‘Oh yeah?’ Drake picked sleep from his eyes. You had to give it to him, he’d handled it well, the fact that he’d woken up to find Shelley standing in his bedroom. Who knows, perhaps he’d been half expecting it.
‘I’d like to know why you’ve hired Bennett,’ said Shelley quietly, the dark and silent bedroom making each utterance significant.
‘That’s why you felt the need to break in, was it, chief ?’ growled Drake.
‘The normal approach didn’t work. You’ve been avoiding me.’
Drake’s mouth was set. ‘I’ve been avoiding the fucking gardener, but that doesn’t give him the right to break into my house.’
Fooking was how he pronounced it.
‘What if you had some new gardeners? And the first gardener thought the new gardeners were going to kill your lawn and destroy all your flower beds. Wouldn’t you expect him to say something?’
‘Oh, bugger off, Shelley, clever dick. Fucking gardeners.’
‘At least tell me what’s going on. Better still, let me see Susie. Let her tell me what’s going on. Where is she?’
Drake looked up at him with dark-ringed eyes. ‘I’ll show you,’ he said.
CHAPTER 17
DRAKE WIPED HIS face with his hands and then swung his legs out of bed, reaching for an old grey sweatshirt that he pulled on over his pyjama top. Wordlessly he beckoned Shelley to follow, looking baggy and ancient as he led the way to the landing and then along to Emma’s old bedroom.
At the door he stood for a moment, gathering himself, and then they both went inside.
Pony Club rosettes, that’s what Shelley remembered. She used to have them all over the walls. Pony Club rosettes and pictures of pop bands.
But there were no rosettes now. The bedroom belonged to a young lady. Or had. There was an Apple Mac on a desk and a TV on the wall. The Destiny’s Child posters had been replaced by collages of club flyers. Shelley found himself wondering what age she’d been when she left home. When did the heroin take hold? he thought. How long was she an addict? Did she smoke or shoot up in this very room?
All questions that would have to wait. For now his attention went to Susie Drake, who sat on the edge of Emma’s bed.
Her head was raised and she stared emptily, at nothing in particular, hands fretting in her lap. She didn’t acknowledge the fact that Guy and Shelley had entered. She just sat, in her dead daughter’s room, staring at nothing.
‘Susie …’ prompted Guy. ‘It’s Shelley.’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I know. I can see him.’ She turned her face slowly to Shelley. ‘Hello, David,’ she said. ‘I had a feeling you wouldn’t be put off so easily. You want answers.’
He nodded. ‘I’d like to know why she did it, Susie. Was it the drugs?’
‘I suppose you could say that. That’s where it all started.’
Drake sat down beside her and exhaled in exasperation. ‘We’re doing this, are we?’ His jaw worked, and a little muscle on the side of his face jumped. ‘We’re telling him everything?’
Susie ignored the question and continued, ‘We knew about the drugs—’
‘We didn’t know about the drugs,’ Drake interrupted. ‘We would have bloody done even more if we’d known about—’
‘We didn’t know about the heroin,’ corrected Susie, voice rising, ‘but we knew about the drugs, whatever drugs they were. Party drugs.’ She indicated the club flyers decorating the wall. ‘We knew what she was into.’
‘We thought she was going through a phase,’ argued Guy. His voice dropped. ‘That was all.’
Neither of them knew which side was up. They both wanted someone to blame and couldn’t find that person in the mirror so they chose the nearest target.
Susie continued, ‘Emma liked to go out. She liked to live it up. Parties abroad, that kind of thing. We gave her a lot of money, enough to live on, but it wasn’t enough.’
Shelley saw the pair of them share a look and knew there was another bone of contention lurking there, so he quickly moved the conversation forward. ‘She needed more,’ he pressed.
‘For her lifestyle,’ said Susie. ‘For drugs.’
‘And this is what you found out since she died, is it?’ he asked them.
Susie looked away. Guy folded his arms nodding, averting his eyes.
Which brings us to your new security detail, thought Shelley.
‘Investigations for you conducted by Bennett, Gurney and that other muppet, I guess?’
Again came the nods and averted eyes.
