by Marc Horn
‘Good job I was in the area, eh? If you’d had your way, I’d be out of a job.’
He sits up. ‘R-Razors. What are you-what’re you doing here?’ His voice is high and raspy. He’s trying to hide his nerves.
‘Looks like I’m saving your life, you prick.’ He tries to take deep breaths, but they’re jumpy and shallow. ‘You want an ambulance?’
He shakes his head. Looking up at me, he swallows hard a few times as he tries to find his voice. His neck is red raw. His eyes squint for a moment. That’s the moment he realises I’m the reason his face is covered in slime. He looks down and takes deep breaths. ‘They’re going to suspend you, Razors.’
‘That doesn’t seem like a good idea,’ I say, nodding at the skinhead. ‘You’d better stick that piss flap in cuffs.’
Noah sighs, rolls onto his side and then sluggishly crawls on top of the suspect. As he takes out his cuffs, I walk towards the informant. The phone is still against her ear. ‘You can put that down now, love. What’s he done to you?’
Shaking, she looks to her right to show me the slap mark on the left side of her face. Then she lifts her pyjama top to reveal that he’s used her as a punch bag.
‘What a man,’ I say. ‘How long you been with him?’
‘Fif-fif-fif-fifteen years.’
‘Has he done this before?’
She shakes her head. ‘Not-not really... just–’
‘Well, you need to prosecute him and leave him, because if you don’t he’ll do it again. I’ve seen it happen thousands of times. Once a geezer hits a bird, he loses his self-discipline. Once that’s gone it can only get worse.’ I turn back to Noah who has placed the slag who tried to kill him in the recovery position. ‘How is he?’ I ask.
‘He’s breathing.’
‘You won’t have to nick me for murder then.’
‘It would be self-defence,’ he reassures me.
‘Oh, what a relief. Give Control an update then. Can’t you hear them flapping on the radio?’
Noah explains the situation to them. The police van arrives, and the piss flap, conscious again but not entirely with it, is carried to it. Clare is one of the officers on scene. Before we get to the van, she catches my eye a couple of times, promptly breaking the gaze each time. I travel with the coppers to Hammersmith nick, as I have to write a book about what happened.
After finishing my notes and meeting with Inspector Cobbal, I ask Clare to come with me to the back yard. In the back yard, I ask her to come with me to the back of the police van. And then, in the police van, I fuck her hard and deep.
19
Clare didn’t need persuading. She expressed concerns about having an affair with someone on team, but only after she’d done the deed. Besides, I consoled her that I wasn’t strictly on team, because Cobbal had just told me I’d been suspended.
‘Reasons that can’t be disclosed at this time,’ he’d said, red faced, because he hated having to act so formal towards me. For him, keeping me in the dark was like stabbing me in the back. I understood his position, though, and told him so. No point him getting in shit too.
I actually looked up the word ‘affair’ when I got home, because Clare’s use of it made me realise I didn’t actually know what it meant. Was she suggesting we start a relationship? I hoped not, because that one shag was all I wanted from her. I closed my eyes in despair when I learned that it was some kind of romantic attachment. That bastardly word ‘love’ was mentioned too. Was that silly cow going to be another Cassandra? That’s all I fucking needed.
Speaking of that bitch, I’m starting to suspect she’s done a runner. But, even if she knew that I knew the truth, what would be the point of hiding from me? Surely she can only save the others by interacting with me, by steering me away from the truth. On a similar note, she cannot be in any danger. They would not harm her... unless... I lean forwards on the sofa... Unless she’s become a threat to them... Perhaps my discoveries have made her a liability. I’d recently decided to interrogate her, hadn’t I? Perhaps that interrogation would reveal the answers that would set in motion their Armageddon.
‘You ain’t got an old cloth you don’t need, have yer?’
I study the builder as he looms over me. If that wasn’t a calculated interruption, I don’t know what is. I made this little fuck, with his white overalls caked in crusty paint marks, his lined face, bald head and round glasses. Should I interrogate him? He raises his eyebrows and his mouth parts a little.
