by D J Harrison
79
‘Who?’ I voiced my irritation at being disturbed by my mobile phone. Stupidly I left it on when what I need is a good sleep, here in my own bed. Despite all my cravings for his comforting touch I am too weary and upset even for Alex’s company. Now I’ve got this strange female voice dragging me out of my soporific state.
‘Kayleigh,’ she repeats, as if in explanation.
‘What do you want?’
‘I have some good news for you.’ I nearly end the call at this over-ambitious boast, nobody ever has any news I’d consider good. She’s trying to sell me something, I wonder how she got my number.
‘I’m not really interested.’ My finger hovers over the red button.
‘Your offer has been accepted,’ she adds.
‘What offer?’
‘The offer you made on 27 Rawlinson Park Lane, it’s been accepted. All we need now is the name of your solicitors so that we can issue the contract documentation. If you don’t have a solicitor we’d be happy to arrange one for you.’
‘I do have a solicitor.’ I give her Stephen’s details, then ring him to tell him he’s buying me a house.
‘I don’t think that’s wise under the circumstances,’ he says.
‘But I need to have this particular house, it’s near Toby’s school, it’s perfect for me. I’ll have the proceeds from the sale to buy it with, what’s the problem?’
‘I’ve been talking to Edward. In most cases like yours, the police get a restraint order over your assets. It means that they freeze your bank accounts, including company ones. You won’t be able to access any money at all.’
‘But I’ve not even been charged, never mind convicted. Surely they have to convict me before they take all my assets?’
‘No they don’t. Under the Proceeds of Crime Act, all they need is enough grounds for suspicion. They don’t even have to go to court, the restraint order is issued by a judge without any opportunity for us to make representation. Once it’s issued, you won’t even be able to pay my fees.’
‘That’s crazy, how do you get paid then?’
‘I don’t, Jenny. There’s the problem. You’ll have to rely on Legal Aid and I don’t do that sort of work. The rates are much too low for a practice like mine.’
‘What about Edward?’
‘He’s the same. I’m sorry, Jenny, but if a restraint order is issued, I won’t be able to help you any more.’
‘But it’s not been issued yet, or has it?’
‘No, but Edward thinks it’s inevitable.’
‘So I should take a thick wedge of cash and hide it somewhere?’
‘I can’t advise you to do that, Jenny. You’ll have to consider your own position. All I can say is forewarned is forearmed.’
‘Thanks. In the meantime can you please buy this house for me. I might not have any money to pay for it, but I can’t let it go because of these charges hanging over me. I can only carry on as usual, can’t I?’
‘I’ll need a couple of thousand pounds up front, just in case. You do understand don’t you, Jenny, I have to protect myself.’
For an instant I consider telling him to shove his advice but for once I manage to restrain myself. ‘I’ll make a bank transfer today. I’ll also include some advance fees for Edward, at least I can have him acting for me until that money runs out.’
‘Good idea,’ Stephen says. ‘I’ll let him know.’
80
There’s a bad smell in the flat when I awake again. It’s the stink of decomposition and I track its source to the bin in the kitchen. Alex has invited himself for Sunday lunch and I’m not in the mood for either a roast dinner or Alex today. All that longing for him, all that worrying and now I’m not sure I can face up to a proper reunion. I was very weary on the drive back from the remand centre, but not so tired I couldn’t tell I was being fobbed off. There’s something not quite right about Alex’s story, or maybe it’s the way he told it to me. Nothing big, no large discrepancy, only a vague uneasiness when I cast my mind back to the events of Tuesday evening.
Alex said that the man with the knife fell through the banisters and into the stairwell. Okay, the rails were broken, it certainly looked like someone had crashed through them. But where was the body? The police took me down the stairs and out to their van, I didn’t have to walk over a dead body. There was no time surely for an ambulance to pick him up and leave before the police took me in.
As I walk out of the building to deposit the bin bag in the wheelie bin, a man is crossing the road towards me. He’s thirtyish, wearing an olive green body-warmer and a surprised look. When he sees me he turns round and walks away as if shocked or scared to see me. I watch as he clambers into a blue transit van.
‘The police are watching the flat,’ I say as soon as Alex picks up his phone.
‘Oh. I suppose they could be there for any reason.’
‘No, they’re watching me.’
‘How do you know, Jenny?’
‘I could see the look on the man’s face, he recognised me, then ran away back to his blue van.’
‘Are you sure it’s the police?’
‘Who else could it be?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll watch out for the van when I come round.’
‘You do that and you could pop to Marks & Spencer’s for something to eat. I’m too tired to shop, or cook for that matter. Get something nice, something we can pop in the oven, oh and some of those croquette potatoes, I like them.
‘Okay. Do you have any preferences?’
‘No. Oh, not pies. Don’t get pies. At least not for me. You can have one if you want. I need something a bit more wholesome, maybe some nice fish.’
‘Salmon?’
‘No, not salmon, I’m fed up of salmon, it’s all I seem to eat these days. I’ve read that salmon farms in Scotland are polluting everywhere. Get something else. Anything at all, you choose. Use your imagination.’
