Maxwell smiled at him. ‘I’ll be sure to pass on your regards,’ he said, as the guard opened the door to the visiting room and Terry stalked away.
FORTY-ONE
Maggie called Steel just as they were on the outskirts of Ferrymouth, returning from their meeting with Madeleine Jeffries.
‘It’s Joey,’ she said. ‘He didn’t turn up this morning, didn’t go to school, and now he’s not answering his phone.’
‘When did you last hear from him?’
‘When he left here to go home last night. Most days he goes to school with Tel. It’s rare for him to miss, but it’s been known to happen, so I didn’t worry until Tel called me at lunchtime to say he’d not gone to school. We’ve tried to get in touch. Tel wanted to go round there, but—’
‘Don’t either of you do that. Look, we’re almost back in town; we’ll swing round that way and check up on things for you. I’m sure it’s nothing.’
Maggie gave him the address and Steel passed it on to Sophie. ‘We could get uniform to call in,’ she said.
‘We could, but … look, he’s been let down time after time. I asked him to trust me, to let me help …’
Sophie shrugged. ‘I’ll go the back way into town,’ she said. ‘It’ll be quicker.’
Ten minutes later Steel and Willis were standing outside the Hughes’ house. The curtains were still drawn and there was no sign of life or movement.
‘Doesn’t look good,’ Sophie commented.
Steel pushed the gate open and stepped into the paved front garden. The door needed painting, he thought, and, in contrast to most of the neighbouring houses, the place looked uncared for and drab. Steel rang the bell and then knocked on the door. Willis bent down and peered through the letterbox.
‘Fuck,’ she said. ‘You up to kicking the door down?’
Moments later they were inside. Willis was calling for backup and an ambulance, and Steel knelt beside the prone figure of Joey, unconscious and cold and covered in his own blood.
The house was silent. Empty, Steel thought.
‘He’s alive,’ he said. ‘Just. Sophie, see if you can find a blanket or something. The ambulance is going to be easily twenty minutes getting here, even if it gets a straight run.’
She nodded. ‘I’ll try the bedrooms.’
‘Joey.’ Steel called the boy’s name, but Joey was utterly unresponsive. Steel dared not move or even touch the boy for fear of doing him further injury. He lay still on the tiled hall floor and Steel thanked some random god that at least the central heating had kept him from freezing to death, though it was far from really warm in the house. How long had he been lying there? Steel wondered.
‘Sir. You’d best come and take a look up here.’
Sophie Willis sounded scared and for an awful moment Steel wondered if he’d been wrong about the emptiness of the house. What if Hughes had been upstairs? He took the steps two at a time. Willis stood on the landing, a blanket in her hands. She was staring fixedly into one of the bedrooms, through a half open door. Steel followed her gaze. A woman he presumed must once have been Mrs Hughes lay across the bed, her face so swollen and pulped it was hardly recognizable as such. She was, very clearly, very dead.
Gently, he turned Willis away and took the blanket from her hands.
‘Come downstairs,’ he said. ‘We can’t do anything for her now. All we can do is help Joey.’
She nodded and followed him down the stairs. Steel covered the boy with the blanket and then sat down with his back against the wall. Willis stood in the doorway and used her mobile to update their colleagues, telling them that they now had a murder on their hands. It was only a few minutes but it seemed like a very long time until the sirens announced the arrival of their backup.
FORTY-TWO
Gregory’s phone went to voicemail so Nathan sent what information he had directly to Alec. They knew the identity of Victor Griffin.
Alec read the email out to Naomi.
‘His name is or was Marcus Karadzic.’
‘What’s that, Polish?’
‘Don’t know. Slovenian, maybe. But he was born in Luton, so … anyway, he’s the youngest of three brothers known to have close associations with the Tobias family, so also known to the Baldwins. Of the three only one went into the family business, as it were. The eldest went off to university and is now living in Scotland as a photographer. Marcus did some travelling and then drifted around the West Country for a time, working as a casual labourer until getting a job with a charitable trust assisting in the resettlement of ex cons.’
