by Mick Scully
‘What do you want, son? Who let you through?’
Mel peered round the copper. ‘Oh, he’s all right. It’s family. She’s in here love, and no, it’s not hers if that’s what you’re thinking. She’s all right.’
‘Who let you in?’ the copper persisted.
Mel answered for him. ‘Houdini Part Two, this one. In and out of anywhere. But he’s all right. His mom’s dead.’ She half whispered this sentence, as though it were confidential. ‘I’ll look after him. Come on, love, she’s in there.’
The copper moved to let him pass. ‘Paige is in there with her. It’s like an antenatal class.’ She tapped the copper’s chest playfully. ‘Either of those two goes into labour, I’m going to need your help.’
An hour ago everything had been terrible, frightening. Now as Mel joked with the copper, as he smelled their smoke, everything seemed safe.
No one in the lounge, or the kitchen. He went to Sophie’s bedroom. He knocked. ‘Soph.’
The bathroom door opened a touch. ‘Hold on, we’re having a fag. Be out in a minute.’
Ashley wandered into the kitchen. He was starving. He opened the fridge. Closed it. A cupboard contained an opened box of muesli. He scooped a handful into his mouth, then another.
‘Fuckin’ thief. What you doin’?’ Paige Crutchley filled the doorway. She was enormous. And not pretty any more, her face all spotty, her hair greasy and dead. Ashley hadn’t seen her since school, probably over a year now. He knew she was pregnant. It was supposed to be Tyr Hardy’s as well. But even her face was fat now. Sophie had told him she’d been texting Paige because their kids were going to be related.
‘I’m starving,’ Ashley told her. ‘Ain’t had nothing to eat.’
‘Don’t mean you’re supposed to scab off other people does it? There’s shops you know.’
‘Where’s Sophie?’
‘Havin’ a piss.’
‘Not any more she’s not.’ Sophie pushed Paige into the kitchen.
‘He was stealing your food.’
‘Only a handful of cereal. You make it sound like the whole fucking cupboard.’
‘Same thing. Principle.’
‘Sorry Soph. I’m starving.’
‘It’s all right. D’you want some toast? There’s plenty of bread. Have some Bovril on it if you like.’
Mel called Sophie’s name.
‘In the kitchen.’
‘Blimey, it’s crowded in here. Why you all in here?’
‘I’m making Ash some toast. He’s hungry.’
‘While you’re at it make a cup of tea for Gareth, will you. Milk, no sugar.’
In the end Sophie made toast for everybody. Mel and Gareth ate theirs in the doorway because he was on inside patrol; Ashley, Paige and Sophie sat in the lounge.’
‘I was dead worried when I saw it on the telly,’ Ashley told Sophie. ‘Thought it might be you.’
‘I’d never do that.’
‘Thanks a lot,’ Paige said. ‘So you think I would?’ She turned to Ashley. ‘She texted me. First thing. Have you dumped the baby? Lovely.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to think.’
‘When we doing our therapy?’ Paige asked Sophie. ‘He’s not stayin’ is he?’
‘No. You’ll have to go soon, Ash. We’re doing music therapy. It’s good for a baby to listen to music. Makes them healthier.’
‘And good people,’ Paige added.
‘So we lie on the floor and listen to music together. If they listen to the same music they’ll probably be closer. Shared experience makes you closer.’
Ashley wanted to talk to Sophie on her own. He wanted to say I thought you didn’t like Paige. Hated her you said. Now you push me out and I’ve got nowhere to go. He wanted to say I want to talk to you. Tell you things. I’m in the shit again. Instead he said, ‘What music you listening to?’
‘Lotsa stuff. “Back It Up” by Beenie Man. Tarrus Riley.’
‘And “Gummy Bear”,’ Sophie added. ‘Don’t forget “Gummy Bear”. We dance to that with our toes.’
Mel came through with the empty cups. ‘Here, Gareth’s just told me some news. He’s only just heard it himself. The baby’s yellow. And not jaundice. They thought it was. But it isn’t. It’s Chinese.’
