There was a huge old battered metal sliding door with a small wicket-gate set into the side of the shed, and a speaker and keypad hidden inside an old fuse box bolted to the wall beside it. As Kathy caught up with them Magdalen pressed the button. From inside the building they heard the muffled scream of an electric motor, like a drill or a circular saw, which was abruptly cut as Magdalen began to speak.
‘Dad? Dad, it’s me, Magdalen. Open the door, will you? It’s important. I need to talk to you.’
There was a moment’s silence, then the small door clicked. Magdalen pushed and it swung open and she stepped inside, followed by her mother and Kathy. They waited, their eyes adjusting to the dim light reflected off the high cobwebby ceiling from striplights beyond a low partition.
Magdalen called out,‘Dad? Are you there?’
A door opened in the partition and Ivor Roach stood silhouetted against the light.‘Magdalen? What are you doing here? Who’s that with you?’
He came towards them. He was in his shirtsleeves and wearing a bloodstained apron, a gun hanging in his right hand at his side. Behind him, Kathy made out the bulky figure of Teddy Vexx in the doorway, and beyond him, in a pool of brilliant light, a white foot on a table.
‘It’s me, Ivor,’ Adonia said. ‘And this is someone from the police. I brought her here.’
‘You what?’ Ivor Roach advanced closer, peering at them in disbelief. ‘You brought a copper here? You stupid bitch . . .’ He raised his gun to Kathy.
‘It’s all right. She’s got something she wants to tell you.’
Kathy’s mouth was dry. She swallowed, took a breath.
‘Go on.’Adonia urged her.‘What your boss said to us.Tell him.’
Roach looked puzzled.
‘I …’Kathy cleared her throat with a cough.‘We were telling them that we’ve been running tests on the three bodies we found buried behind Cockpit Lane.We’ve established that one of them was Magdalen’s natural father. His name was Robbie Forrest.’
Roach’s mouth opened, but he didn’t speak.
Magdalen said,‘They say you killed my real dad.Is that true?’
Roach slowly shook his head, looking from his daughter to his wife.‘Of course not. How could she know that?’
‘The bullets were fired by a pistol, a nine-millimetre Browning,’Kathy said.‘It was used again a couple of years later in a car hijack, fired by your brother Ricky.’
‘It is true, isn’t it?’ Adonia said. ‘Your dad confirmed it. He knew all about it.’
‘Hey, darling . . .’ Ivor began to step forward, lifting his free hand in a supplicating gesture.
Out of the corner of her eye Kathy saw Adonia pull something from her coat pocket and point it at her husband. It was a gun, she saw,swaying precariously in the woman’s hands.Ivor saw it too,and an incredulous look came over his face.‘Adonia . . .’he said,and was abruptly silenced by a tremendous bang that reverberated through the metal shed, then a second. For a moment Ivor stared at Adonia in astonishment, then his knees buckled and he fell flat on his face.
Now there was the crash of boots and shouts as men burst in through the door behind them. Kathy took the pistol from Adonia’s hand, and the woman reached to her throat, unfastened her pendant and threw it at her husband’s body.
THIRTY-ONE
They sent two people to the meeting, the smooth and the rough. The smooth was MI5, Brock was fairly sure, and the rough a copper, a senior figure from Special Branch. They were there representing the Organised Crime Liaison Group. Facing them were Commander Sharpe and Brock, and the meeting was held in the Scotland Yard headquarters at 10 Broadway and chaired by an Assistant Commissioner.
Brock and Sharpe had been up all night, managing the aftermath of the Tallow Square incident.There had been the hunt across South London for Vexx and Crocker, who had escaped from the rear of the building while the three armed police were being tackled by the pitbulls.There had also been the first interviews with Adonia Roach, who appeared to have been liberated from years of intimidation and fear by her act of murder, and had begun talking about the activities of her husband and his brothers in an adrenaline rush. Like Magdalen, she was convinced that Ivor had had her pendant made from her lover’s golden tooth, and had made her wear it all those years as a vindictive act of revenge. Then there was the forensic information coming in from the crime scenes, not to mention the search of Ivor and Adonia Roach’s house and of the crack factory they found at Tallow Square. And there was Tom Reeves, on the critical list after three hours of emergency surgery.
