There was a long silence, punctuated by the sound of an electric drill somewhere nearby. Then she said: ‘Because I want to finish this.’
‘Yeah? What, like go home?’ He felt relieved. The sooner she was out of his hair, the better. Then he could go back to worrying about the simple things in life, like how to avoid being carved into slices by Ragga Pearl.
‘No. I want you to finish it. Remember those special rates we talked about? You want to be out from under Pearl, don’t you? Only you’ll have to be quick.’ She delved into her bag with a shaky hand and passed him a thick envelope. ‘That should cover it.’
Szulu sighed. Deep down, he knew that whatever else he might be capable of, killing Palmer and the Gavin woman was way beyond his reach, especially now the other guy had appeared on the scene. It was as if he’d been shown his limits and realised that he wasn’t up to it. Strangely, he felt no sense of shame in the realisation. He decided to tell her, extra money or no extra money.
‘Sorry. Can’t do that,’ he said softly. ‘I ain’t killing no-one. You were right: I’m not cut out for this. Not murder, anyway. You can go ahead and tell Ragga if you like. I’ll even go there with you. You want me to drive you?’
‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’ She sounded slightly drunk, vague, as if her mind was wandering, and Szulu wondered if she’d been taking a few crafty nips while he wasn’t looking. Jeez, that’s all he needed after everything else: how the hell do you get a drunk pensioner out of the back of the car? Especially one who wanted you to kill people.
‘Yeah? Why not? Hey, you could ask Ragga to have his men do it. He’d kill his own mother if the price was right. I never said that, though.’ When she didn’t reply, he continued: ‘Wouldn’t that be better, having Ragga’s men do Palmer? That way you know it gets done.’
Lottie gave a snort of contempt. ‘You think I would trust those strutting idiots to do anything? They’re street hooligans, that’s all, flashing their silly gold chains and hiding behind dark glasses. Real men don’t need to hide their eyes, Mr Szulu. People like Palmer and Mitcheson… they look you straight in the eye.’
Szulu nodded, recognising something close to admiration in her voice. Man, she sounded like she respected those two. That was something he hadn’t expected.
‘Anyway, I can’t ask Pearl.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I went to see him two days ago, while you were busy. To talk over some stuff. While I was in his office, I noticed some papers on his desk. He seems surprisingly businesslike, for one so…uncouth. A bit careless, though, with people he thinks are beyond it.’ She gave a slight chuckle. ‘We’re the invisible army, us old ones, you know that? Nobody sees us until it’s too late.’
‘So?’ Something in the old woman’s tone told Szulu he wasn’t going to like where this was going. From rarely telling him the time of day, here she was suddenly gobbing off about some visit she’d made to Ragga Pearl’s den.
‘I’ve always had the knack of reading upside down, you know. It came in handy over the years. The paper on his desk included a list of names and bank accounts. My late husband always had a list like that, too. Piggy-banks, he called them. Bits squirreled here, bits tucked away there… makes it difficult for anyone to follow the money trail, see? Information like that, though, there’s always somebody interested in buying. Always.’
Szulu felt the situation rapidly slipping away from him. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He’d thought all along that the old woman was crazy, but this was something else. He stared at her. ‘Let me get this right: you stole information about bank accounts from Ragga Pearl? Tell me you’re joking, man! Why would you do such a thing?’ He wondered if he shouldn’t just kick her arse out of the car and leave her here in the middle of the street. Then drive until the car ran dry or he was out of money. It would be way better than the shit-storm she was going to bring down on their heads once the Ragga found out what she’d done. Because as sure as the man was crazy as a bed bug, there was no way he’d let her get away with it — and that included anyone around her at the time. Shit, he’d be lucky if he didn’t end up floating alongside her down the Thames.
Lottie Grossman moved slightly, slumping back in her seat. It was enough to drag Szulu’s mind back to the here and now. Then he noticed something wasn’t right. She looked like she’d taken an over-strong hit of something. Her mouth had gone slack on one side, and her eyes were rolling towards the roof of the car. He glanced at her hands, which were now clutched tight in her lap, the brightly coloured nails digging into her palms. And one knee was trembling slightly, as if she had the fever.
