by Ed James
He’s sleeping with her.
Shit.
Fenchurch nodded at Spencer. ‘Sir, you can leave.’
Spencer kept stroking her back. ‘You’re sure?’
‘Positive. Thanks for your help.’ Fenchurch raised his eyebrows and mouthed, ‘Wait outside.’
Spencer grimaced, but did as he was told, taking his time to unkink himself from Casey’s embrace. He walked over to the flat door, then caught Fenchurch’s glower as he opened it.
‘Wait.’ Casey was on her feet. ‘Stay.’
Spencer looked over at Fenchurch.
‘Come back.’
Casey sat again, arms clasped around her shoulders, eyes pleading with Spencer, but he settled in the seat opposite.
Knows he’s been rumbled.
‘I’m sorry for your loss, Casey.’ Fenchurch stayed in the window, waiting for Casey to look over at him. ‘But if I’m to find your sister’s killers, I need you to answer my questions. You okay to do that?’
She brushed at her eyes, then gave him a steely glare. ‘Please.’
‘Well, did she have any enemies?’
Casey started shaking her head. And kept on doing it.
‘Anyone who’d want to harm her?’
She still shook her head.
‘Anyone she’d been in trouble with? Over money, maybe?’
The shaking became less intense.
‘Anyone at Mario’s? Maybe a colleague.’
The shaking picked up again.
Fenchurch left a pause. ‘What about a client?’
She swallowed, but still didn’t look up at him.
‘Someone who was paying her to sleep with him, maybe? Someone who went a bit far over the line?’
‘No!’
‘I know what you’ve been doing. I’m not—’
‘No!’ She shifted over to sit next to Spencer, snuggling into him. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I’m not judging you, Casey. I know you’re being forced to—’
She screamed, burning pain into Fenchurch’s ears.
‘It doesn’t have to be like this, Casey. I’m trying to—’
‘I don’t know anything.’ She waved at the door. ‘You should leave.’
Fenchurch rested back against the window frame. ‘Casey, I just want to find out why someone would want to kill your sister.’
‘Mosé?’ She looked round at Spencer, pleading again.
‘I don’t know, Casey.’
Fenchurch sat on the opposite sofa and leaned forward. ‘Casey, I know what you’re being forced to do. Selling your bodies. And I know you don’t have any choice in it. They took you from your home and they brought you here. I know the control they have over you.’
Casey rocked back, tears flooding her eyes. She stared up at the ceiling, at the pendant light and the peeling wallpaper, as Spencer wrapped an arm around her shoulders. ‘It’s not all.’
‘What?’
Casey’s mascara was a smudged mess. ‘Mosé, tell him.’
Spencer’s eyes widened. ‘Tell him what?’
‘What else Mario gets us to do. The special bases.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
But he lost her to her tears.
Fenchurch thumped a fist off the coffee table, making Spencer start. ‘You’re sleeping together, aren’t you?’
Spencer shook his head. ‘You’re talking—’
‘Shut up. I see the way you touch each other.’
‘I’m a very tactile person.’
‘Stop lying to me.’
‘It’s supposed to be a secret. Mario’s very funny about his staff fraternising.’ Spencer let his head dip. ‘Is it obvious?’
Fenchurch settled back in the seat, giving Spencer some space.
‘We were very careful. Always left fifteen minutes apart. Sometimes met at my flat, sometimes here.’
‘Did Amelia know?’
Spencer coiled his thick beard round his fingers, like he was weaving a rope. ‘Casey swore her to secrecy.’
‘Is it possible she could’ve blabbed?’
‘Dunno.’ Spencer tugged at the sleeves of his jumper. ‘Maybe.’
Casey looked up at him, through a wall of tears. ‘She wouldn’t tell anyone.’
‘Casey.’ Fenchurch waited for her to make eye contact again. ‘What do you mean about the special bases?’
She stared at her lover and gave a slight shake of the head.
Spencer’s irises retracted. ‘Shit.’ Spencer slammed his head back against the headrest. ‘I know what you mean.’ He made eye contact with Fenchurch. ‘I need to show you.’
Fenchurch pulled up in the Lewisham car park and killed the engine. The wind licked at the beech hedge, making it shiver. ‘You not going to tell me?’
