‘Are they any danger to us?’
He looked sour. ‘They’re dangerous to anyone they don’t like the look of. But they know we’re coming, so they’ll leave us alone if they know what’s good. They’re like junior soldiers; if they do a good job and don’t screw up, they get to move up to a place on the inside when a vacancy happens.’
‘What kind of vacancy?’
‘The kind when someone isn’t there any more. A man gets into trouble, say, or maybe gets picked up and does time, his space needs filling, you know?’
For the first time since they had collected Szulu from his flat, Palmer seemed to take an active interest. He leaned forward from the rear seat of the Golf and stared at the building Szulu had indicated. The mop salesman they had seen earlier had crossed the street and was now working his way down towards it. ‘What the hell is that place?’
‘It used to be a cinema. Ragga got it cheap because nobody else wanted to take the risk. He tore out the guts and made it into a pad with some offices, although the planning office don’t know nothing about that.’ Szulu looked at the pair of them, craning round to include Palmer. ‘You decided who goes in with me?’
‘I do,’ said Riley. ‘It’ll put Ragga off his guard.’ She nodded down the street towards the mop salesman, who was now a couple of doors away from the old cinema, demonstrating a mop to an elderly lady. ‘And Mitcheson.’
Szulu looked puzzled for a moment. Then his eyes grew wide as he realised who the door-to-door salesman must be. ‘Shit — you mean the guy who shot me? Tell me you’re kidding, woman! Are you insane? They’ll see him.’
‘I’m not kidding. And they haven’t spotted him yet, have they? We discussed this earlier on. If Ragga sees Palmer, he’ll smell policeman and clam up. That’s if he doesn’t bury us in concrete. Mitcheson’s my back-up, that’s all. It’s what they’ll expect of us. Are you saying Ragga won’t have any of his crew around?’
Szulu shook his head. ‘Man, I don’t know. I still don’t know why you’ve got to do this. I told you, he’s unpredictable. Dangerous. You realise I can’t do nothing to help you once we’re inside. He could have a dozen guys in there, whether your tough-guy friend’s around or not.’ He jerked a thumb at Palmer. ‘What about him? What’s he going to be doing?’
Palmer smiled. ‘I’m the cavalry. All the best cowboy films have them.’
‘Huh?’
‘We’ve told you,’ said Riley, who had already gone over those very points several times in her own mind. Letting Mitcheson go in with her had been Palmer’s suggestion, on the grounds that having some visible protection along was what a man like Ragga would expect. Palmer was to stay on the outside with his mobile on and connected to Riley’s. That way, he would hear everything that went on. If things went wrong, he’d come in after them. But he doubted Ragga would want to cause problems on his own doorstep. Riley hoped he was right. ‘We need to make sure about Lottie, and this is the only way of doing it. Anyway, we’re no threat to Ragga.’ She opened her door, anxious to get this over and done with. It had been a wild idea, but one she was sure was worth a try. Better that than constantly waiting to see if Lottie would pop up again, next time with someone unknown and a lot more deadly. ‘You ready?’ she said to Szulu. She carried nothing in her hands, and wore a simple T-shirt and jeans, to show she wasn’t wearing a recording device. She nodded to Palmer, who merely raised a hand in salute, then turned and walked along the street, Szulu alongside her, grumbling about the risks they were taking. By the time they had gone ten paces, the two young watchers down the street were tracking them, one of them talking rapidly into a mobile phone.
The children had stopped playing, too, and were watching them with open curiosity, especially Riley. Beyond them, a couple of older women called the children in, and within seconds, the street was deserted. Mitcheson was ambling up to the entrance to Ragga’s place.
‘Christ,’ breathed Riley. ‘It’s like noon in Dodge City.’
Szulu ignored her, and raised his hand as he drew level with the youths, brushing knuckles with elaborate casualness. The first youth mumbled something Riley couldn’t interpret, then stood aside to let her and Szulu pass. Riley felt their eyes on her, but they said nothing, clearly briefed about her visitor status.
‘He knows we’re coming now,’ said Szulu softly. ‘You cool?’
‘Yes.’
