by Mark Timlin
‘Jackie’s sister was murdered. She was abused. Isn’t what I wrote down, plus her story, hard enough evidence?’
He gave me a pitying look for my naivety. ‘Not in this day and age, son. The libel settlements are getting bigger every week. We can’t afford to take a flyer with a story like this. Sorry. It has to have backing.’
I didn’t like the ‘son’ bit. ‘I told you, it will,’ I said. ‘And thanks for taking care of Jackie, whatever happens.’
‘No problem.’
‘I’d hate for what happened to Chas to happen to her.’
‘You think he was given a beating because of the story?’ asked Slade.
I gave him a pitying look for his naivety, but stopped short of calling him ‘son’. ‘Don’t you?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘More than that,’ I said. ‘It’s definite. I got a phone call.’
‘You didn’t tape it by any chance?’ This guy was beginning to get right up my nose.
‘No. I didn’t tape it,’ I said.
‘And it was the same people who gave you a going over?’
‘The same policemen, yes. I didn’t know you knew about that.’
‘I did.’
‘Then you know that, even without so-called hard evidence, someone out there doesn’t want this story to go ahead. The only reason can be that we’re on the right track.’
‘I agree. But even so, without corroboration I can’t move. And if you’re so sure, why come to us? Go straight to the police yourself.’
Another one. When were these people going to rent a room in the real world?
‘Police did it,’ I said exasperatedly. ‘You don’t set one copper on to another. For Christ’s sake, Slade, where have you been? You work for a Sunday paper. Surely sometime in your career you’ve come across a bad copper.’
‘Yes, I have,’ he said. ‘You, for one.’
Jesus. So that was it. ‘Terrific,’ I said. ‘They’ve been to see you, and told you all my family secrets in passing?’
He nodded.
‘And?’ I asked.
He pulled a face. ‘Have they been to see you?’ he asked.
‘Course they have. They may be dumb as shit, but even they worked out it was the same people worked me and Chas over. Especially as it was me took him to the hospital. But you haven’t answered my question. What did you tell them?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Thank Christ for that. Nor did I. I played dumb. So tell me, how far had Chas got with the story? Do you at least have a start?’
‘Of course. Chas was working from a desk in the office. And I was keeping this in my safe.’ He opened his briefcase and took out my exercise book. Boy was I glad to see it. I’d been wondering where the hell it had got to. ‘The story’s on disc,’ Slade went on. ‘And we’re putting another writer on to it. His name’s Walter Sturridge. He’s good. A staff man. It’ll run next Sunday if you can give me something that the lawyers will go with.’
‘The sooner the better,’ I said. ‘And tell him to be careful. People who get involved in this caper tend to spend an inordinately long time in hospital.’
‘He’ll be careful. I’ve put two more of our security staff on to him, twenty-four hours a day.’
‘Good. And that was a good idea putting your man into the hotel. I feel better knowing that Jackie isn’t on her own,’ I said.
He shrugged. ‘It’s par for the course with a story as sensitive as this one.’
Even if you don’t know if you can use it, I thought. You bastard. Keep her well away from the competition just in case.
‘I hope they’re as good as you say. Tell them to expect the worst. Collier and his pals fight as dirty as shit,’ I said.
‘They can take care of themselves.’
‘I certainly hope so.’
‘They’re ex-SAS. Just like Toby Gillis.’
‘They need to be, believe me.’
‘Point taken. Another drink?’
I accepted. He was on exes, I wasn’t. In fact I wasn’t on anything. Except a possible disability pension. What a mug punter I was turning out to be.
When he came back with another beer for me and Scotch for himself, he said, ‘Walter’s going through everything that Chas put on to disc. Tomorrow he’ll want to talk to Jacqueline Harvey. There won’t be any problem will there?’
‘Not that I can see. She’d like me to be there, I know that.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Slade. ‘Then Walter can talk to you as well.’
I nodded.
Slade sank his Scotch in one and gathered his stuff together. ‘I’m off back to the office, then,’ he said. ‘You’ll be at the number you gave me today?’
‘Or at the hotel,’ I replied. ‘Jackie and I are having dinner tonight.’
‘Enjoy your meal,’ he said, shook my hand and left.
I finished my pint and went back to the car, and home.
35
When I got there, I telephoned the Fortescue and asked for Miss Clancey. I got put straight through.
‘Jackie,’ I said. ‘Nick.’
‘Hello. What’s happening?’
I told her that I’d seen Slade, and that everything was progressing well. I didn’t mention what he’d said about dropping the story if I couldn’t come up with some hard evidence.
When I’d finished, I asked, ‘How’s Toby today?’
‘Fine. We had breakfast and lunch together. It’s really weird, I feel like Madonna or someone with my own bodyguard.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘In the next room. He told me I should get some rest. I must admit this is all a bit of a strain. I’m not used to anything like it.’
‘You’ll be all right,’ I assured her. ‘Just stay calm.’
‘I will. Are you still coming for dinner tonight?’
‘Of course. I’ll be with you by seven. But I have to split about eleven-thirty. I’ve got to see a man about a dog.’
‘Couldn’t you come over a bit earlier then? I’d really like to see you.’
