The Turnaround

by Mark Timlin

  ‘You look rough,’ he said. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been trying your phone.’

  It was the wrong thing to say. ‘Rough?’ I said. ‘You’d feel fucking rough too, Jim, if you were me. Just be thankful you’re not.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  So I told him about Judith and Fiona being kidnapped. When I’d finished, his face was ashen and he sat down on the sofa. ‘Oh, Christ, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘How much of an idea did you have, Jim?’ I asked.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Don’t “do what?” me,’ I said. ‘If I thought you knew what’s been going on, I’d kill you here and now.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, I swear.’

  Jesus, I thought. He doesn’t know what I’m talking about. ‘Have you got a drink, Jim?’ I asked.

  ‘What? Yes. What do you want?’

  ‘A brandy would be good.’

  He got up and went to the cabinet, and poured me a large shot of VSOP. I took the glass off him and he sat down again.

  Then I told him exactly what I’d been talking about. I laid it out for him as I paced up and down his maroon shag pile in that comfortable room in that comfortable house in that comfortable suburb where he lived.

  ‘Your brother-in-law was a fixer for a gang of blaggers, Jim,’ I said. ‘Stop me if you don’t know what I mean by that.’ He said nothing. ‘He fronted the money for armed robberies all over the south-east. He’d been doing it for years. He didn’t go over the pavement himself, but he sussed out, planned, and organised the robberies. Then, if it was cash that was stolen, he laundered it through his carpet business. Anything else he fenced off. It financed that lovely house of his, and your sister’s dishwasher, and put the boys through private school. It was a sweet deal. It could have gone on for years. It did go on for years. But two things happened to turn it sour. I don’t know which happened first, and it really doesn’t matter. One, he got involved with a woman.’

  ‘What?’ said Webb.

  ‘He had an affair.’

  ‘Who with?’ Webb interrupted.

  I smiled. The smile didn’t feel right, so I stopped. ‘Natalie Hooper. His secretary, PA, whatever she was.’

  ‘Natalie!’ he said. I knew it would be a big surprise.

  I nodded.

  ‘But…’

  ‘Save it, Jim.’ I said. ‘Don’t give me the reasons why it couldn’t happen. Believe me, it did. It had been going on for two or three years.’

  ‘But I had no idea.’

  ‘You weren’t supposed to.’

  ‘What was the other thing?’

  ‘What?’ I said. I’d lost the plot. ‘Oh, yeah,’ I remembered. ‘Two, he got greedy. He started taking some of the stolen money, jewellery, whatever, off the top. He used some of it to buy a cottage in the country. Supposedly for him and Natalie to live happily ever after in. He was a bit of a do-it-yourself merchant, wasn’t he?’

  Webb nodded.

  ‘He built a secret room in the cellar to keep the money and stuff hidden away. But Natalie couldn’t live in the cottage. It was all wrong for her, what with the chair and all. So he bought her another house. A bungalow in Epsom. He didn’t do any DIY there. He didn’t need to. He put the place in Epsom in her name, and gave her a bunch of money to live on. More proceeds from the robberies, I imagine. That was when the carpet game started to suffer. Even though the robbery business must have been going well, his expenses were getting high and I think he was planning to get lost somewhere, and needed all the readies he could get his hands on.’

  ‘I knew nothing about other properties,’ said Webb.

  ‘You weren’t supposed to. No one was. Only him and Natalie. Oh, I didn’t tell you, did I? He bought the cottage under a fake name. Donald King. Sound familiar?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘He’d built up a whole identity under that name. I found bankbooks and credit cards and a passport in the name of King in the secret room in the cottage.’

  ‘It’s still there?’ he said. He sounded surprised. I suppose I would have been too, under the circumstances.

  I nodded. ‘Untouched from before he was killed until I discovered it yesterday.’

  ‘Christ! How did you find it?’

  ‘Natalie Hooper told me about it.’