‘Hey — Mrs Grossman! Lottie — what’s up?’ He leaned over the back of the seat for a closer look, and saw a trickle of saliva worming its way down the old woman’s chin. Her breathing sounded bad, too, like it was coming out of the end of a long tube, and there was a sour smell in the car. He guessed she’d had a heart attack, or maybe a stroke. Whatever, he was no medic and she plainly needed more help than he could give her.
He turned and flattened his forehead against the side window, the feel of the glass cool and flat against his skin. He didn’t need this. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Hospital, that was the best bet. The nearest he could find. Drop her off at a casualty unit and leg it before anyone could ask questions. By the looks of it, she wouldn’t be in a position to tell them anything, anyway. Then wait to see what the Ragga would do. In spite of knowing the gangster’s psychotic nature, Szulu was fed up with feeling like a chicken every time he heard the man’s name. No way he was going to crawl like a slug and ask for mercy. Damn if he’d do that.
He turned the key in the ignition, put the Lexus in gear, and checked his mirror, mentally planning a route to the nearest A amp;E. He was surprised to see a large black Toyota Land Cruiser had ghosted quietly up the street behind him, and was now filling his rear window with its radiator grill.
‘What the-?’ He turned and ducked his head a fraction and saw three large figures inside, just sitting there behind tinted glass. Szulu heard another engine and switched his eyes to the front, where a similar vehicle was reversing the other way at speed. It stopped three feet from his bonnet, the array of brake lights flaring like fireworks. Two shapes sat inside this one, one of them horribly familiar. Shit, so they had been followed!
Before he could move, there was a figure at his door and another on the passenger side, peering in at him like he was a caged exhibit. Both were big, with shoulders like weightlifters and heads like cannonballs. He didn’t recognise them, but he didn’t have to — they were Ragga’s boys. Then the door of the Land Cruiser in front opened and the Ragga himself strolled towards him, heavy body rolling, springing off his left foot like he always did and snapping his fingers to some insane, inner tune. He wore trainers and a gold tracksuit, his large belly straining against the soft, silky cloth. He made a rolling motion with one fat finger, and Szulu pressed the button to lower the window.
‘Szulu, my man,’ Ragga greeted him. He seemed to chew on the name with relish, as if they were old friends. Szulu sensed it was Ragga’s way of unsettling people — especially those to whom he intended no good. The gang leader leaned over the car, filling Szulu’s side window. He smelled of fried food, sweet smoke and some sickly expensive cologne that someone had probably told him was really cool this season in L.A.
‘Ragga.’ Szulu nodded and wondered how he was going to get out of this one. Damn, he should have bugged out long ago, when he first met the crazy woman in the back seat.
Ragga peered past him at Lottie Grossman, running heavy-lidded eyes over her with a peculiarly vacant expression. He exchanged a look with one of his lieutenants, then said to Szulu: ‘What’s up with her, man? You been smackin’ her around?’ Ragga tittered, the pink tip of his tongue sneaking out from between his lips like a schoolboy enjoying a filthy joke he wasn’t supposed to have heard. ‘Still, we all got to get our kicks somehow, right?’
&nb
sp; ‘It wasn’t like that,’ Szulu protested. ‘She had some kind of attack. I was about to take her to hospital.’
‘You kiddin’ me?’ Ragga seemed genuinely surprised. He bent to study the old woman again. ‘Shit, Szulu, I think you’re right. That’s bad news, man. Before she kicked off, did she say anything about having some property of mine?’
The question nearly caught Szulu by surprise, but he managed to keep a straight face. Just a bare hint that he knew what this psycho was talking about and he’d be history.
He shook his head and stared directly at the other man, allowing a little heat to creep into his voice. ‘Now you’re fucking joshing me, right? This old bitch never even told me her real name until a couple of days ago. She’s been dangling me like a sucker all along, not telling me nothing. Watch this guy, check out this place, take me here, drive me there, put the frights on that woman… shit, I’d learn more working for one of those monks that never speaks.’ He stopped speaking, mostly because Ragga had put his hand through the window and placed a pudgy finger against his cheek. It felt hot and damp and Szulu wanted to take hold of it and bite it.
