Peter Taylor-Gooby

  A couple of guards came in, swaggering. The group seemed to shrink away from them. Ade moved nearer, pretending her attention was caught by a modernist poster of a giant silver airship.

  The one with the square face and the crew-cut slapped some dust off his hand: ‘Little runt. You won’t see him again,’

  ‘I’m sure he had a point of view, it was just, well, he insisted, and then he wanted to take over and be the guide himself,’ said the woman with the glasses. ‘You didn’t hurt him, did you?’

  ‘Oh, he’ll be all right miss. Just showed him off the premises.’

  ‘We insisted,’ said the smaller guard. Ade noticed he had a scar on the point of his chin. They laughed.

  Ade realised they were G4S, not gallery staff. She pushed past them. No sign of Paul. She felt her heart contract. Outside it was evening. There was a bank of fluffy grey clouds lit up from within by a pink glow over the Thames. A small figure was squatting, half-lying, hunched down at the edge of the shadows at the far end of the façade. She waved and he tried to get up and fell back. She ran towards him.

  ‘Paul! Are you OK?’

  He smiled at her. ‘I’m fine.’ There was a fleck of blood at the corner of his mouth. ‘Did good, didn’t I?’

  ‘Oh Paul. You did wonderful.’ She was kissing him hard, holding him to her.

  ‘Careful,’ he mumbled. ‘Not too tight.’

  Then he was kissing her back, eyes closed, in the rosy light of evening, the river flowing past them, through the city, out to the sea, the light gleaming from a million windows, towers, flats, houses, churches, and a sharp clean smell in the air.

  21

  The taxi whirled through the dark streets, towards the east. Ade held Paul against her, her jacket round him, warming his body against hers.

  ‘I never meant this to happen. I’m so sorry.’ She stroked her hand gently down his cheek. His skin felt so cold.

  ‘It’s OK. I wanted to help. I want to help you all I can.’

  He broke off to cough and she felt him wince. She had to explain. Should have told him the whole thing before, but there hadn’t been time, there was never time.

  ‘It was meant to be a diversion. I slipped the pictures into one of those big racks in the shop while no-one was looking. It just seemed the right place. And I left some cards’

  ‘It would have been all right. Those guards just wanted to shove me out the door. But a couple of City of London cops in their red and white armbands came along and that’s when it started. It’s OK, I been on demos, I got curled up.’

  ‘But I never thought they’d hit you. I should have explained everything first. I’m so sorry.’

  He took her hand. ‘Not a problem.’ He smiled. ‘You needed me for that, didn’t you?’

  ‘I couldn’t have done any of it without you.’

  ‘You’re smart.’ He held her hand tight in his. ‘But you got to be careful.’

  He paused.

  ‘There were some students there on the bridge and they started filming on their mobile phones and that stopped it. One of the students was really worried about me; she was typing everything into her phone. She said I ought to go to A and E, I should file a complaint, they’d be witnesses. I said it was OK, I didn’t want a fuss, but really I wanted to be alone.’

  He looked up at her and she stroked a lock of hair off his face.

  ‘Because I knew you’d come.’

  Nadia was there at the squat and Johnno. They helped her bring Paul in, Johnno making odd little noises of sympathy. Casey said something about how he knew she’d bring trouble, and Johnno just pushed him back through the door into the passageway and held it shut. Ade looked at Nadia and she nodded and helped her bring him up the stairs. She brought warm water from the stove and clothes and a large pink towel and ushered Johnno away. Then he was on the bed and the light was streaming through the window and Ade was closing the door and he was sitting up, just looking at her.

  ‘Lay back,’ she said pushing very gently at his chest. ‘Take it easy. First, I’m going to wash you.’

  She unlaced his shoes, left and right, and slipped them off his feet. She reached up and carefully unbuckled his belt and folded back the strap. She undid the button at the top of his jeans and pulled at the zip. Then she crouched at the foot of the bed and tugged at the trouser legs. He reached down and eased them over his hips and she slipped them off. She folded them and placed them on the floor.

