Informant

by Susan Wilkins

  Kaz sighed, she positioned herself on the opposite side of the kitchen counter to him. ‘Thing is Joe, I don’t ever wanna go back inside. Six years of my life, swallowed up.’

  He opened his mouth to butt in, but she ploughed on. ‘And I ain’t blaming no one but myself. Drugs and a stupid bit of villainy, that’s what put me there; I ain’t going back to that. Which is why I can’t be involved in the business. I appreciate what you’ve done. Truly I do. But if I get recalled, I’m fucked. I can’t take the risk.’

  Joey beamed at her. ‘What if there is no risk?’

  Kaz shook her head in disbelief. ‘Are you being dense or what? Last three months I’ve had the old bill on my back, visiting me inside, trying every which way to get me to grass you up.’

  Joey chuckled. ‘Plonkers! If you was gonna do that, I don’t reckon you’d’ve waited six years.’

  ‘The point is they are after you little brother.’ Kaz flung her arms wide. ‘All this, the house that charlie built? It’s a red rag to them. They are on your case and they ain’t about to give up.’

  Joey smiled. ‘You worry too much babes. If they had even a shred of evidence to nail me, you think they’d be knocking at your door? Just proves how desperate they are.’

  ‘What if this place is bugged? They could be listening in even now.’

  Joey grinned. ‘They’ll be lucky. Not with the kit I’ve had installed.’

  Kaz folded her arms protectively; she took a turn round the open-plan living room. This was never going to be easy. ‘What I want is to go to art college. Learn to be a proper painter.’

  Joey flipped the rashers over a couple more times. ‘I got no quarrel with that. It’s a good cover.’

  Kaz faced him, stared him down. She had plenty of her own brand of angry defiance. ‘It ain’t a cover, it’s what I wanna to do with my life.’

  He gave her an amiable grin. ‘Great. I could do with a few pictures round here. Get some plates out. I don’t want this to get cold.’

  Kaz watched him cut doorsteps of bread and carefully load each slice with bacon, mayo and a handful of salad leaves. It was all a bit messy, but he ended up with two gut-busting sandwiches. He plated them up and carried them to the table.

  ‘Tuck in then.’

  Getting their mouths round the erupting, dripping slabs of bacon, mayo and bread put paid to any further discussion. Joey demolished his in canine gulps. He got up, tore some sheets of kitchen paper from the roll on the counter and wiped his mouth and hands.

  ‘So am I right or am I right?’

  Kaz was only halfway through hers. ‘About what?’

  ‘Best bacon butty you’ve ever had?’

  Kaz gave a wry smile as she chomped her way through another mouthful. ‘It’s not for wusses, I’ll give you that.’

  Joey poured out two fresh mugs of coffee from the pot on the hob and brought them to the table. ‘Can I have my say now?’

  Kaz shot him an acerbic glance. ‘Can I stop you?’

  He strolled over to the vast window, coffee mug in hand. ‘Look out there. What d’you see?’

  Kaz took a mouthful of coffee. ‘Buildings? London?’

  ‘Yeah London. One of the biggest financial centres in the world. You know what’s at the heart of it? What makes it tick?’

  ‘Money?’

  Joey shook his head. ‘That’s how it functions. That’s like the wheels. Nah, at the heart of it all there’s one truth. Only one truth: everybody’s at it. Everybody’s on the take. Laws don’t matter, nothing matters. You’re smart enough, you grab your share. How do I know this? ’Cause I got lawyers, accountants, bankers – posh boys with degrees down to their bums – who’ve never seen the inside of a nick or the back of a police van. And now they’re working for me.’

  Kaz watched him, his eyes shone with that same fervour she’d seen the day before.

  ‘And I ain’t exaggerating.’ He put down his coffee mug and laced his fingers together. ‘Nowadays villainy and business are like this. ’Cept we don’t call it villainy no more, ’cause as I say everybody’s at it. We’re all players in the market. I’m no different to the rest, I’m just a businessman.’

  Kaz shifted in her chair. ‘What d’you call selling cocaine then? ’Cause I call it drug dealing. Last time I looked so did the old bill.’

  ‘It don’t matter what the product is. If people wanna buy it, there’s a market. Recreational drugs is a billion-dollar industry. And don’t talk to me about harm – fags and booze and stuffing their guts with junk food is what kills more people in this country than anything else.’