‘Really?’ Naomi asked. ‘That wouldn’t be—’
‘The Winslow Trust. Oh yes it would.’
‘And he was back for Baldwin senior’s funeral … talk about walking on both sides of the fence. What did he do for the Trust?’
‘Well, he seems to have started as an office junior, or whatever you call it. They paid for him to go on various courses and he worked his way up. By the time he met Thea Baldwin again in Bristol he had left the Trust and worked for an agricultural supplies company, which went into receivership about four years ago, just before they moved up here, I suppose. His work record is good, pay is average, not even so much as a speeding ticket. Marcus seems to have lived an exemplary life except for one small incident.’
‘And that would be?’
‘He seems to have left the trust under a bit of a cloud. Nothing definite, and they even gave him a decent reference, but there were rumours about irregularities. Not financial, I don’t think. At least, not directly. I managed to find something about computer records being altered. Marcus denied any wrongdoing, and whatever it was seems to have been covered up. He didn’t work his notice, he just left, and nothing more was said.’
‘See if you can dig anything else up. And contacts with his family?’
‘Minimal, apparently.’
‘But he turned up for the funeral.’
‘According to this he also turned up for family weddings and christenings and his parent’s anniversary bash. So he was part of the scene.’ Alec skim-read in silence for a moment and then said, ‘But this is interesting. Very interesting, in fact.’
‘What?’
‘Marcus’s father might have been a bit of an also-ran, but his mother’s maiden name was Vitelli.’
‘As in Alphonso Vitelli?’
‘Her father. That’s a bit like being married to royalty, isn’t it?’
‘In certain circles, yes.’ Naomi thought for a moment. Vitelli was not a name likely to be known to the general public, at least not in a criminal capacity. The family, on the surface, ran legitimate businesses in catering and hotels. Over the years these had prospered, as had their less legitimate business of money laundering, illegal gambling and protection.
‘Do they know that Victor Griffin is one of theirs yet?’ Naomi mused.
‘That’s the question, isn’t it? But our next question is how we give Steel all of this information without having to tell him where it came from.’
Naomi shrugged. ‘Tell him it’s an old informant,’ she said. ‘And we can’t possibly reveal our sources.’
FORTY-THREE
Roddy Baldwin was a dangerous man. A man that many people had reason to be afraid of. A man who exuded an aura of power and barely suppressed violence. Being such an expert he was well able to recognize the same traits in others and also to realize when he had been outclassed. The man sitting at his desk and drinking his whisky immediately impressed him as one such individual.
He stood in the open doorway to his study and for a split second considered calling upon his confederates in the next room. The man seated at his desk poured a second glass from Roddy’s cut glass decanter and gestured to him to come and sit down. Roddy considered for a moment longer and then closed the study door and complied.
‘How did you get in here?’
‘I disabled your alarm system. I’m good at that kind of thing.’
Roddy took a sip of whisky.
‘And I suppose it’s no good asking who you are or who you work for?’
‘The first question, no good at all. The second … well, you could say I freelance. You could also say this is pro bono. You know, like the free cases lawyers take when they think the client is worth it.’
Roddy considered his options. Something about the man told him that he was going to come out on top no matter what Roddy did. He noted also that the man had laid a gun on Roddy’s antique blotter. His hand rested next to it.
‘A Glock,’ Roddy observed. ‘Never much liked them, myself.’
‘No, I understand you prefer a Walther. The PPK. I worry about their tendency to jam. The feed ramp is far too steep.’
Roddy sat back in his seat and nodded thoughtfully. ‘So what do you want?’
‘A few minutes of your time and the answers to a few questions. Don’t worry, there are no wrong answers, no penalties. I just want the truth.’
‘About what?’
‘Did you arrange the killing of your sister-in-law and her family?’
‘Why should I tell you?’
Gregory sighed. ‘Because I’m asking. Because I suspect it’s no skin off your nose if you give me a straight answer. If, however, I have to persuade you, then believe me: you are the amateur here. I, on the other hand, am not.’
