by Kevin Brooks
The corridor Jaydie had told me about led off from the stairwell and was about twenty metres long. There was a sign on the wall saying NO PUBLIC ACCESS – SERVICE PERSONNEL ONLY. A light on the ceiling showed three doors at the end, one on either side, and one in the far wall. There were a number of grey metal units fixed to the walls along the corridor. I guessed they housed controls of some sort – electrics, lighting, maybe security.
I checked Dee Dee’s tracker. He was approaching the car park now, just turning right into the street outside. It was almost four forty-five. I wondered where Ronnie Bull was. Was he in the car park already? Was he waiting for Dee Dee in his car somewhere? Or was he meeting him right here in the corridor? For all I knew, he could be on his way here right now, coming down the stairs, or on his way up . . .
I headed off down the corridor, looking for somewhere to hide.
There was nowhere suitable along the corridor itself, so the only option I had was whatever lay behind the doors. The two doors on either side of the corridor were marked CENTRAL A1 and CENTRAL A2, and the other one, the door facing me, was labelled MAIN. CENTRAL. I assumed they were maintenance rooms of some kind. They weren’t ideal surveillance locations, because unless they had another exit – which I doubted – I wouldn’t have an escape route if something went wrong. But it was either one of the rooms or nothing.
All three doors were locked. I quickly started going through my pockets, looking for something I could use to pick one of the locks.
My dad had taught me the basics of lock-picking when I was around eleven or twelve. Grandad had taught him how to do it when he was a kid, and the first thing Dad had done before showing me how it was done was make me promise what Grandad had made him promise when he was teaching him.
‘Lock-picking is an art, Travis, an age-old skill,’ he’d told me, ‘and apart from genuine emergencies, it’s never to be misused. There are plenty of old locks in the garage for you to practise on, and Grandad’s got boxes full of them in his attic. You can play around with those as much as you like. But once you’ve learned how to do it, you don’t go showing off to your friends, and you don’t open locks that you’re not supposed to. Do you understand? I need you to give me your word on that.’
I’d given him my word, and although I’d been tempted to break it on a number of occasions, I hadn’t. But I was sure that if Dad had still been alive, he would have agreed that this was a genuine emergency, and that I wasn’t misusing my skill.
I took my key ring from the inside pocket of my parka and removed the miniature penknife from it, and from the side pocket of my coat I fished out a mini-screwdriver that I’d been using a couple of days ago to fix a loose screw on the mudguard of my bike. They weren’t the ideal tools for picking a lock, but they were all I had, so they’d have to do. I set to work on the door marked MAIN. CENTRAL.
The reason I chose that door was that the top half wasn’t solid wood, it was thickened glass covered with a fine metal mesh. The mesh was so fine that you couldn’t see through it into the room, but I was hoping that if I held my mobile right up against the glass from the inside, I’d get at least some kind of view of Dee Dee and Ronnie Bull. If not, I’d have to make do with an audio-only recording.
But first I had to get into the room.
I was nowhere near as skilled at lock-picking as Dad had been – and he’d never got close to being as good as Grandad – but I wasn’t bad at it, and with the right tools I could open a basic lock fairly easily. The lock on this door was an old mortise lock, about as basic as it gets, but I was hampered by the makeshift tools I was using, so it took me a bit longer than it normally would. By the time I finally unlocked it and went into the room, it was four fifty-five. Ideally, I would have liked to have re-locked the door, but there simply wasn’t enough time. So I just shut it behind me and made sure it was securely closed.
I checked the tracker screen again. Dee Dee was in the car park now. The green dot was moving, but not in a straight line. It was kind of flickering around in little circles. I guessed that meant that Dee Dee had parked his car and was either coming up or going down in the lift or on the stairs.
I quickly looked around the room. I hadn’t turned on the light, for obvious reasons, but there was enough light showing through the meshed glass of the door to see that it was a cramped little place, not much bigger than a large cupboard. The walls were lined with galvanised metal shelving, the shelves piled high with all kinds of bits and pieces: rolls of electric cable, light bulbs, all manner of parking cones, batteries, hard hats, two-way radios, tins of paint. There were no other exits. No doors, no windows.
I turned round and pressed my face up against the door. I could see through the glass and the mesh grid into the corridor outside. It was by no means a perfect view – the combination of thickened glass and fine wire mesh gave everything a slightly blurred and distorted look – but it was good enough to get a reasonably clear picture of the corridor and anyone who happened to be in it.
I could hear heavy footsteps coming down the stairs now. There were no voices, not that I could hear anyway, just the hard slap of footsteps on concrete. It sounded like two people.
Trying to stay calm, I hurriedly opened up the camera function on my mobile and switched it to video. I held the phone against the glass – positioning it in the lower left-hand corner – and quickly looked at the screen. The view was pretty much the same as I’d just seen with my own eyes – a bit blurred and distorted, but not too bad. I tried zooming in to see if it made things any better, but all it did was enlarge the mesh and make everything even more blurry.
