by Mark Timlin
‘What is it?’ said Tommy.
‘The Official Secrets Act. You tell anyone about this meeting, or what you’re doing for us, and you’ll vanish off the face of the earth. Capiche?’
Tommy capiched, and signed the paper with an only slightly shaking hand. He pocketed the money and the older man beckoned the driver back into the car. Tommy was driven to Holloway and dropped off in front of the tube station.
‘Remember what I said,’ said the man as Tommy got out. ‘Not a word. We’ll be in touch.’
Tommy couldn’t help thinking that he was entering a very bad place, but knew he had no choice but to earn his money, and succeed. He cozied up to the Russian brothers, running out to keep them topped up on liquor, complimenting them on their gaudy clothes and praising their non-existent pool and snooker skills. Soon he was collecting cocaine from their dealer, taking their laundry to the cleaners, and doing any shopping they needed. They introduced him to their mother, a vile, overweight harridan, as their ‘Little Queer’. Tommy just smiled and gritted his teeth.
But as for the blackmail business, they kept Tommy well in the dark. This didn’t please Tommy’s contact at HMG, who identified himself only as Smith. ‘Listen, you little shit,’ he said. ‘I’ve paid you good money for information, not to have you swanning around town in a taxi picking up those bastards’ clean underwear.’
‘I’m doing my best,’ complained Tommy, exasperated. ‘You think I enjoy their company? They’re fucking bonkers the pair of them. And as for their mother, she’s a right old bag.’
‘My heart bleeds,’ said Smith. ‘Just get on with it.’
But Tommy wasn’t as clueless as he pretended. He might not have got much info on the blackmail plot so far, but he’d sussed out that the family ran a string of whores from their flat in Knightsbridge. Plus a couple of geeky looking eastern Europeans who never spoke, but were locked away in a room in the flat with a load of computer equipment.
Tommy signed his own death warrant the day he stole a memory stick from the flat.
His plan was to blackmail the blackmailers and collect a bundle of money – from the safety of a place a long way away.
But the best laid plans…
The theft was ridiculously easy. The brothers had been on a three day bender, and woke Tommy one Sunday morning with demands for more drugs. They were at home with a pair of their underage whores, so Tommy dragged himself out of bed, called a mini cab and headed for Clerkenwell where the dealer lived. He had to drag him out of bed, which didn’t please him, but like most people, he was so frightened of the Russians that he supplied the necessary on account and returned to his pit.
Tommy headed west in the cab and the brothers, both looking like zombies, ushered him into their flat. Of their mother there was no sign, but there was a young half naked prostitute in the living room. She covered her bare breasts when Tommy entered. ‘Don’t worry sister,’ said Georgie. ‘You’re not his type.’
Tommy just smiled.
‘Make coffee,’ said Georgie as he snarfed up a spoonful of cocaine from one of the wraps. ‘Make yourself useful.’
Tommy went into the kitchen, which looked like a bomb had hit it. He fired up the coffee maker, washed up some cups and went back to the living room. It was empty, but from the sounds from the bedroom next door, caffeine was the last thing that was wanted.
Then Tommy noticed that the computer room door was ajar.
He sidled up and peered round the jamb. Empty. One of the computers was live, and Tommy spotted a memory stick in its fresh packaging on the table next to it. He was no computer expert, but Cedric had taught him the basics. Tommy swiftly unwrapped the stick, stuck it into its slot on the keyboard and copied what was on the machine’s hard drive. It only took seconds, but Tommy almost pissed himself at the risk he was taking.
But no one came to the door, and a minute or so later Tommy was back in the kitchen trying not to think about what he had just stolen from the Russians.
And what they would do to him if they realised.
PART THREE
24
When I got back to my room in the hotel the message light was flashing on the phone. It was the desk telling me that if I wanted to stay longer I’d have to move rooms, so would I collect my stuff together so that the staff could shift it. I agreed, asked them to give me an hour, took off my sodden clothes and took a long, hot shower. Then I called Judith. ‘We need to meet,’ I said. ‘Right away.’