  ‘She knew?’

  ‘She knew about the cottage. She didn’t know about his extracurricular activities.’

  ‘You wait till I see her.’

  ‘You don’t want to, Jim, believe me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She’s dead.’

  ‘What? How?’

  ‘She killed herself. Slashed her wrist.’

  ‘Where? When?’

  His questions were coming in tandem. I looked at him. He’d said I looked rough when I came in. He should use a mirror. He looked terrible himself. Ten years older than when I’d first met him just a few weeks before.

  ‘Epsom,’ I said. ‘In the bathroom of the bungalow David Kellerman bought for her, a couple of days ago.’

  ‘Why? After all this time.’

  ‘She had other visitors.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The rest of your brother-in-law’s little firm. The men who killed him and his family.’

  Webb looked shell-shocked. ‘You know who they are?’

  ‘Some of them. Keogan for one. Your mate.’

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t believe…’

  ‘Believe it. Plus there’s a big geezer called Lenny, and at least one other. Ring any bells?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Lenny was the one that shot at Judith and me yesterday.’

  ‘How did they get on to Natalie?’

  ‘Give me a break, Jim. You told Keogan over the smoked salmon mousse that I’d found an old boy doing the gardening opposite your brother-in-law’s house. An old boy who gave me a lead. The lead was to Natalie. The old boy told him too. Keogan told him I was his mate. You put them on to Natalie.’

  It was just as well he was sitting down, or he’d have fallen down. The blood drained from his face and he put his head in his hands.

  I didn’t feel a bit sorry for him. Not then.

  ‘Oh, God,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know. You’ve got to believe me. I didn’t know.’ I believed him. ‘And the bastard’s got your daughter?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why do you think? He wants to make a trade.’

  ‘For the money you found?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘And then they’ll leave you alone?’

  ‘So they say now. But I’m thinking that they might decide that anyone who knows anything might be better off dead.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So I’m between a rock and a hard place, Jim. Two innocent people are involved. I can’t be with them forever. Every morning when I wake up, I’ve got to wonder, is this the day? Is this the day they come looking for us to make sure we never talk?’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  ‘Give them what they want. Then go in and blow them away.’

  ‘Have you got a gun?’

  ‘A couple. In the car. They were at the cottage.’

  He went over to the bureau by the wall and opened a drawer. When he turned round he had a gun in his hand.

  ‘Christ!’ I said. ‘Where the fuck did you get that?’

  ‘I’m in the sports business, Nick. I told you that, didn’t I?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I import a lot of stuff from the States.’

  ‘You told me that too.’

  ‘Sometimes I import guns, under licence.’

  ‘Show,’ I said, and reached out my hand.

  He gave me the gun. It weighed a ton. It was an Iver Johnson Cattleman. It looked like a Colt Peacemaker. I thumbed out the loading gate, quarter cocked the gun and checked the cylinder. It was fully loaded.

  ‘Forty-f
our?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The gun that won the West. What were you going to do with this? Shoot buffalo?’ I handed it back to him, and he went over and put it in the drawer again.

  ‘If you found out who killed Sandy, I was going to kill them myself,’ he said as he turned away from the bureau.

  I looked him in the face. ‘Would you have, Jim? Would you really?’

  ‘Maybe. I’m not sure.’

  ‘Then you wouldn’t.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He looked at me. ‘I’m not scared of going to prison.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I’m dying.’

  ‘Who isn’t?’ It seemed to me lately that everyone was dying or dead.

  ‘You don’t understand. I’m dying now.’

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’

  ‘Cancer.’ he said. ‘That’s why I was going to shoot them. I’ve got nothing to lose.’ He tapped his chest. ‘I’ve got a time bomb ticking away in here. It’s about ready to go off. That’s why I wanted someone private to look into it. Even if the police were still working on finding those bastards, I didn’t have time to wait. I needed some action before it was too late.’

  ‘You got some.’