Spencer sat in the passenger seat of Fenchurch’s Mondeo, head bowed, fingers tugging at his unruly hair, sparking out like he was on fire.
‘Well, I’ll have to tell Savage about what you’ve been up to, you stupid bastard.’ Fenchurch waited for him to jerk round. ‘Sleeping with someone when undercover… It’s wrong. You’re lying to them. And I don’t care what you tell yourself to help you sleep at night, it’s—’
‘It isn’t like that.’
‘No?’
‘We’re in love. I—’
‘Have you told her you’re a cop?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Then you’re a bloody idiot. Now what the hell is going on with these pizzas?’
‘Come on, I need to show you.’ Spencer got out and led Fenchurch up the steep ramp to the forensics lab.
‘If you’re wrong about this, you know how bad that’ll appear, right?’
Spencer locked eyes with Fenchurch. ‘I’m not wrong.’
‘I’m serious, son. I’ve seen undercover cops go bad before. If you think for one second—’
‘Get over yourself.’ Spencer leaned against the door. ‘You need to sign me in. My warrant card’s out at Empress State.’
Spencer walked a few yards ahead, his boots squeaking off the concourse’s rubber tiles.
Over by the forensics lab door, Tammy stared into space, a deep frown clenching her forehead.
Fenchurch stopped short of her. ‘You okay, Tammy?’
She grimaced at Spencer, then focused on Fenchurch. ‘I was just wondering whether the DNA profiler would run faster if I wasn’t in the lab to observe it.’
Fenchurch glanced at Spencer, catching a reflection of his own bafflement.
Spencer waved a hand in front of her face. ‘How are you getting on with the pizza boxes?’
‘Pizza boxes?’ Tammy sucked in her cheeks, then blew out again. ‘Preventing my team eating them has been next to impossible. Even though they’ve been on the ground. Had to call Mick to get approval to order in a few pizzas.’
‘Sure he’ll have appreciated that in Bosnia.’
‘I’m lucky he had phone reception. Why are you so interested, anyway?’
‘We need to check them.’ Spencer set off.
She blocked Spencer getting through the door. ‘My machines are very temperamental and, besides, we have very strong security protocols in place.’
‘It’s just the pizzas I need to check. Nothing else.’
‘Fine. In here.’ Tammy slid her card down the reader, still staring at Spencer, and the door thunked open. She entered the busy lab first. ‘Who are you, again?’
‘He’s one of Savage’s lot.’ Fenchurch scanned the windowless space. No signs of human existence, like the machines had already taken over. Six massive boxes lined the walls. And it smelled of cheese and mushroom toasties. ‘I told you back at Brick Lane.’
‘Oh, you’re the subject of the profile? Interesting.’ Tammy lurched over to a machine in the middle of the far wall like the thing was going to bite her. She crouched low and tapped a button. ‘I wonder if your presence will speed it up or slow it down.’
‘Eh? How would—?’
/> ‘Trust me, these things have a mind of their own.’ Tammy jabbed at the controls. ‘Okay, let’s tempt fate.’ She beckoned Spencer over. ‘It’s quite safe. It won’t bite.’ She looked him up and down, grinning. ‘Though I might.’
Spencer squinted at Fenchurch. ‘Should I—?’
‘Come here.’ Tammy stood up tall, hand on her hip.
Spencer started on over.
The machine pinged.
‘Aha.’ Tammy beamed wide. ‘As I suspected. Your presence ensured a higher degree of quantum entanglement.’
‘Are you telling me that—?’
‘No, I’m not telling you anything. You saw for yourself.’
‘What does the machine—?’
‘Clear.’ Tammy nodded at the screen. ‘Yes, you’re perfectly clear.’
‘Of what?’ Spencer was clearly as bamboozled as Fenchurch.
‘Your DNA traces were not in that van.’ She looked him up and down again. ‘Now, this is where I’d suggest that, if you were indeed present in the van, that you were incredibly careful to clear up after yourself.’ She shifted her focus to Fenchurch. ‘But there are multiple other samples, so whoever was in that van wasn’t at all careful.’
‘See?’ Spencer looked straight at Fenchurch, teeth clenched. ‘I’m innocent.’