‘You found something,’ she said.
‘Correct.’
We agreed on a location. A pub on the Bayswater Road at noon. I dressed myself in a suit and tie and packed my bag. It was now weighed down with two guns and ammunition, the crowbar, slim jim, screwdriver and my other purchase. But I had no choice but to leave them, and hoped that the porter who was going to move my stuff wasn’t of a nosey disposition. I wrapped the metal as much as possible with fabric so it didn’t clank, zipped up the bag, then got a piece of soap and carefully worked some into the zip. If it was disturbed when I got back I’d know if the bag had been opened. It wasn’t much, but I couldn’t trust anyone, and at least I’d be prepared for a visit from the law. I hung my damp clothes on the heated towel rail, left a twenty pound note on the pillow as a tip next to the rest of my new clothes, grabbed my overcoat, slipped into my shoes and left the room. On the way out I dropped my key card off at reception, and was told by the smiling receptionist that I could collect the one for my new room on my return. In one pocket of my coat I had the cash I’d found, in the other the plastic doodad that I’d taken from Campbell’s cistern, along with the gun and money.
I cabbed through the park and found Judith waiting in the boozer. It was already starting to fill up with drinkers and we found a quiet table in the conservatory in the back. The rain was heavy again and dripped down the windows, distorting the view of the garden outside.
‘What?’ she said.
‘You didn’t tell me he was gay. Your snout.’
‘Didn’t think it was important.’
‘Everything’s important. Did he have a boyfriend?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Could be a crime of passion.’
‘Just because he was gay?’
‘Just thinking aloud.’
‘So what did you find?’
‘Money,’ I told her, and showed her the packet. I’d had time to count it back at the hotel. Two thousand eight hundred quid in used notes. More than I’d thought.
‘There was a gun and ammunition too.’
‘Christ. They haven’t found the gun that killed him. At least not so far as I know. They hadn’t when I was suspended.’
‘I don’t think this was the one. It was clean and fully loaded. I doubt whether a murderer would have cleaned his weapon and hidden it where this one was. And left the cash. What calibre was the gun, do you know?’
‘Nine mill.’
I shook my head. ‘No. This one’s a baby. A twenty two.’ Then I remembered. ‘I found this too.’ I showed her the piece of plastic.
‘A memory stick,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘It goes in a port on the side of a computer. Contains information. Didn’t you know?’
‘No. I’ve never been any good with computers. And there wasn’t one at the flat.’
Dinosaur, I could see in her eyes. ‘That would have been the first thing they would have taken as evidence,’ she said. ‘If there was one. I don’t know. I wasn’t privy to that information. Maybe that was one of the things they were searching for when they turned my place over.’
‘Could you find out?’
‘I’ll try. But don’t count on it.’
‘But this must be important for him to stash it away. Can we get the information on it? You must have a computer.’
‘Mine was ta
ken in the search last night.’
‘Shit.’
‘It’ll probably be password protected anyway. The stick.’
‘Who’d have the password?’
‘If it is, and it’s the same as his computer itself, and they’ve broken it, the IT boys at the Yard.’
‘Could you get it?’
‘I’m on suspension don’t forget. And Christ they’d smell a rat if I tried wouldn’t they?’
‘Yeah. If he had a boyfriend do you think he’d know?’
‘Could do.’
‘Looks like we’re going to have to try and find him.’
‘You’re joking. Needle in a haystack. We don’t even know if he had one.’
‘You didn’t know much about this geezer did you?’
‘He was my informant. I didn’t want a relationship.’
‘Perhaps you should have.’
‘Perhaps,’ she said, a little angrily.
‘We’ll put that on the back burner for now. If we get a computer could we try this thing?’
‘Sure.’
‘Then let’s buy one.’
