‘You’d trust me with that?’ Jason’s expression was radiant. It made Lydia feel bad that she was asking him for selfish reasons. He looked like she was giving him a gift.
‘It’s super-dull,’ she warned him. ‘Really routine. I’m passing them onto you because I hate doing them. You can say no.’
Jason made a grabby-hands gesture. ‘Give them to me. And the log-ins so I can access the databases. Are they standard checks? Criminal, financial, and driving histories, right? Confirmation of identity?’
Lydia blinked. ‘You’ve really been paying attention.’
Jason grinned. ‘Yes, boss.’
Lydia had set up a proximity alarm for her flat. It was hidden underneath the carpet on the stairs so she would have warning when someone was approaching. Now she was wondering about getting her money back as someone was knocking on the glazed door to Crow Investigations without the alarm having been tripped.
She knew before she opened the door that it was the man who had sprung her from the police station. The one with the strange, unidentifiable power which made Lydia feel unwell.
‘No parcel today?’ This was in reference to the fact that he had been masquerading as a courier. In his line of work it was probably called ‘deep cover’.
‘Can we talk?’
Lydia stepped aside and gestured for him to enter. The hit off his power was as destabilising as always, but she was braced for it now, which helped. Plus, it was becoming familiar. She could separate its notes - the flash of canvas, whipping in the wind, the feel of rolling waves, and the glint of gold. It was a ship, she realised. That was probably why she had felt so sick the first few times she had encountered him. He made her seasick.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ Lydia said. ‘If my Family see you...’
‘I’ll say I’m delivering something,’ he said. ‘But I take your point. I’ve got a safe house.’
‘Of course you have,’ Lydia said, trying not to be impressed.
‘It’s not mine mine,’ he said, looking slightly abashed. ‘It comes with the job.’
‘And what is that exactly?’
He smiled, looking utterly assured again. ‘I was thinking a regular check in would be best. Same time, same place. Then, if you don’t make it, I know something has happened.’
‘What if I’m just busy?’
‘You won’t be,’ he said in a tone which spoke volumes.
‘And what should I call you?’ He had refused to give her his name in the police station, saying that whatever he said would have to be a lie and that he didn’t want to lie to her. All very mysterious and quasi-noble, but not entirely practical.
‘You choose,’ he said.
‘Living dangerously, there,’ Lydia said. ‘How do you feel about Cuddles? Or Mr PrettyBoy?’
He didn’t rise to the bait, just smiled. ‘You think I’m pretty? That’s nice.’
‘Mr Smith,’ Lydia said. ‘That’s a good spook name. And I don’t know you well enough for first names, anyway.’
‘I hope that’s going to change,’ Mr Smith said.
He gave her an address in Vauxhall, not far from Kennington Park. Not a million miles away from the MI6 headquarters by Vauxhall Bridge, either. ‘Close to your office, then,’ she said. ‘Handy for you. Or are you MI5?’
He looked blank, but that was likely the first thing you learned in spy school.
‘Thursdays at eleven. Here’s a key.’
‘Seriously, though, what happens if I can’t make it? Do I call you or-’
‘No phones. No missing your appointments.’
‘But my job,’ Lydia began, appealing for him to be reasonable. ‘I get caught up in stuff all the time. If I have to do surveillance for a client-’
‘You’ll manage,’ he said. ‘You are a resourceful woman.’
‘Once a week is excessive,’ Lydia tried another tack. ‘Things just aren’t that exciting around here. We’ll have nothing to talk about.’ She knew he wanted information on the Families and that she had agreed to give him some, that didn’t mean she was going to make it easy.
‘I’m sure we’ll think of something,’ he batted back and Lydia had the distinct impression that resistance was futile. Mr Smith wanted her to meet him every Thursday and that was exactly what was going to happen. At least until Lydia could figure out a way to get out of her obligation to him. On the plus side, she was as curious about him and his motives, as he was about her and her Family’s. Part of her, the part which was always getting her into trouble, saw it as an opportunity.
‘You had better be providing coffee and pastries.’