‘Why didn’t you come to me?’ he asked them, although he already knew the answer.
‘I wouldn’t have known how to contact you.’ Guy’s answer was a little too quick and not at all convincing.
‘I still have the same number.’
Guy gave a little exasperated sigh. ‘How was I to know that?’
‘I know plenty of folk who’ve had the same number for decades. You’ve kept the same gate code, for God’s sake. Besides, Emma knew it.’
They both looked at him sharply, and he returned their gaze evenly. He hadn’t known whether or not he planned to tell them about the call, but there it was, out in the open for all to see.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Susie. Her eyes narrowed, body language changing.
‘She tried to call me. Correction, she did call me. I didn’t pick up.’
‘And now you wish you had,’ said Susie. It wasn’t a question, just a bald statement of fact, arrowing right into the heart of all that had been haunting Shelley these past few days.
‘More than anything I wish I’d picked up, Susie,’ he said.
For a moment or so, the three of them lapsed into silence, each enduring a period of private grief, lost in a world of what-ifs and what-might-have-beens. Until at last Susie broke the silence, voice low but raw and husky with tears already shed and more to come. ‘Are you going to tell him?’
Drake made a noise, twisting away like a kid in a huff.
‘You tell him or I will,’ she pressed.
Drake shook his head but then spoke anyway. ‘I employed Bennett and Gurney to do some detective work, to find out about Emma’s final movements, that’s all,’ he said. His words sounded watery and weak.
‘How did you get them? Did you go to Gerald Mowles?’ Again, Shelley knew the answer but wanted to hear it from them.
‘As a matter of fact I did.’
‘But Gerald would have recommended me. Gerald knows full well that I’ve left the Regiment and set up on my own and that I’ve got a history with this family. I’m in no doubt he would have put me forward.’
‘He did,’ said Susie simply. ‘He told us all of that.’
Shelley nodded. Guy was about to say something but Shelley stopped him. ‘But you wanted more than just investigative work, didn’t you? And when you put that to Gerald, he told you I’d have nothing to do with it, didn’t he? Because it’s not just information you want. It’s payback.’
Guy’s face was hard. His eyes lost their misty grief and became flinty once more – the hard-nosed businessman. ‘Yes,’ he growled. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I fucking want.’
CHAPTER 18
SHELLEY SHOOK HIS head in frustration then turned his attention to Susie. ‘And you?’ he asked her. ‘Is that what you want, too?’
She looked at him and said nothing, but Shelley thought he saw it there too, that desire – no, that need. An eye for an eye.
‘Susie,’ pleaded Shelley, ‘you can’t go down that route.’
She looked away from him. He saw all the indecision within and knew that if there was any way to reach the Drakes it was through her. ‘Susie—’
She rounded on him. ‘David, you don’t understand. It wasn’t just the drugs …’
‘She was in porn,’ Drake said with a trembling voice.
‘They groomed her, David,’ added Susie. ‘They made sure she owed them thousands and then put her to work when she had no other choice.’
Shelley’s fists c
lenched, dreading the answer to the question he asked next. ‘What kind of porn?’
‘Cams. Do you know what they are?’
‘I think so,’ he replied cautiously. ‘Like peep shows for guys with an Internet connection.’
‘Yes, just like that,’ said Susie. ‘That was what they had her doing. Working for them, stripping, doing God knows what else.’
‘Where?’
‘We don’t know,’ Drake answered.
‘Well, who are these people?’
‘We don’t know that either.’
‘But you’re trying to find out?’ said Shelley.
‘That’s what Bennett has been employed to do.’
‘And this is what they turned up so far, have they?’
Drake nodded.
‘But none of that information came from the police,’ said Shelley.
‘How would you know?’ asked Drake.
‘Because I’ve done a little digging of my own. And the cops don’t know anything about any cams. Not yet anyway. So where did they get that information?’
‘They hit the streets, Shelley,’ said Drake.
‘Using your money to open doors.’
‘It’s worked, hasn’t it?’