I looked at my watch. It wasn’t quite three.
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I’m not doing anything special.’
‘I’d appreciate it.’
‘All right. I’ll make a call, and I’ll come right over.’
‘I’ll look forward to it,’ she said.
We made our farewells, and I rang the number Dawn had given me in Milton Keynes.
Tracey answered. She told me that Dawn was out. I told her that I was going out too, and wouldn’t be back until quite late. Then I was going out again. I explained what had been happening and gave her the number of the hotel, just in case. She told me to call when I got home, however late it was. I said that I would. I asked her how they both were. She told me they were fine. She told me that she loved me, and I said that I loved her too, and to send my love to Dawn, and we both hung up. I stood looking at the phone and wondered how it would all end. Then I shrugged and left. When you start wondering things like that you can go crazy.
I drove to Bayswater in the Cavalier, the Colt Commando tucked into the belt of my blue jeans.
The receptionist told me that Miss Clancey was in the lounge taking afternoon tea.
I swanned in and found her and Toby chattering prettily together over the remains of a plate of scones with clotted cream and jam.
‘Hello,’ I said, as I pulled up a chair to their table. ‘Having fun?’
Jacqueline coloured up to match the preserve she was eating, and even Toby seemed a trifle embarrassed. ‘I’ll leave you two alone,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to intrude.’
‘No need,’ I replied. ‘I talked to Tom Slade today and he told me that you’re OK.’
‘That was very kind of him,’ said Toby.
‘But I’ll tell you what I told him,’ I said. ‘Be very careful. The people we’re dealing with here play for keeps. This all goes back a very long time, and it’s serious. I don’t know what Jackie’s told you, but keep your mind on business. This is all very nice and cosy, the afternoon tea and all, but it could change in a second, if they find out what’s going on here. I know. I got a good beating because of it, and so did the writer I involved.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ said Toby. ‘But I didn’t get this job because of my charm.’
‘So I gather,’ I said. ‘And believe me, your being here makes me feel a whole lot better. It’s just that I don’t want anyone else getting hurt. Anyone else on our side that is.’
We were interrupted by the arrival of a waitress who took my order for another pot of tea and some more scones with jam and clotted cream.
Whilst we waited for her to fetch them, I pinched a corner of Jackie’s last cake, and we talked inconsequentially about nothing much at all.
When the waitress reappeared, I let her be mother with my tea.
‘So how’s the hotel?’ I asked, around a mouthful of scone.
‘It’s great,’ said Jackie. ‘It’s like a holiday.’ At least her mood seemed to be improving, and I’d bet it had something to do with the presence of Toby on the scene.
‘And the chef’s good?’ I said.
‘Really good.’
‘Oh, well,’ I said. ‘At least you can eat free for the next few days. And talking of that, this bloke Walter Sturridge, the writer – he wants an interview with both of us tomorrow. Are you going to be all right with that, Jackie?’
‘Will you be there?’
‘Of course, if you want me.’
‘And Toby?’
‘Sure.’
Jackie got up and went to the loo, and I said to Toby, ‘I hope your intentions are honourable towards her. It looks like she’s starting to rely on you. She’s been through some shit in her life, and it’s not over yet.’
‘Perfectly honourable,’ he replied. ‘I’m becoming very fond of her. She told me a little of what happened. And anything I can do to help, I will.’
‘That’s good, Toby,’ I said. ‘Just don’t let her down.’
‘I won’t. For instance, if I didn’t know who you were, you wouldn’t have got within five yards of this table carrying what you’re carrying on your left side.’
I touched the butt of the gun through my jacket. ‘Very good,’ I said. ‘I didn’t realise it was that obvious. Are you carrying?’
‘Of course. But mine’s legal. I imagine yours isn’t.’
‘You imagine right. You’re not going to shop me, are you?’
He smiled. ‘No. I just hope you can use it.’
‘I can,’ I assured him.
Right then, Jackie came back and sat down again.
‘Are you going to join us for dinner tonight?’ I asked Toby.
‘It’s not really part of my brief,’ he replied.
‘Oh, do,’ said Jackie. Then looked at me. ‘As long as you don’t mind, Nick.’
‘Will I be gooseberry?’ I asked. ‘Or aren’t they on the menu?’
‘Silly,’ she said, and I poured myself another cup of tea.
36
I drove home fast after dinner and phoned Tracey’s mother’s number straight away. Tracey answered the phone. ‘Hello, doll,’ I said. ‘How’s your luck?’
‘Not too bad,’ she said. ‘Me and mum went up the bingo, I was just one number off the full house.’
‘That’s the story of my life,’ I said.
Tracey giggled. ‘Do you want to talk to Dawn?’ she asked. ‘She’s here.’
‘Yeah,’ I replied.
I heard muffled voices, and Dawn came on. ‘Hello,’ she said.
‘Hello, babe. Did you go to the bingo too?’
‘No. That’s not my style. But Tracey’s mum had a good time. So did Trace.’
‘I miss you,’ I said.
‘I miss you too.’
‘Are you all right for cash? I could send some up if you’re short.’
‘No, we’re fine.’