25
We shot off in Judith’s car, over Notting Hill and down towards Shepherd’s Bush and White City where she found a trading estate of huge shops that seemed to sell nothing but sofas and computers. Welcome to the Twenty-first century I thought.
We parked up and ran through the rain to the shop and found a listless looking assistant playing some sort of shoot ’em up game on a giant plasma screened TV. ‘We need a laptop,’ said Judith.
‘No problemo,’ said the boy whom I immediately wanted to slap. ‘We’ve got plenty.’
‘Something that will take this,’ I said, showing him the memory stick.
‘Easy,’ he said, smiling at Judith.
He showed us over to a bank of small computers and started his sales pitch. ‘This one’ll do,’ I said, pointing at a matt black machine.
‘OK,’ said the boy, rather disappointed that he couldn’t show more of his knowledge. ‘I’ll get one out of stock.’
‘Is it ready to go?’ I asked.
‘Well no sir, we’ll get one of our technicians to call round to your house and load up the software, get your internet ready and...’
‘No,’ I interrupted. ‘I don’t have a house, I’m in transit, and I need it right away.’
‘Well that’s...’
I pulled out my wallet and fished out a fifty pound note. ‘Do you know how to get it ready?’ I asked.
‘Of course.’
‘Then do it.’
‘Well that’s not really...’
‘And another fifty when it’s done.’
‘Well I suppose... It is nearly my lunch hour.’
‘Go on then.’
The fifty vanished into his sky rocket. ‘How long?’ I asked.
‘Half an hour.’ But before that I had to go through his little sales pitch about an extended guarantee which I refused, then give him a room number in the Shepherd’s Bush Hilton as my temporary address, and tell more lies as he passed my American Express card through his machine, before the computer belonged to me, or at least to James Stark.
‘Anywhere we can get coffee?’ I asked when we’d finished.
‘IKEA across the road.’
So that’s where we had lunch. Swedish meatballs, and that ain’t no joke.
We went back and the machine was ready. ‘I put some life in the battery,’ the boy explained after I paid him another fifty quid. ‘But you’d better put it on a long charge as soon as you can.’
‘I’ll do that,’ I said, and we took the thing out to the car. Judith fired it up and inserted the memory stick. A little icon popped onto the screen and she clicked it with the pointer, and of course it asked for a password. ‘Bugger,’ she said. ‘That’s it then. Maybe I’d better turn this in.’
‘You’re joking,’ I said. ‘They might wonder where it came from.’
‘Right,’ she said. ‘Wasn’t thinking.’
‘Someone must have an idea about the password,’ I said. ‘He must’ve had friends. Maybe a lover boy.’
‘How do you suggest we find out?’
‘Go back to the flats. Ask around. You’re the copper.’
‘On suspension. No warrant.’
‘Don’t you have a doppelganger?’
‘Do what?’
‘Another warrant card. Come on, I did.’
‘I just bet you did.’
I gave her a look. ‘I might have something...’ she continued.
‘Got it with you?’
She nodded.
‘That’s my girl. Let’s go to Holloway.’
‘Can’t. Terms of bail. I’ve got to report in.’
‘Shit. Tomorrow?’
She nodded again.
‘Right. Call me in the morning. I know some people are at home during the day at his flats. OK?’
‘OK,’she replied.
‘Drop me off where I can get a cab. I’ll take the computer.’
‘Now don’t break it,’ she said.
‘Don’t you trust your old dad? I was doing this when you were just a twinkle in my eye,’ I told her.
26
When I got back to the hotel I was shown to my new room overlooking the back of the building. My clothes had been hung up neatly, and the soap was undisturbed on the bag. I settled down with the crossword, ate a steak and chips on room service and had a good night’s sleep – for a change.
Judith picked me up the next morning from a café on the north side of Oxford Street. I was back in jeans and leather, befitting one of the forces of law and order in the capital. I had my belly gun in one pocket and the other item I’d purchased in the hardware shop in Holloway in the other. I didn’t show it to Judith.