After Mr Smith had gone, Lydia poured herself a large whisky, figuring that she deserved it after that encounter. Every nerve was jangling and she didn’t feel able to clear the mess off her desk, let alone face her client files or accounts. Passing on the outstanding background check work was a relief, but she still had a business to run.
As if eager to prove its worth, Lydia’s proximity alarm beeped and, a moment later, there were footsteps on the landing. Lydia had a clear view from behind her desk to the front door, with its ‘Crow Investigations’ lettering and a tall shape appeared through the obscured glass.
She opened the door to a young Crow. Aiden was one of Lydia’s many cousins. Or maybe nephews. She had never tried to keep track of her wide circle of relatives but supposed that would be something else she had to change, now. He looked older than she remembered, with a scruff of beard and wary eyes, which made her feel positively ancient. Lydia offered him a whisky, which he declined, and he took the client’s seat by the desk, not the sofa, indicating that this wasn’t a social visit.
Lydia sat down opposite and folded her hands. ‘What can I do for you?’
Aiden was sitting forward on the chair, his spine straight. ‘I want to know what you told the police.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You were arrested. And then you were let out.’ Aiden paused, letting it grow as if he had asked a question.
‘Yes?’ Lydia said eventually. ‘Your point?’
‘What happened? Police don’t just give up like that.’
‘They do when they don’t have a case,’ Lydia said. ‘And I didn’t give them anything.’
Aiden shifted in his seat. ‘That’s not what people are saying. Everyone is nervous.’
‘Well they shouldn’t be. Everything is fine.’ Lydia was trying to keep a lid on her sense of offence. The worst thing she could do would be to ramp up the tension in the room. She had to smooth the waters. Play nice. ’I already went over this,’ she added, trying to sound calm.
‘Yeah, but everyone knows you’ve been seeing a copper. You were with him, right? We’ve got a right to know what you’ve told him about the Family.’
Lydia was on her feet and around the desk before her mind caught up. She got her face up close to Aiden’s and said, very quietly. ‘Are you questioning my loyalty to my family? Think very carefully before you answer.’
Aiden swallowed. His eyes were flicking around, not meeting her stare. ‘Course not.’
Lydia moved back a fraction. ‘Good.’
‘It’s just... You’ve got to see... I mean, you can see why people are wondering. Crows don’t get arrested. It just doesn’t happen.’
‘That’s right,’ Lydia said. ‘They made a mistake. That’s why I was out so quickly.’
‘But-’
‘Aiden,’ Lydia said, leaning on the edge of her desk and crossing her arms. ‘You’ve got two choices here. Either you decide that Lydia Crow, daughter of Henry Crow and endorsed by his brother, Charlie, head of the Family, is a trustworthy member of the Crows and you fly away now to tell everybody exactly that. Or-’ Lydia waited a beat, watching Aiden squirm. ‘Or you make an enemy.’
Aiden swallowed again, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
‘I’m waiting,’ Lydia produced her coin and flipped it lazily in the air. She could make it spin slowly and with non-Family-members this was enough t
o put a little bit of ‘push’ behind whatever she was saying. She could make somebody answer a question truthfully or accede to her request. She didn’t know if this was Crow magic or just their old reputation as fixers brought sharply into focus or a mix of the two, but she had never tried it on a fellow Crow before and was curious to see Aiden’s reaction.
‘I meant no offence,’ Aiden said, his voice thin. ‘I’m just passing on concerns. I said I would. And I have.’ He was babbling, nerves overcoming the veneer of youthful cool that he had worn walking into Lydia’s office.
‘Pass on the good news,’ Lydia said, smiling her own version of Charlie’s shark smile. She had practised it in front of the mirror and was pretty proud of it. ‘All is well in the Family. I am working closely with Charlie to ensure our continuing success and I am fully recovered after my wrongful arrest. We’re all squared away with the other families and there is no call for retribution of any kind.’
‘That’s a separate issue,’ Aiden said, rallying. He straightened in his seat. ‘We can’t let it stand-’
‘I’m not letting anything stand,’ Lydia cut across him. ‘But the last thing we need right now is some idiot going off at the wrong person at the wrong time. Delicacy, strategy, negotiation.’ She counted the words off on her fingers. ‘Nobody is to make any kind of move against another Family. I thought I had already made that clear.’