They arrived at the front of the old cinema and joined Mitcheson. He nodded at Riley. ‘Need any mops, lady?’
She fought an urge to smile. ‘What’s in the bag?’ She was hoping he would tell her he was armed to the teeth.
‘Cleaning stuff, mostly. But I’m hoping they don’t have security scanners inside.’ He nodded at Szulu. ‘How’s the arm, bud?’
But Szulu wasn’t in the mood for friendly overtures. He scowled in return and led the way through a set of twin glass doors with elaborate brass handles. What had once been the ticket office foyer had been remodelled, and was now a reception area like any place of business, with plain walls, discreet lighting, thick cord carpeting and a large desk behind which sat a young black woman, filing her nails. She had thick, shiny hair piled atop her head, and heavy, bright red lipstick to match her nail varnish. A sound system on the wall throbbed with a heavy hip-hop beat that seemed to vibrate through the walls and down into the floor.
‘Hey, Maz,’ Szulu greeted the girl, his body language suddenly hip and loose, a broad smile across his face. ‘We’re here to see the man.’
Maz looked unimpressed, especially with the canvas bag over Mitcheson’s shoulder, but paused in her filing to stab a button on the communication console before her. ‘It’s Szulu and two,’ she announced, before going back to her nails.
Seconds later a huge man in a pinstripe suit appeared through a door at the rear of the reception area. His shaved head glistened beneath the spotlights in the ceiling, and reflected light flickered from several large gold rings on banana-sized fingers. He nodded at Szulu and gave Mitcheson a cool once-over.
‘What’s in the bag, man?’ He spoke in a coarse rumble.
‘Cleaning materials,’ replied Mitcheson. ‘I’m multi-tasking.’
The big man reached out and tugged at the side of the bag, checking the contents. All Riley could see were more dusters, scourers and hand mops. The man smirked before jerking his head back the way he had come. It was only when Mitcheson began to follow that he raised one vast hand and said, ‘You be still, man. She only.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Mitcheson stood eye-to-eye with the man, easily as tall if somewhat outweighed by the other’s bulk. In the background, Szulu was looking bug-eyed, a film of sweat building on his forehead as tension radiated out from the two other men.
The guard shrugged. ‘Then no way you going in there.’
‘It’s all right.’ Riley gave Mitcheson a reassuring glance. They had expected this, and had decided that a stand-off would bring them no closer to discovering what had happened to Lottie Grossman. She added: ‘I’ll be fine. You stay out here.’
For a second the guard looked as if he didn’t like that idea either, but he finally nodded and led Riley through the door and down a corridor to the back of the building.
They emerged into an open office area with three large desks, several filing cabinets and two leather sofas. Computer consoles sat on the desks, and the hum of technology touched the air with a gentle vibration. A slim young girl sat at one of the computers, inputting figures from a stack of paper. The screen before her was displaying an Excel spreadsheet, but she barely gave it a glance as her fingers danced across the keyboard. She was dressed in a plain black dress, black boots and silver tights, and had a pair of thick spectacles perched on the end of her nose.
A movement in a doorway to one side caught Riley’s attention, and another large figure appeared. He filled the gap, hands hanging down by his sides and fingers twitching restlessly, eyes staring at Riley with little apparent curiosity. He was casually dressed in a royal blue
tracksuit and white trainers, and Riley gave an involuntary shiver at the absence of warmth in his expression. He reminded her of a giant Kodiak bear she’d seen once in a wildlife reserve, and wondered which one was the more dangerous. Coming here might have been the stupidest thing she’d ever done, and she guessed this man must be the infamous Ragga Pearl.
‘Hey, Cindy,’ the man murmured softly, without taking his eyes off Riley. ‘You want to check the lady out for me? Cindy’s my niece,’ he explained. ‘She’s got a degree in economics.’
The girl at the keyboard stopped what she was doing and swung her booted feet out from under the desk. She stood up and walked across the room, signalling for Riley to lift her arms. In a few brief seconds, she had completed a thorough pat-down, coming up with a small data stick and Riley’s mobile. She flicked the back off the mobile and took out the battery, then returned the separate parts with a faint sneer. Riley shrugged. It had been worth a try. If anything blew apart now, Palmer would have to rely on his instincts for trouble.
