Tell No Lies

by Tell No Lies (retail) (epub)

  ‘Me neither, but we should have. He could be important.’ Caelan looked over at the bartender, still polishing. ‘Do you think we should get out of here?’

  ‘I thought you wanted to see who—’

  Her unease growing, Caelan interrupted him. ‘I do, but we can do that outside.’

  ‘Won’t it look strange? We’ve not even played a game of snooker.’

  ‘No, but we’ve bought a couple of drinks, had a chat. Hopefully they’ll think I wanted to see Marcus again, then left when I realised he wasn’t here.’

  They strolled towards the stairs, not speaking, not hurrying. The bartender didn’t look up.

  As they reached the pavement and began to walk down the street, Caelan touched Ewan’s arm.

  ‘I think we should split up.’

  ‘Break it to me like that.’ He grinned at her, but Caelan shook her head, refusing to share the joke.

  ‘I want to see who the bartender contacted, but I want to do it alone. They’ll be expecting both of us.’

  Ewan’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘And what am I supposed to do?’

  ‘Hang around, but don’t be obvious.’

  He glanced around. ‘Where?’

  ‘Find a shop, or a café. I don’t know.’ And I’m not here to babysit you, she added silently. Her irritation with him was unfair, she knew, but bringing him here with her had been a mistake. Penrith should have kept him off active duty until his ribs healed, at least. Caelan was still feeling the occasional twinge from her own injuries, but at least she could walk without wincing. Ewan was clearly struggling, meaning he was likely to be a passenger if she need to run, or worse, to fight.

  ‘There’s a coffee shop over there.’ He nodded towards it.

  ‘Fine. Give me half an hour. I’ll come and find you.’

  ‘I don’t like going without you.’ He shuffled his feet. ‘Never leave a man behind, you know?’

  ‘Come on.’ She tried a smile. ‘No one’s shot at me for at least a day.’

  He walked away, reluctant, but not looking back. Caelan ducked into the alleyway opposite the snooker hall, which provided some cover, but also a clear view of the entrance.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ The voice came from behind her. Caelan turned, knowing who she would see. Nicky, scowling, hands bunched in her jacket pockets. ‘I was told to keep a watch on the place until I heard otherwise.’

  ‘You saw us go in?’

  Nicky inclined her head. ‘Yep. I moved away when I saw you leave, was going to ask for instructions. Then I saw you hiding down here without checking who might be around.’

  Caelan felt a blush start in her cheeks. Nicky had a point. ‘What was I supposed to do, search every inch of the surrounding area?’

  Nicky leant against the wall, pushing her hair out of her eyes. ‘That’s generally considered a good idea.’ She was hiding a smile. The realisation ignited Caelan’s fury again, and she turned her back on Nicky, gazing across at the snooker club, ignoring the tension in her shoulders.

  ‘Can you go?’ she said.

  She heard Nicky snort. ‘Sorry, am I in your way?’

  ‘Both of us standing in an alley looks a little conspicuous, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Not if we’re careful. Who are you looking for?’

  Nicky had taken a step closer, Caelan realised. If she moved back, she would be in her arms. Not a happy thought. Once more Nicky was acting unprofessionally, placing them both in a situation that could potentially compromise their objective, and their safety.

  ‘Please, Nicky, just leave,’ Caelan said.

  ‘Can’t. I’m under orders to watch this place.’

  ‘You’re being ridiculous. You’re going to blow both our covers.’

  She heard Nicky’s coat rustle as she folded her arms. ‘Rubbish. Who are you waiting for?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Reluctantly Caelan explained what had happened when she and Ewan had been inside the club.

  ‘You think Marcus Crowley is coming over.’ Nicky clicked her tongue softly. ‘You’re branching out into drug dealing now?’

  ‘I want to talk to him again, if that’s what you mean.’

  Caelan’s mobile beeped, signalling the arrival of a text. She heard Nicky fumble for her own phone. There was a pause as Nicky read the message. ‘Looks like I’m leaving after all.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘They’ve narrowed down the area where Liv Hobbs disappeared, want me to go and have a look around.’

  Caelan felt rather than heard Nicky move back. ‘Narrowed it down to where?’