‘There was no computer found at Campbell’s flat,’ she said, as soon as we got in the car.
‘Interesting,’ I said. ‘So they probably thought you had it away.’
‘It wasn’t mentioned.’
‘Why should they? If you had stolen it I doubt they thought you were going to roll over and admit it. Got a warrant card?’ I asked.
She showed me a leather folder. ‘It belonged to a friend,’ she said.
‘Don’t matter,’ I replied. ‘No one ever looks at them anyway.’
‘They do nowadays,’ she said.
I wasn’t sure about that, but kept quiet.
We drove down to Holloway and parked around the corner from the flats. Better to be safe than identified by a car number. She was going to be DS Smith, and I was her colleague DC Gardner. A bit ancient for a mere constable, I thought, but said nothing. She was the boss. We walked up the drive to the flats and she started pressing bells. Eventually a male voice answered. ‘Police,’ said Judith, the door buzzed and we were in.
‘Told you,’ I said.
After a minute or two a figure appeared at the top of the first flight of stairs. A bloke in jeans and sweatshirt with what hair he had left standing on end. Judith flashed the brief and said. ‘Good morning. Sorry to disturb you. DS Smith. We’re making follow up enquiries about Thomas Campbell. Did you know him?’
‘The bloke what got shot?’ said the man still standing above us.
Judith nodded, I stayed quiet.
‘Can’t say as I did,’ he said. ‘Opposite end of the corridor downstairs. I’m on the top floor at the back. Never saw or heard a thing. I’ve already been through this, and I was trying to get to sleep. I work nights.’
‘Sorry,’ said Judith again.
‘I suppose it don’t matter,’ he said. ‘Night off, and I need to get to the shops. Is that it?’
‘Yes,’ said Judith. ‘And once again, sorry to have bothered you.’
The bloke just shrug
ged and walked up the stairs away from us.
‘Good start,’ said Judith.
‘Gosh, but coppers are so polite these days,’ I smirked.
‘New regime,’ she said. ‘Bit different to your day, Dad.’
‘Well let’s press on. You never know what we might find.’
She pulled a face in reply.
We started at the top and knocked on a lot of doors which stayed closed. No-one appeared, not even the young mum I’d seen before. But when we got to Campbell’s flat the door opposite was ajar and a dark eye twinkled through the gap over a security chain. ‘Hello,’ said Judith. ‘Police.’
‘Is it about the break in the other day?’ said the voice that belonged to the eye.
‘Yes and no,’ said Judith. ‘It’s a follow up about Mr Campbell’s death. Have you got a minute?’
The door closed as the chain was released, then opened wide as a small elderly woman came into view. ‘I called the police,’ she said, ‘when I heard someone kick down the door, but they took ages, and then they were just kids. Couldn’t catch a cold if you ask me. Some police,’ she added for our benefit.
‘Yes, we know about the break in,’ said Judith, giving me a look again.
‘You’d better come in,’ said the old lady and stepped back to let us in.
‘I’m Detective Sergeant Smith,’ said Judith. ‘This is my colleague Detective Constable Granger.’
As I predicted, the old lady didn’t ask for our ID. Some people never learn.
We crossed the threshold into a small flat, as warm and neat as a pin.
She sat us down on a sofa and asked, ‘Cuppa tea?’
I could see Judith was going to refuse, so I dived in and spoke for the first time ‘Love one,’ I said, ‘milk and two sugars please.’
Judith frowned, but I just gave her a smile, and she opened a notebook she’d pulled from her handbag. ‘And you are?’ she said to the lady.
‘Didn’t they tell you?’ she said. ‘You’re the third lot I’ve seen.’
‘Sorry,’ I said quickly, remembering the new regime. ‘We’ve only just come aboard. Sickness, Christmas holidays, you know how it is. Short of manpower.’