‘Ah, erm, not to worry then, I’ll find something in me tool box.’
He walks back to the bathroom, bends over and searches in his box. But he’s turned slightly so he can see me in his peripheral vision. The crazy thing about this, is that the more I understand it, the less danger I feel I’m in. The builder is not going to attempt to take me out. I walk to the window, watch the traffic. Would anything happen to me if I killed him? Though I’m pulling the strings, I clearly do not get what I want. I didn’t want my father to die, nor did I want to be suspended. So it seems I would go to prison like anyone else. My imprisonment would be good for them. All they want is to exist. All they need is for me to be alive. If I started to kill them, they would restrain me, put me somewhere where I can’t do any damage.
I turn around. ‘Sorry, mate, I slipped into one of those trances again. Yeah, I’ve got a cloth. I’ll get it for you.’
‘Oh. Cheers, mate.’
After handing the builder a cloth, I return to the window. My flat’s on the top floor, five floors up. It’s located on a nice section of Hammersmith Road, and from here I can see the Thames. The road below is always busy. Opposite, a removals lorry pulls up outside a house.
Is Cassandra in danger then? She could be dead. Jesus, this is so fucked up. I see a figure approaching from the right. I can’t look at him as I’m preoccupied with the removals blokes, but I can tell from the gait that it’s Noah. His shift’s finished, so he’s dressed in civvies. He walks up to my block and then rings my doorbell. I walk to the intercom. ‘Hello?’
‘Razors, it’s Noah. Can I see you?’
‘Fuck me, you sound like a bird.’ I press the buzzer and hear him enter the communal hallway. A short while later, I open my front door. ‘I hope you took the stairs.’
‘Why?’
‘Because lifts are for the lame and lazy.’
I invite him into the lounge. As he lowers himself onto the sofa, I say, ‘Let’s go to the window,’ and thumb towards the builder in the bathroom. I walk to the window and Noah joins me.
‘You having work done?’ he asks.
‘Bathroom extension. I’m too big for the tub. I s’pose you got my address from the Book One.’
He nods. Book One is kept in the control room and contains the addresses of all borough officers.
‘I wanted to thank you for what you did today,’ he says.
‘It’s my job.’
‘You knew you’d get in trouble, but you put me first.’
‘Course I fucking did,’ I snap. ‘Suggesting that I could have avoided the call cos I pelted you with eggs is an insult.’
He shakes his head and sighs. ‘I don’t mean it as an insult.’ His tone is tired and weak.
‘Feeling guilty cos you complained about me?’
‘I did what felt right.’
‘What? Jeopardise my career? You think that was the right thing to do?’
‘I think integrity is vital. I can’t be dishonest. That’s why I told them I can’t work with you.’
I snort. ‘You think taking me off the streets helps the public, do you? You think you can fill my boots?’
‘I know I’ve got a great deal to learn. But everything I do will be justifiable.’
I laugh. ‘Justifiable! Yeah, because you’ll do fuck all! You don’t see things, son. You didn’t see me. I could have shot you, a pedestrian or a driver. You nearly destroyed the forensics at the crime scene, and that skinhead would’ve killed you earlier.’ I shake my head. ‘Yeah, you
can justify all that, you fucking prick.’
He exhales wearily. ‘I didn’t tell them much. I’m not the reason you were suspended. They know about the indecency offence at the Chinese takeaway. They spoke to the Chinese interpreter–’
‘That bitch did my legs?’
‘Did you expect her to lie?’
I ignore the question, locking my fingers behind my head. Then I swivel my waist and stare at Noah. ‘What d’you see out there, son?’
‘On Hammersmith Road? Or are you talking about life in general?’
‘I’m talking about what you can see now, with those fucking eyes of yours.’
He looks around, scans left and right. ‘A lot of traffic.’
‘Nothing untoward?’
‘Not that I can see.’
‘Come on, lad. You’re the future. Prevention and detection of crime lies in your hands.’
He looks harder. Concentrates.
‘What’s happening opposite?’ I ask.
‘There’s a removals lorry.’
