Jess struggled for something to say, then shrugged her shoulders. “Next time we go shopping, can we at least do Topshop? Then we can drink too much wine, talk to some boys, eat some chips with burger sauce and get a cab home. Personally, I’m not much of a Wilkinson gal. But that’s just where we’re different.”
“You’ll love the DIY department.”
“Look at me, Eva. Are you really sure about that?”
Eva rolled her eyes and got out of the Alfa. Jess stayed a moment and shook her head, and then she got out and followed as quickly as she could. Shopping for weapons at Wilkinson. It should have been the name of a punk album. There was a first time for everything.
Fifteen minutes later, they packed all the tools, knives, matches and methylated spirits into the car boot before a vibration announced Eva’s phone had received a text message. Eva took the phone out, and opened the message. Sunlight fell on the screen and she couldn’t make it out then the image became crystal clear. At first she said nothing, and just stared at the screen. Then she gasped. Then Eva clapped a hand over her mouth. She stared at the phone, then looked away, shook her head and looked back again. It was less than five seconds since she first looked at the screen. Tears sprung from her eyes and fell to the concrete.
“What? Eva?”
“It’s Dan... They’ve hurt him… Jess…I think they’ve cut one of his fingers off.”
“Shit… are you sure… it could be faked?” Jess tried to see the phone screen, but Eva moved away and tucked the phone into her pocket. She took a fraction of time to compose herself, to breathe and to look back at Jess. Now her eyes were glossy, but not weeping. She was all raw emotion, and her eyes were aflame.
“It won’t be a fake. These bastards wouldn’t bother with a fake.”
“Then is he alive? I mean, they could have done anything by now.”
“He’s alive.”
“Are you sure, Eva?”
“He’s alive! Come on, Jess! They wouldn’t send a text of his finger if he was dead. What they want now is for me to come back acting stupid and half-cocked so they can wrap this up nice and tidy and quick. They must have got my mobile number from our site… They want to hurt me, to make me angry, put me in shock to reel me in and wipe us out in one go.”
“Is their plan working?”
“Of course it is.”
“But Eva. Look at this situation. It’s getting out of hand. You say they want to kill you. They are gangsters and they probably have guns and everything else gangsters have.”
“Yes, they’ll definitely have guns.”
“And you and me… well, we’re just girls from the sticks.”
“Jess, you said you thought I could do this. I can.” Eva shifted on her feet and made a long deep sigh. “It’s time to go home, Jess. There are two train stations near here where you can catch a train. You’d be back in Southend within an hour.”
“Eva…I’d be lying if I said I’m willing to die doing this thing. Not for Dan. I don’t even know the guy… But I don’t want you to die either.”
“It’s not going to happen.”
“But you’re going to play into their hands. You know it, you said so yourself.”
“No, I’m not. I’m finished playing by their rules now, all of them. Dan’s my priority. He told me the truth, Jess, and I didn’t believe him. If I walked away from him like this, I couldn’t ever live with myself. I’m going for him and I really don’t care anymore if any of those heartless bastards get hurt in the process. They’ve asked for it. And then some.”
“Eva… He could be dead already.”
“Use your brain, Jess! They want me to come back. They sent me a text because I’ve made this messy for them. They’ll try to finish both of us together. If he was dead already, they’d send me a picture of his face or something final.”
“He could still be dead, Eva. They might be bluffing.”
“If he’s dead, I’m still going. Besides, I bought all these toys and I want to play with them. You know how I am about wasting money.”
“Eva. You’re not in a fit state right now…”
“That’s enough. You said you believed in me, Jess. But you’ve just become another hurdle I’m going to overcome. Take the train, Jess. It’s time to go home.”
“No one wants to die, Eva,” said Jess, her voice quaking.
“True. I want you to go home. It’s okay, really it is.”
“Eva.”
Eva looked at Jess and gave her the merest hint of a smile. “I won’t be able to live with myself unless I try. I honestly didn’t believe a word Dan said to me or anyone else in the last two years. I ignored him, I left him suffering without a penny because I thought he was doing it to himself with all his self-pity. But it turns out his life really was that bad. All because of Victor Marka, and because Dan tried to do what was right. I owe him, Jess.”