Despite their lack of sleep, Sharpe was in good form, as if wading through murder scenes in the middle of the night had reawakened some long-dormant feeling for a life of action. Now he ignored the barbed inquiry from the pair from OCLG as to Brock’s status and launched into a spirited description of the night’s activities that left them momentarily speechless. Finally, Smooth conceded that there had been a JIC-sanctioned operation involving the Roach family, but refused to go into details. Sharpe responded that in that case he would feel free to instruct Brock to pursue his investigations which, in the light of Adonia Roach’s revelations and material found in her home, would undoubtedly embroil the whole family. Rough broke his silence at that point, bursting with fury at what had happened.
‘They were giving us everything,’ he protested.‘Every drug lab in London, every dealer, every importer. They had it all, and they were giving it to us! This is a total disaster.’
‘Then you shouldn’t have tried to use us as puppets,’Sharpe said coldly.‘I’ve got one officer at death’s door, another . . .’ he indicated Brock,‘…with his reputation in tatters,and a missing Member of Parliament whose life has been ruined.’
‘Oh,come now,’Smooth said with a pained air,‘nobody asked Reeves to try to burgle the Roach house, and I really don’t think that anyone questions DCI Brock’s reputation. As for Michael Grant, well, that was Roach’s price, in the end. And let’s face it, Grant was a troublemaker, out of control. He was regarded as a menace in the House, and he was never going to leave Roach alone. He was simply beyond reason.’
Brock spoke for the first time. ‘They had murdered his brother,’ he said quietly.
‘So you say. But you have no proof, have you?’
‘We’ll see.’
The Assistant Commissioner stepped in. Perhaps, now that everything was out in the open, some way forward might be considered? Might it not still be possible to gain the information from the Roaches, who, after all, must be even more anxious than before to do a deal? Smooth thought this a constructive approach, although Rough was obviously still seething. After considerable discussion, it was agreed to share operational information daily and include Sharpe in the OCLG control group.The meeting broke up with handshakes and in a mood, at least to outward appearances, of conciliation and cooperation.
The following morning, Saturday, Kathy was wrenched from sleep by the phone ringing. She stumbled through the dark and fumbled the receiver. It was Brock, calling from the hospital where he had been with Tom.
‘Oh . . .’ The curtains were drawn and she had no idea if it was night or day. It seemed only minutes since she had been there herself at Tom’s bedside,and she could still smell the hospital.‘Any change?’
Still critical but stable, Brock said, and really as good as could be hoped for, given the terrible injuries compounded by loss of blood. Even if he survived the next few days, they still weren’t sure if they could save his legs.
Kathy groaned. They hadn’t mentioned that to her. A wave of nausea rose inside her and she sat down heavily. She felt exhausted, unwilling to face it all again.Her eyes,adjusting to the gloom,made out pale light around the shape of the curtain.‘What time is it?’
‘Eight-twenty. Sorry, did I wake you? The reason I’m ringing is to tell you that I’m going to drive up to see Michael Grant today, and tell him what’s happened. So if there are any developments you’ll phone me on my mobile, will you?’
‘Tom’s daughter and her mother are here at the moment. They seem a little better today. The forecast is fair. Should be a nice day for a drive into the country. I expect I’ll be home later tonight.’
‘Right. Have a nice trip.’
‘Thanks. Oh, one bit of news should appeal to you. I’ve just had the result of the tests on the gun Adonia used. It is Brown Bread.’
She opened the curtains and looked out on a dark morning sky, heavy with cloud.Ivor Roach,Brown Bread’s last victim.Brock was implying that there was justice in that, a kind of resolution, but she couldn’t really feel it. To her it just seemed as if all their digging around had brought some nasty dormant thing wriggling to the surface to create more pain and misery. What was the point of avenging those ancient deaths if it just caused more death, more anguish, more broken lives? She felt tired, so tired, and had to force herself under the shower to face the day.