  She slipped his arms out of his jacket. His clothes are so thin, she thought, the material cheap and worn. She unbuttoned the shirt and opened it and ran her hand across the smooth skin of his chest. She felt him tense under her, and relax. She folded the shirt and jacket and placed them on the jeans. Then she took up a cloth, tested the water with her elbow and soaked it, wringing it out. She sponged him with long slow strokes, his feet, his calves, his thighs, his chest, his arms, his neck, his hands, opening them out and rubbing gently at the palms and along his fingers. She took the towel in both hands and dried him down, patting his body, wrapping it round him. He was so thin she could feel the bones in his chest.

  ‘Ade,’ he said.

  ‘Shhh.’

  She took the warm wet cloth and washed his belly, his hips, his buttocks. She rubbed gently, very gently across his groin. She put down the cloth and dried him, patting him dry. His eyes were bright in the dark, fixed on her.

  Then she stood up in the moonlight by the window and slipped off her own clothes, letting them fall in an untidy pile on the floor. She crossed to the bed and knelt beside him.

  ‘Ade,’ he said. ‘I love you.’

  ‘Shhh. I know.’

  ‘Ade, maybe later. You’ve had such a terrible time.’

  ‘Shhh. So have you. We won. This is what I want.’

  ‘So do I. So much. Since we were first together, running over London Bridge.’

  She laid a finger softly across his lips and straddled him and reached down and slid his penis into her, hard and smooth. He gasped and she pressed down on him. She leaned forward and rocked against him. She could feel him thrusting up into her with all the force in his slender body. She moved, holding herself hard against him, faster and faster. She could hear him making tender little noises, then he was crying out ‘Ade!’, ‘Ade!’ and he was surging into her and her body was crammed with such delight that she fell forward onto his breast and his arms were round her and he was whispering into her ear ‘Ade!’, ‘Ade!’, ‘Ade!’

  Much later they lay there in the dark, the moon sinking away behind the skyline, the stars high up above them.

  ‘Paul,’ she said, ‘are you awake?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I love you.’

  She felt his arms tighten round her.

  ‘Tax-woman,’ he murmured. ‘Robyn Hood. Super-hero.’

  ‘With issues.’

  ‘Everyone’s got issues. We handled them.’

  22

  Ade woke once in the night, her head filled with dreams. The moon gleamed at the edge of a vast continent of cloud. Nothing else was visible. She’d been flying in her dream, swooping down over the city, the wind fresh on her face, the taste of the clouds on her tongue, the cape rippling out behind her. She mantled like a hawk, hovering for an instant over Trafalgar Square, then up, up, into a moonless sky, stars gleaming cold and ancient, infinitely far above her. Below she could see the city spread out, ribbons of light along the arterial roads, the housing estates dark, the roads speckled with streetlights. Below her all was safe, all was secure, and in her was the knowledge that it was all, all of it, because she was here, watching over all the people of London.

  She raised herself on one elbow and felt the night air cool on her skin. Paul lay curled towards her, his hand under his cheek, sleeping, perhaps dreaming too. Tomorrow she would ask him. She pull
ed up the duvet round his shoulders and hers and sank back on the pillows.

  Someone was hammering on the door of the squat, regular blows, thud, thud, thud. Ade was suddenly awake. Sunlight was streaming through the window. They’d overslept. She felt Paul stir against her.

  The letter-box rattled at the front of the building, next to the shop-window.

  ‘Open up! Police.’

  ‘Stay there,’ she whispered, slipping on her jeans and fleece and starting down the stairs. They were at the front entrance, the one no-one used because it was too public. She slammed back the bolts and wrenched open the door, flicking her hair out of her eyes. Sergeant Jones stood right in front of her, not a foot away, his gloved fist raised. She could see the white shape of a police car behind him.

  ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Ms Corey. Found you. We’re good at finding people’ He half-turned and called over his shoulder. ‘Got her.’

  Ade pushed hard at the door, but he had his foot jammed against the threshold.