36
Walton Tower was back to normal except for some police notices giving people a number to ring if they had any information. Ashley walked the long way round to the Pooch then back again. He didn’t know what else to do. Twice today he had been to Cecil Road and recognised one of Kieran’s cars outside. The third time the street was clear but the locks had been changed. He called in to Easy Ted Nichol’s, but Marilyn was back and he didn’t even get offered a cup of tea. He had gone to Karl’s, just in case he wasn’t at school, but he was.
Two or three times today he had wanted to phone Kieran. In Cecil Road he had wanted to go over to the house, try and make things all right. But every time he tried he knew it was the wrong thing to do. Time had run out. That’s what they say, isn’t it. Your time’s run out. In the end he had an idea and rang Geezbo, told him he’d got twenty pounds for him if he could find him somewhere to stay for the night, a couple of nights if possible. Geezbo had thought and said he might have a solution, meet him on Kinny Bridge at ten o’clock. There were three hours to kill and it was getting cold. He would walk across to Stirchley, get some fish and chips and see if he could get in the arcade there.
*
‘For one night only,’ Geezbo told Ashley as they entered the lift in Nimrod House.
‘I know. I know. You already said.’
‘Jus’ so iz clear. I takin’ a risk for ya, man. Wiv Linton. An that serious.’ On the seventeenth floor they headed for the stairs. ‘Next floor down.’
There Geezbo unlocked a door and beckoned Ashley to follow him through. They were immediately cramped together in a small space between the front door and a ceiling-to-floor black curtain. Geezbo drew it aside to reveal another door that he unlocked. The smell was like a blow to Ashley. ‘Fuck me!’
‘Good innit. Pure skunk, man. One hundred per cent. Hydroponic, man.’ From a bank of electric switches on the wall trails of wires, thick as jungle snakes, led along the hallway and into the rooms. The atmosphere was warm and damp and dark. All the windows were covered with neatly taped black bin bags. Ashley began to sweat. The smell made him light-headed.
‘You watch yourself man, on de wiring. Like Alcatraz in here innit.’
‘Alcatraz?’
‘Where dey keeps de electric chair. Old Sparky dey calls it. One false move round ’ere and ya fry.’
Pulling off his jacket Geezbo led Ashley through to the kitchen. A few original fittings were still there, a sink unit, a fridge, a counter above some cupboards. Above that was another wiring board. From the cupboard Geezbo pulled some cushions and a sleeping bag. ‘Sometime kip down ’ere myself, or one of the others do. So I keep these ’ere.’ Without warning Geezbo grabbed Ashley’s collar pulling him towards him. Ashley felt Geezbo’s fist hard against his throat. ‘I doin’ you a big favour, man. Big. Big. Innit. Remember it. An’ you neva seen nothin’. Neva bin ’ere.’ He let Ashley go. ‘I trustin’ you wiv my life, man. To help ya out, innit. Neva even breeve it.’
Ashley wanted to say, You’re taking a risk for my twenty pounds, that’s what you’re doing. You never mentioned this place before I offered cash. ‘I won’t,’ he said instead. ‘I know. Thanks Geez.’
Ashley looked around. The room that in the other flats would be the lounge bore a forest of cannabis plants, each about four foot high, packed together and supported by a matrix of canes and garden twine. From the ceiling hung lighting boxes and reflector panels roped to pulleys so the height could be adjusted as the plants grew. The floor of the first bedroom Ashley looked into was completely covered with smaller plants, but the big surprise was the other bedroom; here seedling trays covered the floor leaving just a passageway to a hole in the wall to the next-door flat. G
eezbo followed Ashley as he looked around, amused by his amazement. ‘So is this where the Dobermans grow their stuff.’
‘Some of it. We import as well. We got lotsa places like this.’
Ashley opened the bathroom door. The water tank was exposed with plastic piping leading from it, an irrigation pump in the bath. ‘There juz enuf room to take a shit,’ Geezbo told Ashley. Then, pointing to a blue plastic tub, ‘Fertiliser.’
On the cistern was a tray with a magnifying glass and two long narrow pairs of scissors, more like hairdressing shears. ‘What these for?’
‘Takin’ cuttin’s offa de mutta plant.’
Ashley was impressed. ‘And do you look after all this?’ He knew this was something he could do.
‘Others do it too man. But this ’ouse, recently – iz mainly my work. Tyr done some ’ere. But im not involved much any more. It not is ting.’
