Princess realised what was going on, scrambled off the floor and ran at the door.
‘Let us out, Rita. I’ll kill you,’ she shouted. ‘I have to save my mum.’
‘Leave it, Princess,’ said Berlin.
Princess threw herself at the door and Berlin grabbed her.
‘For god’s sake stop it. She can’t keep us in here forever. She’s pissed; she hasn’t worked it out yet. She won’t take my word for it that they’re dead.’
Princess pushed Berlin away and started kicking at the door instead.
Berlin took out her phone. It wasn’t a call she wanted to make, but she had no other choice.
Princess kept kicking.
86
Sonja shivered. An energy-efficient light bulb, protected by heavy-duty mesh, emitted a cold glow. The iron door, studded with rivets, squealed as it swung open.
The tiny interview room, by contrast, was sweltering. There was barely room for a small table with two wooden chairs jammed either side of it. Snowe sat on one side and she sat on the other.
Another bloke leant against the wall behind Snowe. He didn’t introduce himself and he was watching Snowe, not her. Snowe seemed nervous. She guessed the other bloke was in charge. Snowe’s boss.
The atmosphere was thick, the silence absolute apart from the occasional squeak of the twin cassettes spinning slowly in the tape recorder.
The boss had removed his jacket. Sonja could see the blue nylon shirt clinging to his hairy chest. She watched, mesmerised, as the shape of the dark curls was revealed through the thin fabric. She thought of Cole.
Snowe’s voice reached her from a long way away.
‘Sonja Kvist,’ said Snowe. ‘You have agreed that you are aware of the criminal record of Cole Mortimer.’
‘Yes,’ said Sonja.
‘Cole Mortimer is the father of your child, Princess?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Do you have any knowledge of the whereabouts of your daughter?’
‘No,’ she said.
‘Do you have any knowledge of the whereabouts of Catherine Berlin?’
‘Who?’ she said.
‘Do you have any knowledge of the whereabouts of Cole Mortimer?’
‘No,’ she said.
‘You are still under caution,’ said Snowe. ‘So for the last time: forensic analysis has confirmed that the blood taken from the floor of your residence matches that of Cole Mortimer. Can you offer any explanation for this?’
‘He cut himself shaving,’ said Sonja.
‘Are you able to offer any explanation as to the apparent disappearance of Cole Mortimer?’
‘No,’ she said.
‘Do you agree you have been offered access to a lawyer?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Do you agree you have been well-treated and provided with adequate nourishment?’
‘No,’ she said.
‘You will be remanded in custody while our enquiries are continuing. Is there anything you wish to say?’
‘I want to make a phone call,’ she said.
‘Speak to the custody sergeant,’ said Snowe.
He snapped off the tape recorder with such force one of the switches broke.
Snowe derived a grim satisfaction from arresting Sonja. It was the first sign of progress in the whole bloody mess. At least he had one in the bag.
The search at the container yard had yielded nothing so far but a pool of blood in the dirt. Berlin was still on the run with the kid. All the hospitals in the area had been alerted. She’d said a hoodie had murdered Kylie Steyne, but he could hardly take her word for it. She was still Hurley’s number-one suspect.
He walked back down the corridor into the custody suite. The desk sergeant was flat out processing the prisoners from Love Motel, who had outstanding warrants aplenty. Snowe inspected the bunch of miscreants. He could see vans outside, with officers waiting to deliver others.
The door opened to admit another batch. Among them were two officers with a sullen hoodie. One of the officers signalled to Snowe. He quickly snapped on a pair of disposable gloves, strode over and pushed back the hood. A lump on the youth’s temple was still swelling.
One of the officers handed Snowe a large evidence bag that contained a cake tin. He opened it. Inside the tin was a package wrapped in plastic and tape.
‘Where did you get this?’ asked Snowe.
‘I found it, you black bastard,’ shouted the youth.
‘That’s him,’ Snow said to the officers. ‘Well done.’
