Divide and Rule

by Solomon Carter

  “But I’ve got the vision to take us further than any of us have ever been. You know that. Ah, whatever, let Will have his day. The days are getting shorter, after all.”

  “Peter, don’t sweat it, all the drama is over. The police won’t do jack shit and those dicks are so far off the scent they don’t deserve a pay cheque if you ask me. It’s all good. You just need to be patient.”

  “I think I’ve been too patient.”

  “They say a week is a long time in politics, Pete. I’m off. I’ll catch you later. Remember, relax.”

  “You can relax, Joe. I’ve got an election campaign to run.”

  The tall man walked out into the street. The other two remained.

  “Joe’s done well,” said Peter Serge. “Those boys of his are a liability. But he’s done well.”

  “Under the circumstances…”

  “Wait a minute…”

  Dan felt the air change around him. It became electric, full of a tangible, unseen force. Dan remained seated, gambling that whatever made Peter Serge utter those words was not him. He had no choice. Dan knew if he moved, the game was up. But sitting with his eyes glued to the newspaper, his chest and throat tight, Dan already knew the game was well and truly up. Worst of all, he now had to face up to it. Feel the fear. Do it Anyway. Shit.

  “It’s you, isn’t? Mr Bradley, looking like a prize fool in your dress-up clothes.”

  Dan turned and looked at the man who felt like his own personal devil. The small framed Peter Serge should have been no problem in terms of physicality. The man beside Serge was a man mountain, and the prehistoric part of Dan’s brain was busy planning the right moves to use. The big gut looked soft and weak. Then there were his shins, exposed, accessible, ready to feel some serious pain. Then the old faithful, a solid well delivered kick between the thighs. It was all there, ready and waiting, but when Dan looked at Serge, he knew life wasn’t going to go his way. The tension in his chest burst up into his throat, coiling in him, not like a spring, but as if trapped… Useless tension hurt his senses and his body. Act, damn it! Fake it till you make it. With a shaky hand Dan peeled off his spectacles and dropped them onto the bar. Peter Serge’s eyes traced Dan’s movements, and a thin smile appeared on his face. “What’s the problem, Mr Serge? This man looks like alcoholic bum” said the man at Serge’s side. Clearly not the sensitive type. Dan made violent eyes at the man, but he felt Peter Serge’s presence beside him like a vortex, and it sucked all his attention. Dan looked. He saw the sneer on Serge’s face and Dan felt his cheeks flush. For the first time in his whole life Dan felt ashamed of his own weakness.

  “Appearances can be deceiving. This man is one of those private dicks we were talking about. You were eavesdropping, weren’t you, Mr Bradley? Shame really. Did you get anything useful? No. I don’t recall saying anything too untoward, or anything you could possibly use against us. You do remember you were supposed to be working for us, not against us.”

  Dan swallowed, kept his gaze even, and his voice level. It took a whole lot of effort. “I’d never work for anyone like you. We’re on a job to help a man locate the people who left a young man in hospital in a medicated coma.”

  “So what are you doing here?”

  “You know what I’m doing, Councillor. I’m doing my job right now.”

  “No. You think you were, but you have been wasting your own time and money. And the sorriest part of it all is that you couldn’t even do this part right, could you? It’s a good job you’ve got a partner. Let me guess, you’re the funny one and she’s the straight act.”

  Dan’s breathing stuttered as his heart raced. There was only one way this could go, but Dam didn’t know if he was ready, or if he’d ever be ready…

  “To be honest, Councillor, I only came in to get some laughs myself. I heard a funny joke about you people thinking you’ve got a chance of getting into Downing Street.”

  Peter Serge’s eyes flared. “You’re playing with fire, idiot. Look at you. You’re terrified. I can see it. I saw it from the start. You know we’re serious, so why bait me? Look at me, you pillock. I’m the real bloody deal and you know it. You know. I said it’s a shame because now you’re going to learn all about our UKFirst training programme.”

  Dan looked at Serge’s companion. “How to shave your head and eat your own weight in pies?”