Shelley considered for a second. Was it possible that Bennett and Gurney were lying, that this was some kind of shakedown? Well, yes, of course it was possible – but probable? He didn’t think so. Their sources, on the other hand …
‘Desperate people will say anything if you wave a few quid in their face,’ he told the Drakes.
‘I’m afraid it’s all true, David,’ said Susie. ‘We wish more than anything it wasn’t.’
‘She was …’ Drake trailed off.
When Shelley looked at him he saw that the older man’s face had gone red but not with fury, or at least not just with fury. Written all over his features was a disquieting mix of rage, grief, frustration and impotence, all feelings that millionaire businessman Guy Drake, MBE, had never expected to have to suffer again.
‘She was working,’ Susie completed her husband’s sentence for him. ‘She was working the night she killed herself.’
‘Doing one of those cam things.’ Drake had found his voice. It shook with suppressed rage.
‘She did it on camera, David,’ said Susie, ‘there’s film of it. Somewhere out there on the Internet is film of our daughter killing herself.’
There was absolute silence in the bedroom. Shelley took in the news, not knowing what to think or how to react, certain only that what he’d just learned was an obscenity. For a moment or so, before he tamped it down, what rose to the surface was a desire for vengeance so clean and bright and pure that he could almost touch it.
And of course he understood the Drakes and their need for prairie justice. He understood it perfectly.
‘So that’s what Bennett and Gurney are doing for you, is it?’ he said. ‘Giving you information that’s only going to make your grieving worse?’
‘They’re telling us the bloody truth, man!’ exploded Drake.
‘Or telling you things that you as parents don’t need to hear.’
‘Oh, you’re talking out of your arse, Shelley. You don’t have kids, do you?’ He made it sound like an insult. ‘If you did, and you had a daughter and she killed herself, I guarantee you’d want to know exactly what happened to her. You’d want to know why she killed herself. You’d need to know. And, having found out what we now know, are you honestly telling me that you wouldn’t go after the people responsible?’
‘I wouldn’t,’ Shelley lied. ‘It would solve nothing.’
‘Fucking bollocks!’
‘Language, Guy,’ chided Susie. ‘Not in here. Anywhere but here.’
‘Sorry, love,’ said Drake, ‘but this just isn’t on. He comes breaking into our house, that much I can just about take, even if he is demanding answers to questions he has no right to ask. But standing there and lying to our faces? That’s an insult to our intelligence, and to her memory. So now I’m going to ask you to leave, Shelley – get out of my bloody house, before I pick up that phone. And don’t you bloody well come back here. Ever. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Guy …’ started Susie weakly.
‘You’ve made yourself perfectly clear,’ said Shelley.
He felt no anger or animosity towards Drake. If anything, what he felt was even more sadness, even more sympathy. ‘I’ll leave you. And I suppose you’re right, it’s better to know the truth, even if you don’t like it, rather than be kept in the dark. I can understand that. But you also have to know when to leave well alone. You have to know when you’re out of your depth.’
‘Yeah, well, I’ll let you know if I need my water wings, Shelley. In the meantime I’ll thank you to sling your hook before you upset Susie any further.’
Before he turned to go, Shelley looked across at Susie, wondering whether to appeal to her better nature. But all he saw on her face was desolation.
Then, just as he reached the door, she spoke up. ‘Help us, David’ was all she said.
Shelley stopped.
‘Susie,’ started Drake, ‘have you gone—’
‘Help us, David,’ she repeated. ‘Instead of standing in judgement, help us.’
His shoulders rose and fell. All of a sudden he felt very tired. He felt all that pain in the room, and knew that his own was there, too. But the other thing he knew was that to pursue revenge would only add to that pain.
‘I’m sorry,’ he told her, and left.
CHAPTER 19
IT WAS THE following afternoon when the Shelleys’ doorbell rang. There on the step stood an uncomfortable-looking Lloyd Bennett, who seemed to have left something behind in Berkshire. At the Drakes’ he’d been every inch the commander in front of his men. Now he wore the fish-out-of-water look of an awkward suitor.
‘I come in peace,’ he said with a lopsided smile.
Shelley eyed him up and down suspiciously. ‘You’re not about to give me a bunch of flowers, are you?’