‘You little mouth-breather,’ said Snowe. ‘Ten years for possession with intent to supply will teach you some manners. You could be in line for murder, too, if what I hear is correct.’
‘What the fuck?’ screamed Diamond, and kicked off. The other prisoners took this as a signal to have a go, and pandemonium broke out.
Snowe hit the panic bar that ran around the custody suite and officers came running from all over the station, truncheons at the ready.
Two in the bag, and the heroin. Things were looking up.
87
Berlin sat on Rita’s bed. It stank, but she was past caring and she probably didn’t smell too good herself. Princess was lying on the floor beside the door, kicking it with a relentless rhythm. She was swearing under her breath and seemed feverish. The kid had lost it.
Berlin’s arm was throbbing and the tea towel was already soaked through with her blood. She realised that this new injury might help to keep her in Rolfey’s pain-management system. Every cloud, she thought, then flushed with shame. She might just as well have put her arm in a vice.
She registered that the sound of the television had died away. She slipped off the bed and squatted down beside Princess, gesturing for quiet. Princess got the message. She lay still. Berlin put her ear to the door. She could hear voices.
‘The cavalry,’ she whispered to Princess.
Princess scrambled to her feet.
There was a shuffling sound, muttering, then the key turning in the lock. Berlin stood and took a step back.
Princess squirmed past her and ran out as the door of Rita’s bedroom opened.
Berlin followed her into the living room, which was lit only by the flickering light of the screen.
Rita was retreating, probably expecting Berlin to clobber her.
Princess made a strange noise.
‘Hello, Cathy,’ said a bald, middle-aged man with a smirk.
Berlin drew a blank. She looked around for their knight in shining armour.
Princess was backing up, her hands raised in a gesture of surrender.
‘Long time no see,’ said the man.
The air left Berlin’s lungs, as if she’d been winded. ‘Cole?’ she said.
Princess began to shake her head and babble, as if there were an incantation that could expel this vision. Her hands were not raised in capitulation, but to ward off evil.
Berlin drew breath as the shock flooded her system.
‘How about a hug for Daddy, my little Princess?’ said Cole with a broad grin.
‘You’re dead,’ said Princess.
‘Sorry to disappoint,’ said Cole. He lifted his T-shirt to reveal a thick bandage taped around his ribs.
‘I’m a bleeder,’ he said, laughing.
Rita had moved off to the furthest corner of the room.
Berlin put a hand on Princess’s shoulder to try to steady her, but she was still reeling herself. She felt the toxic flowers of betrayal bloom inside her, rushing in to fill the vacuum.
The apparition of a tall, handsome young man with thick, black hair decayed into the bald, flabby bloke before her. The two shared a familiar sinister smile.
‘Sonja said you were dead,’ she managed.
‘When a kid runs off with half a key of smack, desperate measures are called for,’ said Cole.
‘She’s in custody,’ said Berlin. ‘For murdering you.’
‘So I hear,’ said Cole, with a nod at Rita. He was
circling Berlin very slowly, playing peek-a-boo with his terrified daughter, who was cowering behind her.
‘Reunited at last,’ he said and made a lunge for Princess.
Berlin jumped back, startled, nearly knocking Princess to the floor. She grabbed the kid to break her fall and hung onto her.
Cole kept circling and lunged again.
Berlin kept Princess behind her and braced herself to take Cole on. In her condition it would all be over with one well-placed shove.
Cole smiled, amused. He was toying with them.
Berlin felt as if she were staring at an apparition, a shade that had escaped hell to torment them.
‘Does Sonja know?’ she asked. As soon as the question was out of her mouth she realised it was ludicrous.
Cole roared with laughter.
‘It was her idea,’ he said. ‘Do you think the little bugger would have come home if she’d known I was still alive and kicking?’ He waggled the toe of his boot, the clear implication being that Princess would soon be feeling it. His playfulness evaporated in an instant.
‘Come on,’ he said to her. ‘Game’s over. Give us your precious bag.
Berlin didn’t want to think how Cole was going to react when he found out the heroin wasn’t there. She kept Princess well behind her.