Aiden’s lips compressed into a thin line but he nodded.
‘Good.’ Lydia leaned back in her chair and tilted her head to indicate that the meeting was over. Another Charlie move.
She waited until Aiden was crossing from her office to the hall before adding. ‘Spread the word.’
Chapter Three
It was a cool morning and Lydia had Fleet’s hoodie on over her unicorn-print pyjamas. The pyjamas had been a gift from her mum and they were fleecy and warm which, at this moment in time, trumped the fact that they were messing with her image. Jason was sitting at her desk in the main room, hunched over his laptop and tapping away on the keyboard. He had taken to the background checks like a duck to water and had powered through the backlog overnight. It was incredible. ‘Fair warning,’ he said without looking away from the screen. ‘Your uncle is outside.’
‘Outside?’ Lydia had only just woken up and her synapses still weren’t firing. ‘Outside here?’
Jason nodded his head toward the roof terrace.
‘How long?’
Jason shrugged, engrossed, again.
‘Wait. How did he get in?’ Lydia hadn’t heard her alarm. More importantly, how had Charlie got into the flat and then out to the terrace? The connecting door was in Lydia’s bedroom. She ran over her morning so far and realised that he must have strolled in while she was in the shower. Well that was creepy.
‘Jason,’ Lydia said, more sharply than she intended. She could taste the tang of Crow magic in the air, now, and was annoyed with herself for not picking up on it sooner.
He looked up. ‘Sorry. Can’t stop. I’m speaking to the head of mathematics at Harvard about code theory, he’s only got twenty minutes before his next lecture,’ he looked proud and incredulous. Like he had won the lottery. ‘I bloody love the internet.’
Jason’s face was glowing with pleasure and Lydia felt a rush of happiness for him, obliterating her irritation and fear and misery, just for a moment. It was nice to know that she was still capable. She held up her hands. ‘I’ll leave you two alone.’
Online contact, of course, was the ultimate equaliser. Nobody knew the colour of your skin or whether you were in a wheelchair. She looked at the ghost tapping away, his face lit by the blue light of the screen. Or whether you were even alive.
‘You’re a literal ghost in the machine,’ she said out loud and, understandably, Jason ignored her.
After making a mug of coffee, more to warm her hands and to give her a little more time to gather her wits than any desire to drink it, she went out to the tiny roof terrace which looked out onto the narrow back street and found her uncle sitting and smoking. There was a folded newspaper on the small bistro table and an espresso cup which he must have brought up from the cafe downstairs.
‘I see you’ve made yourself at home,’ Lydia said. ‘How did you get in?’
‘I do own the place,’ Charlie replied. He was wearing a mid-length black coat which looked like it was made of fine wool, maybe even cashmere, and had a grey scarf tucked around his neck. He looked perfectly comfortable while Lydia felt as if the cold had rushed straight through her clothes.
‘I pay rent,’ Lydia said, taking the seat opposite Charlie. The metal was icy against her legs and she twisted them together in an attempt to maintain body heat, hunching her shoulders inside her layers. ‘I get that you’ll have keys for emergencies, but you can’t just let yourself in whenever you feel like it.’
‘Not anymore.’ Charlie clasped his hands.
‘What?’
‘I’m not taking rent payments from you. That’s over.’
Lydia had started paying rent so that she wouldn’t have to do jobs for Charlie. Now, of course, she had told him she would be ‘all in’. That had been the deal in order for him to get her out of the police station where she had been held overnight. In the end, Mr Smith had offered her a deal, too, and she had taken it. The fear of being locked up for another second longer had been overwhelming. Lydia was ashamed of her terror and the way she had been unable to control it, but there was nothing she could do about that now. Except make damn sure she was never put in a cage.
‘About that,’ Lydia began, but Charlie held up a hand to stop her. He stood up and reached for the external light bolted onto the wall, fiddled for a moment, and then sat down again.
A second passed before Lydia realised what had just happened. ‘You’ve got a camera out here?’
He shrugged. ‘I told you I would keep you safe.’
‘And you could keep an eye on me.’