  Nicky was already a few paces away. ‘You’ll have to read your text.’

  Swallowing a smart reply, Caelan ignored her. It didn’t matter. She was going nowhere for now. She gave Nicky thirty seconds to leave the alley, then turned to make sure she had gone. When she focused on the club again, she saw a black car draw up to the kerb in front of it. The car was new, expensive without being ostentatious. It whispered money rather than screamed it. The driver’s door opened, and Marcus Crowley got out. Watching him stroll towards the entrance of his club, Caelan wondered if his arrival was a coincidence. What should she do now? If she followed him inside, it would be obvious she had been watching. If she stayed put, she would learn nothing.

  As she dithered, another black car slid in behind Crowley’s and two men wearing dark padded coats and black beanie hats emerged. They kept their heads down, and Caelan couldn’t see their faces. The car’s number plate was obscured by a brown paper bag. It looked as though it had blown there by accident and stuck, but Caelan’s heart began to thump. Dodgy. Could they be the same two men who had grabbed her and delivered the warning for Frankie Hamilton? The same two they suspected of trying to run him over, the blokes Nicky had seen here earlier? They were the right height, the same build. It was possible. Did they work for Crowley, or were they here for something else?

  As they pushed through the entrance to the snooker club, moving with purpose but not so quickly as to draw attention to themselves, Caelan ran to the far end of the alleyway then rounded the corner and walked towards the club, her phone in her hand as though typing a text. She hoped Ewan stayed where he was. She needed backup, but not from an injured, unarmed man. Caelan had been ordered to carry a gun on many occasions throughout her career, but she had never enjoyed the experience. Now, though, she wished she had one at her hip. She had no reason to believe the two men were there to harm Marcus Crowley, but the way they had moved, the lack of conversation between them, had hinted at a mission rather than a meeting. She told herself to remain calm as she raised her phone to her ear. Five yards from the club, Penrith’s voicemail ordered her to leave a message. She chewed on her bottom lip, then ended the call and tried Achebe. Same result. Unacceptable when they had officers out in the field.

  She was past the club now, approaching the café Ewan had headed to. She kept her face turned away as she went by, hoping he wouldn’t see her. There was a Chinese restaurant next door to the café, a menu displayed in its window, and she stopped and waited, pretending to read it. She heard heels clicking towards her, and leaned closer to the glass window. The bartender from the One Four Seven club hurried past, pulling her coat around her. She didn’t seem to notice Caelan, much less recognise her. Even more concerned, Caelan checked her phone, confirming what she already knew. Neither Achebe nor Penrith had responded. She didn’t have Nicky’s contact number, Ewan needed to stay out of the way, and Richard Adamson was banged up.

  She was on her own.

  She crossed the road, headed back towards the club. Both cars were still parked by the kerb. She walked quickly, hands by her sides, head up. She thought about grabbing a hammer or heavy spanner from a hardware shop she marched past, but decided it would take too long, and look too obvious. Best to go in quickly, quietly, and see what was happening.

  Remembering that she had a pair of wire-framed glasses with clear lenses in her jacket pocket, she pulle
d them out and slipped them on, then scraped her hair back into a ponytail as she walked. Her makeshift disguise probably wouldn’t fool anyone, but it might give her a few seconds’ advantage if she wasn’t recognised instantly.

  She approached the car the men had arrived in, checking the rear number plate. It was filthy, and she snapped a quick photo on her phone, sending it to Achebe and Penrith. There was no time to wait until either one called back to tell them what she was doing. She slid the phone on to silent, pushed it back inside her pocket, and approached the entrance, hoping no one was taking any notice of her movements. She was aware she looked suspicious, but there was little she could do. There were times when caution and strict application of procedure was the only way. This was not one of them. Every one of Caelan’s senses was screaming at her. Marcus Crowley might be a drug dealer and money launderer, but her job was to protect him regardless. She set her shoulders. Time to act.