‘Enough, man,’ said Ragga softly, his voice suddenly sing-song, as if he was crooning to a child. ‘Don’t make me lose my temper. The old woman took something from me, see. I can’t be having that. Make me look soft, like I got no control. Now you sit still, nice and quiet.’ He muttered instructions over his shoulder and two of his men opened the rear doors and eased Lottie Grossman out of the car. They took her to the Land Cruiser at the back and placed her inside, then one of them came back and collected her handbag off the back seat. The doors closed with twin clunks.
‘Now, Szulu,’ Ragga continued quietly, ‘here’s what we do. The debt what you owe me? It’s done. Paid, right?’ Szulu nodded, too relieved to speak, and Ragga continued: ‘So now you’re gonna get out of this car and walk away from here. You ain’t gonna look back, an’ you’re gonna forget you ever saw this car or that woman. They never existed.’
‘What about the rental place? They’ll remember me.’ Szulu couldn’t give two tits for the rental place, he was so relieved at this turn of events. But pride wouldn’t let him show he wasn’t completely cool with it and thinking carefully, like a professional.
‘Tell ‘em it got boosted by some fuckin’ joy-riders. It happens all the time, right? We live in a lawless world, everyone know that. Anyway, it’ll turn up again soon, once we’ve given it the valet treatment.’ He tittered again, enjoying his own private joke. ‘Now go.’
Szulu got out of the car, hardly able to believe his luck. As he did so, he was careful to slide the envelope Lottie Grossman had given him under his jacket. It was plain that Lottie wasn’t going to be needing it, not where she was going. He almost felt sorry for her then, but shook it off. She’d wanted two others dead, so what right did she have to special consideration? He turned and walked past the Land Cruiser at the back, where he could see Lottie Grossman slumped in one corner, eyes closed. Neither of the men inside gave him so much as a glance.
He was fifty yards down the street when he heard all three cars move away.
He kept walking and didn’t look back.
Chapter 29
A new man was on duty the front desk of the office building in Harrow. He was younger than Nobby and dressed in a grey suit, and had a tired, bored look about him, as if he really didn’t want to be there.
Riley walked up to the desk with an air of confidence she didn’t feel, aware that she could be under scrutiny if the police were watching for anyone showing an undue interest in the sixth floor. There was no sign of them outside, and whatever equipment the forensics team had been using had gone, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still around.
She checked her hair in the reflection of the glass. Clipped back as tight as she could manage, so that it made her face thinner, and minimal makeup, she was reasonably certain that neither Michael nor Radnor would recognise her if they saw her. It had only been a brief encounter before, but she didn’t want to take any chances.
The man barely looked up, pushing the visitor’s book and a pen across the desk for her to sign, followed by a badge. Riley signed in and picked up the badge, receiving a grunt in return and a cursory nod towards the lifts.
The same receptionist was behind the counter of Stairwell Management’s offices, wearing the same hi-tech headpiece. But she seemed much less sure of herself. Her eyes showed signs of redness around the rims, and widened when she recognised Riley through the glass security door, in spite of the change Riley had made to her hair. Even so, she reached down and pressed a buzzer to spring the locks.
‘You were here,’ she said flatly, as soon as Riley entered. ‘Seeing Doug. With that bloke.’ Her face was stony, although Riley couldn’t decide if it was out of grief, shock or suspicion. Either way, if she was going to call the police, she was taking her time.
‘That’s right,’ she admitted lightly, allowing her own eyes to widen in sympathy. ‘My colleague had some papers to serve on Mr Gillivray. I’m sorry, by the way, about what happened. I only just heard. Are you family?’
The woman looked startled by the question. ‘You what? Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘Sorry. My mistake. I’m Riley, by the way.’
‘Vicky. Why do you ask?’
‘Just interested. What do the police think about Mr Gillivray’s death?’
Vicky shrugged. ‘No idea. They don’t tell me anything. As for the rest of them… ‘ She shook her head and looked at Riley with a small frown. ‘So what do you want, then? You haven’t come to serve some more papers on him, have you? You can’t sue the dead.’