She also didn’t fancy meeting Tom’s family at the hospital, and left her visit until mid-morning, by which time they’d gone. After an hour staring at his motionless, mummified form she felt restless and decided to get some fresh air with a walk along the river. She made her way down to the ground floor and had barely cleared the entrance doors when she was stopped by a cry.
‘Kathy!’
She turned and saw Martin Connell running towards her, his coat flapping, hair flying in the wind. He looked pale, eyes pouchy, and she guessed he hadn’t had much sleep either in the past forty-eight hours.
‘Thank God,’ he gasped.‘Where’s Brock?’
His abruptness startled her. ‘Hi, good morning to you too, Martin.’
‘Sorry.’ He took a deep breath, pulling himself up with a visible effort, and put on an unconvincing smile. He was agitated, blinking rapidly and she noticed a tremor in his cheek.‘Kathy, this is terribly important.’ He took hold of her arm, gulping for air as if he were drowning.‘Do you know where he is? Is he inside? I haven’t been able to find him.’
‘No, he’s not here.What on earth is wrong?’
‘I have to see him, Kathy. It’s very urgent!’
‘Well, I’m afraid you can’t, not until tonight anyway, or maybe tomorrow.’
Martin’s face looked so racked that she added, ‘He’s gone to North Wales to speak to Michael Grant. But you can reach him on his mobile. Here’s the number-’
‘No, that’s no good! I have to speak to him in person. North Wales?’He shook his head as if this were impossible.‘Where? Do you know where?’
Kathy hesitated, thrown by Martin’s obvious alarm. ‘Grant’s staying in a cottage out in the country somewhere, I don’t know exactly where.’
‘You must!’
‘Martin,’ she said, exasperated now, ‘Brock got the directions himself from the friend of Michael’s who owns the place. I wasn’t really paying attention. Surely someone else can help?’
He shook his head desperately.‘How long ago did he leave?’
‘Oh, three hours, but-’ ‘Maybe I can go after him.Who is this friend?’
‘He’s a builder. But why-’
‘Can you get hold of him?’
‘I do have his phone number, but-’
‘Ring him, please. Get the directions from him.’
‘Not until you tell me what this is all about.What’s going on?’
‘Kathy, please. I just have to get to Brock, now, today, as soon as possible. It’s a matter of life and death. Believe me, please.’
She’d never seen him like this, panicky and wild, clutching his coat about him, looking more like a beggar or a mugging victim than a top criminal lawyer. She took out her phone and notebook, checked Wayne Ferguson’s home number and made the call. His wife answered. There had been an emergency of some kind at the building site and Wayne had had to go in.She gave Kathy his mobile number, but when she tried it she got his message service.
‘He’s gone to a building site,’she said.‘A supermarket.There’s been-’
She caught a look of alarm on Martin’s face, his eyes on something over her shoulder, and when she turned she found herself staring into the faces of the two remaining Roach brothers, Mark and Ricky. Close up, in the flesh, they were nothing like the remote images on the walls at Queen Anne’s Gate. Beefy men with heavy bodies and florid meaty faces, their father’s thin gene had bypassed them or been gorged out of existence.
‘You two having a cosy chat, or what?’ Mark said menacingly. ‘Who was she phoning, Martin?’
‘It’s all right,’Martin gabbled.‘I’ve found out where he is.She was trying to get directions . . .’
‘Where is he then?’
Kathy stared at Martin. He forced his eyes away, to the two men. ‘He’s gone to North Wales, to see Grant. He’s hiding up there.’
‘Oh yeah?’ The brothers exchanged a calculating look, then one glanced back over his shoulder at a group coming down the footpath towards them, and said, ‘Let’s go into the car park.’ He took hold of Kathy’s arm and gripped tight. She tried to wrench free and he said, ‘Don’t be stupid or we’ll have to hurt you.’ His brother took the other arm and they frogmarched her towards the parking building, Martin tagging along behind.
They walked up ramps and along aisles lined with deserted vehicles until they came to a black Mercedes luxury off-roader. Inside, Kathy made out the profile of Spider Roach, and saw him turn his cadaverous pale face towards them as they approached.
‘Now,’ Mark said as his brother pushed Kathy hard up against a concrete column.‘What’s the story?’