  The big man stepped forward, shaking his head, ready to seize Dan. The barmaid watched from the doorway behind the bar, planning whether to stay present or run. The pool game had gone quiet. Serge held back his companion like a dog on a leash. The big man was obedient but not happy about it.

  “It’s okay. We’ll let the others play with him. They need the practice. Mel, darling, take a break from the bar, will you. There’s a good girl. We’ll keep it tidy.” The barmaid didn’t look happy, but away she went all the same.

  “Boys!” called Serge. “Boys, we’ve got a new toy. Come see.”

  Half drunk, swaying on their feet, glassy eyed, and a few still dangerously sober, the skinheads walked through the archway into Dan’s part of the bar. Some were still chewing their sausage baguettes. Dan counted seven of them, and then stopped for his own sake. He felt bad enough as it was. He wasn’t scared of them, not a single one of them, but Peter Serge’s black staring eyes kept Dan stuck on the barstool. If he stood, he was worried his legs would give way. And as the gang approached, Dan wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to stand up again. But there was a part of him smiling through the desperate fear. Kill or cure. It had to be cure. It had to be…

  Nine

  Eva had so far fulfilled her mission of staying away from Jess and Dan. She’d even kept them apart with their own separate tasks. Now Eva had the time and space to think she was able to see around the obstruction Councillor Serge was causing them. Gary Mertz was one of the last people to have seen Jerry Burton before the attack. There was a slim chance that Mertz had been one of the attackers, but Eva was keen to rule it out. Mertz had been punished for a reason. It was more likely he was a witness than a culprit. Eva had yet to speak to Mrs Burton, the woman alleged by her husband to be weak willed or flaky, and Eva had her suspicions that Will Burton had cast aspersions to infect Eva’s judgement about his wife’s witness integrity. Mrs Burton could wait a little while. There were other avenues first. One of them was the college where Gary Mertz and Jerry Burton spent much of their time. Their studies had finished by now, their A levels completed and still the boys went back to the college like it was some kind of magnet for them. She’d gleaned the information from a couple of his lesser friends, and from a comment Will Burton had made about him being a keen student. But a student didn’t study at college once the exams were over – so it was clear Jerry Burton and Gary Mertz were going back to the college for more than study. Initially Eva suspected it was drugs, or the boys had found some girls they liked the company of. But, it didn’t turn out like that. The boys kept going back for two reasons as far as Eva could see: a cheap Student Union bar which had stayed open in the summer, and a gym with a near negligible price for students. That cheap gym helped explain the boys’ physiques.

  Eva didn’t find much to keep her in the union bar. There were a few students around, but even early in the day the students were loud, giggly and drunk. They made Eva feel at least ten years older than she actually was. Eva had never held much in common with students even when she was one. She had always been the one who studied and read her books in her room. The union bar was a place of mess, swearing, loud music and unpleasant smells. She’d always preferred a bottle of wine and home comforts. After looking around the bar Eva was glad to get to the gym where the people were more like her: busy, concentrated, determined and working. The gym was a glass walled affair. She saw young men and women in Lycra pushing the weights on grey and black resistance machines, while the bigger muscle men grunted through sets with the free weights. At the reception sat a young man in a gym uniform polo neck. He was in his early twenties with a strong j
aw and an arrogant look in his eyes. There was a smile on his face but his eyes were hungry and pushy, exactly what Eva didn’t like in any man. Eva also noted the young man had a shaven head. She reminded herself shaven heads didn’t mean a thing, but she still didn’t give the young man any warmth because of his predatory eyes.

  “I want to speak with the manager.”

  “I’m in charge today. You can speak to me.”

  “I want to see the manager, or I want you to get him on the phone now. There is a serious safety issue I need to discuss with him. Are you qualified to discuss your health and safety policies?”

  The young man tilted his head and thought about it. “I’ll get him. Wait here.”