‘No flowers,’ said Bennett, inclining his head so that he peered at Shelley over the top of his glasses. ‘Just a chat, one soldier to another, about this Drake business.’
‘Yeah, well, I didn’t think you wanted to talk about the football,’ sighed Shelley, standing aside. ‘You’d better come in.’ He called up the stairs, ‘Luce, we have a visitor. You want to join us?’
‘Be down in a sec, hun,’ she said.
If Bennett disapproved of Lucy sitting in, he made no sign. Instead he stood in their small lounge with his hands in his pockets, squinting at photographs and looking at the book-shelves while Shelley busied himself making coffee.
Bennett was still studying the pictures when Shelley re-appeared with a cafetière and three mugs. He didn’t need to ask Bennett how he took his coffee. Like all those who’d spent time in the field, he’d take it black, no sugar.
‘Dog,’ said Bennett simply. He pointed to a photograph of Lucy and Frankie that rested on the mantelpiece, and then looked around the room. ‘But no sign of a dog. Do I take it he’s no longer with us?’
‘Frankie. Somebody shot him.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ There was a pause during which Bennett seemed to ruminate, looking at the coffee pot as Shelley set it down. ‘And what did you do to the person who killed Frankie?’
‘I killed the bloke. Look, I know where this is going, Bennett, I know exactly what you’re going to say, but the circumstances are totally different.’
‘But still.’
‘“But still” what?’
‘There are certain impulses that can’t be denied.’
‘Maybe. Maybe not. Whatever, things are a whole lot different where the Drakes are concerned. They have more to lose and they’re much more likely to lose it.’
Lucy appeared and Bennett acknowledged her with a smile. ‘Lucy Shelley, I presume?’ He raised a finger, slightly theatrically. ‘No, let’s do that again, I mean the legendary Lucy Shelley of the 22nd. I
t’s an honour.’ He spread his hands. ‘Just a shame I couldn’t have met Cookie for the full set.’
Shelley cleared his throat, and Lucy shifted awkwardly.
Bennett acknowledged their loss with a tip of the head. ‘I mean, you three. Bloody hell. I don’t use the word legend lightly, you know. It’s only in the last couple of years that them upstairs even admitted you exist. The only three-man patrol in all of special forces? The top blades of the 22nd for twenty years.’ He looked at Lucy. ‘Not to mention the SRR.’
Lucy grinned. She wasn’t immune to a bit of flattery, especially when it concerned her military record.
The three of them sat down to drink coffee, and Shelley was taken by the sense of how surreal a situation this was: three ex-special forces, God knows what kind of body count between them, reminiscing over coffee in the cosy front room of a terraced house in London.
‘Why are you here?’ he said at last.
Bennett placed his coffee cup on the table and then raised his eyes to look first at Lucy and then at Shelley. ‘I know what happened last night.’
Shelley shrugged. ‘Then you’ll know I’m out. I gave Susie my answer then.’
‘I’m here to ask you to reconsider.’
Shelley pulled a disbelieving face. ‘Oh, come on. You don’t want me on board, looking over your shoulder.’
‘Really? What makes you say that?’
‘Because … look, I don’t mean to be rude, but instinct tells me you’re one kind of animal and I’m another, and you don’t put us in a pen together.’
Bennett nodded, eyes going from Shelley to Lucy as he picked up his coffee for a sip and once again replaced the cup on the table. ‘Because of the Circuit?’
Shelley sat back and folded his arms. ‘Maybe,’ he said. From the corner of his eye he caught Lucy’s amused look. She’d never really understood his antipathy to the Circuit. He wasn’t sure he fully understood it himself. But when he met blokes like Johnson and Gurney it all came flooding back.
‘I see,’ said Bennett with a wry smile. ‘Look, we’re not all bad news on the Circuit, you know. You watch the news, you see some reporter doing a stand-up in a war zone, who do you think is escorting that reporter? Who gets them in there and keeps them safe? Who’s supporting the troops on the ground? Who’s providing protection for the workers trying to build an infrastructure? Circuit guys. Guys like me.’
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