‘How about beef?’
‘That’s not exactly fish is it?’
‘No, but it’s what I fancy.’
‘Please yourself, then. Beef it is. As long as it’s free range, organic and from happy cows.’
‘Of course, I’ll make sure of it. Anything else you need?’
‘Oh yes, I’ve nothing much in. Be a love and get me some essentials, that would be great.’
‘What do you need?’
‘Oh the usual, get everything and something nice for afters, some chocolate.’
‘What sort?’
‘Anything, surprise me.’
‘Okay.’
Alex sounds confused, I can’t believe he makes such a fuss out of a simple thing like going to the shop for some food.
*
‘How much is that costing then?’
‘What, the food?’ Alex is decanting his purchases onto baking trays.
‘No, the police surveillance unit outside. Two men and a van at least, on a Sunday, presumably round the clock, or what would be the point. Plus the others.’
‘What others?’
‘There must be others, round the back, down the road. It would be too easy for me to slip away otherwise.’
‘I don’t know, I’m not even sure they are police.’
‘You should know. Didn’t you tell me you’re the one who pays for it all? It’s your government department that foots the bill.’
There’s a joke in there somewhere, but I’m not feeling at all humorous today.
‘Don’t start me off on the complexities of local government finances and the relationship between DCLG and the Home Office. It’s Sunday, my day off, and I want to spend it with you having fun.’
‘I’m not much fun. They’re going to take all my money and lock me up in prison. Those men outside are there to make sure that I can’t do a runner before they get the restraint order in place. Face it, I’m finished. You might as well spend your Sunday looking for another girlfriend, you’d be better off.
Alex walks slowly over, a
rms ready to hold and comfort me. I push him away. ‘If you’re here you might as well get on with the cooking, I’m starving. They don’t feed you anything decent in prison.’
Croquette potatoes doused liberally with gravy and garnished with thick slices of roast beef do wonders for my physical state, but little to ease the anguish when I look across at Alex.
‘So when are you going to tell me?’ I ask, fixing him with my most serious look.
‘Tell you what?’
‘What really happened at that house. Where you really were when I needed you. That sort of thing.’
‘Everything I’ve told you is the truth, Jenny.’
‘But you’ve not told me everything, have you? It’s the bits you left out that matter to me.’
‘I’ve been meaning to tell you but it’s…complicated. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.’
‘What, that you’re not a liar or a cheat – that’s the wrong idea is it?’
‘Yes it is; I’m not. There you go, you see, I knew you’d react badly whatever I say.’
‘So you have been lying all along. I knew it.’
‘No, I haven’t. Listen, Jenny. I’ve not told you everything, I admit that. I’ll tell you now if you’ll listen to me.’
I shove my plate aside and put my hands flat on the dining table. ‘Go ahead, I’m listening.’
‘It starts with my job. I’ve never told you much about it, have I?’
‘No, you always said I’d be bored.’
‘You probably would but that’s less likely when I start my new one in October.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ll no longer be seconded to DCLG then. From October I’m back at the Home Office.’
‘Back? But I though you always looked after local government finance.’
‘Not always, previously I was at the Cabinet Office in London, you know, working directly for the prime minister. Before that I was at the Home Office.’
‘Home Office, that’s the police isn’t it? You never said you were a policeman.’
A shiver of distress catches my breath. My mind tries to adjust to Alex as the vengeful establishment, privy to my innermost thoughts. I really am doomed. I feel desperate sorrow at his subterfuge.
‘Not a policeman, never a policeman. Policemen work for police authorities, local establishments. I’ve always worked for central government.
‘So if you’re not a policeman, what are you?’
‘Strictly speaking I’m classed as a civil servant. That’ll not change, even when I take up my new position.’
‘Which is?’
‘I’m going to be working for the National Crime Agency.’
‘I don’t get it. How can you move from local government to that, it makes no sense.’
‘I’ve been involved all along in the NCA, first as a policy advisor in the Cabinet Office and now seconded to DCLG to implement the new financial arrangements between government and police authorities. Now that they’re in place, I’m joining the NCA.’
‘Oh.’ The implications of all this are too immense to sink in. All I’m left with is the idea that Alex is saying goodbye. I can’t see him being able to continue his relationship with me, particularly in view of my impending charges.
‘So I won’t be seeing you again, I suppose.’
Alex chews at his bottom lip. ‘You never know what might happen. If things stay as they are I don’t see why not. If the NCA picks up the case against you, that could be very awkward, but I doubt they will.’
‘What do you mean?’
The doorbell rings. There’s someone trying to get in to my flat. Alex leaves the table to investigate. I see him pause in front of the CCTV monitor then he shouts, ‘Shit! Get down, under the table.’
I do nothing of the sort, instead I join him at the screen, looking at our visitors. Two men, one with a hand gun, the other brandishing a machine gun.
Alex is already talking on his phone, giving our address, telling them what’s going on. The men outside appear agitated, now they’re knocking and ringing more than waiting.