Fenchurch joined them by the machine, but the data on the screen meant less than nothing to him.
Tammy clicked her tongue a few times. ‘Now, what did you want with these pizza boxes?’ She led them across to a workbench in the middle.
‘Right.’ Spencer grabbed a pair of gloves from the box and pulled them on with a rubber snap. Then he opened the first box. A pizza, covered in sausage rings and hunks of meat, cut into eight almost-equal slices. He took out a wedge and tore it in half, lengthways through the crust.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Tammy slapped his hand and snatched the slice off him. She shook her head as she carefully placed it back in the box. ‘This is completely unacceptable! Get out!’
Spencer scowled at the pizza like it had just asked him to leave. ‘Shit, I swore it would’ve been…’ He dashed past Tammy and opened another box, the pizza’s cheese covered in chicken, banana and gravel. ‘Here we go.’ He tore it in the same way.
Tammy was trying to get at him but he was blocking her. ‘What the hell are you—?’
Something fell, hitting the floor with a light thump.
‘Stop!’ Tammy bent down. ‘What the hell?’
At her feet was a plastic bag containing a white powder.
9
‘Well, well, well.’ Tammy held up the bag, examining the contents closely. ‘It’s cocaine, I would wager.’
‘Tammy, get security here.’ As she dashed off, Fenchurch grabbed Spencer’s wrist and pushed him to the ground, pressing his cheek against the lino. ‘You knew, didn’t you?’
‘I just bake the pizzas!’ Spencer tried to shake him off, but Fenchurch held firm. ‘It’s Mario! He made the bases.’ He wriggled round. ‘He always had two sets. I didn’t know the system until Casey told us, I swear.’
Fenchurch loosened his grip, letting Spencer go. ‘You knew where to look, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah, because I figured out the system…’ Spencer stood up and started dusting himself off. ‘If someone ordered a bottle of this Albanian liqueur with their pizza, they’d get Casey or Amelia round for…’ He snarled. ‘It wasn’t on the menu, so you had to know. The girls… They weren’t just delivering pizzas, right? They’d sleep with the johns and leave. If someone stopped them, they’re just delivering pizzas.’
Fenchurch held up the bag. ‘And what about the drugs?’
‘Well, this is all slotting into place. I didn’t know until you told me that. I wasn’t allowed to make any orders with a stuffed crust. Mario would do that, and he’d use one of the special bases.’ Spencer took the bag off him. ‘Nice, thick plastic case, no dog’s going to sniff through that. Might be trained not to eat pizza but… It’s genius. Again, if uniform stopped them, it’s just a pizza, right?’
The door opened and footsteps pounded towards them, Tammy trailing after a bulky security guard.
Fenchurch blocked them. ‘It’s fine. Thanks.’
The guard grunted. ‘Sure about that?’
‘Sure.’ Fenchurch grabbed Spencer by the wrist, yanking it hard enough to make him yelp, and led him over to the exit. ‘We’re going to see what your master wants to do with you.’
‘My wrist’s bloody killing me.’ Spencer was in the passenger seat, stroking his arm. ‘You didn’t have to—’
‘I did.’ Fenchurch pulled onto Mile End Road, the long drag that’d take them back to Leman Street, that’d bring Spencer face-to-face with Savage and whatever judgement awaited him. ‘There’s plenty more where that came from.’
‘You’re a bully, you know that?’
Fenchurch hit the dashboard dial button again. Not even a ring this time before Docherty bounced the call. ‘Bloody hell.’
‘Let me try.’ Spencer put his phone to his ear. He put it away just as quickly. ‘Great.’
‘You too?’
‘Time was, I could call Savage day or night and he’d pick up. So what do you want to do? Bring Mario in?’
Fenchurch sped up to overtake a trundling Volvo.
Mario’s one option, sure.
But I really should run this up the flagpole, as Docherty would say. Get approval from above. Air cover, and all that jazz.
He glanced over at Spencer. ‘You honestly think Mario’s the mastermind here?’
‘I’ve no idea about that, but I told you about the bases. You saw what he’s doing.’ Spencer rubbed his wrist again. ‘But you know Savage wants the evil criminal mastermind behind this whole thing. Whoever’s bringing these girls over from Albania. The whole shooting match. My job was to get close to Mario and his staff. It’s been slow, sure, but I’m getting there.’
