Ashes by Now

by Mark Timlin

‘What exactly has been going on here?’ he demanded.

  ‘Mind your own business,’ I said. ‘And get out.’

  ‘This establishment is my responsibility, and if some criminal activity has taken place here, I need to know.’

  ‘Do leave me alone,’ I said.

  ‘I insist. I should call the police. And who’s going to pay for any damage? I’m sorry, but I may have to ask you to check out.’

  ‘I’m not checked in,’ I said. ‘And you know damn well who’ll pay for the damage. The same people who are paying for the rooms. And if you want to upset them by calling the police, go ahead. But whatever you’re going to do, do it now, and leave us alone.’

  ‘I want you out,’ he said.

  ‘We’re going – in a minute. Now hop it,’ I said. ‘I need to talk to Mr Gillis.’

  For a moment I thought he was going to argue, but he clocked my expression, and he left us to it, closing the door behind him just a little harder than was necessary.

  Petulant boy.

  I took out my cigarettes and lit one, and looked at Toby.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ll survive.’

  ‘You should have your head examined,’ I said.

  In more ways than one, I thought, but I didn’t say it. He was having a rough enough time as it was. Why make it worse?

  ‘I’ll be OK.’

  ‘Suit yourself. Tell me about the geezers who took Jackie.’

  His description was better than the receptionist’s had been. It had definitely been Collier and Millar. Now, how the fuck had they known where she’d be?

  ‘It was Collier, wasn’t it?’ said Toby.

  ‘And his sidekick.’

  ‘They’re taking some chances aren’t they?’

  ‘It’s desperation time.’ I told him about my conversation with Slade.

  ‘What do we do?’

  I took the Colt out of my pocket and weighed it in my hand. ‘Leave it to me,’ I said. ‘I’ll sort it. Have you got a motor?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’m taking it,’ I said. ‘Give me the keys.’

  ‘I’m coming with you.’

  ‘You should be in the hospital getting your head looked at.’

  ‘I’m coming,’ he said again.

  I shrugged. ‘Come on then,’ I said.

  ‘Give me two minutes. I’ll meet you in the lobby.’

  ‘Don’t be all day about it.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  I shrugged again and went downstairs. Toby was as good as his word. He joined me a few minutes later wearing a leather jacket over his shirt and trousers, and he’d put on a pair of shoes. His hair was damp where he’d washed the blood out of it.

  He took me round to the hotel parking garage where he opened up a black Mercedes 190E.

  ‘Peckham,’ I said. ‘Do you know it?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Let’s go then. I’ll direct you when we get there.’

  He drove well and fast and, despite the heavy Friday-night traffic, we were in Peckham in less than thirty minutes. I told him how to get to Collier’s gaff. It was the only place I could think to go. Of course it was deserted. We sat outside in the car, whilst I racked my brains what to do next.

  42

  I used the car phone in the Mercedes and called Slade on his portable. Toby gave me the number. He’d cancelled his theatre date and was on his way back to his office in a cab. He was well up to speed on developments, having called the hotel back from Gerry’s and spoken to the manager.

  ‘Hope I haven’t spoiled your evening,’ I said drily.

  ‘Listen, Sharman. I didn’t want this to happen.’

  ‘Which is why you got Walter Sturridge to make all those calls without bothering to tell either me or Toby.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I hope you don’t get sorrier.’

  ‘So do I, believe me.’

  It didn’t matter if I did or didn’t, but I couldn’t be bothered to tell him; just said I’d ring him later at the paper, and cut him off.

  Then I called Peckham nick. When I got through to the station I asked for either Collier and Millar. Both were off duty. Nothing was known of their whereabouts. Nothing that the bored voice of the female in CID would tell me anyway.

  Next I called Millar’s home. His wife answered. As far as she was concerned he was out on obbo somewhere. She couldn’t or wouldn’t enlighten me further. I didn’t blame her.

  I got through to New Scotland Yard and chased Grisham round the building for five minutes or so with no luck. I didn’t say who I was. He was unavailable. I didn’t bother calling Byrne, and Harvey was still on leave.