  Kaz laughed. ‘You got an answer for everything, haven’t you?’

  Joey took another slug of coffee. ‘Let’s talk about risk. You don’t wanna go back inside, ’course you don’t. Thing is babes, there is no risk, ’cause now we got technology on our side.’

  Kaz extracted a shred of bacon from between her teeth.

  ‘Technology? Don’t try feeding me a line, I ain’t daft.’

  Joey returned to the table and sat down facing her. His expression was deadly serious and she could sense his excitement.

  ‘Look, it’s gonna take less than a year, but I’m scaling right back on all face-to-face dealing. We’re gonna do it all on the Net.’

  ‘On the Net? How’s that gonna work?’

  ‘Punters place their order online using an anonymous market. It’s like a website that the authorities can’t get to or trace. It’s just out there in cyberspace.’

  Kaz frowned and gave him a sceptical shrug. ‘Then how do the punters find it?’

  ‘People are getting savvy to how this stuff works, it’s not only for techies and nerds. All you need is special software to conceal your IP address and make you anonymous. We been using a site called Trade Winds to try it out, but I got some of my own people building a site exclusively for us. It’s beautiful, you sell anything you like, any kind of contraband, collect the dosh using bitcoins – no way it can be traced to you.’

  ‘Bitcoins?’

  ‘Cybermoney. Change it for dollars on the Net, straight into an offshore company.’

  ‘Someone’s still got to deliver the drugs.’

  ‘Ordinary postman. Vacuum-sealed plastic pouch. No one’s any the wiser.’

  Kaz stared at him. ‘It’s still dealing. They’ll find a way to get to you eventually.’

  ‘In a few years maybe, but by then we’ll have moved into the mainstream: property, equities, other legitimate investments. We’ll be untouchable. Very rich and totally legit.’

  Kaz puffed out her cheeks. ‘Sounds great. But I ain’t stupid Joey, you still got to get the drugs in the first place. And that’s a very dangerous business. What about the people that get in the way? What d’you do about them?’

  Joey lifted both arms and turned his palms upwards. ‘I’ll be honest, if you have to, you kill ’em. I ain’t saying it’s ideal. But it’s the way of the world. Governments do it all the time. Bunch of ragheads give you grief, you don’t like the way they run their country, send over a couple of drones, blast ’em all to buggery. You can dress it up with fine words, comes down to the same thing.’

  Kaz smiled. ‘You really have got it all worked out, haven’t you?’

  He got up from the table and shovelled his hands in his jeans pockets. ‘The rich get richer and the rest get screwed. I don’t wanna be a villain Kaz. I just wanna join the club.’

  Kaz gazed up and around her at the vaulted ceiling, the spiral stairway and balcony leading to the bedrooms. ‘I’d say you already have.’

  Joey scratched his head. ‘Nah, this is nothing. This is profit from a few smart deals. But you and me together babes, we’re gonna be invincible.’

  She could feel the power, the absolute belief in his voice.

  ‘Why me? I don’t know nothing about the Net, business, any of it.’

  ‘You’re smart, you’ll pick it up. Plus you’re the one person in this world I can really trust.’

 
Kaz considered this. ‘What about Sean?’

  Joey’s lip curled. ‘What’s he got to do with anything?’

  ‘Oh come on Joey, him and Dad, they was the firm. Once he gets parole—’

  Joey didn’t let her finish. ‘If he gets parole. Him and Dad was a couple of second-rate villains with no imagination. He wouldn’t even understand what I’m talking about. The firm – what’s that even mean? The firm is us.’

  ‘Sean might have other ideas.’

  He fixed her with those hypnotic baby-blue eyes. It put her in mind of the little Joey, always gazing up at her with a mixture of need and adoration.

  ‘Listen to me, we don’t owe him a fucking thing. ’Specially you don’t.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘I need you in my corner, that’s all I’m asking. I don’t expect you to get involved in none of the rough stuff. I got people for that now. Ex-military. I keep all that at arm’s length. The old bill can’t touch us, I promise you.’ He squatted down beside her chair, took her hand, cradled it in his own. ‘We deserve it, don’t we? We’ve earned it. It’s our time babes.’