  ‘I knew you were my last chance.’

  ‘I’m glad I didn’t disappoint you.’

  ‘You didn’t.’

  ‘I wish you’d left it alone.’

  ‘I couldn’t.’

  ‘Why not? What was the point? Because of you more people are dead. And more are going to die before it’s over.’

  ‘I couldn’t,’ he repeated.

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Do you believe in the afterlife?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ I said.

  ‘I do. I couldn’t face Sandy and David and the boys without trying to get them justice first.’

  People were always talking about justice for the dead. I wondered about justice for the living.

  ‘If I’d shot them, I wouldn’t have gone to prison for it,’ he said.

  He looked so sad and sick as he spoke, that I actually felt sorry for him. ‘How long have you got?’ I asked.

  ‘A few months. Weeks maybe.’

  There was nothing to say to that. I lit a cigarette and looked for an ashtray. There wasn’t one. I dropped the ash on the carpet.

  ‘When are you going to do it?’ he asked.

  ‘Tonight. After the swap. It has to be. It’s the only time I know they’ll all be together. And where.’

  ‘Why not send in the police?’

  ‘It doesn’t work like that, Jim,’ I said. ‘If they’re nicked and it’s down to me, they’ll keep coming. I have to do it this way. Afterwards, what happens happens. Maybe Keogan was lying. Maybe it’ll be all over. If not…’ I didn’t finish the sentence.

  ‘I’ll drive you,’ he replied. ‘I’ll help.’

  I thought about it for a second. ‘All right, Jim. You can come. But leave the howitzer at home.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘I warn you, it’s going to get bad.’

  He didn’t reply and I let it go.

  I explained what I’d arranged with Keogan about getting Fiona and Judith back, and that I was waiting for confirmation. I told him I’d call him after I’d been to Waterloo if everything went according to plan. When I’d finished I said, ‘Sure you still want to come?’

  ‘Of course. Give me one of those, will you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A cigarette.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now.’

  I lit him a cigarette and he pulled hard on it. ‘First one for six years,’ he said.

  ‘Smoking can cause fatal diseases,’ I said.

  He laughed a hollow laugh. ‘It’s a bit late to worry about that now.’

  It’s funny. You don’t like someone much. Then they say something. And maybe it’s what they say, or maybe it’s the way they say it. But you suddenly realise that you’ve been wrong. That was how I felt about Webb then. I wished I could have a chance to know him better. But I knew I couldn’t. I just left him a couple of cigarettes and said goodbye.

  34

  I left Jim and went back home to wait for the call from Keogan. I didn’t have to wait long. He phoned at 4.30. ‘It’s on,’ he said. ‘I’ll meet you under the clock at six. But I warn you, no tricks or those two are dead.’

  ‘I’m not playing tricks,’ I replied. ‘I just want them back. You can have your sodding money, and welcome. But I want to see them before I tell you where it is.’

  ‘You’ll see them,’ he said, and cut the connection.

  Just before five I went out to the Granada and took the Colt from under the back seat and put it in the pocket of my leather jacket. It wasn’t beyond the bounds of possibility that Keogan would be the one playing tricks, and I wanted at least one ace. I drove the car to Waterloo, waited for a parking slot to come free in the thirty-minute zone on the covered ramp that ran down to York Road, reversed the car into the slot and went into the station. At that hour on a weekday it was bloody chaos. That suited me fine.

  I walked round the edge of the concourse looking for suspicious characters. By the time I’d gone ten yards I’d seen dozens. I checked my watch. 5.35. I went over to one of the fast-food concessions with clear sight of the area under the clock and bought a coffee. I stood leaning against the front drinking it and smoking a cigarette, keeping an eye on the big picture.

  Keogan appeared like a puff of dark smoke at 5.59 precisely. I dropped the styrofoam cup into a trash can and walked towards him. He was turning on his heel, looking nervous. I didn’t blame him. There could have been a hundred armed police within twenty yards of him and he wouldn’t have known. He saw me coming and relaxed. I kept my hands away from my body, just in case he had a minder near. Armed.

