by Conrad Jones
“Do we know her?”
“No.”
“Was she her source?”
“I don’t think so. The woman is in hospital and the police are all over it. There were a dozen police cars outside that shop.”
“For God’s sake,” Ivor sighed. “Which clumsy bastard did this?”
“Your brother, Andris.”
There was a long pause as Ivor thought things through. Letva could feel the tension on the line. “Andris did this to a woman in a shop in broad daylight?”
“Yes. They didn’t ask for permission from me, Ivor. They took it upon themselves to rush in. I know Andris is your brother but he’s too impulsive. He has made a complete mess of this.”
“Is the woman going to die?”
“My contact at the hospital says that she is in a bad way. She is in surgery. It’s touch and go.”
“What the fuck were they thinking?”
“I don’t know but they were interrupted by a customer who came into the shop.”
“Interrupted?” Ivor sounded confused. “How can they have been interrupted?”
“The door wasn’t locked. They assured me that they had locked the front door but someone walked in and they had to leave in a hurry. They were photographed by a witness leaving the building.”
“More photographs? Come on, Letva,” Ivor sounded mischievous. “You’re joking with me now, right?”
“No.”
Silence.
Letva decided to get it all out on the table. “Look, I am trying to clear up this situation here. Once I realised that the handover had been compromised, I had to convince them to relocate the mules and the drugs and arrange for the vehicle to be switched. Andris and Oleg were bickering like children. It was like talking to a brick wall,” Letva stood his ground. “Your cousin Oleg was in charge of the house in Aigburth and he left a disaster behind. Andris couldn’t control him.”
Silence.
Letva waited for a response but none came. “Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know that he had taken one of the Karpovs to the house?”
“No.” Ivor said quietly. He cleared his throat. “What happened?”
“He did this off his own back, Ivor. Andris and I did not know what he had done.”
“And?”
“He fucked up.” Letva passed the blame expertly. “He put the whores in the cellar, left Karpov’s body in the hallway and set fire to the building.” Letva didn’t know that Oleg had slaughtered one of the mules too. “The police will be climbing up our backside and there isn’t much that I can do about that. It is too late.”
“This is a catastrophe.” There was a long pause. Letva remained quiet. “I need Oleg sent back here immediately,” Ivor said flatly. “He has caused enough damage.”
“Oleg is dead, Ivor.”
Silence.
“Something went wrong at the vehicle switch. It was compromised too,” Letva said flatly, no emotion in his voice.
“Compromised how?”
“From what I can gather, they were hijacked at the switch. Oleg and the others were tied up by whoever hit them and beaten to death. We lost another man with him. Raitis is still alive but he’s critical.”
Ivor leaned against the window, the glass felt cool on his forehead. He didn’t need to work again. There was enough money coming in for him to sit on a beach for the rest of his life but the money would be no good to him if he was rotting in a Czech prison. He could see his anonymity unravelling. “Two of our men are dead and their bodies were left where they can be printed and identified?”
“Yes.”
“So when I said that I can’t afford to have a trail of bodies across the UK, I was wasting my breath?”
“Basically, yes. The damage was already done. What do you want me to do?”
“You need to silence this journalist and the witness at the pawnbroker’s shop and anybody else that could be of any concern,” Ivor spoke very slowly to reinforce his point. “We need to regain control of this shambles but it has to be done professionally. I do not want any more bodies on the streets, Letva. Am I making myself clear?”
“I have not left any bodies on the streets, Ivor,” Letva replied sternly. “In all the time that I have worked for you, have I ever left any evidence behind?”
“Point taken,” Ivor conceded. Letva was the ultimate pro. He would take down a target and make them disappear. Even Ivor didn’t know where half of his victims ended up. “Make these people vanish before the police start making progress. They will already have names and they will quickly make the connection to our European operations. They will link Oleg and Raitis to Prague.”
“Oleg made this mess. Andris and I will clean it up.”
“Good.”
“You haven’t mentioned the drugs,” Letva said nervously.
“What about my drugs?” Ivor didn’t seem perturbed that his cousin and another employee had been killed and his question sounded like an afterthought.