  After that I phoned the paper and spoke to Slade. Just before he’d arrived back at Wapping there’d been an anonymous call to say that if the story ran in the paper on Sunday, then Jacqueline Harvey was going to suffer. Badly. Terminally.

  ‘What did they say to that?’ I asked.

  ‘What could they say? No story’s worth someone getting hurt.’

  ‘Blimey,’ I said. ‘Your paper’s come over public spirited all of a sudden. What happened? Have you dug up the dirt on some cabinet minister’s secret sex life that’ll make a better front-page story this week?’

  ‘That’s a very cynical outlook,’ he said.

  ‘Spare me all that old bollocks,’ I replied. ‘I’m a victim of the current climate. If that makes me a cynic, then so be it. Who’s been told about the call?’

  ‘No one. Like I said, it only came in a few minutes ago. I’ve been trying to reach you ever since. Where are you?’

  ‘Out and about. On the mean streets. Looking for Jacqueline.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Sharman,’ Slade said. ‘I really am, whatever you think. I’d just like to know how they knew where Jacqueline Harvey was.’

  ‘Who knows? Maybe someone on your little firm is picking up a few extra readies, leaking out information to interested parties. Maybe she told someone at work where she was, and Collier got it out of them. He can be very persuasive when he wants. He doesn’t have to use his fists all the time. He’s got a warrant card and that opens a lot of doors. I know. I used to have one myself.’

  Slade was silent for a moment. ‘Where’s Toby?’ he asked eventually. ‘I heard he got hurt.’

  ‘He’s with me.’

  Toby glanced in my direction and shook his head.

  ‘Is he all right?’ asked Slade.

  ‘As well as can be expected.’

  ‘Let me speak to him.’

  I held out the phone and Toby shook his head again.

  ‘I don’t think he’s interested in speaking to you,’ I said to Slade.

  ‘You’d both better come in to the office where we can talk,’ he said.

  ‘Not tonight, Josephine,’ I said back. ‘It’s out of your hands. Now we do it my way.’

  ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’

  ‘I did that over twelve years ago. It’s payback time now. Your way was pointless. Maybe even lethal, as it’s turned out. Now it’s down to me again. This time I won’t screw it up.’

  Famous last words.

  ‘What else could we have done?’ he asked.

  ‘Christ knows. But you couldn’t have made a worse mess of this if you’d tried. There’s only one way left now. Only one way to fight fire.’

  ‘You’ll have blood on your hands.’

  ‘I already have enough of that, and it’s hard to get it off,’ I replied.

  Slade was silent again for a moment, then he said, ‘There’s no way I can stop you, Sharman. But you’d better tell Toby that if he’s not back in this office in an hour, he’s finished with us.’

  I looked over at Toby again, and told him what Slade had said. His only reply
was to raise the middle finger of his left hand at the phone.

  ‘I don’t think he’s too worried,’ I said.

  Slade changed tack. ‘Where do you think she is?’ he asked.

  ‘With Collier of course. Where else?’

  ‘Should we tell the police?’

  ‘Please yourself.’ I had toyed with the idea of telling Inspector Robber myself, and getting him in on the act, but I was past that by now. Like I’d said to Slade, there was only one way to fight fire. I was getting tired of trying to put it out by pissing on it.

  ‘Listen, Slade,’ I said. ‘You do what you think is right, I’ll do the same. If I’ve got anything interesting I’ll be in touch, likewise if I need any information. Otherwise, forget you knew me.’ And I put down the phone, and switched it off.

  I filled Toby in on the rest of the news. I saw his knuckles gleam white through the skin on the back of his hands as he gripped the steering wheel hard.

  ‘What do we do?’ he asked.

  ‘Fuck knows,’ I said. ‘But there must be something.’

  43

  We sat outside Collier’s place for hours. Then I made Toby drive round the plot. I sensed that Collier wouldn’t go far from his own ground. He was a desperate man by then. He had to be, to kidnap Jackie and try to blackmail a national newspaper.

  The only problem was, how desperate?