‘You sure?’
‘Sure. How’s your friend?’
‘Getting better. And Jacqueline Harvey’s tucked up safely in a hotel, courtesy of the publisher who’s doing the story.’
‘Good. Are you taking care of yourself?’
I thought about the Colt that was lying on the pillow next to me, and where I was going in a few minutes.
‘I’m trying,’ I said.
‘Be careful.’
‘I will. I take it there’s no sign of anyone lurking about where you are.’
‘No.’
That was good news, but then there were only so many in Collier’s little clique, and they couldn’t be everywhere at once, so it looked like Dawn and Tracey had got away clean.
‘It’s not us you should worry about, Nick, it’s you.’
‘That’s why you’re where you are, so I can concentrate on worrying about myself. I’ll be all right, Dawn, I promise. Just have a quiet few days up there. The story’s going in this Sunday,’ I said, crossing my fingers. ‘Once it’s published we’ll all be safe.’
‘It’s a long time till Sunday,’ she said.
‘It’ll go in a flash. Listen, I’m going to get some sleep. I’m being interviewed tomorrow by the writer who’s taken over from Chas. I’ll ring you again tomorrow night, OK?’
‘I’ll look forward to it, Nick; it’s lovely to hear your voice.’
‘And yours,’ I said. ‘I really do miss you.’
‘You sound surprised.’
‘I am a bit.’
‘Should I be flattered?’
‘I don’t know. Probably not.’
‘Well I am, a bit.’
‘Good. Give my love to Tracey.’
‘I will. I love you, Nick.’
‘I love you too,’ I said. And I meant it.
‘Goodnight,’ she said, and her voice sounded ghostly down the line, like she was going away from me, and I gripped the phone tighter.
‘Goodnight,’ I whispered. ‘And be careful.’
She didn’t say any more, just hung up the phone gently in my ear, and I sat on the side of the bed holding the receiver and staring at the black gun on the white pillowcase beside me, then got set to meet Monkey Mann.
37
I was ready as instructed by half-twelve. I quickly changed into black Levi’s, black DMs with nice soft soles, and a black nylon jacket over a navy T-shirt. I did have one thing with me. A portable Canon copier that I’d hired from a shop in Tottenham Court Road. It was not much bigger than a sheet of foolscap paper and wafer thin in its carrying case, the most bulky thing about it being the three-pin plug that was attached to its wire, and the deposit I’d had to leave in the shop.
And the Colt of course. Tucked into my belt, just in case.
I peered though the curtains of my darkened room until the sleek shape of a new Ford Granada saloon appeared beneath me and flashed its headlights once. I went downstairs and out into the street, walked over to the Ford and saw Monkey’s face grinning through the driver’s window. I went round to the passenger side and got in. The courtesy light didn’t come on. ‘Nice wheels,’ I said.
‘Comfortable,’ he agreed. ‘The bloke who bought this’s got taste. Full option pack fitted.’ The Granada slid away and turned in the direction of Peckham.
We said little on the journey until Monkey expertly manoeuvred the car into a space about two hundred yards away from Collier’s house with a clear view of his front door between the parked cars that crowded both kerbs. I could see a dim light through the bull’s-eye glass. The street was deserted and peaceful.
‘Nice of him to leave a bit of illumination,
’ remarked Monkey as he leaned into the back of the car and took out a leather satchel. ‘I’ll be back in half a mo. Keep your head down.’
I did as instructed. He left the car and snaked along the pavement, almost invisible in the dark clothes he was wearing.
I waited for five, then ten minutes, and was just starting to get worried when the driver’s door opened again and Monkey slid in beside me.
‘So?’ I said.
‘Patience,’ he replied, and reached into the satchel and removed a plastic gizmo that looked like the remote control for a TV set. A tiny red light fluttered against the matt black plastic of the device.
‘Ready?’ he said.
I nodded and Monkey touched a pad on the gizmo. The red light winked out and Collier’s alarm came into life. The full Monty. Twin bells, and the blue light on top of the alarm box began to flash. The sound was very loud even where we were, tightly enclosed in the car, and must have been deafening close up.
‘A little damp in the control box. That’s the weak spot in the system, where the electrical supply from outside and the phone lines connect,’ explained Monkey. ‘It often happens.’
‘How?’
‘I did a Jimmy in it. I told you it was a piece of piss. And fitted a little invention of my own. Don’t worry. It looks like it’s part of the works if anyone takes a gander. And by the time Telecom gets to it, it’ll be gone.’
‘Nice. What happens now?’
‘The cops’ll be here soon. They always look after their own.’
‘And?’
‘You’ll see. Relax.’
We both did, adjusting the seats so that we weren’t visible from outside but could just see Collier’s place from over the dashboard. First of all a few lights came on in the neighbouring houses, and one or two people peered through their curtains. Then some of the braver souls came out into the street and stood together outside Collier’s front gate and one was even daring enough to take a look over the back gate. Within ten minutes, just like Monkey had predicted, a crime car and a police Mini-Metro arrived on the scene to add more blue lights to the one winking over Collier’s front door. The Old Bill had a word with the neighbours then wandered round the back themselves.