“They were stolen from the switch.”
“By who?”
“I am working on that, Ivor. I do not know yet.”
“I don’t like losing my goods.”
“I will have them returned.”
“You need to,” Ivor sighed. He looked at the tattoo between his finger and thumb, the numeral 3 on the ace of spades. Its significance was never more relevant than now. “Someone needs to pay for this mess. We have an informer in our midst. Who was the rat?”
“I can’t be sure yet. I need to speak with the Barrat woman to be certain.”
“How soon can you do that?”
“The police have her in protection.”
“Discretion, Letva. Don’t leave any more leads for the police to follow. Are you sure that you can get to her?”
“Absolutely. There are always opportunities.”
“Good, but be careful. Who do you think is the informer?”
“I think it was Raitis,” Letva lied. The truth was that he didn’t know. One of the three men that went to the handover was an informer, of that he was certain but he didn’t know who. Two of them were dead so it was in his best interest to hand his boss a head on a plate. “I had my doubts about him but now I am almost certain.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Andris told all three of them where the pickup was to be but he said that only Raitis knew where the van switch was to happen,” he elaborated his lie. “If he lives, I can set a trap for him and hope that he walks straight into it.”
“Can you get to him in hospital?”
“Of course. If he lives.”
“I sincerely hope that he does, Letva. I want to know who has betrayed us.”
“I will find them and the men that took them.”
Ivor had faith that Letva meant what he said but he wasn’t as convinced that he could deliver. “I need to speak to my brother. Where is he?”
“He is cleaning up his mess.”
“The witness at the pawnbroker shop?”
“Yes.”
“Find him, Letva and make sure that it is done tidily,” Ivor warned. “When you are done, tell him to phone me. I am tired of wiping his arse.”
“I will be in touch.” Letva hung up.
“Did you hear all that?” Ivor stepped away from the window and looked at his wife, Marika. She was sitting on a dark red leather captain’s chair. Her dark brown eyes looked at him intently. She crossed her long legs, her beige leather trousers creaked as the material rubbed against the chair. She swigged from a bottle of Budvar and smiled.
“I heard it.” She flicked her long brown hair from her shoulder. “What do you think?”
“I think he’s a fucking liar. What about you?”
“I never liked the man. There’s something not right about him.” She stood and joined him at the window. “What makes you so sure that he is lying to you?”
“Raitis called me when they left the mill. I knew that t
he shipment had been compromised and that they would lose my drugs, so I had it taken from them. He told me where they were switching vans and I sent the team to take the zombie and make sure it remained safe. I didn’t count on the mules turning on Oleg and the others.”
“You knew the rest of what he said, already?”
“Most of it yes. Andris is my little brother so he’s telling me what Letva is up to but he isn’t being completely honest about his own fuck ups,” Ivor took the bottle of beer from her hand as he spoke. “He is impetuous and sometime a little stupid but he is loyal to me. I need to make sure that the zombie gets to the tablet press and I need to settle things down before they fuck things up completely. We need to make a trip to the UK.” He drank greedily from the bottle and then handed it back to her. She finished it in a few gulps. “Sometimes if you want something done it is better to do it yourself.”
CHAPTER 26
Andris followed the Range Rover until it pulled into a pub car park. He waited for the driver to climb out of the vehicle to confirm that it was Jason Greene. In hindsight, he should have taken a few seconds outside of the pawnbroker’s shop to take the mobile phone from him and to break his neck, but the sound of sirens approaching had startled him. He knew that the police would have copies of the images already but without a witness’s corroboration that they came from their device, they would be of no use in a court of law. They could not prove when a photograph had been taken without the device and the photographer. A good barrister could throw enough doubt at a jury that they would never convict. Andris needed to remove both the device and the owner from the equation. He watched Jason walk across the car park and enter the pub through the rear entrance. The Range Rover was parked away from the other vehicles beneath some trees. Greene looked shifty and nervous, looking over his shoulder constantly. Andris considered that he might be aware that he was being followed but he dismissed the idea quickly. Whatever Greene was worried about, it was something else other than what had happened that morning. Andris wanted to see what was going on inside. He climbed out of the Ford that he was driving and walked towards the pub.