‘I have men within call.’
‘Men you chose not to call because, I think, you realized that it would do you no good. I also understand that you are a man who fights your own battles. I understand that you look after your people, which is commendable. I understand, too, that unlike the rest of your clan you seem capable of maintaining a degree of self control, and that you don’t make waves you can’t ride.’
Roddy considered some more. The man across the desk seemed in no hurry. Roddy made up his mind.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I had no reason to want Thea dead. I thought she was a fool getting involved with my brother. I didn’t realize quite how much of a fool.’
‘A fool?’
‘My brother has what you’d call low impulse control. He was a violent husband. But I suppose you already know that.’
Gregory nodded. ‘And did he want her dead?’
‘Undoubtedly.’
‘And he arranged it?’
Roddy was thoughtful. After a moment or so he seemed to come to a decision. ‘I don’t want any further harm to come to my brother,’ he said. ‘He might be a fool and an embarrassment, but he’s still my flesh and blood.’
‘Not my decision. Not my business.’ Gregory shifted in his seat; his fingers tapped the blotter next to the gun. ‘But I do have places to be once I’ve ticked you off my list. And the man Thea ran off with?’
‘She ran off alone, so far as I know.’
‘All right. The man she was living with. The man who was also killed. I understand his name was Marcus Karadzic, even though he’d been living as Victor Griffin. Did Terry want him dead too?’
Gregory noted the slight flicker in Roddy’s gaze when he mentioned Vic’s real name. Was it recognition of the name or had he known who Victor really was? ‘I’m told he had important friends. Family who might take exception to his being shot. You can’t be happy about that?’
‘Like you said; I ride the waves.’
‘I’m sure you do. But it must be trying at times, having to clear up after the likes of Terry. I’m assuming he knew who Victor Griffin really was?’
Roddy looked into the pale blue eyes of the man across the desk and felt a sudden urge to tell him whatever he wanted, just as long as he went away. He sighed.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I have reason to believe that Terry wanted the hit on Thea, but that it wasn’t his idea. Someone offered to do it in return for something Terry knew or had.’
‘Like what?’
‘Is the million dollar question. Terry isn’t the sharpest knife in the box. He was always impulsive, always out for the easy option, but before Thea left and he got himself banged up he was boasting about some plan he had. Some dead cert. Frankly, we none of us took him seriously, but that doesn’t mean that other people might not have done. Terry was so busy shooting his mouth off, someone might have assumed he had a reason to.’
‘That’s what you might call vague,’ Gregory said. ‘I hear you’ve been having trouble keeping all this together of late. That there have been challenges within the family?’
Roddy smiled. ‘Goes with the territory,’ he said.
‘And Terry’s brother. Ricky Lang?’
‘Ricky wanted to think he was a big-time gangster when he was actually an inept kid who liked to be told what to do so long as the one telling him had a bigger gun.’
Gregory gestured that he should go on.
‘I’d not seen Ricky or heard from him in a couple of years. He didn’t think I took him seriously enough and, frankly, I’d rather someone else dealt with a loose cannon. I’d had enough of it with Terry.’
‘So he went where?’
‘Traded on his name, got in on a few jobs. I don’t know where he spent the past six months. He didn’t say, I didn’t ask.’
‘But there must have been rumours.’
Roddy sipped some more of his whisky and held out his glass for a refill. Gregory obliged. ‘As you pointed out, there have been challenges. Power struggles. It’s not affected our operations so much. The Baldwins have never been at the top of the tree; we found our niche a couple of generations ago and have been happy to stay put. But old names mean nothing these days. It’s all new players moving in from central Europe and Russia.’ He laughed, harshly. ‘I sound like a UKIP advert. But Ricky wanted to be where the big boys played.’
‘Whereas you were content with trickle-down economics.’
Roddy smiled. ‘It may surprise you that I actually do understand the reference. Our father believed in the benefits of a decent education. And yes, that’s a good way of putting it. Whoever happens to be at the top, they always need planners and foot soldiers and distributors. So long as you don’t get greedy, there’s plenty to go around.’
