No Sleep for the Dead

by Magson, Adrian

  Palmer stepped back and kicked over the drum, spilling the contents across the concrete in a shower of burning paper, smoke and sparks. With the batten, he hooked out the largest object, a bundle of documents dumped inside by Romper Suit. Isolating the wedge of papers, he bent to peer at them. From what he could already see, there appeared to be ample evidence tying SkyPrint to the VTS operation. Whether it would be enough to bring it to a court case would be for others to determine.

  Satisfied that the papers were in no danger of re-igniting, he picked up a discarded Tesco bag caught on the corner of a pallet and stuffed them inside. Then he left the bundle in the long grass by the fence to the council depot and returned to the building to investigate further.

  Inside, a couple of sparrows, startled by the sound of his footsteps, swooped beneath the metal rafters and disappeared out of the door, their wing-beats loud in the silence. Palmer was grateful for their presence, since it was a sign that nobody else was here.

  He checked the office at the front of the building. Whoever had cleared it out had left nothing but an array of paperwork, low-value office equipment and rubbish. Even the walls were bare of evidence that anyone had worked here. As he turned to leave, he heard the rattle of a door handle, and voices at the front of the building. He glanced out of the window.

  Radnor.

  Palmer moved quickly. There was nowhere to hide in the office, and he prayed he had enough time to get out the back door. But even as he hurried towards the rear of the warehouse, he heard a voice from the back yard and the sound of footsteps approaching.

  ‘The rubbish bin’s fallen over. Probably kids.’

  Palmer swore silently. Now he was well and truly snookered. He went to the only place available, the caged area, and slipped through the door. Against one wall was a pile of cardboard packaging, unused cardboard boxes and broken lathes of wood. He dived to the floor and pulled the packaging over him. If they were here to move this lot, he was stuffed. Seconds later, the sound of footsteps converged on the centre of the warehouse.

  ‘You destroyed everything, Perric?’ What Palmer took to be Radnor’s voice was calm and businesslike, and came from the door to the office. ‘If they find a link to this place, they’ll go through it with a magnifying glass. These people aren’t stupid.’

  ‘There is no paperwork.’ Palmer recognised the voice of the man in the white shirt. He didn’t sound happy.

  ‘It’s not just paper,’ insisted Radnor. ‘Packaging material, oil - even flakes of paint off the weapons and crates – they can trace it back.’

  ‘It’s all done. Dino burned what papers we couldn’t take. You can check the ashes out back if you want.’ Perric sounded resentful, as if his abilities were being questioned.

  ‘And the boxes from the last shipment? Those laser sights are worth a fortune. We can’t afford to lose them, not now.’

  Laser sights? Jesus, thought Palmer.

  ‘Ready to go. We’re waiting for a call from the ship’s first officer to say when we can deliver without running into the docks supervisor. They should be on their way across the Med in three days.’

  ‘And the handguns?’

  ‘They’ve gone already. We re-packed them as you said and got rid of the original packaging. It’s in a landfill miles from here.’

  ‘What’s all this?’ A new voice spoke from much closer, and the wire cage rattled as somebody pushed against it. The speaker had a faint accent, but the voice was unfamiliar.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ said Perric. This time his voice was more respectful. ‘More rubbish. It won’t have any traces on it. It would have taken too long to burn and there wasn’t time to go to the local tip.’

  The scrape of shoe leather on the bare concrete floor came close to Palmer’s hiding place, and the corrugated sheet above him shifted as somebody kicked at the pile of packaging. Suddenly, instead of the covering of cardboard, Palmer could see the roof of the warehouse, with its latticework of steel rafters and support beams. A large pigeon was looking down at him, cocking its head and shifting nervously from side to side as the men moved around.

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ The man’s voice was now so close, Palmer could hear him breathing as he bent over.

  The pigeon took fright and clattered from its beam in the roof space, causing the man near Palmer to swear in surprise. As the sound of wing-beats moved across the warehouse and through the rear door, somebody laughed.

  ‘Michael, we don’t have time.’ It was Radnor again. ‘Let’s get out of here in case Palmer and the woman come back and bring the police with them. This place is compromised.’