The footsteps were getting louder, and I could hear the murmur of voices. There were definitely two people, both of them male, and one of the voices sounded like Dee Dee’s. I reset the zoom, putting it back to normal, and just as I was making a final check of the view, two figures appeared at the end of the corridor. One of them was a middle-aged man in a crumpled brown raincoat, the other one was Dee Dee.
44
I pressed the record button on my phone and stepped away from the door, holding the mobile against the glass with my left hand while standing with my back against the wall.
I could hear Dee Dee and the man I assumed was Ronnie Bull coming along the corridor towards me. I was tempted to check that the video recorder had a good view of them, but I resisted it. As long as they’re in the corridor, I told myself, they’re going to be in view of the video.
They were getting pretty close to the door now, and I could clearly hear what they were saying.
So do you think Malik’s going to try anything? the man in the raincoat said.
I doubt it, Dee Dee replied. He knows he’s outnumbered. He wouldn’t stand a chance if he went to war with me.
I heard there was some kind of explosion near your place the other day. Was that anything to do with Malik?
I don’t think so. I’m still looking into it, but I’m pretty sure it was just someone messing around.
They’d stopped now, and from the sound of their voices they were a few metres away from the door. I couldn’t help worrying that they’d spot my phone through the meshed glass, but if I wanted to get them on video, there wasn’t much I could do about it. I just had to hope they didn’t look too closely at the door.
Listen, Ron, Dee Dee said, I’m getting a bit sick of waiting for you to bust Malik and his boys. Everything’s in place with Beacon, the deal’s all ready to go ahead. I just need Malik out of the way.
I’m working on it, Dee. It takes time. I’ve got to get the go-ahead from my boss, get the warrants sorted out—
I don’t care what you’ve got to do, I just want it done. I’m paying you goodmoney, and you’re going to be getting a ton of gear out of it. I want results.
It’ll be done in a couple of days, I promise.
It’d better be.
They went quiet for a while then. I knew now that the man in the raincoat was definitely Ronnie Bull, and it sounded like Dee Dee
was paying him to arrange police raids on Malik and his boys to take them out of the picture so that he could go ahead with the merger with Beacon Fields. And, with a bit of luck, I had it all on tape. It was damning evidence that Dee Dee was dealing with Bull, and although his crew might be happy with the results, there was no way they’d approve of his close relationship with a cop. The cardinal rule on the Slade – and every other estate like it – is that you never talk to the police about anything, no matter what. And you certainly never grass anyone up to them, not even your worst enemy.
Is all that business with Tanga Tans sorted out now? Bull asked Dee Dee.
Yeah, no problem.
What about those private investigators?
Like I said, it’s all sorted.
You shouldn’t have gone in so hard on the girl who works for them, Dee.
Why the hell not? You’ve got to let people know you mean business. It’s no good just talking tough, you’ve got to break a few bones now and then.
Yeah, well . . . it might just backfire on you this time.
What do you mean?
The old guy who runs the PI business, Joe Delaney . . . he’s a lot tougher than you think.
Dee Dee laughed. What’s he going to do? Come after me with a walking stick?
Do you remember the guy I brought to you about the riot in North Walk a few months ago?
What about him?
The people he works for have had dealings with Delaney. That’s what the riot was all about. . . well, it was about Delaney’s son and daughter-in-law actually. They used to run Delaney & Co—
What’s your point, Ron?
My point is that these people, the ones who wanted the riot, are incredibly powerful. They’re all ex-security services or ex-military intelligence, so they know what they’re doing, and they’re really well connected too. They’ve got contacts everywhere – MI5, MI6, Special Branch, CID—
So what?
Bull sighed. So if the Delaneys can give these people problems – which they have – then it stands to reason that they can give anyone problems, including you.
You reckon?
Don’t underestimate them, Dee Dee. That’s all I’m saying. They’re not going to just lie down and accept what you did to the girl.
I can deal with them.
Well, just watch your step, all right? From what I’ve heard, you’re not the only one who’s interested in the Delaneys at the moment. These people I told you about—
Do ‘these people’ have a name?
Bull didn’t answer immediately, but it was obvious who he was talking about. ‘These people’, as he called them, were Omega. And it was clear now that it was Bull who’d put them in touch with Dee Dee about the riot. So despite the fact that Gloria was double-crossing us, and working for Omega herself, she’d actually been telling the truth when she’d told Grandad that she thought Ronnie Bull might have some kind of connection with them. Which didn’t seem to make any sense whatsoever. If she was working for Omega, and she knew that Bull was one of their contacts, why bother mentioning it to Grandad at all? What purpose did it serve? Why not just keep quiet about it?
Bull started talking again then, answering Dee Dee’s question as to whether or not ‘these people’ had a name, so I forgot about Gloria (for now) and refocused my mind on Dee Dee and Bull.
I honestly don’t know if they have a name or not, Bull admitted to Dee Dee. They’re as secretive as they are powerful. Anyway, as I was telling you, I’ve heard they’ve got unfinished business with the Delaneys, and they’re going to be making a move on them soon. So if I were you, Dee, I’d just let them get on with it. There’s no point stepping on their toes if you don’t have to, and if they take care of the Delaneys, it saves you the bother of having to worry about them, doesn’t it?
