by Parker Bilal
Her mind turned to the information Wheeler had just given her. It really wasn’t clear to her that Darius Danin was the one responsible for Zelda’s death. Khan and his boss, Hamid Balushi, somehow played a part. It seemed more plausible that her son tracked them down with the intention of avenging his mother. If so, why had he used Cal’s shirt to try and put the blame on him? Did that mean he thought Cal was working with Balushi? That still left the question of whether Darius had hidden the head in the freezer, or if he had found it there.
The answers would have to wait. Right now, she had other things to deal with. Oddly, when she had thought she was freezing to death, she had suddenly understood what had happened to Howeida.
The gates to the Foulkes estate stood open. The same battered white Range Rover that she had first seen parked outside her father’s house now stood in front of the stately building. Ray climbed off the bike and waved her arms about to shake the cold out of her limbs.
She walked up the front steps and rang the bell. When there was no answer she tried the door, only to find it locked. She walked around the side of the building, expecting to find Mrs Foulkes busy working in the garden, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Then Crane turned her attention to the barn. She could hear the dogs keening and yapping at one another. The big wooden doors stood open. As she came in, the excitement inside the dog cage increased. They were bouncing over one another and throwing themselves at the chain link fence in their eagerness to escape. She walked alongside the cage. Close up, the dogs were formidable. Once you looked beyond the cute fur you could see they were powerful animals, with strong jaws and very sharp teeth. The floor of the cage was strewn with straw to soften the concrete and take up some of the waste.
There was one dog in particular that drew her attention. A large black male, heavier than most of the others. His fur looked mangy and uncared for. There was something disturbing about the way he loped back and forth along the wall. The others gave him a wide berth. They scrabbled out of his way whenever he approached.
The way this dog moved reminded her of a caged leopard she had once seen as a child in a zoo in Tehran. Its movements were repetitive and gave the sense of a disturbed mind running back and forth over the same thought, unable to move on.
She stood for a time and watched it, ignoring the other dogs, who were clamouring around the fence close to her, perhaps thinking that feeding time had arrived.
As she looked, Crane caught a glimpse of something winking in the straw. It was hard to get a closer look. When she moved to one side or the other, the pack of dogs trailed behind, blocking her view. She saw the object move, dislodged by the paw of the black dog. The animal stopped for a moment, digging its snout into the straw, moving the thing around before its restlessness took over again and it jogged away along the wall.
Crane moved on, deeper into the gloom. She spent a while nosing around, looking in cupboards, behind wheelbarrows, farm machinery of one sort or another, a motorised lawnmower, some kind of hoe attachment. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Something, anything that might confirm her suspicions.
Finally, she turned towards the largest object in that space, the covered Rolls-Royce. Lifting up the tarpaulin on one side, she peered into car. It looked clean. Slightly worn, as if age was slowly encroaching. The white leather upholstery was yellowed and had a wrinkled feel to it, like weathered skin. Pulling the tarp further back, she opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. She ran a hand over the smooth wooden texture of the steering wheel and panelling. It was a nice car, but she imagined driving it would be like trying to control an elephant.
Out of idle curiosity, Crane leaned over and opened the glove compartment. There was nothing in there but the usual insurance documents, maintenance records and a lapsed Royal Automobile Club membership card. She snapped the little panel shut and sat for a moment. It felt almost as though she was hidden from the world, here inside this huge old car, half buried under the heavy tarp. She glanced up at the mirror and then a thought occurred. Climbing out, she closed the door carefully and went round to the rear. The boot was not locked. She popped it open. There was nothing much in there. A large green oilskin lay to one side. She reached down and pulled it. Underneath there was a bag. A tan-coloured leather holdall. Crane zipped it open to find it contained clothes. Women’s clothes. A couple of blouses, a dress and a pair of slacks, underwear. There was even a pair of high-heeled shoes. They all looked expensive. Designer brands. They were also new.
In a side pocket she found a make-up bag and a zipped jewellery case; inside were several sets of earrings, expensive ones. A pair of silver ones caught her eye. They were large and looked like they might be antique Bedouin silver. She zipped the case up and put it back where she had found it.
Closing the boot, Crane started back across the barn to the dog cage. In the corner nearby was a large blue plastic barrel filled with dog food. Using the big scoop buried in the top, she proceeded to spread a line of dog food across the far side of the barn. Behind her she could hear the excitement in the cage. When she had put enough out she went over to the cage. By now the dogs were hopping up and down frantically. Hesitating only for a second, she pulled back the latch and stepped out of the way.
The dogs poured out, leaping over one another in their eagerness to get to the food. All but one. The big black husky refused to move. He remained back there against the wall. As she stepped through the gate, the dog bared its teeth at her. His eyes were small, dark discs. His whole body was twitching; his paws scratched at the ground.
Crane didn’t have a weapon. She was still holding the plastic scoop. It wouldn’t really be much help, but it was all she had. She held it out ahead of her, as she edged around the side of the cage trying to keep as much distance as possible between her and the animal. The dog was clearly disturbed. Over on the far side of the barn the other dogs were busy feasting on the food that was spread out on the floor. Some of them had rushed out into the open air, basking in the sunlight, hopping and jumping. Their barking would soon bring attention and Crane knew she didn’t have long.