Geezbo left soon after that. Some business he said. But he was coming back. He was going to stay here tonight, to keep an eye on Ashley, he said. He didn’t want any trouble with Linton.
At least Ashley had somewhere to stay for tonight. At first he had been pleased and seen this as a solution, easily worth twenty quid. Well away from Cecil Road. He could manage in the day. If he could get Geez to let him stay here at night for a bit everything would be fine. But now he felt closed in. There was a hum all the time from the lights. And the smell, that got to you after a bit. And you couldn’t turn the lights off. It was like that prison the Americans had for terrorists. They never turned the lights off there either.
He could hear voices from the flat next door. Ashley wondered who lived there. The lift didn’t stop at the sixteenth floor, so it must be people who knew what was going on. Not ordinary tenants. People Linton had put in there probably. He wondered if there was anywhere else where they needed someone to keep an eye on things, like a caretaker. He hadn’t wanted to get involved in any of the gangs, but something like that would be all right for a while.
He awoke as he shot Kieran. Kieran had been shouting at him. He had climbed up into the loft at Cecil Road and was yelling at him. Then Ashley saw the schoolbag. It must have been there all the time. There was nothing in it but the gun. Ashley lifted the gun. Kieran was still shouting, swearing. Ashley shot him, but as Kieran fell forward Ashley could see there was someone behind him. Ashley could only see a hand in the shadows holding a gun. So who had shot Kieran? Already the dream was becoming more confusing.
Ashley stood up, stretched. You couldn’t walk around properly because of all the wiring. There was nowhere to go. All the space was covered with plants.
He drank some water from the tap and tried to go back to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come. He could hear the voices from next door again. He wondered what time it was. He thought about the watch Kieran had given him. The Asian kids had that now. And the gun. He wondered what they would do with the gun. Sell it? Use it? Get scared and hide it?
Perhaps he should do a runner. This wasn’t a good place. But that would just land him in more shit. He decided he would go into the corridor, just for a minute. Put the catch on the two front doors. Just stand there for a minute.
He started to feel better. A few minutes out here and he would be okay. It was just stress. Dreams and stress and stuff. And the smell in there. He was probably stoned. He could think okay out here. He could hear nothing from next door. He went closer. Put his ear to the door. Nothing. He returned to the Dobermans’ door. Then wandered down to the window at the other end of the corridor. It must be late. Early hours at least. The only traffic was on the Tallis Road that circled the estate and there wasn’t much there. Through the grime of the window he was able to make out the form of Geezbo plodding his way across the grass verge towards Nimrod car park.
Then Ashley heard the lift. Travelling up the centre of the building. He heard it stop at the floor below and someone get out. Footsteps. The lift started again. Footsteps coming up the stairs. Ashley heard the lift stop at the floor above and someone get out. Footsteps. Coming down the stairs. Ashley made for the flat. But not fast enough. As he reached the stairs there was Kieran coming up, gun in hand. He turned. There was the Chinese bloke, the one who had sorted Benjy Graham, coming down, gun in hand. He jumped the remaining stairs and grabbed for Ashley. Too late: Ashley was away, heading for the Dobermans’ front door. But Kieran had him, first by the hair, then with his arm round his neck. Ashley ducked. Slipped through. Inside the flat he tried to slam the door. But they were both there now, a push and he was on the floor, both of them inside looking down on him.
CARROW
37
Carrow was driving fast on the Pershore Road when his phone rang.
‘What the fuck’s your game, Carra?’ It was Crawford.
‘I’m driving.’
‘Well I hope you fucking crash. I pay you a wad to keep me informed and I hear about Stretton from everybody but the bloke who’s collecting the cash. What—’
‘I didn’t know. I’ve been in the gym all day. I’ve only just heard. I’m on my way over now.’
He couldn’t get the motor anywhere near Essex Street. Police closure notices everywhere. He pulled on to the back of a closed garage forecourt in Gooch Street and legged it from there.
Police barricades closed Essex Street from just below the car park behind Pinks. Carrow spotted Toga inside the cordon, standing on the steps of Pinks with some of the other Norway doormen, Matty Fallon and the two Lukes. He called over. Toga waved, said something to the uniform standing beside them and he came across to the barrier. ‘You one of the staff here? The Norway?’