‘She’s fine apart from this,’ Cindy reported, her voice mellow. She handed the data stick to Ragga before returning to her desk.
‘What’s on this?’ Ragga tapped the data stick on his thumb.
‘Something you might want to see,’ Riley told him. ‘I’ll explain later.’
He nodded. ‘Okay. You want something to drink?’
‘Why not? Coke, please.’
The man who had escorted Riley in stepped over to one of the filing cabinets and swung back what was a false front to reveal a fridge stocked with a variety of bottled and canned drinks. He selected a plastic bottle of Coke and, with the barest glance at Riley, flicked it across the room at her. Riley caught the look and was ready. It landed with a slap in her hand and she said, ‘Thanks, but if you throw the glass there’ll be a mess on the carpet.’
For a split second there was silence, then Ragga Pearl laughed, the sound echoing in his chest, and his tongue slid out between his teeth. ‘You’ll have to forgive Slam,’ he said to Riley. ‘He ain’t got no style. In here.’
She followed him into an office furnished in black leather and dark wood, with just enough subdued lighting to rescue it from looking too much like a masculine bear pit. A desk blocked off one corner, and was clear of papers save for a laptop and a phone. Slam closed the door and stood against it, watching her closely. The music faded instantly, and Riley realised the room must be soundproofed.
Ragga gestured towards a soft chair by the desk, and swung into an executive chair on the far side, where he sat and looked at her, steepled fingers to his chin.
‘Szulu tells me you want to talk,’ he said finally, his eyes glinting and all signs of geniality suddenly gone. ‘Only thing is, I wasn’t expecting no woman, and not with no bodyguard. That what he is, the man with the bag? Only, right now, he ain’t sticking too close to the body, is he?’ He smiled nastily, superior, and spun the laptop round on the desk. It showed a camera’s eye view of the reception area, with Szulu and Mitcheson plainly visible in the foreground. Szulu looked nervous, while Mitcheson was leaning against a wall, looking bored and fanning himself with a feather duster.
Riley shrugged. If this was all about chest thumping, she might as well do some of her own. ‘Maybe not. But he got past your boys in the street. Believe me, for him, that’s close enough.’ As she saw the realisation that he had a dangerous opponent inside his headquarters sink home on the gang leader’s face, she hoped that whatever Mitcheson had in his bag was a bit more heavyweight than dusters or dish mops.
Chapter 34
Riley could have sworn the room temperature dropped by a couple of degrees, and hoped she hadn’t pushed it too far. She’d gone over the situation with Palmer and Szulu on the way down, trying to figure out how they might gain Ragga’s co-operation instead of the alternative. This was, according to Szulu, his sudden and unpredictable fury. The best they could hope for was some information about Lottie’s condition and whereabouts. Without it, they would have to assume the worst… or keep looking over their shoulders for a long time to come. Szulu’s advice had been to play it straight, as there was no knowing how Ragga would react. If he thought he was being manipulated, the outcome could be disastrous. And that was ignoring whether he’d got up in a bad mood or not.
‘But let’s think positively, shall we?’ she continued calmly, twisting open the Coke and taking a sip. ‘I obviously didn’t come here without letting anyone else know.’
Ragga sneered at her. ‘You mean the guy in the car? Yeah, like he’ll be a lot of help. He’d have to get down here first — and he ain’t getting past nobody.’ He exchanged a look with Slam before settling himself deeper into his chair. If he was enjoying a feeling of superiority, it was tinged with the sourness of knowing his defences had already proved suspect, although he wasn’t about to show it.
Riley waited. This wasn’t going the way they’d hoped. She had at least expected a bit more discussion before this big ape went all hairy-chested on her. But she was damned if she was going to let him see how concerned she was. ‘He’s done it before. Anyway,’ she used the tip of her finger to wipe condensation from the side of the bottle, ‘he’s the one you spotted.’