‘Yeah, carry on.’
‘Erm... the company’s name is Peace of Mind Removals. The employees are loading the lorry...’ He shrugs. ‘They’re transferring the owner’s possessions to another address; what else is there to say?’
I smirk. ‘And that’s what police did about it.’
‘Razors, what are talking about?’
‘You see a “sold” sign on that house?’
… ‘No.’
‘You see anyone who lives at the address?’
‘I... haven’t.’
‘Am I gonna have to tell you what else you’ve missed?’
He inches closer to the window. His nose presses against it and steam forms on the glass. ‘There’s damage to... they’ve forced the door open!’
‘Well fucking done.’
‘Well, shall we go and nick them? What d’you want to do?’
‘I want you to call up Control on your mobile, tell them you’re off duty and you’re witnessing a burglary. Stay somewhere discreet and give a commentary. When response arrive, jump in and nick the bloke in the grey vest. He’s the driver and the one who booted the door in.’
‘But this is your information, Razors.’
‘Stop being a dick for once, get out of my flat and put this up before they fuck off with all the gear.’
‘Thanks,’ Noah whispers cautiously and then heads out of the flat. I remain at the window. Cheeky fuckers. This would probably have become a popular scam had I not sussed it. Shit, these slags clear your house out. They’re not in it just for jewellery; they want your fridge, your bed and your wardrobes!
Crime has always been blatant to me. I home in on it like a thermal imager homes in on heat.
20
One week later, I receive a letter from Mushroom Lolly. It’s dated 6 September–
Dear Mr Razors,
Thank you for your interest in our products, namely the mushroom lolly, which is part of an exciting new line of vegetable-flavoured ice lollies!
These frosty treats, the brainchild of the GiggleGang team, are our answer to consumer demand for tasty but healthier lollies. The initial range includes mushroom, cauliflower, onion and broccoli. Each contains 50% pure vegetable juices!
Mr Razors, unfortunately I am unable to send you a sample lolly (no prizes for guessing why!!!), but, instead, I enclose an invitation to visit our factory, where you can see for yourself the processes involved in manufacturing these innovative delights!
Yours sincerely,
Mr Smoughton (Head of marketing)
The plot thickens. I intend to take Lolly up on that offer. I’d like to see for myself all this utter bullshit I’ve designed. Everything else starts to break at the seams, but I’ve still got space to make a factory which churns out pukey lollies.
Still no word from Cassandra. I’m pretty sure she’s dead. Before I lay her to rest though, I’m going to check at her flat. I’ll do that on the way back from my appointment.
I leave my flat. I’ve been suspended for a week so far, with no word from anyone as to when I can return. Nor have I officially been told why I’ve been suspended. All I’ve been told is that I have to see Lorna, the occ health bitch, today. For the first time, I’m actually keen to see her. I’ve been sitting with my thumb up my arse for the last week. At least she’ll be able to tell me what’s going on.
‘Take a seat, Razors.’
‘It’s been a long time, Lorna. I’ve improved so much.’
Still tight-lipped. ‘It’s been a week and a half. Not very long.’
‘It is when your hands are tied behind your back.’
‘It doesn’t seem to have restricted you very much.’
I look at her. ‘What’s all this about?’
‘Your irrational behaviour.’
‘I don’t mean that crap. Why have I been suspended?’
‘The purpose of the special leave was to remove you from the front line.’
I snort. ‘You won’t ever be able to remove me from the front line. I spot crime all the time.’
‘It’s part of your rehabilitation.’
‘Don’t fucking patronise me!’ I briefly turn away in disgust, then stare steely-eyed at her. ‘You think you can help me? Some fucking pen pusher? I’ve lived, love. I have earned respect. I’ve contributed. All you do is hold back life’s grafters.’
She screws up her face and leans closer to me. ‘What, Razors, did you contribute last week on Thursday, when you performed yet more exhibitionism, this time at a place of business?’
I smile. ‘Those twats were rude to me.’
‘And was your response in keeping with your role as a pillar of society?’
‘No.’