  ‘Where are they?’ I asked as I got up to him.

  ‘Close.’

  ‘Show me.’

  He walked towards the back of the station. I followed. He went through the exit that led to the open car park down by Lower Marsh. He took out his portable phone and tapped in a number. It was answered straight away. He whispered something and cut off the call. Thirty seconds later a red Sierra estate came up from the car park, stopped about a hundred yards from where we were standing, and both front doors opened. Lenny and another bloke I didn’t recognise got out and opened the rear doors. Judith and Fiona emerged from the back of the car and stood looking at me.

  ‘Satisfied?’ said Keogan.

  ‘OK,’ I said, and told him what he wanted to know: the whereabouts of the cottage, and the way to get into the hidden room.

  He punched another number on the pad of the phone and relayed the information.

  Then we waited.

  The minutes dragged. Five. Ten. The six of us stood like a tableau whilst the world passed us by, completely oblivious to what we were doing.

  I put my hand inside my pocket on to the butt of the Colt. I looked up. The sky was lavender-coloured again and weighed down on me like iron.

  The phone in Keogan’s hand purred. He answered it with a terse, ‘Yes,’ then listened. When he cut it off he looked at me triumphantly. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Very good.’

  ‘Have you got what you want?’ I asked.

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Then let them go.’

  ‘I said I would, didn’t I? But remember, any tricks and you’ll never have a peaceful day again.’

  ‘I realise that,’ I said.

  ‘OK, Sharman,’ he said. ‘Wait here.’

  He walked over to the Sierra and spoke to the two men. All three got into the car and it pulled away, leaving Fiona and Judith standing in the roadway.

  I turned and watched it go, then walked over to where they were waiting.

  35

  B oth of them looked stressed out, tired and dirty. Judith’s eyes were r
ed from crying. The look in Fiona’s was something else again. As I got close she came towards me and hit me in the face so hard with her closed right fist it felt like my cheekbone was fractured. Then she slapped me with her other hand. I grabbed her wrists and she twisted in my grip. ‘Fiona, no,’ I said.

  People stopped and looked. We ignored them. ‘Not here,’ I said.

  ‘You bastard,’ she hissed through bloodless lips.

  I let go of her wrists and went to Judith. I knelt and hugged her. She was so stiff in my arms it was like holding a statue. I looked over her shoulder and then closed my eyes. When I opened them, the world was still black. As black as I’ve ever known it.

  I stood up and took Judith’s hand. ‘The car’s round the corner,’ I said to Fiona.

  We walked to it in silence.

  I unlocked the doors and let Judith into the back. Fiona got into the passenger seat. I got in behind the wheel and half turned in the seat and looked at both of them. My face hurt like hell where Fiona had hit me.

  I was the first to speak. ‘Are you two all right?’ I said.

  Fiona shot me a look of pure contempt. ‘Yes, but no thanks to you, you stupid bastard. You couldn’t leave it alone, could you?’

  I said nothing in reply but looked at Judith sitting in the back. She looked straight ahead at something no one else could see and I realised that what I’d allowed to happen had gone beyond the limits of where I could expect forgiveness. I’d gone over the edge and was falling fast.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, why? Didn’t you realise the kind of people you were dealing with?’ demanded Fiona.

  ‘It was something Wanda said.’

  ‘Fuck Wanda. She’s dead. What’s she got to do with it?’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘Of course I wouldn’t,’ she said. ‘I’m fucking stupid, aren’t I? But I understand what happened to us. I understand how close we came to being killed. I know you don’t care about yourself, Sharman. And frankly I don’t care any more if you care about me. But what about Judith? She was terrified.’

  ‘Did they do anything to you?’ I asked.

  ‘Like what?’ said Fiona.’