Cole sighed.
‘No hard feelings, Cathy. You did a good job finding her. But she’s mine,’ he said.
‘If I give you the pack, will you let me leave with her?’ said Berlin. She had to buy some time. This was the moment at which the cavalry was supposed to arrive. Tardiness could prove fatal for somebody.
Cole frowned, as if considering her request.
‘Er . . . no,’ he said, and laughed again. A cold, mirthless sound.
The tinny sound of a heavy guitar riff broke the ensuing silence. Cole took a phone out of his pocket and answered it. He listened for a moment.
‘Hello, hello,’ he said, and smiled. He gestured to Princess and switched to loudspeaker. ‘It’s your mum.’
‘Cole,’ came Sonja’s voice. It was difficult to tell if it was breaking with emotion or the poor signal.
Berlin watched Cole relish his power. The ultimate vanity: rising from the dead.
‘You’re calling a bit late, Sonja,’ said Cole. ‘You were supposed to let me know the minute our darling daughter made an appearance. You junkies are so fucking unreliable.’ He winked at Rita. ‘Luckily,’ he said. ‘I had someone on the inside I could trust.’
Rita glanced nervously at Berlin and kept edging towards the door, her hand to her throat so her gold chains and medallions didn’t jingle.
‘Please, Cole,’ said Sonja. ‘They’ve arrested me for murder.’
Cole raised his eyebrows in a gesture of exasperation. ‘Who did you kill now?’ he said.
‘Just tell them you’re alive,’ came the plea. ‘Take the stuff and leave us be.’
‘Mum!’ wailed Princess.
‘I think dead might suit me better,’ he said.
Berlin could see where this was going. She had only one card to play: she knew the smack was gone, but he didn’t.
‘Give it to him,’ she said to Princess.
Princess looked up at her.
‘What?’ she said.
‘Give him your bloody pack,’ she said and made a grab for it. Princess went ballistic. Cole watched as Berlin wrestled with her and dragged the pack off her back.
Princess went limp. Berlin knew she had snatched away the kid’s last remaining shred of security.
She threw the pack at Cole, who caught it with one hand. The phoenix reared up with his flexed tendons. He was still strong. Solid.
In some awful recess of her imagination she heard Kylie Steyne’s hyoid bone crack, the echo a soft ripple in the canal. She saw Cole stuffing the tiny body into the crevice.
‘You killed Kylie Steyne,’ she said.
Cole dropped the phone on the table, among the detritus of Rita’s supper, and greedily unzipped the backpack.
‘Prove it,’ he said.
‘And Billy,’ said Berlin.
She reached behind her, slipped the spike out of the waistband of her jeans and inched towards him.
‘They’ll put me away,’ cried Sonja’s disembodied voice.
‘Good,’ said Cole, distracted as he peered into the pack. ‘You can rot in hell for all I care.’
‘I’ll save you, Mum!’ shouted Princess.
Berlin used the moment to make her move, but she was slow compared to the kid.
Cole, momentarily bemused, looked up as Princess sprang at him. The knife sank deep into his throat.
He didn’t stagger, just dropped to the floor.
Berlin’s heart slammed against her ribs. The pounding engulfed her in a great roar. Princess pulled out the knife, wiped the handle and put it back on Rita’s table.
88
Snowe walked in alone, but Rita could see all the police vehicles pulling into the yard.
‘You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Rita,’ he said. ‘You must think I’m —’
Then he saw Cole. The look on his face, you’d think he’d never seen a dead body before.
‘Jesus Christ Almighty,’ he said. ‘Mortimer.’
He bent down to take a closer look, his fingers at Cole’s throat, as if to take a pulse. But there was no point. The jugular had collapsed and he had bled out.
‘It was the kid,’ said Rita.
‘Where is she?’ he said.
‘Dunno. She took off with Limping Woman.’
Snowe stood up.
‘Three hundred quid, Mr Snowe,’ she said.
Snowe didn’t respond.