Inside, Jason went to the bar and ordered a pint of lager. Most of the tables were full with a mixture of suits having a drink after work and elderly men playing dominos. A bandit beeped noisily as a man in a white tracksuit fed it with his dole money. Jason paid for the beer with his last fiver and slipped the change into his jeans. His beer was cold and had a bite. He felt like drinking ten more but he didn’t have any cash. His deal with Kayla hadn’t come to fruition and he hadn’t thought about what he would do if it didn’t come off. A flurry of bills had landed and depleted his dwindling funds. He had relied on her too much and put all his eggs in one basket. He had tried to contact some of his old buyers but their response had been less than cordial. The Rolex watches were his only collateral and he needed to convert them into cash as quickly as possible.
“Alright, Jason,” a familiar voice came from behind him. He turned and looked at two men in their forties. One of them he knew as a local dealer and small time crook Rick Grainger, the other was a stranger to him. They were sharply dressed in the latest brands, jeans, t-shirts and trainers. Both men wore designer beards and had wrap-around tattooed sleeves on their arms. There was an air of menace about them. “We’ll have two lagers, Jason my mate. It’s your round isn’t it?”
Jason blushed. He felt his pockets for effect. “I haven’t brought any cash with me, sorry.”
“He hasn’t brought any cash,” Rick nudged his companion. Jason could tell from his pupils that he was on cocaine. They sniggered like a couple of schoolboys. “They take debit cards behind the bar, don’t you, mate?” The barman nodded that they did. “See, they take cards, which makes it your round. Now get the fucking beers in!”
Jason shifted nervously from one foot to another. His face reddened more. “I lost my cards. I’m waiting on new ones.”
Rick sneered and shook his head. He stepped up to the bar and ordered two pints, paying with a twenty-pound note. Handing one of the drinks to his friend, he gestured to an empty table. They walked over and sat down. Rick took a long swig from his beer. As he swallowed he pointed to Jason’s jeans. “Show me your wallet, Jason.”
“What?” Jason asked nervously.
“Are you deaf?”
“No.”
“Then show me your wallet,” Rick shrugged and put his glass down. He glared at Jason.
“What is your problem, Rick?”
“I’ll tell you what my problem is. I think you’re lying to me and I don’t deal with liars.”
“Lying about what?”
“Losing your cards.”
“What is wrong with that?” Jason asked. He feigned being offended. The memories of being bullied at school came flooding back. There were a hundred Ricks at school and they all seemed to zero in on him. “I’ve offered you some quality merchandise and you come in here throwing your weight around. I really don’t need this.”
Rick frowned and looked at his companion. His companion glowered at Jason. Jason had the same sick feeling in his stomach that he used to have when the bullies cornered him. “Have I offended you?” Rick asked politely.
Jason took a sip of beer and swallowed. He could feel his hand shaking as he put his glass down. “Not really. I just don’t see the need for the attitude.”
“Attitude?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.” Rick leaned over the table threateningly. “Explain it to me. How have I got an attitude?”
Jason felt his face blushing again. He was withering beneath their stares. “I think you’re being unnecessarily aggressive. I realise that you’re letting me know that you’re not going to be mugged off in a deal and I appreciate that. Do you want to see the gear or not?”
Rick sat back and relaxed a little. He sipped from his pint and looked around. The other drinkers were too busy chatting and playing their games to be interested in what they were talking about. “I still think that you’re lying to me. When was the last time you called me with gear to sell?” He shrugged. “Two years ago, maybe three?”
“Why does that matter?”
“I would have thought that it was obvious.”
“Not to me, no.”