  She held on to his huge paw, stroked it. ‘Look, I know what you’re saying, but I can’t go back Joey. Not to jail, not to the old life, not to any of it.’

  He encompassed the room with a sweep of his hand. ‘This look like the old life to you? You can have your own place just the same. Do your painting. Go to college. Okay you’re out on licence. But all you gotta do is give ’em the spiel, keep ’em happy. You’re dealing with a bunch of two-bit, underpaid civil servants. They ain’t that smart. Long as they can tick their boxes. Any problems, the lawyers sort it out.’

  Kaz looked into his eyes, his conviction was captivating. He was a lot cleverer than she’d ever imagined. She thought about Helen, the woman she so desperately wanted to impress. Helen had no idea of the world she and Joey had grown up in. Helen could walk away tomorrow and leave her high and dry. Whereas she’d always be bonded to Joey and it wasn’t simply blood. It was everything they’d suffered together and that they’d survived. Maybe he was right: it was their time.

  She gazed at him, her huge little brother. ‘Look I’ll always be in your corner, no question, you know that.’

  He gave her a big grin. ‘That’s all I’m asking.’ He went to the kitchen drawer and pulled out an envelope. ‘I’ll get you a proper bank account sorted, something they won’t be able to trace. Meantime you’ll need some walking-round money.’

  He emptied the envelope on to the table, five neat bundles of fifty-pound notes tumbled out. Kaz’s eyes widened, he smiled.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s all clean.’

  Kaz gave him a sceptical look. ‘Yeah but where am I s’pose put it? They can search your room any time.’

  ‘Keep it here. I’ll give you a key. Take what you want, whenever.’ He checked the Rolex Oyster on his wrist and grinned. ‘Well, that’s sorted. Better get showered and dressed. Don’t want you to be late for your probation officer, do we?’

  11

  The wine bar was off Gresham Street, but there was a small French brasserie attached. At one o’clock it was packed to the gunnels with thirsty City workers and Kaz had to shoulder her way through to the restaurant at the back. She saw Helen, already seated at a table in the corner, sipping mineral water and reading some documents in a folder. Kaz paused to watch her. Almost a week out of jail and the euphoria had given way to confusion, a sense of dislocation, punctuated by moments of dread. She had half a mind to turn tail and flee, then a waiter was at her elbow, a big bloke in a waistcoat with half a tablecloth wrapped round his middle. He said something that Kaz couldn’t quite catch because of the hubbub from the bar. Helen looked up, caught her eye and smiled.

  The waiter escorted Kaz to the table, pulled out the chair for her and thrust a menu into her hand. Helen could see that Kaz was uncomfortable with the way she was being marshalled by him.

  The waiter inclined his head; his accent was French, but sounded fake. ‘Something to drink mademoiselle?’

  Helen dived in. ‘Could you give us a moment?’

  The waiter dipped his head again. ‘Of course.’

  He slid away and Helen beamed at Kaz.

  ‘Sorry. They’re a bit overenthusiastic in here, but the food is good.’

  Kaz shrugged.

  Helen scanned her face with concern. ‘You look a bit stressed.’

  Kaz sighed. ‘It’s the crowds. Tube was packed. Guess I’m not used to it.’

  ‘You do need to give yourself time to adjust.’

  They gazed at one another awkwardly across the table. Helen had deliberately chosen lunch and a busy restaurant near her office; she hoped the formal surroundings would help re-establish some boundaries. Now, witnessing Kaz’s discomfort, she felt guilty.

  ‘I’m sorry, this was a bad idea.’

  ‘Nah, it’s fine. I gotta get used to London hassle again.’

  ‘How did it go with the new probation officer?’

  ‘Okay. Except he’s about fifteen.’

  Helen smiled. ‘Pity you lost Becky.’

  Kaz simply nodded in agreement. Becky, the offender manager who’d handled her case for about two years prior to release, had left to have a baby. Kaz liked Becky. She was astute, low-key and had recognized immediately the importance of Helen in Kaz’s rehabilitation. Kaz had never revealed how she felt about Helen, but Becky had seemed to understand. Doing her GCSE’s, applying to college, Becky had guided her through the whole process.