  The packaging moved again, but this time sliding back across to cover Palmer’s face. He hoped it hadn’t left his feet in sight, and held his breath until the man named Michael had moved away. There was a clang as the cage door swung shut, and the footsteps faded into the distance towards the front of the building.

  Palmer waited a full five minutes, then slid out from his hiding place. He walked silently to the roller door and peered out through a gap in the metal slats. Radnor, Perric, and two men he couldn’t see properly were standing outside, talking. One of the men had his back to the building, but Palmer thought it might be the young Russian named Michael. It looked as if this was their final visit to the place before abandoning it altogether.

  Palmer eased cautiously away from the door and out into the back yard. He crossed to the fence, stopping to pick up the Tesco bag with its bundle of evidence, then slipped through the gap and jogged through the deserted council depot to the road in search of a cab.

  ********

  Chapter 24

  The sound of the shot wasn’t as loud as Riley expected. A vague corner of her mind rationalised that Mr Grobowski downstairs wouldn’t have heard anything, as he was too busy banging his pots and pans in the kitchen. Even so, she flinched at the shockwaves in the air.

  Szulu spun away with a cry of pain, clutching his left arm. When he straightened up and took his hand away, there was a hole in the sleeve of his jacket and a trace of blood was beginning to spread through the material.

  ‘Fuck, man – you shot me!’ he whispered, as if he couldn’t believe such a thing. ‘What you do that for?’

  ‘Damn, that was careless,’ commented Mitcheson mildly. He looked at Riley and continued as if discussing the matter with a new recruit, ‘They don’t always work after jamming like that; they usually need stripping down. Good job I was aiming at his head – I might have hit something serious, otherwise.’

  Riley said nothing, too stunned to speak yet feeling an irrational urge to laugh. It had all happened so fast. She was mesmerised by the ease with which Mitcheson had shot her attacker, yet aware of the evident care he had taken not to kill him, in spite of his anger.

  As if to demonstrate this, he grabbed Szulu by his good arm and slammed him against the wall. ‘Now, before I get really annoyed at you for frightening my girlfriend, what’s this about?’

  ‘John, wait.’ Riley stepped quickly alongside him and placed a hand on his arm. ‘He said he had a message for me. I want to hear what it is.’

  Mitcheson lifted an eyebrow. ‘Really? Boy, Fedex must have really changed their core business.’ He jammed the gun barrel beneath Szulu’s chin and nudged it upwards until their eyes met. Whatever Szulu saw there made him go very still.

  ‘Let’s hear it.’

  ‘It’s…yo, man, this really hurts, y’know!’ Szulu sucked air through his teeth and held his wounded arm, until Mitcheson dropped the gun and pointed it menacingly against the man’s good shoulder. ‘Okay… okay. The message is… Christ, I don’t understand it, but she said to tell you-’

  ‘She?’ Mitcheson echoed.

  ‘Some woman called Fraser,’ Riley explained helpfully. ‘She hired him to drive for her. She’s been hanging around, but we don’t know who she is or what she wants. They already turned over Palmer’s office.’

  ‘So they’re not part of the other thing you told me abou
t?’

  ‘Radnor? It doesn’t look like it.’

  ‘She said to tell you,’ continued Szulu, ‘she said you’d know what she meant. She said, ‘Lottie’s back’. That’s all, I swear. ‘Lottie’s back’.’ He slumped back with a sigh as Riley and Mitcheson exchanged stunned looks.

  ‘Lottie Grossman?’ Riley could hardly believe it. The name sent her thoughts spinning back to an assignment in Spain, when she had first met John Mitcheson. It was also the first occasion she and Palmer had worked together, and they had nearly lost their lives investigating the activities of the murderous ex-gangster’s wife and her gang of mercenaries. ‘I thought she’d be dead by now.’

  ‘Wishful thinking,’ said Mitcheson. ‘Never bloody works when you want it to.’

  ‘Of course!’ Riley said excitedly. ‘That explains the gardening bit in Palmer’s office. The evil cow was a mad keen gardener, wasn’t she?’