Uncle Charlie nodded, utterly unembarrassed. ‘Naturally.’
Lydia began to run through every conversation she had ever had on the terrace. She had spoken to Jason out here. What had Charlie seen? Her carrying out conversations with nobody? ‘Listening, too?’ She tried to make her voice casual, even while her whole body was vibrating with fury.
He shook his head slightly. ‘That would be an invasion of privacy.’
Lydia widened her eyes, telegraphing disbelief.
‘I don’t lie to you.’ He spread his hands. ‘Lyds. You ask, I answer. It’s not my fault if you never asked the question before.’
‘I’m taking it down,’ she said. ‘While we’re being honest.’
He shrugged and Lydia wondered how many other hidden surveillance devices he had hidden around the flat. ‘I’m asking now. Do you have any other cameras or bugs in this flat?’
‘No,’ Charlie said. His eyes stayed fixed on hers and didn’t flick away.
She was going to tear the place apart. Lydia took a moment to calm herself, to make sure that her voice wouldn’t betray the tension in her body. She unclenched her jaw with an effort of will, helped by sheer stubbornness. Charlie wanted her rattled, on the back foot, and she didn’t want to play his game. ‘What did you want, anyway? I have to warn you, I’m not in the best of moods.’
‘I heard,’ Charlie said. ‘Sorry to hear about your copper.’
‘No, you’re not,’ Lydia said. She wasn’t going to ask how he knew about her and Fleet. Wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘It’s for the best.’
‘So, what can I do for you this fine day?’ She rubbed her hands together and blew on her fingers. Partly because she was freezing and partly to try to hurry Charlie along.
‘I thought we should get started,’ Charlie said. He leaned back in the chair, looking completely relaxed. ‘Now you’ve joined the business, I thought I should bring you up to speed. I’m not saying you have to get involved practically,’ he stressed the word. ‘At least not i
mmediately, but there’s general background information you should know to start giving you a feel for the organisation.’
‘Not a good idea,’ Lydia said.
‘How do you figure that?’
‘You have to keep the business details away from me.’
Charlie tilted his head. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’
‘Just that. Keeping me in the dark is for the good of the Family. I’m known to the police, now. Doesn’t make sense to bring me into anything compromising. At least not right away.’
‘I don’t know if you remember our conversation. It was a few days ago. You were in Camberwell nick and I agreed to get you out. You told me you were ‘in’. This doesn’t feel a lot like ‘in’. This feels a lot like evasion. Like going back on your word.’
Lydia flinched. She had been brought up outside the Family Business and protected from most of it but everybody knew that you didn’t go back on your word with Charlie Crow. ‘I know how it sounds,’ she managed, skin prickling with a warning. ‘I wasn’t lying and I’m not going back on my word.’
Charlie was very still. His wool coat was hiding the tattoos on his forearms, but Lydia could imagine them writhing in displeasure. ‘Explain,’ he said, quietly.
‘I’m in,’ she said. ‘But that means you have to listen to me and trust me when I tell you this is in the Family’s best interests.’
‘I’m going to need a little bit more than that,’ Charlie said.
Lydia shook her head. ‘Not now. But I would never do anything to hurt you or anybody in the Family. I’m trying to protect you.’
‘Is this to do with your copper?’ He said, after a long moment of silence.
‘No,’ Lydia said, honestly. Being in Mr Smith’s pocket was nothing to do with Fleet.
He nodded. ‘Right, then.’
‘Are we okay?’
‘For now,’ Charlie said. Then he smiled.
It wasn’t entirely reassuring.
After Charlie had refused to give her his spare key for the flat, refused to tell her how he had obtained the key after she had had the lock replaced when her new door was installed or how he had managed to get through her flat and onto her roof terrace without alerting her, just smiling in an enigmatic way and saying ‘You have your secrets, Lyds, so I’m keeping mine’, Lydia checked her bedroom for cameras and got dressed. She put on her standard work uniform. Jeans and a strappy black vest with a loose t-shirt layered over the top. She added a grey jumper and checked that the radiators were on before sitting at her desk and trying to get her head in the game.
The Pearl King Page 2