  As she neared the door, she heard the clatter of footsteps. She kept walking. Ten paces away was a litter bin, and she paused, turning towards it, pretending to drop something inside. The two men emerged and walked towards their car, still unhurried, still not speaking. Caelan’s mouth was dry. Crowley wasn’t with them. They weren’t covered in blood, didn’t even look ruffled. They’d spent five minutes at most inside the club, but Caelan knew it was plenty of time. It didn’t take long to deliver a threat; it took even less time to kill someone. She turned her head as they drove away, waiting until the car was out of sight before making her next move.

  She checked her phone again, sent another text with an update to both Achebe and Penrith. They needed to trace and stop the car as soon as possible. The bartender needed bringing in too. She might have spoken to the men, seen them at least. She could be a vital witness, or she might also be in danger. Caelan exhaled through pursed lips. This case, confused from the beginning, was now threatening to hurtle out of control. What had gone on inside the club? There was only one way to find out.

  Pulling the sleeves of her jacket over her hands since she had no gloves, she pushed the door open and stood listening. Nothing. No cries for help, no screams of agony. She sniffed the air. The same as earlier – stale beer. If they had fired a gun, she’d expect to be able to smell it, but there was no guarantee.

  Slowly, quietly she climbed the concrete stairs.

  Silence.

  No blood on the steps. At the top, she paused again, still listening. She crept into the club, her eyes scanning the place. No signs of a disturbance, no upturned tables or smashed chairs.

  No Marcus Crowley.

  On her toes, moving quickly but with care, she reached the bar. Careful not to touch the polished wooden surface, she peered behind it. No one. The till was closed, nothing had been disturbed. Not that she thought the two men who had just been here were petty thieves, but they might have helped themselves if given the chance.

  She stepped back, hands on hips. Where was Crowley? As far as she was aware, there was only the main room and the toilets. Could he be hiding in there? She strode over to the door between them, shoved it open.

  ‘Hello? Anyone serving?’ she bellowed.

  A definite noise from the toilets – not a reply, more like struggling and shuffling, as though someone was trying to stand. Caelan paused.

  ‘Hello? Anyone here?’

  The sound again. She moved closer, stood waiting outside the door to the toilets. It opened slowly, and Marcus Crowley appeared, leaning on the frame, his face pale. He attempted a smile, but his expression was more a grimace.

  ‘Back already?’ he managed to say.

  ‘Seems so. You all right?’

  He took a step forward, wincing but trying not to show it. ‘Yeah, fine. Had a kebab for lunch. Must have been dodgy. My guts feel like they’re on a roller coaster.’ He spoke haltingly, as though unable to catch his breath. Caelan smiled at him. If that was how he wanted to play it, fine.

  ‘Fancied another drink, but there’s no one at the bar,’ she said. Crowley allowed the door to swing closed behind him.

  ‘Yeah, Nina had an appointment, so I gave her the afternoon off.’ He waved her forward, the movement obviously causing him more pain. Caelan made sure she walked quickly, reaching the bar before he had taken more than a few steps.

  ‘You sure you’re okay?’

  ‘I told you, I’m fine. Now, what can I get you?’

  ‘Just a beer, and one for yourself.’

  He laughed. ‘Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass.’ He bent slowly, painfully, to the fridge and handed her a bottle.

  Caelan took a sip. She didn’t want to drink any more after the two bottles she’d had with Ewan, but she needed an excuse to hang around. She watched Crowley limp out from behind the bar and head for the nearest chair.

  ‘Come and sit down,’ he said.

  Reluctantly, she did as he asked. He’d clearly received at least one punch to the stomach, and she wanted to find out more, but without asking him directly about the two men, it was difficult to see how she was going to discover who they were. She hoped Achebe would have put out an alert for their vehicle, but it was a long shot. In their shoes, she would have stopped, removed the paper bag from the front number plate, cleaned up the back one and gone on her way. Maybe even left the car somewhere and disappeared on the Underground. She looked at Crowley, hunched in the chair, and remembered Liv Hobbs. Fuck it, she thought. The time for caution had passed. She moved her chair closer, leaning towards him.

  ‘Those two blokes seemed in a hurry,’ she said.

  Crowley’s eyebrows bounced. ‘Blokes?’

  ‘Went storming out of here as I walked in. Almost knocked me over.’