  Mitcheson nodded. When Lottie wasn’t busy plotting, she had spent most of her time in the garden, armed with something sharp. ‘She just liked killing things. Weeds were a ready victim. She certainly put a lot of enthusiasm into it.’

  Szulu looked from one to the other as if they were mad, and gestured towards the door. ‘Look, I hate to interrupt, but can I go now? I need a doctor.’

  Mitcheson looked at Riley. ‘You got a small towel you don’t mind losing?’

  Riley went into the kitchen and came back with a handful of paper towelling. Mitcheson made Szulu strip off his jacket and gave his arm a cursory examination. There was an entry wound but no exit, and he guessed the jacket and Szulu’s arm muscle, and maybe a poor charge in the cartridge, had combined to reduce the round’s velocity. He slapped the wadded tissue unceremoniously against the wound. ‘Hold that in place and don’t get excited, and you might not bleed to death.’

  ‘Wha-? Hey – I need proper medical attention, not this stuff!’

  ‘And you’ll get it. First, you talk. What’s with the mad Lottie? She after revenge or is she trying to make another comeback?’

  Szulu frowned. ‘Huh?’

  ‘She used to run a gang, a few years back. Clubs, drugs, girls… that sort of stuff. You didn’t know?’

  ‘You kidding me? That old woman?’ Szulu almost laughed at the idea, then clearly thought better. ‘I ain’t surprised. She’s cold. Way cold. I don’t know about no comeback, though. But revenge, definitely. She said so, in fact. She hired me as a driver, see – and minder. First we went to Palmer’s place. But he wasn’t there. She seemed to be looking for something at his place, but she never told me what. Maybe she didn’t know herself. Fact is, she never told me nothing until it was almost too late. Then she told me he was some hotshot ex-army cop.’ Szulu looked aggrieved at the idea and shook his head. ‘Then she decided she wanted me to put the frights into her.’ He nodded at Riley, before quickly looking at Mitcheson. ‘But I was never going to hurt her – honest. It seemed like Grossman was building up to something… getting herself all wired up and that, but she didn’t say what it was.’

  ‘Revenge?’ said Riley. ‘Why am I not surprised?’

  ‘She told me Palmer had caused her old man’s death and spoiled some plans, and you’d helped him. It’s obvious, isn’t it? She was pissed and wanted payback. Said something about how she’d been waiting long enough and now was the time, before it was too late. Too late for what, she never said. Personally, I think she’s nuts. But that’s all I know, I promise.’

  ‘So why this?’ Mitcheson waved the .22 in the air. ‘You’re no gunman.’

  ‘It was for protection, man, what else?’ Szulu glanced down at his arm and hissed quietly as a wave of pain hit him.

  ‘But Lottie Grossman always flies mob-handed,’ said Mitcheson thoughtfully. ‘It’s the only way she knows. Are you saying there’s nobody else out there?’

  Szulu looked from one to the other, a variety of expressions crossing his face. Then he said quietly. ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Sort of?’

  ‘Wait - it’s not like you think. See, I got into this problem. There’s this south London guy named Ragga Pearl. He’s bad news – I mean really bad. A gangsta dude with delusions. With Ragga, if he wants to hurt someone, he don’t think twice about it. Think of the worst person you ever knew, jack it up by a hundred, and you’d have the Ragga. He’s a real mamba on two legs. Anyway, he thinks I disrespected him, but I didn’t. See, he’s got this whole thing going about respect, and is totally crazy into the bargain – I mean lethal, right?’ He winced, but this time it didn’t seem connected with the pain in his arm. ‘I also owe him some cash, which was stupid, borrowing off a freak like him, but whatever. At the time, I was desperate.’

  ‘How does this mesh with Lottie Grossman?’ asked Riley impatiently.

  ‘I’m coming to it, right? I don’t know how Grossman connected with a guy like Ragga Pearl, her being old and white an’ all. I mean, it shouldn’t happen, even with all this multi-cultural crap they spilling out these days. You don’t mix lions with zebras, right? I reckon they must know people in common, is all I can think of. Anyway, I been expecting like the roof to fall in on me for about two weeks now, what with the way Ragga is. But next thing I know is, he calls me and tells me I’m working for this white woman until he decides otherwise.’