“You’ve been doing what is right the whole time. You were misled by Parker and everyone else.”
“Yes. But I thought I was the smart one. But I tell you what, Jess… even if I’m not as smart as I thought I was, I’m going to show those bastards that I’m tougher than they ever reckoned on. They won’t ever be able to forget me.”
“Eva.”
“That’s enough, Jess. But do me a favour when you get home. There’s still some money in the safe. Take a long break. Go somewhere and relax. And only come home when you think this has blown over.”
Jess smiled a thin, sad smile. “I want to believe, Eva.”
“But you don’t.”
“If anyone can do this, you can.”
“It’s okay, Jess. It’s okay.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’ve got to get going. Have you got enough money for the train?”
“Yeah.”
Eva reached out and hugged Jess once, firm and tight, and then she let her go.
“Jess, I’m angry. You haven’t really ever seen me angry before, Jess. These people have crossed a serious line in my life. When it all works out, we can do Topshop and you can buy the wine just like you said.”
Eva walked around her car and checked the whole car park for watchers, couriers, for enemies in any of the parked cars, shop doors and corners. She saw no one. Jess was safe for now. They looked at each other once more, then Eva got in the car and started the engine. Jess waved, and Eva watched her dwindle in the rear view mirror. And then there was no one.
Four
If people don’t know you are a gangster, then people won’t react the way the gangster wants them to. This was the basic premise Eva was now working with. She had a theory of how she could successfully break back into The Daily office building and it involved an investigative classic, a favourite of the old News of the World journalists and prime time TV investigators – dressing up, going incognito. Stuff like this could be fun, but Eva had left fun far behind. This was deadly serious. The afternoon rolled away in stages, and each part of it meant Eva had some preparation and planning to do. First off, she had to change her appearance. She knew some found her attractive because of her long red hair, so she tied it back tight and put it through a purple scrunchy bought from Wilkinson. Now she wore the kind of ponytail that some would say was athletic, and some would say gave her the council estate look. She was naturally pretty, but without her make-up her face was a little less so. And then she went to a Sports Direct near St Katherine’s Dock just before the return to the city of London. Here she bought a cheap polo neck top, a light sports coat, cheap trainer shoes and some jogging trousers. The colours were not coordinated. She bought them randomly so they would have the effect of looking like the only clean clothes the new, rough Eva would have to hand. Just before the cash desk Eva saw a baseball cap with a Nike swoosh to complete the look. She paid, and then took all the garments to the changing rooms and put them on, depositing her smart gear into the carrier bag. Just before she left the shop, she turned back and bought a ladies backpack sports bag too, remembering she woul
d need something to put her tools in. The bag gave her the look of someone who was used to carrying shopping or baby stuff around on her back. She looked like a completely different person. The general effect made her just asexual, stripped of her glamour by the reductive additions of hat and neutral sports clothing. She could have been a teenager, and equally she could have been in her sixties if you didn’t look too closely. The sportswear invited no close inspection. It was as commonplace as telegraph poles and as inviting as pigeon shit. Eva was pleased.
Next she went back to the car and put all of her essential items in the new bag, including some cash for a specific purpose. Everything from Wilkinson went in this bag apart from the beadle tool, which she stashed into the front pocket of her sports jacket. She threw the bag into the front seat of the car and set off. This time, she parked the car across the river, away from the spies of Shad Thames. There was plenty of expensive parking near Tower Hill, including underground sites where her distinctive red Alfa would be well out of sight. She left the car behind her, and joined the throng of suits and tourists walking past Tower Hill underground station towards the Tower of London, and followed the rest of them towards ancient Tower Bridge. As she walked, she began to feel like a different person too. Her time with Jess even up to a couple of hours ago seemed remote and disconnected from the present. She felt as if she was alien to everyone around her, not welcome, not accepted and not able to exist on their plane. She imagined this is how terrorists felt - people who dressed up in disguise to make the kind of attack she was going to make. At least her attack was justified, she thought. She wasn’t delusional either. This was real. They deserved what they were going to get. And no one here had to be punished. Just so long as they didn’t get in her way.