“Let me explain,” Rick raised his forefinger like a teacher in front of a class. “You don’t call me to offer me gear for two years, then out of the blue you need to see me urgently. You have the deal of the century for me.” Rick smiled like a snake. “How many people did you call before me, Jason?” Jason blushed again and felt like standing up and running for the door. “How many people told you to fuck off before you thought about calling me?” Jason looked at the floor. His confidence was crushed. “The way that I see it is this.” He sat forward and stared hard at Jason. “You have been selling your gear to that slag in Kensington. For some reason, she has bummed you off and you’re up the wall without a ladder so you call all your old buyers until someone bites.” He cocked his head to one side. “How am I doing so far?” Jason shuffled on his stool and shrugged. Rick was spot on. “Then you turn up here without a pot to piss in, not enough money to buy us a pint and come up with a load of old bollocks about losing your bank cards. Now tell me if I’m wrong but if you expected me to believe that then I think you’re a bit of a cheeky bastard, don’t you?”
Jason looked around. The pub was filling up but he still felt completely alone. He sighed and took a drink from his pint. “Do you want to see the watches or not?”
“Do I want to see a couple of snide watches from a nobody like you?” Rick finished his pint and slid the glass across the table. “Have you got the boxes and certificates?”
“No.”
“Fuck off, Jason.” Jason looked shocked. “Get out of here now before I lose my temper. Do you think that anyone will believe that they’re genuine?”
“They are.”
“Don’t waste any more of my time.”
“Look, I’ll take less than I wanted. I am in a bit of fix at the moment.” Rick’s companion threw the contents of his glass into Jason’s face. The liquid splattered down his front. Jason tried to wipe the beer from his eyes. The pub fell silent and all eyes were on them.
“Rick told you to fuck off, so why are you still here?”
Jason held up his hands and stood up. “Okay, I’m going.” He turned on his heels and walked towards the door, soaked and mortally embarrassed. He wasn’t sure what to do next. He had broken into his last fiver. There was no diesel in his vehicle and he had no cigarettes. He opened the door and broke into a jog in case they decided to follow him, give him a good kicking and take the watches for free. Tears of embarrassment stung his eyes and ran down his cheeks. The fresh air soothed his shattered nerves and he couldn’t get away quickly enough. He felt sick to the pit of his stomach. Sick and pissed off that he wasn’t hard enough to stick up for himself. He hated bullies. They always seemed to zone in on him as if he had a target on his forehead. They always had and unless he turned into a ninja overnight, they always would. As he opened the door of the Range Rover, his eyes filled with tears, anger and resentment fuelled his despair. Just when he thought that life couldn’t get much worse, a heavy blow to the back of his head sent lights flashing through his brain. His knees buckled and he felt himself being dragged along the ground as another blow switched his lights out.
CHAPTER 27
Antonia Barrat groaned internally as they drove through the gates of Canning Place. It was a daunting thought that once they had her inside that soulless building she couldn’t leave until they said so. The smell of male sweat inside the BMW had become more intense with every mile; her escorts were burning adrenalin, their minds in a heightened state of readiness. She could literally smell their angst in the air. As they neared the rear entrance the convoy slowed to a halt and she could feel the tension dissipate as the gates closed behind them. The officers charged with keeping her safe seemed to relax immediately. When the doors opened and the sea air blew in from the river, she took in several deep breaths. She was helped from the vehicle and guided towards the lift that would take them into the dark heart of the headquarters. Detective Maxwell had spoken to her several times on the way but she hadn’t heard a word that he had said. His lips were moving but the sound wasn’t being processed by her brain. She felt the lift moving upwards, registered the doors opening and she instinctively stepped out into a wide office space. The sound of telephones ringing struck her first, then the buzz of a hundred conversations happening simultaneously. The noise seemed to be weirdly amplified by her mind. Toni knew that it was fear, shock and stress that had warped reality. She followed Maxwell through the organised chaos, his eyes full of both concern and contempt. He didn’t like her, none of them did. She could sense it as they looked at her. It didn’t matter. She didn’t care. All she wanted was to see Kayla. She needed to hold her, smell her hair and feel the warmth that spread between them when they embraced. Kayla always whispered, ‘I love you, Toni and I’ll never leave you’. She needed to hear that. Nothing else mattered now. Her mind took her away from the frightening reality of the situation that she was in.