‘Dead or alive?’ she added, hopefully.
For a moment she thought he was going to give her a smack.
‘Berlin’s wanted for murder, Rita, and right now you’re in the frame for aiding and abetting,’ he said.
‘What the fuck?’ said Rita. She brought the diary out of her dressing-gown pocket and brandished it. ‘I’m registered and everything. It’s all in here.’
Snowe made for the door, but Rita grabbed his arm. He tried to shake her off, but she clung on.
‘How about this?’ she said, smug. ‘I can give you the smack. My grandson Terry’s got it.’
Snowe shook her off in disgust. ‘Not any more he hasn’t,’ he said.
He strode out and she scuttled after him. The coppers all stopped to watch them.
‘You can’t get out of it that easily,’ she shouted.
Snowe got in his car, slammed the door and took off in a spray of gravel.
‘Filth!’ she shrieked. ‘You’re all the fucking same!’
Snowe drove through Silvertown, cursing. His phone rang. It would be the first of many unwanted calls. He was seized by the notion that somehow this was all his fault. No doubt his boss would share that view. He pressed hands-free.
‘Snowe,’ he said.
‘Desk sergeant here,’ said an irritated voice. ‘What do you want to do with your prisoner? She’s not been processed and she just nearly fainted. If I call the doctor he’ll take half the night to come, there’s a shift change and —’
Snowe cut him off.
‘Let her go,’ he said.
He could see a false-imprisonment suit looming. He’d arrested Sonja for the murder of a man who wasn’t dead. Then.
89
Berlin was slumped on the toilet seat. Princess sat with her back to the door, her knees tucked under her chin, shivering despite the heat. Berlin suspected it might be due more to the loss of her backpack than the death of her father. She had had to drag the kid away from it. It was covered in blood.
She could hear trucks pulling up at the petrol pumps outside. The guy in the shop had seen them go in, and no doubt he would come looking if they didn’t emerge soon.
‘What are we going to do?’ asked Princess.
Berlin’s phone rang, saving her the trouble of lying.
‘It’s me
,’ said Sonja’s tremulous voice. ‘I don’t know why, but they’re letting me go.’
Berlin turned to Princess. ‘Go and buy some crisps,’ she said, giving her a quid from her pocket.
Princess looked at her as if she were mad.
‘I don’t want crisps,’ she said.
‘Chocolate then, I don’t care. Go on.’
‘Who is it?’ asked Princess. She wasn’t stupid.
‘Just go,’ snapped Berlin.
Princess reluctantly got to her feet, unlocked the door and slunk off.
‘Cole’s gone,’ Berlin said. ‘And so has the smack.’
Sonja felt strange. Weightless. The air around her suddenly felt soft and balmy, not clammy and oppressive. But almost at the same moment she felt herself drifting into a void. She had been anchored to cruelty for so long, without it she had no will.
‘I loved him once,’ she said to the young constable who handed her a cup of tea in a plastic beaker.
The constable smiled. ‘You can go when you’ve drunk that,’ he said. ‘Someone picking you up?’
‘Really,’ she said. ‘I really did love him.’
There was a polite knock on the toilet door. Berlin dragged herself off the toilet seat and unlocked it.
‘I owe you a crate of Scotch,’ she said.
‘Sorry it took me a while,’ said Del. ‘It was —’
‘Don’t tell me,’ she said. ‘The baby.’
He followed her out of the toilet block.
Princess emerged from the shop devouring a Lion bar. Berlin beckoned and they all shuffled to Del’s car.
‘This is a friend,’ she said to Princess, and directed her into the front seat.
‘The friend,’ corrected Del.
Berlin got in the back and stretched out.
‘Where are we going?’ asked Princess.
‘Where’s my change?’ said Berlin.
‘By the way,’ said Del. ‘I’ve been meaning to get back to you about Joseph Snowe.’
‘What about him?’ said Berlin.
‘Straight. Single-minded. A dedicated copper with very good prospects.’
Not any more, thought Berlin.
A Bitter Taste Page 24