‘Keep quiet,’ Alex says. ‘Pretend we aren’t in, maybe they’ll give up and go away.’
‘No chance.’ I point at the screen. ‘That’s the man from the van, they’ve been watching us, they know we’re in here.’
The knocking turns to kicking. I watch as the man with the AK47 takes a short run and hits the door hard with his shoulder. This seems to hurt. He raises his weapon and fires. The sound of the gunshots is deafening. My body is reacting as if already hit. I can hardly prevent myself collapsing onto the floor in shock.
The man firing into the door suddenly twists and falls and the gun swings round. His partner tries to dodge but the stream of bullets rips into him. The noise stops. I can see two bodies lying on the floor at the top of the stairs. Alex’s arms draw me to him. I settle into their protection as I continue to stare at the screen.
It takes twenty minutes for the police to arrive. In that time, one of the men manages to crawl out of sight of the cameras. The other stayed where he lay. Now the flat is filled with men wearing black body protection and grim faces. We’re showing them the CCTV recording, I’m trying to understand what happened.
‘Why did he shoot his mate?’ I ask nobody in particular.
‘Look at that, an AK47 in Salford on a Sunday afternoon, that’s something I hoped I would never see.’
‘It’s your door, where did you get a door like that?’
‘I had a break-in, they fitted a new security door.’
‘What? The landlord gave you a door like that?’
‘No, it was my guys fitted it.’
‘That’s a hell of a door, that is. That’s all I can say. Normally one sharp kick is enough. Look at this.’
The policeman stops the video and backs it up a few seconds. ‘That’s where he’s hit with his own bullet bouncing off your door.’
The way this policeman is talking I begin to wonder if they’re going to prosecute me for killing the man with my door. There’s probably a Health and Safety rule somewhere that requires me to have a notice prominently displayed, warning against ricochets. Something like ‘WARNING BULLET PROOF DOOR, FIRE WITH CAUTION’. It wouldn’t surprise me.
81
‘Can you think of anyone who might want to harm you?’ The policeman stands with his pen poised over his notebook. Now that the SWAT team has dispersed and the bodies cleared away normality returns in the form of repeated inane questions.
‘It’s your job to find out who they are and stop them. What kind of police force are you, allowing armed gunmen to wander the streets?’ I’m not well, the shock is getting through to me now the adrenalin has gone. I’m back to being needy and tired. Desperate and vulnerable. If it weren’t for Jim Almond and his magic door, I’d be dead. Alex is hovering uncertain, uncomfortable.
‘They were outside in a blue van waiting for the right moment. The van should be full of clues.’
‘Why didn’t you report this van and these men?’
‘Because I presumed that they were the police, no point in ringing up the police to tell them they’re sitting outside my flat, they would already know.’
‘Not necessarily,’ he admits. ‘But in this case it would have been wise to check with us. What made you think you were under police observation?’
‘I’m under investigation, you should check with your colleagues. I went looking for a young girl who has gone missing. They arrested me, put me in prison and are now threatening to prosecute me for running a brothel. You lot have much to answer for.’
‘Can you think of anyone who might have been responsible for this attack?’
I look across the flat to where Alex is in deep conversation with another policeman. ‘I don’t know who those men were. That’s your job to find out, maybe you have a list of armed gangs that work around here?’
*
When they eventually stop asking questions it’s only so that I can p
ick up a few things under supervision. I don’t see why the inside of my flat is designated a crime scene. The men never got inside. That’s the whole point, if they had I’d be dead. I’m not even permitted to scrape my cold croquettes into the bin, it all has to be preserved exactly, frozen in time to when the firing occurred.
We were questioned separately. Alex is back at his place waiting for me. He suggests that I leave the Range Rover and get a taxi as a security precaution. Whatever I do I doubt I’m any more secure at Alex’s flat than I am here. At least my front door is Kalashnikov-resistant. One of the policemen who interviewed me suggested that I book into a hotel for a few nights. All he could offer me in terms of protection was an emergency phone number that would get me instant attention. When I asked him how that might work in practice he had no good answer. The general consensus seems to be that because the two gunmen are incapacitated I’m safe. My worry is that these were contract killers and there may be more where they came from. My opinion seems to carry little weight with the police.
I cram as much as I can into a suitcase and carry it to the waiting taxi.
‘Where to?’ he asks.
‘Manchester Airport,’ I tell him.
*
Alex worries me. I don’t know what to say to him. There’s this involvement of his in the National Crime Agency that he kept so quiet. It’s difficult to see any future for us because of that. There’s also the realisation that I’m not good for him. I’ve nearly got him killed twice already, third time lucky they say. If I go to him now it might turn out fatal for both of us. At first I think about flying off somewhere but they took my passport as part of my bail conditions. Then I remember that there’s lots of armed police and very strict security measures at the airport. It’s possibly the worst place for a Kalashnikov-carrying murderer to do his work. Even if they do shoot me there, I’m betting they’ve got less chance of getting away than anywhere else. Being near the airport might not make me completely safe, but it’s the best I can think of at the moment.