  ‘Not so fast,’ he said.

  If she’d had her high heels on she could’ve stamped on his foot. Her heel would stab through boot-leather, no problem. He shouldered the door open.

  ‘Mind if I come in? Thanks.’

  ‘I haven’t seen a warrant,’ said Ade. ‘Or identification come to that.’

  ‘Don’t be like that. We’ve been introduced. You can always come down the station. Nasty people down there. Not polite like us.’

  He touched the peak of his cap and pushed past her down the gloomy corridor into the squat. Mayland stood in front of her.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘Thank you for inviting us in.’

  ‘I didn’t, you’re like bloody vampires,’ muttered Ade. ‘First rule, never ask ‘em in.’

  ‘Heard it before,’ said Mayland, glancing down the hall. ‘Anyone else here?’

  She placed a hand on Ade’s chest and pushed her against the wall.

  ‘You should go to the gym more.’

  Ade stared at her without saying anything. Bastard, she thought.

  Jones appeared at the other end of the hall, the light from the stairs behind him. ‘All clear back here. No one under the table.’

  ‘Upstairs,’ said Mayland.

  ‘It’s all right.’ Ade gripped Mayland’s wrist with both hands. She couldn’t shift it. ‘It’s only Paul. He’s sleeping.’

  ‘Weight-lifting,’ said Mayland. ‘Keep some weights in the office. Makes a difference.’

  Ade heard a door slam back against the wall upstairs, then Paul’s voice and Jones shouting at him. She winced.

  ‘We told you about Mr Affarn, when we came to see you in your office after the attack on Mr Webster. That led to a lot of trouble for everyone. Now we’ve got theft of valuable pictures from Mr Ronnie Wells. Extortion. It’s going to make more trouble. He’s a prominent city art-dealer. Very respectable, deals with the most distinguished clients in the City. And your Mr Affarn was seen yesterday, near where one of the pictures was found. Interviewed by two of my officers in fact. Is that news to you?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Keep your voice level, she thought. Don’t drop your eyes.

  ‘Ah,’ said Mayland, in her pleasant, reasonable voice. ‘Here’s Mr Affarn.’

  Ade glanced down the corridor. She saw Paul first, stumbling, then Jones behind him, shoving him forward.

  ‘Nothing to do with her,’ said Paul. ‘Leave her out of it.’

  ‘Out of what, sir?’

  ‘Whatever you’re on about. She’s a tax-inspector. You should be on the same side – the tax pays your salary, doesn’t it?’

  Mayland took off her cap with her free hand. She released Ade and ran her other hand across her head. Ade reached out and grasped Paul’s hand. She realised how small it was, she could fit it comfortably inside hers.

  ‘Yes,’ Mayland said. ‘Sides. Our side is the City of London. We look after the City. We know you, Mr Affarn: public disorder, incitement to riot, Occupy, all that. Not a friend to the City are you? Now we’ve got these.’

  She flipped a card out of her breast-pocket. Ade could see the tiny figure silhouetted against the full-moon. ‘Occupy Man and Tax-woman. That’s what led us to the pair of you.’

  ‘So what?’ said Ade. ‘It’s no crime to print a business card.’

  Mayland replaced the card in her pocket.

  ‘It’s a criminal offence to steal valuable paintings. It’s a criminal offence to assault people and terrorise them.’

  ‘Has anyone complained? I read in the paper that Mr Webster said he wants people to forget the matter.’

  ‘If only they would. Mr Webster and Mr Wells are not nice men. I told you to be careful about your associates. They prefer to keep things out of the papers. My duty is to the City of London. There’s been all this rubbish about vampires in the City. Now there’s stuff about massive tax payments.’

  She glanced at Paul then fixed her eyes back at Ade.

  ‘The City’s like a great ocean liner. A shock’s gone through it. Everyone’s felt it, passengers and crew, first class and steerage. Could be driftwood. Could be an iceberg. We don’t want everyone making for the life-boats do we? Maybe there aren’t enough life-boats.’ She leaned forward. ‘Panic. That’s not what we want. Not a good thing for the City.’ She smiled, showing neat white teeth. ‘Glad to say we’re putting the lid on it. Back to business as usual.’