On the other side of the bridge, she walked back along the cobbled waterfront street of Shad Thames, the street from where the area took its name, and momentarily soaked up the views across the river back towards the old towers and bridge, reflecting off the calm surface of the Thames. She tried to enjoy it like all the day trippers and tourists were, indulging themselves in deliberate reverie, but she could not raise a smile. All she could do was stare grimly at the beauty, thinking she might never see it again. She was in no hurry; there was maybe an hour before she needed to move in order for her plan to work. It was only half past three. Half past four would be when she needed to be around The Daily and be alert.
For another half an hour she walked around the streets, flirting with the danger of the spies just a little. She wanted to scope the area and watch for people she recognised, people staking out the area, defending it, or whatever. This included looking for the big man with the tattooed neck, also for people like Nvotski, Bogdanis and his ilk. She saw some likely candidates, but none which seemed to be loitering too much near The Daily. It was possible that they were off-duty security or police, or even police on an unrelated undercover operation. In any case their numbers were few, and no recognisable faces appeared. Nor was she followed. She looked nothing like the woman who had been here at lunchtime. The Eva who had been here at lunchtime had also been part of a duo. This new woman travelled alone. This new anonymity gave her the slightest shot of confidence, as if she had a cloak of invisibility on. She knew it would wear off eventually, but it was working right now. For a while, she moved from one coffee shop to another with a tabloid newspaper and magazine from a street vendor in her hand. She barely read them, and she made sure she looked at her watch a few times. People looking at her would think she was waiting for a chum or to start work. And she was, after a fashion. And at a quarter to five, one of these people appeared in a small white van. They pulled up outside The Daily, and as they were doing exactly what Eva had been waiting for, she approached the roadside of the van, which hid her from the view of The Daily building itself.
Two people in fleece zip up uniforms were inside the van. They were cleaners. When they got out of the van, Eva memorised a detailed note of their attire and appearance. An African man aged around fifty with a potbelly stomach and cheap blue jeans, and a woman with dark olive skin who looked more central European than Italian, possibly Romany. Eva noticed that the Romany woman was wearing genderless sports garb pretty much like her own, only more worn in. She felt another boost of satisfaction, but nothing near enough to relieve her tension. Eva walked directly across to the pair as they stepped out of the cleaning van, which bore the insignia JL, the same insignia which was on a vivid yellow tabard the Romany lady was just slipping over her head as Eva arrived.
“Are you cleaning The Daily offices?”
“Yes,” said the African man, his voice full of accent which was Zimbabwean or South African; Eva wasn’t sure which.
“Do you clean the buildings out the back as well?”
Immediately a suspicious look shut down the man’s eyes and he drew away from Eva and pulled his own tabard out from the passenger door.
“Once in a while they ask us to clean the yard. Why would you want to know that?”
The Romany lady came up next and nodded. It was a gesture which said ‘well?’ and now Eva turned her attention to the lady as the African man walked away to the back of the van to retrieve the tools of his trade.
“I just need to know. Does your firm have written instructions for the jobs you have to do? Like a checklist?”
The woman nodded. “Of course we do. The managers use it to check our work. If you want a job, you need to call the office. But the pay is no good. Forget this work. You are English. Get something which pays.”
“Listen to me. I can give you some money. Both of you. Do you understand?”
Eva looked around, suddenly feeling exposed like she was in a bright spotlight. She saw people walking this way and that, some early commuters heading for Tower Hill and the ‘burbs before the rush hour. But no one was watching her. The African man closed the van doors and came back around the side to join them. The offer of money had some effect on him.
“Money. Why do you offer us money?”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about. It’s easy cash. The easiest you’ll make this year. What is your name?” Eva nodded at the woman with the olive skin. She looked about forty five, but a hard life could have made those lines. She could easily have been twenty-nine as well. “Zedona.”
“Tell me. How much do you take home each week Zedona?”
“Two hundred and fifty pounds.”
It was probably a lie, inflated because of the question itself, but Eva didn’t care either way.