She scraped the straw aside with her boot, trying to find the spot where she had seen the glint of metal. The dog bounded forward two big steps and then stopped. Crane stared it down. There was more growling. It pawed the ground, snarled, bared its teeth. Crane continued her search. As the straw moved aside her eye was caught by a number of white fragments. They might have been wood chips, but they were sharp, as if something had been shattered. She went down on one knee and swept a few of these up in her hand, slipping them into her pocket. As she did so, the dog went for her. She heard it, and saw it out of the corner of her eye. She straightened up again, stepping back and bringing up her arm, the hand holding the scoop. The dog went for it, digging its teeth into the hard plastic. She held on, knowing that she needed to keep its jaws occupied. She dragged it left and right. The dog held on. It felt as if her shoulder was being torn out of its socket. She pushed and then swung, using the dog’s own momentum to propel it and send it skidding across the hard floor into the wall. It howled and retreated.
That was when she saw the object she had been looking for. It was right in front of her. She picked it up and headed for the gate. She managed to get through and slam it shut, pulling back, but not before the dog’s teeth sank into her finger. She yelled out in pain as she stumbled back. Two of her fingers were bleeding but she was grateful not to have lost them. Pressing her hand under her arm to try and stem the flow, she headed for the door. The dogs had lost interest in her. Either they were eating or they were out chasing each other around the grounds.
Crane leaned against the door of the barn and looked at the object glittering in the palm of her hand. It had been damaged, twisted and bent by powerful jaws, but it was recognisable all the same. It was an earring, made of old silver. Similar, in fact, to the pair she had seen in Howeida’s bag. She could still make out the whorls that had been inscribed in the metal.
Crane felt her blood run cold. Then she heard the change in the noise the dogs were making. They were growing more agitated. She turned to look at them and saw Marco Foulkes coming towards her. In his hands was a shotgun and it was pointed at Crane.
52
Darius had been crouched out of sight inside a cupboard in the corner of the room. He had waited for Drake to go by before coming out. Drake kicked himself for not having seen him, but at the same time he was impressed that the other man had managed to stay so still.
The knife in his hand was a short steel blade. He made no attempt to move. Drake turned until he had his back to the doorway.
‘You found me.’
‘You left a trail for me.’
It was the first real opportunity Drake had to study him. He was unkempt and looked as though he hadn’t washed for weeks. His sweatshirt and jeans were grubby. He gave off a bad smell. His face was long and narrow, covered by a light dusting of soft downy hair that wouldn’t grow into a beard.
‘You’re Darius.’
‘Correct.’ His accent was softened by years of living in this country. ‘You’re Cal Drake.’
‘That’s right. I’m here for Joe. Where is he?’
‘He’s safe.’ Darius gestured at the corridor. ‘Look for yourself.’
Drake turned his head cautiously. Through the doorway he could see two sets of bunkbeds built into the woodwork. Joe was lying on the nearest one. He was on his side and appeared to be sleeping.
‘What did you do to him?’
‘He’s fine. Don’t worry. He was making noise so I give him hot chocolate with a sleeping tablet. He’ll be fine for the next few hours.’ Darius smiled. ‘When he wakes up this will all be a dream.’
Drake reached over to feel the boy’s pulse. It felt regular.
‘You don’t need him. It’s me you want.’
‘True.’ Darius felt the tip of the knife with his thumb. ‘You are the one I want.’
‘Well, here I am.’ Drake moved a step closer. Darius pulled back. Drake held up his hands. ‘Easy. Do you mind if I sit?’ He gestured at the bed. The young man looked at him for a moment and then nodded his consent. Drake perched himself on the edge.
‘You’re Zelda’s son.’
‘Esma. Her name was Esma.’
‘A name is just a name.’ Drake shrugged. ‘She chose the name Zelda.’
‘When you kill someone you should remember their names, no?’
‘I didn’t kill her.’
‘You might as well have. If it wasn’t for you, she would still be alive.’
Drake rested a hand on his knee, where he could see his wristwatch. ‘Look, why don’t we take the boy back to his mother and then you and I can talk?’
Darius laughed at that. ‘You think I’m stupid? Stupid Darius. I don’t believe you.’
‘Then what, what do you want?’
‘I want you to confess. She was trying to help you. Why did you have her killed?’
‘I told you already. I didn’t do it. I was her friend. I cared about her.’
‘You fucked her.’
‘No.’ Drake shook his head. Darius brandished the knife.
‘Liar! Everyone fucked her.’
‘That’s not true. She wasn’t like that.’ Drake realised that he was dealing with a very disturbed man. ‘How did you find her?’
‘I saw her.’ Darius grinned. ‘Just like that, I saw her. It was like a vision, you know.’
‘Where was this?’
‘I was working in a car wash.’ Darius frowned at the memory. ‘Such places. They are full of lost souls. Men and women who have no papers, no rights. They are slaves. All day you wash cars. Your eyes sting from the soap. In the cold your hands are so painful.’ He closed his eyes at the memory.
‘Where was this?’