‘You’ve not been slow with Casey.’
Spencer punched his thigh. ‘Come on, you need to drop that.’
‘Don’t you read the papers? There have been so many cases where pricks like you think they can sleep with whoever they want when they’re undercover. You’re betraying women’s trust, Sergeant.’
‘I know. But I like Casey. A lot. It feels right.’
‘Does it feel right for Chris or for Mosé, though?’
‘That’s not—’
‘No, Sergeant. That’s the point. You’re Christian Spencer. You’re not Mosé Tronci. He doesn’t exist. You’re betraying Casey.’
Spencer prodded his screen hard, then put his phone to his ear for a few seconds. He tossed it on the floor with a sneer. ‘You heard what Savage said, right? These girls were taken from their homes, brought here against their will. Pimped out. But they’re smart. God, you should see how sharp they are. They trust Amelia and Casey to go into fat businessmen’s homes, right? They can handle themselves, but they also know exactly what they’re doing. Casey might know who runs it.’
Fenchurch pulled up at the lights. Ahead was Leman Street, Docherty and Savage. ‘If she’s half as sharp as you’re making out, the second Casey smells a rat — and she will — she’ll blow your cover. You’re no use to anyone then. And while she’s just lost a sister, the rest of her family is still under threat.’
‘You got a better idea?’
Spencer hung up with a fresh sigh. ‘So why are we here?’
Fenchurch waved up at the flats looming above them. ‘This geezer, Colin Dunston, he ordered the chicken and banana pizza, with a stuffed crust. You know what that means.’
In the wing mirror, Nelson shuffled down the street, puffing on his vape stick, and thumped on the back seat. ‘Guv, what the hell is he doing here?’
‘Just marking time, Jon.’ Fenchurch swivelled round. ‘Did your guy check Dunston’s alibi?’
‘He did.’ Nelson took a fresh suck on his vape stick. ‘But yeah. Hard to tell if he was definitely there or not. Th
e gym said their card machine’s broken.’ He held up his phone. ‘Got a photo of the security log. Dunston signed in, but security’s a bit lax. Could’ve been anyone. No CCTV.’ He leaned between the seats. ‘What’s the plan of attack?’
Fenchurch looked up at the flat, just as a light flicked on. ‘Spencer, stay here.’ He snatched his mobile. ‘I’m taking this.’
Spencer glowered at him. ‘Really?’
‘Jon, you’re with me.’ Fenchurch got out and led Nelson down the lane towards the flat. ‘What’s your take on him?’
‘Not spent much time with him, guv.’ Nelson thumbed back at the car. ‘Undercover can drive the best officer doolally.’
‘And the worst?’
‘Quite.’ Nelson thumbed the entrycom.
‘That you, Clive?’
Nelson locked eyes with Fenchurch. ‘Yeah, it’s me.’
‘Up you come!’
Buzz. The door opened with a deep clatter.
Fenchurch set off up the stairs, taking them two at a time. ‘Let’s play this cool. There’s a chance the geezer could’ve just innocently bought that pizza.’
‘Right, but who’s buying a chicken and banana pizza?’
Fenchurch stopped by the door, hanging open. ‘Sir?’
‘Come in!’
Fenchurch gave Nelson a shrug and entered. The hallway was all beige carpet and cream wallpaper, designer furniture and high-tech equipment. David Bowie blasted out of a room — synth stabs and jerky drums. Fenchurch followed the sound into a long room, similar decor as the hall. Wooden kitchen units and wide glass windows overlooking the docks, glowing in the summer evening.
Dunston was crouched over the coffee table, using a rolled-up twenty to snort a long, long line of coke off the glass. He looked up, twitching. ‘Ah, shit.’
‘—my operation, Howard.’ Docherty’s office door hung wide open, the sound and fury leaking out into the corridor. ‘Why don’t you listen to me?’
‘Because I’ve been…’ Savage clocked Fenchurch standing in the doorway. ‘Simon, I didn’t see you there.’
Fenchurch pushed him away and walked over to the window. ‘Why weren’t you answering your phone?’