  His eyes darted from left to right. ‘Yeah, I’d just taken a couple of frames and fifty quid off them both. Sore losers. What can you do?’ He aimed for a casual shrug of the shoulders, his face again betraying the pain the movement caused him.

  ‘What, and they decided to teach you a lesson? Wanted to let you know who should win next time?’

  Crowley stared at her, eyes narrowing. He tipped his head back. ‘What gives you that idea?’

  ‘Come on, you’re hurt. Anyone can see it.’

  ‘Bollocks. Got a stomach ache, that’s all.’

  ‘After someone’s fist collided with it a few times, yeah.’ Caelan shook her head. ‘Makes no odds to me. Just a warning: you’re fooling no one.’

  He leaned forward, his lips parting in a mocking grin. ‘Yeah? Well I’ll tell you something, sweetheart. Neither are you.’

  Caelan’s heart seemed to thump the bottom of her throat. She knew she had to stay calm, trust her colleagues and her cover story. There was no way Crowley could know who she really was. He was bluffing, he had to be. Unless… The thought shot into her mind, chilling and horrifying. Unless Liv Hobbs had been talking. Unless she had been persuaded – forced – to share what she knew. Caelan took a breath, stared back at Crowley. No. Liv didn’t know about the undercover officers in Edmonton, did she? But then she had been involved in the early stages of the operation involving Nicky. She had known Ben Rainey, had spoken to Anthony Bryce. Caelan had visited her home, given Liv her phone number. It was for a pay-as-you-go phone she rarely used, the handset still in the flat in Rotherhithe. She had known Liv would be able to reach her through Achebe and would never give out a number that could be easily linked to her, but if she had saved her name with the number… Liv had seen her ID, knew her rank and real name. They had dumped her phone, but they could have checked her contacts first. Shit.

  Crowley was waiting, leaning back in his chair, a knowing smile on his face. Caelan knew she had to respond.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Not her wittiest comeback, but at least she didn’t sound rattled.

  He tapped his nose. ‘You told me you had merchandise to sell. I’ve heard what it is.’

  Caelan licked her lips to give herself another second. It would have helped if Penrith had told her what in
formation he was planning to add to her legend. Crowley seemed still to believe she was legit, which was all that mattered. ‘From who?’

  ‘Never mind who told me. I’ve also heard you’re no stranger to the inside of a police station either.’

  ‘Meaning?’ She couldn’t deny it, but she was usually on the right side of the cell door. Not always, but usually.

  ‘Meaning, you’ve been caught carrying a smoke or two.’ Crowley sat up straight, attempted to cross his arms, then decided against it.

  Caelan kept her face blank. ‘Not sure what your point is.’

  ‘You’ve got a record. I don’t do business with people who’ve been in trouble. It’s too risky.’ He leaned forward, one hand to his stomach. ‘So I suggest you get of here, and try to peddle your shit elsewhere.’

  Slowly Caelan pushed back her chair, her eyes not leaving Crowley’s face. ‘Got a better offer, have you?’

  A snort. ‘Wouldn’t take much, would it?’

  She stood, her hand on the back of the chair. ‘You’re making a mistake, Marcus.’

  He watched her, sneering. ‘No, love, but you will be if you’re still standing there in five seconds.’

  Caelan’s laugh was genuine. ‘Going to throw me out, are you? Like to see you try.’ She curled her lip. ‘I’d heard you were small-time. Maybe I’ll go and talk to those two fellas instead.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You think I didn’t speak to them before? Didn’t want to know what they’d been up to in here?’

  ‘And they told you?’ His turn to laugh. ‘Nice try. Now get out.’

  She took a step backwards, still watching him. ‘Like I said, Marcus, I’ve been told you’ve got too big for your boots. You know where I lived before?’

  ‘Northolt. I asked around, like I said I would. Am I supposed to be impressed? I told you to leave.’

  ‘And I will when I’ve said my piece. You think I’m not worth your time? You know Anthony Bryce?’

  His eyes flickered. ‘No.’

  ‘Yeah, whatever.’ Time to gamble. ‘If you don’t want to buy, I’ve others interested. Someone told me about Ryan Glennister.’