‘What’s more outrageous is the planning that took place,’ she says incredulously. ‘One whole day before the incident, you sought the assistance of a police interpreter!’
‘It’s all in the planning, sweetheart.’
‘Do you honestly think that a person empowered to arrest individuals for breaking laws should be forgiven when he breaks them himself?’ Her tone is a little shrill. She’s on edge.
‘Let’s distinguish the laws here. I flashed my nads. That doesn’t make me a robber, rapist or anyone else worthless.’
‘So you are above the law?’ I slowly shake my head. ‘Yet some laws are trivial to you, Razors. Offences are tiered. You have your own little rule book.’
I roll my eyes.
‘But despite this intense, immoral approach to your work, you don’t respect your colleagues, the other officers in your team, the ones who do the same job.’
I’m with her. I know where she’s going. She’s smart and structured, but she’ll not take me off guard.
‘Well done,’ I say, clapping my hands. ‘You can cross “eggs” off the list.’
‘Shockingly callous. That’s how you project yourself.’
‘You really don’t see the good in me, do you?’
‘A probationer, someone who should look to you, an experienced officer, for guidance... and you assault him.’
‘You see the worst in things, Lorna. That’s how you project yourself. Ever think that it might make him more conscious of his surroundings? Ever think that it might save his life? He’s got thirty-five years’ worth of patrolling ahead. He might have got shot had he not learnt that lesson.’
‘You couldn’t have warned him verbally, as a professional mentor should?’
‘You nearly drown, you’ll learn how to swim. You get knocked out, you’ll learn how to block. You have an abortion, you’ll learn to use contraceptives. D’you need more examples?’
‘Everything is brutal in your world. You have suffered and now everyone must learn the hard way.’
Gibberish. ‘Have you spoken to Noah?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘I won’t disclose that.’
‘So why are you recording this? Who’s it for?’
/> She turns a faint shade of red. She was hoping I wouldn’t realise this was being taped. Makes a mockery of this pathetic doctor/patient relationship.
‘It must be serious,’ I say. ‘They must need every shred of evidence they can get.’ Lorna doesn’t reply. In fact, she’s looking away. ‘Feeling a bit dishonest, are you? Perhaps we’re not too dissimilar–’
‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Razors. I am working within my guidelines.’
‘Yeah? Well you haven’t gone over any old ground. No mention of my parents or Cassandra. Today is just about building a case, isn’t it? Fuck what’s best for me, what you think would help me. This is just about whoring yourself to the job.’
She stands up. ‘You conduct yourself with no regard whatsoever for the feelings of those around you–’
I stand up too. I tower over her. She steps back, lowers herself into her seat. ‘You need to be a victim, love. You’re blind.’ I push my chair under the desk. ‘And whoever listens to this, go and do some fucking work.’
This time, I slip the lock, just in case I find her corpse inside. I check the rooms. Everything’s as I found it when I last entered. Cassandra isn’t here. Something strange is happening though. Despite the fact that this flat is empty, my Hell Bell is tingling. Not much, but enough to be clear. I relax, slow my breathing and make myself fully aware of my surroundings. After a few seconds, I open my eyes. There is no one here. Still though, I’m being warned about something. I check beneath her bed and in her drawers for diaries or anything that will tell me where she is. I find nothing of use. I walk to the lounge, sit down in the spot where I’d curled one out. Of course, now that spot is perfectly clean. I massage my temples, still throbbing from the portent inside them. I’ve never known the warning to prove unfounded. I cup my palms around my chin and stare at her massive plasma. There is something in this flat that wasn’t here last time; that much is obvious. I spring to my feet and search the flat. I have excellent attention to detail, but everything seems to be how I remember it. As I enter the final room, the computer room, something on the wall catches my eye. That kid’s story has been tampered with. Not the content, not the story itself, but the whole thing has been mounted onto an elegant wooden frame. I was last here almost two weeks ago. Since that time Cassandra has taken time to change its appearance. I search the room. Nothing else has been altered or repositioned. Just the kid’s story. Just that in the entire flat. I lift it off its hook and take it home.