‘Yeah. On the door.’
‘Name?’
‘Carrow. Craig Carrow.’
‘Hop over.’
The uniform walked him to Pinks. ‘Wait here with your mates. Everyone’s being seen in here.’
A crew were setting up a gantry of night lighting. About a dozen press and television reporters were crammed behind a barrier at the top of Wrentham Street, side-on to the Norway.
‘They’re taking us in one by one,’ Toga told him. ‘Letting people out through the back. Must think we don’t have phones.’
‘What the fuck’s happened anyway? Stretton’s shot, you said? Is he dead?’
‘Yes, and Trudy. They got both of them.’ This was Luke Jarvis. ‘The cops aren’t confirming anything, just saying a man and woman shot through the head. The bodies are still in there.’
‘But it’s them,’ Luke Freeman said. ‘Stretton and Trudy. If it wasn’t, they’d be here with us, wouldn’t they?’
‘And what’s our line once we’re in there?’ asked Luke Jarvis.
‘Neville just texted,’ said Toga. He kept his head down as he read from his phone. ‘they seem to know about turf war. i answered everything straight. told basics about chink raids. never asked about bulgs. i never said.’
‘So. It’s cough, but nothing more than you get asked,’ Matty said. ‘That’s what I’m going to do.’
Carrow looked around, tried to take everything in. ‘Where’s Uncle Bulgaria now?’
‘No one’s seen a sign of them,’ Toga said.
‘On the payroll?’ Carrow asked.
‘Got to be,’ Toga replied. ‘Stretton kept at least one inside during the day. Obviously a wedge from the Chinese saw them do a runner.’
‘So old Sergei will probably be back in Sofia tomorrow.’
Luke Jarvis frowned. ‘Who’s she?’
Matty whacked the side of his head. ‘It’s the capital of Bulgaria, you fucking ape.’ They all laughed.
‘You lot seem very jovial considering your boss has just been shot.’
Carrow turned to see Sean Dowd, his old boss, standing in front of Pinks’s neon panel, as immaculately dressed as ever, and to his side, as always, Jack Stevens.
Between us and the good guys it’s a very thin line, Dowd used to say. And now, Carrow, standing here with the other doormen, on the payroll of Crawford, felt he had crossed i
t.
38
Kieran was parked up in Gooch Street waiting for him. ‘Crawford wants a personal word. Told me to run you up to the office. I’ll bring you back to your motor. Return service.’ The passenger door of the A7 swung open. ‘Hop in. I’ve been here an hour.’
As he drove Kieran drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music, American punk rock, loud and fast. He swung his head backwards and forwards, joined in with lines he knew, shouting them out.
Carrow had had enough. Any more of this and he’d throw up, or get a migraine at least. He reached out to the volume control and turned.
‘Don’t you like it?’
‘It’s crap.’
A finger on Kieran’s left hand punched the stereo button, killing the music. ‘You got to hear it loud or not at all.’
Now there was just the comfortable hum of the car. There were more police cars in Chinatown. ‘Looks like they’re closing the place down,’ Carrow observed.
‘This one’s got them worried.’
‘Seems like they’re reckoning on the Chinese.’
‘Did they say that then? When they were questioning you,’ Kieran asked.
‘No. Course they didn’t. But if they’re all over Chinatown? You don’t have to be a genius to work it out.’
‘Or an ex-cop.’ A touch of a sneer in Kieran’s tone. ‘They’re right anyway. It was the Dragons.’
‘Maybe. Maybe not. Crawford was interested in the place. You could have done it, Kieran.’
Kieran laughed. ‘Not me mate. That’s well above my pay grade. Anyway, I’ve got an alibi.’
‘Well fancy that. I’m sure whoever pulled the trigger has one too. Woman, was it? You were on the job at the time of the crime?’
Kieran was still laughing. ‘Christ. You can tell you were a cop. You’ve still got the tone. Got it perfect. I’d be bricking it if it was me.’ Now the laughter disappeared. ‘But you’re not a cop any more, are you? You’re one of us. On the payroll – just like me. Like the girls on the poles. Anyway, it was the Chinese. You must know that by now. Staff in the Norway saw the gunman.’