Do I look like I’m worried about them?
Well, no, but—
I’ll tell you what, Ron, why don’t you just concentrate on what you’re being paid for, and leave everything else to me? How does that sound?
Bull sighed again. I need some more cash up front.
What for?
Expenses, sweeteners, inducements. It’s hard to get anyone interested in busting Malik’s crew. No one wants to stir up trouble on the Slade. CID, uniform, the CPS . . . everyone thinks it’s best to just leave the estate alone. As long as the gangs are only fighting among themselves, no one really gives a toss. So I need something to persuade them to change their minds, to make it worth their while.
You need to grease a few palms.
Exactly.
How much do you want?
Twenty should do it.
Twenty grand! Christ, Ron, you’ll make ten times that when you sell all the gear you get from Malik.
I won’t get any gear from him if I don’t get the go-ahead to bust him. And when I do bust him, think how much you’re going to get out of it. A merger with Beacon’s got to be worth at least a couple of million to you. What’s twenty K to a potential millionaire?
All right, Dee Dee said reluctantly, it’ll be in your account by midday tomorrow. But that’s it, Ron, OK? No more. And I want what I’m paying for by next Monday at the very latest. You got that?
It’s a done deal.
Right . . .
From the sound of it – shuffling feet, muffled movements – they were getting ready to go now. I was hoping they were anyway. I’d got all I needed on tape, and my left arm was really aching from holding the phone against the door. I didn’t want to take it away yet in case the sudden movement caught their eye. But I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep it there.
It’s probably best if we don’t meet up for a while, Bull said. At least until the operation against Malik’s over. Just to be on the safe side.
All right. But if Malik’s not behind bars by Monday night—
He will be.
I’ll be seeing you if he’s not.
Silence.
Then, I’d better get going.
Me too.
I heard the sound of them beginning to walk away.
Where are you parked?
Sixth floor.
You go on ahead. I’m on five, but we’d better not be seen together. I’ll give you a minute and—
That’s when my mobile rang.
45
As I fumbled with my phone, trying to stop it ringing, I could hear Dee Dee and Bull’s voices outside.
What the hell’s that?
Sounds like a phone.
It’s coming from in there!
Christ, there’s someone in there.
I finally stopped the call, stuffed the phone in my pocket – mentally kicking myself for not putting it on silent – then I quickly started thinking about what I was going to do.
Maybe it’s one of the car-park staff, I heard Bull say.
We’ll soon find out.
I rapidly scanned the room, looking for anything I could use as a weapon.
Hey!I heard Dee Dee shout. Who’s in there?
He was right outside the door.
Come out now, or we’re coming in.
I moved away from the wall and stood just to the left of the door, about two metres away from it.
Go on then, open it, Dee Dee told Bull.
You open it.
You’re the cop, for God’s sake. Just open it.
I was banking on Bull being cautious, hoping that he’d open the door slowly rather than just shoving it open and rushing in.
I waited, bracing myself.
The door handle turned.
The door inched open.
‘I’m a police officer,’ Bull called out through the gap. ‘I’m coming in. Whoever’s in there, step away from the door and put your hands on your head.’
I didn’t move. I just stood there, staring at the door, waiting for it to open a little wider.
‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ Bull said. ‘I’m opening the door now . . .’
It opened another inch, then another
. . . and then after a momentary pause, Bull opened it wide enough to put his head through. That’s when I made my move. I launched myself at the door, crashing into it with a flying two-footed kick, slamming Bull’s head between the door and the frame. As he let out a groan and dropped to his knees, clutching his head, the door swung back open, and I could see Dee Dee in the corridor. He was already backing away – hedging his bets – and as I quickly jumped to my feet, I saw him pull a knife from his pocket. It wasn’t much of a thing – just a short-bladed kitchen knife – but it was still perfectly capable of causing serious damage.
Dee Dee smiled coldly when he recognised me, and he immediately stopped backing away. He was about a third of the way along the corridor, maybe four metres away from me.
‘Well, well,’ he said, ‘look who we’ve got here.’
I glanced at Bull. He was still on his knees, and from the glazed look in his eyes, he was having trouble working out where he was and what had just happened to him. Blood was streaming from a deep gash in the side of his head.
‘Ronnie warned me not to underestimate you,’ Dee Dee said, moving slowly towards me. ‘But I suppose you already know that, don’t you? I mean, I’m assuming you didn’t just happen to be here, so I guess you’ve not only been listening to me and Ronnie, you’ve been recording us too.’ He moved a little closer. ‘Am I right?’
‘I’ve got every word on tape,’ I told him. ‘Video and audio. I’m sure everyone on the Slade and Beacon Fields will be interested to see it.’ I glanced at Bull again. He was shaking his head and blinking his eyes now, trying to clear the fog from his mind. He’d be back on his feet soon. I had to get out before that happened. I turned round and grabbed a tin of paint off one of the shelves. It was an unopened 2.5-litre can with a strong plastic handle. Good and heavy.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ Dee Dee said, edging closer to me. ‘You give me the tape, and I’ll let you walk out of here.’
‘And if I don’t?’