  He’d come close to killing before, and I wondered how long it would be before that particular course of action was the only option left open to him.

  I told Toby to make a diversion to Croydon to give Millar’s gaff a scan. It looked quiet enough, and there was no sign of his car. I toyed with the idea of sending Toby in for a recce, but nished it. He wasn’t there. I could just tell.

  We drove back towards Peckham as the boozers were letting out. Meat wagons full of Old Bill were screaming around the streets, with their sirens wailing. People were abusing each other outside the pubs and clubs, chip shops and mini-cab offices. They looked subhuman in the light from the street-lamps, and the puddles of vomit in the gutters took on the colour of blood. All in all, just another ordinary night in paradise.

  We parked up again just down the street from Collier’s house, and I took a swift look-see. It was as quiet as it had been earlier. I sat on the bonnet of the Merc and lit a cigarette. I caught sight of the image of myself in the mirror of a darkened shop window opposite, and I hardly recognised it as me. I looked like a casualty of war.

  In the black glass of the shop front, behind me and the Mercedes, and the terrace of houses on the other side of the road where we were parked, lit up like an ocean-going liner, I saw the reflection of a tower block of flats, and I turned round and looked up at it, looming over me like some brightly lit leviathan, and suddenly something clicked.

  I ran back round to the passenger side of the car and got in. ‘Do you know a place called the Lion Estate?’ I said to Toby.

  ‘Never heard of it.’

  ‘You’re about to get an education. Take the first on the left.’

  Going back on to the estate wasn’t a pleasant experience for me. I remembered the last time I’d been there, and a cold sweat broke out under my arms, and trickled down my sides under my shirt. I licked my lips and touched the gun in my pocket for reassurance again.

  Toby bounced the Merc over the sleeping policeman at the entrance to the Lion and drove slowly towards the block where Sailor Grant had died.

  There were a few groups of people hanging out on street corners, and they clocked the Mercedes well as it drove by.

  ‘They’ll remember us,’ commented Toby.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘They just think we’re crack dealers doing our rounds.’

  He steered the car around to the front of the block and, just as he was pulling up to the kerb, the front door was pushed open and a familiar figure appeared. It was my old mate Detective Sergeant Millar.

  ‘Drive on,’ I hissed. ‘Don’t make it obvious.’

  Toby touched the accelerator with his toe, and the Merc slid round the corner into the darkness at the side of the building. I looked over my shoulder and watched as DS Millar made his way to a Ford Sierra parked in the shadows opposite.

  ‘That’s one of them,’ I said.

  ‘It’s one of the two who took Jackie,’ confirmed Toby, and he made to get out of the car.

  I grabbed his arm and tugged him back. ‘Not so bloody fast,’ I said.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘There’s plenty of time for him later. Let him go.’

  Reluctantly, Toby stayed where he was, as Millar crossed the road.

  ‘Do you think Jackie’s inside?’ asked Toby.

  ‘I’d put money on it.’

  We waited until the Sierra pulled away, then got out of the Mercedes.

  ‘Let’s take a look,’ I said. ‘And stay cool. If she is there it means that Collier’s upstairs. Maybe another copper – Grisham. He’s with the Sweeney. So be careful. Don’t forget we’ve got the element of surprise on our side.’

  We took the stairs up to the sixth floor, just like I’d done the last time I went calling. The ambience hadn’t improved any, since.

  As we went, I described the inside of the flat as far as I could recall it, which wasn’t a lot, but might be useful. When we got to the landing, all we could hear was someone’s sound system on the floor above, playing techno-dub reggae at a volume that was almost shaking the building off its foundations.

  I pulled Toby close and shouted in his ear. ‘That door there –’ indicating number 22 ‘– how we going to play this?’

  He reached under his arm and pulled a Browning Hi-Power 9mm automatic from its holster, and chambered a shell. Then from the pocket of his jacket he extracted a silencer. A nine-inch length of silver pipe with a satin finish, and screwed it into the barrel of the pistol.