‘No, it’s not that. But my firm is wondering who might have killed him.’
‘Why?’
‘Call it unfinished business. Your boss was going to be a prominent part of a big court case we were preparing. We’d already been working on it for several weeks.’ She shrugged. ‘Without him, the case probably won’t happen. But before I give up on it altogether, I’d like to know who would benefit.’
The girl’s eyes widened. ‘You mean-?’
‘I can’t say anything more, but I’m sure you know what I’m driving at.’ She gave a conspiratorial smile and leaned closer. ‘My boss said I should drop it and put it down to experience, but I hate being beaten, you know? I know what they’re thinking, of course. They think because I’m a mere girlie, I can’t ask simple questions in case I break my nails. Chauvinist bastards.’
Vicky showed a flicker of sympathy. ‘Tell me about it. You should try working for this lot. Only I don’t see how I can help-’
‘Was there anyone you can think of who didn’t like him?’
‘Take your pick,’ Vicky muttered quietly. ‘The little prick had more enemies than I’ve got shoes — and that’s saying something.’ She pulled a face. ‘And don’t say I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead; that’s the best time to do it, my dad says. That way they can’t get in your face about it.’
‘I think your dad’s right.’ Riley was surprised. She’d come here half expecting a volley of abuse and accusations, and had got quite the opposite reaction. Evidently the late Mr Gillivray wasn’t universally popular, even among his colleagues.
‘He was a slime-ball,’ Vicky continued calmly. ‘He tried it on with me every time he was in, it didn’t matter who was here. Thought he was God’s gift, which he wasn’t. The way he talked, he was getting it on with half the women in north London. I’m not surprised someone had it in for him. It was probably someone’s husband or boyfriend. Most of the time he could shout them down.’ She gave a sour smile. ‘But not this time, eh? Still, that was Doug. He was loud and he was a bully, and he didn’t care who knew it. It was the way he was. He’d had more papers served on him than anyone I know, so it wasn’t as if another set was going to hurt. He just liked to create, that was all, so we’d all notice what a bad little sod he was.’ She shrugged. ‘Sad, more like. Look where it got him.’
/> ‘So he had a lot of enemies?’
‘Hundreds, I should think. One or two of them came in here, threatening to tear the place down. But only those who knew him. He never left much of a trail.’
‘So you knew what he was up to?’
‘Not really. I only work this desk, I don’t get taken into anyone’s confidence. But it was obvious he wasn’t the full shilling, by the phone calls and letters — and, like I say, the visitors.’
‘Any serious ones?’
Vicky tilted her head. ‘Heavies, you mean? Yes, a couple. But he always managed to buy them off. At least, he always put in an appearance the next day, so I suppose that’s what happened. He was quite a charmer when he wanted to be.’
‘Not this time, though,’ Riley suggested. ‘What have his colleagues said about it?’
‘Not a thing.’ Vicky looked pained. ‘They shut me out of it and told me not to say a word to anyone, or I’d lose my job.’ She gave a half smile. ‘Except there’s no-one in today, so I don’t give a toss.’ She looked as if the triumph, small as it was, was one to be relished.
‘How about the rest of the building? Did Doug ever argue with anyone?’
‘No.’ The shake of the head was emphatic. ‘He hardly spoke to anyone outside this office. It’s not like he socialised much, either.’ She leaned back and chewed her lip. ‘Mind you, he went ape-shit when someone hit his car in the car park. It was the same day he died. One of the other tenants came up and told him about it. It was his pride and joy. I suppose I’d have been angry, too. I’ve had two prangs recently, and they cost me a bloody fortune.’
Riley felt a stirring of interest. ‘What other tenant?’
‘His name’s Mike — I don’t know his surname. Smart bloke…bit of an accent. Nice looking, but in a weird, dangerous sort of way.’ She gave a shiver and smiled coyly, woman to woman. ‘I would, if you know what I mean?’ She chuckled and tossed her head with a faint show of embarrassment at the coarseness. ‘At least, I would if I wasn’t already engaged, anyway.’
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