  Her replacement was an earnest, nervous young man called Jalil Sahir. He was rake thin and wore a short-sleeved, polyester shirt. Kaz found it impossible to imagine discussing anything personal with him. She was beginning to think Joey was right, she just had to smile, give them the spiel and watch them tick their boxes. Joey had driven her to Basildon and waited twenty minutes while she and Jalil had a pointless conversation. Then Joey had treated her to a milkshake.

  Kaz’s eyes darted round the restaurant. The hustle, the confidence needed to navigate London was wearing her down. There were too many people. She exhaled, allowing the breath to gently hiss through her parted lips.

  Helen watched her with a sinking feeling. ‘Things turning out tougher than you expected?’

  Kaz gave her a scornful glance. ‘No, I knew it’d be tough.’

  ‘What about Joey?’

  ‘Haven’t really seen him to talk to.’ Kaz avoided Helen’s eye, she didn’t want to go there. And anyway Helen wouldn’t understand.

  Helen nodded, she sensed the need to tread softly instead of hammering Kaz with the concerns and questions that had been keeping her awake the last few nights. If Turnbull was right and Joey had murdered a police officer, then he could well turn on his own sister. Helen had every reason to fear for her client. But tackling that now? Helen decided to bide her time.

  ‘How are your art classes going? I need another drawing so I can hang the two of them together.’

  Kaz had been waiting for this. She hesitated, she felt awkward enough, she didn’t want to lie to Helen about everything. ‘Missed the first couple. Next week I’ll get to one though.’

  Helen inclined her head. She wanted to reach out, a simple pat on the arm, but she didn’t trust herself. She repeated the mantra for the umpteenth time: boundaries. She was a lawyer lunching a client. In reality that was pretty unusual too, she met most of her clients at a custody suite or in a police cell. But she decided not to dwell on that.

  There was a strained silence. Helen sighed. ‘If this probation officer’s no good I could always—’

  Kaz shifted abruptly in her chair then erupted. ‘Fucking cops! You know what they’re up to now? First morning I was at the hostel this cop comes knocking at my door pretending he’s some support worker.’

  ‘Why didn’t you ring me and tell me?’

  ‘I told him to fuck off.’

  ‘You should’ve rung me.’

  ‘But he’s still hanging round. Saw hi
m when I got back from . . . from Mum and Dad’s.’

  ‘You said you’d been in your text. Did you stay over?’

  Kaz felt as though she was in a bubble and she was drifting further and further from Helen. This was turning into a nightmare. Helen was the one person she wanted to be open with, she wanted that desperately.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Yeah, well actually . . . I stayed at Joey’s.’

  Helen merely raised her eyebrows. ‘Did you agree that with the SPO at the hostel?’

  Kaz gave her a sheepish glance. ‘They thought I was at my mum and dad’s.’

  Helen unfolded her linen napkin, dabbed the corner of her mouth. She didn’t want to give Kaz a lecture. She doubted anyway if it would work. Still she pursed her lips.

  Kaz could feel her disapproval. It stung. ‘I went to my mum and dad’s and y’know what she’s done to my room? Painted it bright fucking pink. I couldn’t stay there. It’s like a paedo’s wet dream.’

  Helen cracked a smile, she couldn’t help herself. She gave Kaz a wry glance. ‘Maybe it’s an unconscious acknowledgement of the sins of the past?’

  Kaz cocked her head. ‘I doubt it. She’s not that bright my mum.’

  ‘What was it like seeing her again?’

  Kaz dipped her eyes, evading the question. ‘Didn’t really want to go. But I thought Natalie might be there.’

  ‘Was she?’

  Kaz shook her head.

  The waiter was hovering and looked ready to swoop. Helen glanced from him to Kaz. ‘Shall we order?’

  Kaz stared at the menu. Predictably it was in French, with explanations in small print underneath. She scanned it in annoyance. ‘I dunno. I’m not that hungry.’ She swivelled round in her chair, caught the waiter’s eye. ‘Oi tosh! Bring us a glass of wine.’

  ‘The house wine mademoiselle? Red or white?’

  ‘White.’

  He nodded and moved away. Kaz realized that Helen was staring at her.

  ‘What? I can’t have a glass of wine?’

  Helen painted on a smile. ‘You do what you please Karen. It’s not up to me.’