‘The car wash? East London. Dagenham.’ Darius busied himself locating cigarettes and lighter in his jeans. He managed to light one. Drake remembered a car wash belonging to Goran. Not so much of a coincidence, then. Mother and child both happened to be working for the same man.
‘You saw her at the car wash?’
Darius smoked his cigarette in silence for a moment. ‘It was like a miracle. The cars that came there were ordinary people. They want to save money because we are cheap. Slave labour is always cheap. But the boss also sent people round. One day a fine big car comes by. A big Merc, with a driver in front and one passenger, a woman.’
The memory seemed to give him pause for thought.
‘I never knew her as my mother, you understand. I was brought up by my aunt, but I saw pictures of her. She sent money and from time to time a photograph would arrive. They always made her look glamorous.’ He reached into his back pocket for a creased and torn snapshot. He handed it over. Drake looked at the picture. The colours were faded, but it showed Zelda smiling. She was wearing a denim jacket and waving. It looked like a market somewhere. A sunny day. Happier times.
‘That was my mother. That was who I had come to find.’
‘That’s why you came to London, to find her?’
‘I had no choice. I had to find her. She was the only thing I had in the world.’ Darius dug the point of the knife into the wooden panel next to his head and began grinding away at it.
‘Nobody wanted me. When I was a child. Ashamed. All of them. They wanted me to disappear. When I was fourteen I was sent to a home in Banja Luka. Do you know what that’s like, to live in a home?’
‘Actually,’ said Drake, ‘yes I do.’
Darius sniffed, studying Drake for a moment, unable to make up his mind.
‘In those days, there were many orphans.’
‘After the war.’
‘After war,’ nodded Darius. ‘I had to get out. I didn’t care what it cost. I just wanted to get out.’
Drake recalled Zelda telling a similar story. She too had fled from home at a young age. Everybody running away.
‘I lived on the streets. I learned to fight for what I wanted. I was in Belgrade, then Vienna, then Germany. You know Essen?’
Drake shook his head.
‘It doesn’t matter. One thing led to another. But all the time I am coming here. That’s all I have in my head. London, London.’
‘So, you got here finally.’
‘I couldn’t believe it. All my life I’ve heard London this, London that. Now I am here. But London is big. Very big.’ Darius stubbed his cigarette out on the panelling and lit another. His fingers were grubby and his nails long and stained.
‘I don’t know if it was really London or some kind of fantasy world. A nowhere land. An in-between place. The rich in their fine clothes and big cars. I saw sports cars and beautiful houses. I also saw misery. People living in the streets like animals.’
‘You mean like the kid who was in my sleeping bag?’
Darius straightened up slowly. ‘That was a mistake. I only wanted to scare him, but he screamed. I was scared. I didn’t mean to kill him.’
‘He was just a kid, he had nothing to do with any of this.’
‘You don’t understand, what happens to you when you’re out there, when you have nothing.’ Darius was growing flustered, trying to find words that weren’t coming, his voice cracking with emotion. ‘I was stuck. I couldn’t move, up or down. It wasn’t heaven and it wasn’t hell. It was nowhere. I was afraid. I was numb. I couldn’t breathe.’
‘Limbo, it’s called.’ Drake had the sense that what Darius really wanted was for Drake to hear his story. This was about his claim on his mother, a woman he didn’t even know.
‘You saw her in the car and you knew it was her?’
Darius thumped a hand to his chest. ‘I could feel it. Here, inside me. I knew it was her, but I couldn’t say anything.’
‘So, what did you do?’
‘I asked around. I found out that it belonged to an important man. This man owned a piece of everything, including the car wash.’
‘Goran Malevich.’
Dari
us nodded. ‘I decided to go and work for him. It was written.’
‘Written?’
‘God, fate, call it what you will.’
Darius grinned. It wasn’t a good look for him.
‘I had contacts. People who could recommend me. I made some calls.’
‘Did you tell anyone who you were?’
‘No, of course not.’ He was shaking his head. ‘These people are animals. You don’t tell them anything.’
‘But you did speak to her?’
Darius nodded. ‘I went to the club. I paid for her.’ He studied the end of his cigarette. ‘She didn’t know who I was. She thought I was just some young man looking for fun.’
‘What happened when you told her?’
‘At first she was angry. She said I should have stayed home and never tried to find her. I told her I hate home, that now London is my home. Then she told me she was going away.’
‘But you followed her, to Brighton?’
‘Yes, of course. I wanted to know she was all right.’
Drake glanced down at his watch. He wondered how much time they had.
‘How did she react when she saw you?’
‘She was afraid. She told me to stay away from her, that it was dangerous. But then she changed her mind. She was happy to see me.’ Darius paused. ‘It was the happiest day of my life, I think, even though she was very sad.’
‘Why was she sad?’
‘She was lonely. She told me about you, how you had promised to save her, to help her out of the mess she was in.’ Darius let the words sink in. ‘You lied to her.’
‘I didn’t lie. I was trying to help her.’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘You used her, like everyone used her.’
‘She was a witness in an important case.’
Darius laughed again. ‘You think you can catch a man like Goran with the law? You’re crazy. She should never have listened to you. She would still be alive.’