  The health and safety blag was a good one, too technical for anyone with less than half a brain to want to deal with it. This reception boy had half a brain and no more. Two minutes later, a shorter, ruddy faced man with an open-collared fashion shirt emerged from a back room. This guy worked out too, but not often enough to repel the middle aged fat pooling around his waistline. The man had serious, watery blue eyes. “Safety? What is this about?”

  “I would rather talk in private. Your name is?”

  “Coulson. I’m the gym manager.”

  “Fine. I’m Eva Roberts. I’ll explain the rest in a minute. Can we discuss this elsewhere?”

  The man shrugged at his young colleague, and opened a gate door in the reception bar. Eva walked through and ignored the younger man. The man shook his head in Eva’s wake. Eva followed Coulson into a ramshackle office with an academic year wallchart on one wall, a desk with a flickering computer screen and a stack of folders with their contents spilling out. Coulson sat down behind his desk. Eva stayed standing.

  “So, what’s the matter and where are you from?”

  Eva immediately changed tack. She hoped to do so without confrontation. She segued from health and safety into the safety of one person. Jerry Burton. “My name is Eva Roberts. I’m a private detective working for Will Burton and Peter Serge of the UKFirst party.”

  The man shifted in his chair and smiled. “Really? Is this to do with what happened with poor old Jerry?”

  “It’s everything to do with that. Jerry was a member of the gym here, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes. He was a well-liked member, he was in here nearly every day until the incident.”

  “The incident. Do you know what happened to Jerry?”

  “He got hurt and now he’s in hospital. Badly hurt from what I heard.”

  “He was nearly killed, Mr Coulson. He could have died from blood loss. If the blow to the head had been just a little harder he would have died from the blow itself. The attack could be seen as an overdone attempt to throw a spanner in Will Burton’s campaign, or as an attempted murder. I need to discover which. When was Jerry last at the gym?”

  “Errrrm… About a week ago.”

  “A week? But he was a regular here, and in the Uni bar? That would mean, that three days before the incident Jerry didn’t make to the gym at all? That doesn’t sound like the Jerry I’ve heard about.”

  “Maybe he had a cold. Or needed a little lay-off. I don’t know.”

  Eva looked into the man’s eyes and waited. He shifted again, dragged his finger and thumb down his chin and looked away. Coulson wasn’t a skinhead. But neither was Peter Serge. The stereotype was there to be broken.

  “Nobody mentioned Jerry having a cold. I’m pretty sure it would have been mentioned in the other interviews we’ve been conducting.”

  “I said I don’t know. Jerry is one of the regulars. But I don’t know why he stopped coming.”

  “Are you sure, Mr Coulson?”

  “What are you saying? Of course I’m sure. I manage this gym. Apart from one day a week I’m always here. I’m good with the names and faces because I have to be. My memory’s good.”

  “We have to be sure, that’s all.”

  “So now you can be. Are we finished?”

  “Mr Coulson. A young man who you know very well was brutally attacked. He was almost killed. He is the son of a man running for election to parliament in two days’ time. This is a very serious business. If this was planned, the people who do this kind of thing would be very dangerous indeed. If you know something about this, you should tell me if only to protect people from further harm.”

  Coulson stood up and shook his head. “I don’t take kindly to people insinuating that I’m a liar. I work for the college and the college insist we remain polite at all times. So, it was very nice to meet you, and I hope you have a wonderful day. Thanks for your time.” Coulson’s harsh soldierly face contradicted every platitude he’d just issued. He pointed towards the door. Eva fixed her eyes on Coulson’s just a little longer until she sensed he might explode, and then she walked into the corridor. She hoped Coulson would stay put in his office. Eva had a fifty-fifty chance, and it went her way. She walked calmly through the narrow corridor out to the open space and glass walls of the gym reception. Her calm demeanour was to throw Coulson off the scent of her devious intent. Eva stopped short of the reception gate and lingered behind the counter, alongside the young man who she’d brushed off a few minutes before. The man turned, saw her, and looked back to his screen. Eva saw Facebook had been quickly minimised and his reception database had been put in its place, probably as he heard her approach.