  ‘Hardly need this,’ he shouted back, jerking his thumb upwards towards the source of the music. ‘But what the hell? I take out the door and go in first. You follow me and give me cover.’ I hoped it was Collier inside and not Sailor’s mate enjoying a late-night snack of beans on toast.

  ‘Don’t shoot anyone unless you have to,’ I said, and drew the Commando and cocked it.

  He gave me a circle with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, and walked to number 22 and fired three times at the lock. The wood around it blew apart and the door sagged open. He glanced at me, gave me the same sign and went inside. I followed him into the stench I remembered so well.

  Toby ran ahead of me, the automatic in a two-handed grip, fanning the corridor and the inside of the living room where I’d been given such a beating. I stayed by the front door in the wash of sound from above. Then simultaneously, the record ended, leaving an empty silence almost as loud as the music had been, the door to the bathroom opened, and Collier appeared, zipping up his flies.

  I stuck the barrel of the Colt into his neck and said, ‘Just keep your hands where they are, son, the party’s over.’

  He did as he was told, and his eyes darted from me to Toby and back.

  ‘Where is she?’ I demanded.

  ‘Who?’

  I hit him in the face then, right across the bridge of the nose with the gun. Like I said, I was getting fed up with pissing about. Blood leaked out of his nostrils and he went to put his hand up to them.

  ‘Leave it,’ I said. ‘You can drown for all I care.’

  He gave me such a look of pure hatred as I’ve never had before or since, but I managed to live with it.

  ‘Jacqueline Harvey,’ I said. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Back bedroom,’ he said. His voice was thick, and he leant his head back against the wall and sucked blood out of his sinuses.

  ‘Anybody else here?’

  Collier shook his head, and a snake of blood flew across his cheek.
>
  ‘Toby, keep him covered,’ I said, then to Collier, ‘Got a handkerchief?’

  ‘Side pocket,’ he replied.

  I reached in and fished out a neatly folded linen square and gave it to him. He gingerly put it against his nose.

  ‘Put your other hand on the back of your neck,’ I ordered.

  He did so, and I frisked him thoroughly from head to toe. Toby kept the Browning cocked and pointed at Collier’s head all the time. In a belt holster on Collier’s left side I found a Smith & Wesson Model 12 Police Airweight with a two-inch barrel that I stuffed into the pocket of my jacket.

  ‘Armed and dangerous,’ I said. ‘I hope you’ve got a licence for this.’

  He didn’t reply.

  ‘In there,’ I said to him, pointing towards the living room. ‘Toby, go and find Jackie. I’ll keep this one company. Be careful, I don’t trust the fucker. There might be someone with her.’

  Toby walked down the hall, carefully opening doors as he went, and I followed Collier into the room where I’d nearly died.

  Like the stairway, it hadn’t changed much either in the interim. But I felt that I had. I told him to sit on the orange crate, and keep one hand on his nose, and put the other on his knee and keep it there.

  He did as he was told, but his eyes were still full of hate, and I knew there was only one way this was going to finish.

  ‘When’s Millar coming back?’ I asked.

  ‘Tomorrow morning.’

  I didn’t know if he was lying or not.

  ‘You’d better be telling me the truth,’ I warned him.

  He made some sort of noise into the handkerchief that could have meant anything.

  A minute later Toby and Jackie came into the room. She looked pale and dishevelled, but nothing worse.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I said.

  She nodded, then walked over to Collier and kicked him hard on one shin. He winced at the pain. It wasn’t his night.

  Right then, the music from above started up again.

  Shit, I thought.

  Jackie came close, and shouted in my ear. ‘It’s quieter at the back.’

  I nodded, gestured for Collier to stand up, and pushed him through the door and along the hall. The flat was a lot bigger than I thought. It went right round the side of the building, and by the time we got to the kitchen it was possible to talk above the sound of the music without bawling at one another. Not that the kitchen was somewhere you’d want to spend a lot of time. The sink had leaked all over the floor, and the stove looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since the Lion had been built. But at least there were a couple of chairs to sit on. I put Collier in one, and Jackie sat on the other.