Kathy said nothing,and Martin immediately responded.‘He left about three hours ago.The place is a cottage in the countryside.She doesn’t know the address, so I got her to phone the owner, a friend of Grant’s,but we couldn’t get through.He’s a builder and he’s been called out to a site. A supermarket, right, Kathy?’
He looked at her, appealing with his eyes.
‘What are you doing, Martin?’ she said.
‘They’ve got Lynne, Kathy, my wife. I spoke to her, she’s hysterical. Vexx and Crocker have got her.’
‘We’re not too impressed with old Martin here at the moment,’ Mark said, and gave the solicitor a playful punch on the upper arm that made him shudder.‘Sleeping with the enemy is what we hear.’ He pointed an accusing finger at Kathy.‘That right,darling?’
Kathy just stared back. She wondered if it was Tom who’d planted that little seed in their minds.
‘Tell them, Kathy!’ Martin begged.‘Tell them it isn’t true!’
‘It isn’t true.’
Mark gave a chuckle.
‘What do you want?’ Kathy asked.
‘Dad wants to talk to Brock, about what happened to our brother.You too.’
‘You didn’t say anything about her,’ Martin protested.‘You said it was Brock you wanted.’
‘A supermarket, did you say?’ Mark mused.
‘That’ll be Ferguson,’ Ricky said. ‘The one we spoke to before. In Walworth.’
Mark nodded and opened the vehicle door and got in beside his father. Kathy watched them talking, then turned back to Martin.
‘When did this happen, with Lynne?’
‘I was playing golf, not much more than an hour ago. I got this phone call. I had to drive over here. They . . .’ he glanced at Ricky, still gripping Kathy’s arm, so close to her that she could smell the fried onions on his breath and feel the hard lump of the gun under his jacket when he turned,‘. . . they’d tried Brock’s house, but he wasn’t there. They wanted me to find him, and persuade him to come out to the car. They say they just want to talk . . .’
Kathy stared at him and the words died in his throat.
She turned to Ricky. ‘What happened to Ivor wasn’t Brock’s doing.We just wanted Tom Reeves back.’
Ricky gave her a bleak look and said,‘If you say another word I’ll smash your face in.’
Mark got out of t
he car and came over. He took Kathy’s shoulder bag and searched her pockets, taking her mobile phone, which he switched off before throwing the lot into the boot of the Merc.
‘Okay,’ he said,‘get in.’
‘Hey,Mark,’Martin protested,without much conviction.‘You don’t need her. Let her go, eh?’
They shouldered past him without replying, pushing Kathy into the back alongside Spider, with Ricky close behind. Mark turned back to Martin and pointed at his chest. ‘You-go home now and wait. Don’t do anything stupid and maybe, just maybe, our black brothers won’t be too rough with your missus, right?’
Kathy caught a glimpse of him as the car reversed out and roared away, standing in the roadway, clutching his coat around him as if he were freezing to death.
They drove through Saturday morning shopping streets, past mean brick terraces and concrete tower blocks. After a while, Spider spoke to Kathy for the first time. He didn’t change his posture, staring stiffly ahead, but growled, ‘Vexx told me what happened Thursday night. Now I want to hear your version.’
Kathy told him, briefly, without elaboration.
He nodded and said, ‘Now tell me what Adonia’s been telling you.’
She told him some of it, omitting things that they hadn’t yet been able to follow up. The old man said no more.
An ambulance was leaving as they swung into the lane leading to the building site. They spotted Wayne Ferguson climbing the steps into his site hut and Mark parked the car and got out. Ricky followed,pulling Kathy out.As she straightened,she found the nose of a gun in her face, Mark’s index finger curled around the trigger.
‘Behave,’he said,‘or people will get hurt.’He pushed the gun hard into her side and together the two men steered her through the site gates and up to the foreman’s hut. As she stepped inside Wayne Ferguson turned and began a smile that froze as he took in the others at her back.
‘What do you want?’
Ricky stayed with Kathy while Mark advanced on Ferguson, pointing the gun at his chest.
‘Jesus!’ The builder’s eyes widened.
‘You’re going to take us to your cottage,Wayne. Give me your mobile.’
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