  Mitcheson asked, ‘Doing what?’

  ‘He says I’m to do what she says, go where she wants, stuff like that. He says she wants someone followed and needs a guy who knows the moves, you know?’

  ‘Moves?’

  ‘Yeah. The street. How to move around but stay out of trouble. He says he told her I was good for that, and then he tells me if it goes down well, the debt’s paid off.’

  ‘Why?’

  Szulu scowled. ‘Why? ‘Cos this is the Ragga. He don’t need no reasons, man. He just does stuff. It’s all part of his controlling shit…so he can pull strings and make like he runs this business fuckin’ empire. Doesn’t mean he hasn’t got an angle going, which in this case is earning money off the old woman for me being a modern-day slave. Only he ain’t gonna tell me his reasons, is he? All I know is, I do like the woman says, and maybe I’ll get out from under Ragga’s thumb, which is fuckin’ ace with me.’ He shrugged, which made him wince again. ‘You ask me, I reckon he knows stuff about this Grossman woman. Stuff he doesn’t let on about. But that’s Ragga, man. He’s always looking for an advantage.’ He managed what could have been a smile of admiration. ‘First she’ll know about it is when he drops a thunderbolt on her head.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ muttered Mitcheson. He looked at Riley. ‘She’s quick off the mark, I’ll give her that. Her and her time might be long gone, but she’s cottoned on fast to who the new boys in town are.’

  Riley shrugged. ‘Different style, same aims. She needed someone cheap, and Ragga sold her this mutt.’

  But Szulu was in full, resentful flow and appeared not to have heard the exchange. ‘Thing is, she never kept me in the loop about nothing. It was like everything was this big secret, and I was driving blind all the time. And there was Ragga always in the background. She even threatened to put in a bad word with him when I questioned her once; said she never put up with disloyalty, not ever. I mean, what was that about? It wasn’t like I was a kid or she owned me… but she acted like she did.’

  ‘That’s Lottie for you,’ said Riley. ‘Mad as a mongoose.’

  ‘Bless her,’ Mitcheson agreed. ‘So you don’t know anyone called-’ He looked at Riley.

  ‘Radnor,’ she put in. ‘Or Michael – he’s a Russian.’

  Szulu shook his head. ‘No, never heard of them. Far as I know, Ragga don’t mix with no Russians. Like I said, no-one else was involved.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Mitcheson. ‘Is that it?’

  Szulu nodded. ‘That’s it, man. See, I got the gun in case the Ragga come calling, or maybe the old woman decided to do something crazy. That was all.’ He looked at Riley. ‘I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean no real harm,
only… it kind of ran away from me.’ He switched his gaze to Mitcheson and stood up straighter, lifting his chin. ‘That’s straight up, man.’

  Mitcheson nodded. He sensed Szulu was telling the truth, it had all poured out so freely. Now he wanted out. ‘Fair enough. So what were you supposed to do after delivering the message?’

  Szulu shrugged. ‘Go meet the old witch and tell her I done the deed. Then wait for her to tell me what she wants to do next. Only, I got a feeling she might not make it.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘She’s old, man. And sick. She had some sort of attack at her hotel, and it’s made her even more unpredictable. You want my opinion, she’s running out of juice.’

  ‘A heart attack?’

  ‘Don’t know, man. I ain’t no doctor. She got some pills that seem to help, and I’m supposed to pick up some more from a pharmacy, but I can’t second-guess her, you know? All I know is, I got to get away from her and Ragga, or I’m dead meat.’

  Mitcheson pulled him away from the wall. ‘Then you’d better get going, hadn’t you? One thing, though.’ He leaned close to Szulu and stared intently at him. ‘You say a thing to Lottie about me and I’ll know. You’d also better not come back here. You dig?’

  Szulu nodded and swallowed, not liking what he saw in the other man’s eyes. ‘Yeah, man. I dig.’

  They listened to Szulu stumbling down the stairs and out the front door, before Riley turned to Mitcheson and leaned against him with a sigh of relief.