“I’ll give you three hundred pounds today cash to keep on top of your wage. And I’ll give you the same,” she said to the Zimbabwean guy who still looked at her with wariness in his small brown eyes. “What is the catch? What do you want?”
“I want to be Zedona tonight. I want to take her place on the job tonight. I’ll work with you and you can tell me what to do so I do it the way Zedona does it, so nobody is any the wiser. If anybody asks where Zedona is you can say she is unwell and a friend is taking her place to make sure she keeps her job.”
“The company would fire us if they found out.”
“How would they ever find out? You do a good job, and Zedona’s work is so guaranteed even if she’s ill, a friend covers her shift. They’ll give you all the work you can handle if they ever heard that.”
“Come on. What is this? Is this a joke? Are we being filmed or something?”
“No sorry. This isn’t Candid Camera. You’ll just have to take my word – and the cash –I won’t cause you any trouble. Zedona gets a night off, and you get a three hundred bonus to make your weekend.”
Zedona’s eyes had lit up like a fruit machine, and she was all smiles and nods. She was sold. The Zimbabwean was much more cautious. “Seriously?”
“Look. I’m very worried about someone. I need your help here.” Eva stared into the man’s small brown eyes and found a little chink of light there, and she appealed to it with her own. “Someone I care about is missing and I have to f
ind them. You won’t have to take any risks at all. All you have to do is take my money and say yes.”
She waited a second and continued to look into the man’s eyes. He tilted his head to one side as if his resistance had broken and let out a thin smile. “I think you are telling the truth. Zedona, give her your tunic and go now before someone sees.”
A look of glee spread across the woman’s face. She threw off her garment and handed it screwed up into Eva’s hand. Eva took the money from her jogging trouser pockets and gave a fold of it to Zedona. She held it gently and looked at it lovingly for a second before sliding it down the front of her jeans. Eva didn’t say a word about the choice of storage.
“I go now. Be careful. Make sure she cleans it well or they will complain about me. See you tomorrow, Bernard.”
Bernard, apparently a man of few words, simply nodded. “I’ll take my money now too.” He took it and put his into the small side pocket of his cheap jeans and then said, “In the building, I’ll call you Selina.”
“Any reason?”
“Because I like it,” he said with a shrug, and then he went to the van doors to retrieve his tools again. “Come on then, Selina. Now we work, and we do it properly.”
All the way until 6.17pm Eva worked solidly with Bernard, starting in the upper rooms and toilets near the security door leading to Marka’s residence. Most of the staff who would have recognised her had gone home. Unlike the nationals, The Daily was an afternoon paper and most of the staff were able to work nine-to-five. But if some of them had lingered, it would have taken a strenuous look to recognise the woman in the sports cap and tabard as the red haired interloper from the afternoon. Bernard worked steadily and hard, cleaning the toilets, floors, desks and even the office art decorating white-washed walls with care and attention beyond their merit. He hummed tunelessly throughout, pointing to the next job on the cleaning control sheet, and a couple of times he even inspected Eva’s work. “I’m not actually a cleaner, you know,” she said to him each time, irritated at his method acting. The work was tiring, yet it enabled her to see a few things from the inside and ask about them. First of all, she passed Nvotski, (turning ice cold as she did so) and heard him mention a ‘special project’ to someone else on a phone call. By this point, Eva was confident of her disguise. The receptionists had dismissed her with the ignorance accorded to supposed non-entities like cleaners. Then she passed one of the executives from the earlier meeting, a man with steely grey hair, who looked at her but saw nothing, not even a person. So when they had reached Nvotski’s floor, her chest tightened and heart thudded, but only out of habit. She knew she could get away with it. Big companies or illegal enterprises all had rigorous security, but mostly ignored the slum dogs who cleaned their desks by night. Eva was very grateful for this insight. Because although she didn’t get Dan’s whereabouts exactly, she heard Nvotski talking in English about the special project and the location ‘down below.’ That meant ground floor level, or basement, though she hadn’t seen a basement yet. And it completely ruled in the bunker as a strong possibility. When they descended to the second floor in the lift, Eva asked Bernard, “When do you clean the areas out back?”
Crossing the Line Page 5