  ‘So you’ve burst into this house and pulled innocent people out of bed to tell us you’ve got no case and everything’s normal? I wish to make a complaint.’

  ‘Complaints forms at the station. We’re here to explain what will happen. You will drop all enquiries into Mr Webster and Mr Wells and all,’ she stressed the word, ‘their associates. And matters will rest. See? Business-friendly. I’m trying to help you. On your side.’

  ‘No. I have a duty too. To the Revenue and the tax-payer. No taxes, no NHS. Maybe no police.’ She squeezed Paul’s hand.

  ‘In that case we will need to pursue enquiries further. Against Mr Affarn. We believe he may be involved in printing these neat little cards. That would be conspiracy. Funny. Sometimes you get a longer sentence for conspiring to do something than for actually doing it.’

  The Chief Inspector looked up at Ade, her eyes like pebbles. Ade realised that she had no idea what Mayland was thinking. ‘Mr Affarn will come with us.’

  Mayland nodded. Jones forced Paul’s other arm up against his back and pushed him forward, wrenching his hand away from Ade’s. Paul’s eyes were wide with fear. She felt her throat constrict. He twisted his head round: ‘It’s OK, see you later. At the café.’

  ‘No, wait. He lives here, you have no right. Let him go. I’ll slow things down.’ She had her hand on Paul’s arm. Mayland knocked it away.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Paul will come with us for now.’ Her dark eyes were still staring directly into Ade’s. ‘For clarity.’

  Paul twisted his head round as Jones forced him down the steps. ‘I’ll be OK. Don’t listen to her, you can’t trust them,’ he shouted. Jones put his free hand on top of Paul’s head and pushed him down and through the rear passenger door of the police car.

  ‘I think that’s everything,’ said Mayland, with her usual smile. ‘You had your chance. Don’t forget your promise. Thank you for your assistance.’

  She walked smartly to the car and got in.

  ‘Check your shadows,’ shouted Ade after her.

  ‘Heard it before.’

  Ade slammed the door shut, bolted it and moved away, back to the kitchen. The sun was shining down into the garden. Ten minutes she thought. Ten minutes and everything’s different. They’ve got Paul. I have to get him back.

  Something moved in the garden and she started back from the window. The
re was a scraping noise at the door. She didn’t know if it was locked. She ran her hand down to find where the bolt was, then she heard Johnno’s voice: ‘Have they gone now?’

  She pushed the door open. Johnno stared at her. He had the hood of his sweat-shirt up, so she couldn’t really see his face. She put her hand on his shoulder. She could feel him trembling.

  ‘Johnno. It was the cops. They took Paul. But we’re going to sort it out.’

  Somewhere glass shattered. Johnno made a whimpering noise, grabbed her arm and pointed. Nadia was standing very upright, by the greenhouse, her arm outstretched, her fist punched through one of the windows. She slowly withdrew her arm and rested her fingers on the edge of the broken glass.

  ‘Nadia!’ Ade shouted. As she watched, Nadia broke off a triangle of glass and held it, examining it, the sun flashing on it as she turned it in her hand. She seemed intent on the point of the triangle. Ade jerked free of Johnno and started towards her. Nadia spread out the fingers of her free hand and drew the point slowly across her palm. She stood there, motionless, staring at the blood as it dripped from the heel of her hand onto the grass.

  ‘Nadia,’ Ade said, not loudly.

  Nadia dropped the shard. Ade heard it shatter on the path. She held her hand out to Ade. The skin was pink, the blood almost black against it.

  ‘It comforts you,’ she said, her face calm. ‘You can control the pain.’

  Ade took Nadia by the wrist and led her slowly back towards the house. The light was so bright it hurt her eyes.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘We’ll get Paul back. Let’s find something to put on your hand.’