‘And Terry? Was he content with that?’
‘Terry didn’t know how to be content. Terry is a fool.’
Gregory thought about this. ‘So someone enticed Ricky Lang into trying to finish a job someone else had got wrong.’
‘You don’t think Ricky made the original hit?’
Gregory could tell that Roddy was genuinely intrigued. He shook his head. ‘I’m told that when he pointed his gun at the policeman his hand shook so much he couldn’t shoot straight. Whoever killed Lisanne and Victor Griffin got it right first time and with no hesitation. Even if they did only manage to wound the girl. But the question is, why is someone so keen on Sarah Griffin being dead?’
‘Baldwin,’ Roddy said. ‘Not Griffin. She’s still a Baldwin.’
Gregory shrugged. ‘Whatever.’ He studied Roddy Baldwin thoughtfully. ‘You just thought of something, didn’t you?’
Roddy shook his head. ‘It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘Just some random thing Terry said. Thea left and Terry did what he usually did and got blind drunk. He rambled on about Thea and how he wanted to “kill the bitch” and then started in on what he called his “whiny kid”. How she’d overheard him say something … what, I don’t know.’
Gregory nodded.
Roddy smiled suddenly. As their conversation had continued without mishap, so his confidence had slowly risen.
Gregory was about to disabuse him.
‘Right,’ Gregory said. ‘I think you now have a decision to make.’
‘What decision?’ Roddy’s lips curled in a sardonic smile. ‘I don’t have to decide anything.’
‘A man should know why he is about to die,’ Gregory told him. ‘And I figure you have a lot of possible reasons. I’d like you to pick one for me. That seems only fair.’
Roddy stared at him in disbelief; then he began to laugh. ‘Oh, you are priceless,’ he said. ‘Stupid and arrogant too, but priceless.’
‘You’ve just added one more to your list of reasons,’ Gregory told him.
‘And you expect me to be scared? Try again.’
‘The way I see it,’ Gregory told him, ‘is that the list goes something like this. I could kill you because you either permitted that family to be killed, arranged it or actively encouraged it.’
‘None of my doing.’
‘But you could have halted it. No? Not important enough for that?’ He went on. ‘Or I could kill you in revenge for any one of the bodies you’ve dumped in Savernake forest over the years.’
He saw Roddy frown.
‘I do my research,’ Gregory said. ‘It’s probably a little inconvenient, not being exactly on your doorstep, but I suppose Epping is probably knee deep in corpses by now, being as that was a favourite location for your father’s generation. But it has the advantage of distance and of not having direct links with you and yours. So you could pick a name – I have a list to choose from, should you have forgotten any – and we could say that was the reason.’
Roddy shook his head. ‘You’re all talk.’
‘Not me, no. But you’re maybe wondering just who in your organization has been shooting their mouth off. Or, sorry, I think you added him to the list a couple of months ago, following an unrelated misdemeanour.’
Roddy’s frown had deepened, creasing between his eyes and across his brow. He’d done playing. ‘You know you’ll not get out of here alive, don’t you?’
‘I think you’re wrong,’ Gregory said.
Roddy smiled. ‘A lot of people have thought I was wrong. Usually I’ve proved otherwise. I’m still here; they, as you pointed out, are in the ground. And that gun of yours, it’s less than useless to you, you know that? Shoot me and a dozen men will come running. Leave, and I’ve just got to shout and the same thing will happen.’ He nodded towards the Glock. ‘No suppressor. Your mistake, my friend.’
‘I’m not your friend,’ Gregory said. ‘And this is not my only gun.’
When he left a few minutes later Roddy Baldwin lay on his back, looking up at the high ceiling of his study. He saw nothing. The hole at the front of his head was small and neat but the back of the skull was now little more than shattered bone surrounding empty space. What was left of his brain spread with his blood across the carpeted floor.
Paying the Ferryman Page 19