  “Look, I’m sorry about my manner before,” said Eva, “but this is a serious business and some people are not being helpful.”

  The young man looked around to see Eva’s soft smiling lips and white teeth, and her pale green eyes in full effect. The hard line on the receptionist’s face softened.

  “It’s not a problem.”

  “So I was chatting with Mr Coulson about Jerry Burton. You know him.”

  “Yep.”

  “Could you please run a quick check on when he was last in?”

  Eva gave a little tilt of her head to show him her profile, her best side. Providing a hint of flirtation and innocence, she tugged at a side lock of her red hair. But best of all was the psychology of being behind the reception. Where Eva stood she was an insider, one of the team, and now the man was keen to help. He shrugged and began to tap at the keyboard.

  “Here,” he said, and pointed at the list of dates besides Jerry Burton’s name. Jerry surely was a frequent flyer with the gym. In recent weeks his name was listed against certain dates, meaning he must have visited twice. “The most recent?”

  “There, see. Last week.”

  “The nineteenth?”

  Footsteps were coming, and coming fast from behind her. Eva took a breath and took hold of the gate as Coulson emerged. His face was filled with anger, teeth bared. “I told you already!” he said to Eva, then turned on the reception guy. “What the hell are you doing? That’s under Data Protection and you just broke every word of the policy. I should have you sacked, do you get that?”

  “I thought you said she could…” now the young man turned on Eva. “She lied to me!”

  “I didn’t. But Mr Coulson did, and now I’m wondering why. You lied about the date Mr Coulson. Jerry was here on the very day of the attack.”

  “The computer’s wrong. The staff are always letting their mates in under member’s names.”

  “Plausible, but it’s a lie again, Mr Coulson. I can’t believe a word you say, so I’ll take the database over your version any time, thanks.”

  The man looked as if he might combust, his neck was coiled, veins large and pulsing by his temples. Violence simmered just beneath his skin. The man stepped forward and Eva lifted the gate without hurry.

  “Don’t take it out on your receptionist, Mr Coulson. If you were a better liar, I might not have checked up on you.”

  “Listen here… you silly little…”

  “Shut your mouth.” Eva turned around to find the source of the firm voice. It was Dan’s voice, she knew, but it didn’t sound right. Dan stood in the doorway of the glass-walled gym staring at Eva and Co
ulson. His nostrils were bloody. There was a gash by one eye, and the other was swollen. He was stooped. Eva looked him over and winced.

  “What the hell are you supposed to be?” said Coulson after assessing the threat of a wounded man.

  “I’m Dan Bradley. And from what I’ve seen in the last five seconds, you must be a piece of shit. After dealing with so many other pieces today, I’ll save this pleasure for another day.” Coulson stopped simmering and just watched as they left the gym behind.

  They walked out into the autumn breeze leaving two sets of hateful eyes following them from behind the glass. Eva ignored them. She’d got something tangible now, though she still wasn’t sure what it was.

  “How did you find me?”

  “The office troll told me.”

  “Jess is not a troll, Dan.”

  “Not for you, she’s not.”

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Peter Serge happened. Peter Serge and a squad full of beer-fuelled skinheads in cheap suits.”

  “You should have gone home Dan, or to a doctor. I didn’t need your help here. I asked you not to come.”

  “Yeah. You did, didn’t you?”

  Eva shook her head. When was he ever going to get the message and stay on script? She knew the answer of course, but she let the question stay rhetorical. Dan was sill invading her space and breaking the rules. They were her rules now. Right now, he was hurt and she would let him off. But how much longer could she continue letting Dan run riot over every case she worked on? Another rhetorical question. But looking at his eyes – not the cuts around them, but his brown eyes – she saw a flicker which wasn’t right. She’d seen it there before… but not for a while. That flicker worried her. For now Eva would have to just deal with it, because with Dan in pieces she could not apply the coup de grâce. Not yet. But maybe soon, after she’d broken Coulson…. After the election was over and Jerry Burton’s attacker was caught and the case closed. Maybe then she would think the unthinkable.