Ragga’s chair creaked faintly, and she felt a childish twinge of triumph as she caught the flash of a glance he threw at his colleague, before adding, ‘But there’s really no need for aggravation here. I’m after some information that could save us both a lot of trouble. Call it business.’
Ragga said nothing, his face stilled as if he’d gone into a trance.
‘Lottie Grossman,’ Riley continued. ‘You probably know her as Mrs Fraser. She came to you for help and you gave her Szulu. I understand you might know where she is.’
Ragga seemed to surface from wherever he’d gone, and gave her a look that was suddenly more calculating than superior. ‘Who says so? That man Szulu been talking out of turn?’ The softness of his voice and the slowness of the delivery caused a trickle of unease to inch across Riley’s shoulders, and she hoped Szulu’s name hadn’t been slotted back into Ragga’s bad books. Szulu himself had been confident this wouldn’t happen, but now she was faced with the man himself and had seen the way his mood could change in a heartbeat, she suddenly wasn’t so sure.
‘Not to me,’ she said firmly, meeting his eyes with a steady look. ‘We were behind you in Egham. We watched your two men transfer Lottie from Szulu’s car to yours. She didn’t look very well to me. Shame. All Szulu did was to arrange this meeting when my colleagues asked him to.’
If Ragga was surprised, he hid it with a dismissive bark of laughter. ‘Right. You followed us to Egham. No way.’ He shook his head, but shot a mean look across at Slam, who shifted uneasily on his feet. Suddenly they were back on an even keel.
‘Didn’t happen, man,’ the big man by the door muttered. But he didn’t look quite so confident anymore. ‘Just didn’t. I’d have seen her.’
‘We were following Szulu, actually,’ Riley explained, switching tack slightly to press home her advantage and ease off from a direct confrontation. ‘You don’t remember a black Golf?’ Before either of them could answer, she forged on. ‘Szulu wasn’t watching his back, which was how you were able to block him in so easily. Okay, I admit it was only when you made your move that we realised you were in the area, but what the heck.’ She gave a shrug as if conceding the point, hoping the implied flattery would work. It did.
Ragga sniffed. ‘Yeah, well, that Szulu’s no expert, is he? So why’s the old woman so interesting? She owe you money?’
Riley gave him a summary of Lottie’s background, during which Ragga’s expression shifted from startled to plain sceptical. He shook his head when she finished speaking and drummed with his fingers on the arms of the chair, jutting his chin forward as he considered what she had told him.
‘You saying that old pensioner, that ugly old woman was a gang boss? She ran a bunch of men? No way.’ He laughed, showing pink gums and a lot of white te
eth. ‘You must think I’m stupid.’
Over by the door, Slam sniggered in support of his boss.
‘Okay. Check the stick.’
Ragga looked doubtful, but finally sat forward and inserted the stick into a USB port in the rear of the laptop. He looked at her over the open lid. ‘This ain’t got a virus, has it? If it has, you going to regret it, I promise.’
Riley shook her head and sipped the Coke, trying not to spill any. She’d forgotten relief could have the same weakening effects as fear, although she knew she wasn’t out of the woods yet.
Moments later, she could tell that Ragga was studying a copy of the feature she had written about Lottie Grossman and her activities, tracking her gang’s movements from London to Spain and back. It made startling reading, and the only sound in the room was the hum of the laptop’s fan and the click of keys as Ragga scrolled down the pages. Eventually, he finished reading and closed the laptop. He looked at Riley and said, ‘That’s pretty cool. You just can’t tell with people, right? Did you know she tried to steal something from me? I couldn’t believe it. Now I know how she had the balls. Man, I should have known there was something about her.’ He shook his head. ‘And she really had these squaddies working for her? What were they — SAS or something?’ The idea seemed to amuse him, and Riley could guess why: Ragga Pearl might control the streets around here, but he’d never had genuine soldiers under his command. It would probably appeal to his ego-driven sense of power and status in the neighbourhood. No doubt it was something he would try to rectify sooner or later.
‘Ex-Royal Marines, actually,’ she said. ‘They killed a few people before they were stopped.’
‘Stopped by you? But you’re a journalist.’ He didn’t need to add that she was also a woman; it was blatant in the look he gave her.
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