by Bill Ward
“Go home before you get hurt,” Powell suggested. “Otherwise, you’ll be leaving here in the back of an ambulance.”
Pete had joined Steve on his feet. “Perhaps we should go,” Pete said.
“Not before Hattie gives us what we want,” Steve answered. He was obviously the more desperate of the two.
Steve took a couple of steps forward while his friend hung back. Powell advanced and in a blur of movement, struck a punch to Steve’s midriff, leaving him bent double and in agony.
Powell gave Pete a questioning look, which was met with him taking a couple of steps backwards and nodding vigorously. He was definitely more intelligent than his friend.
Without further ado, Powell joined Hattie in the car and accelerated away. He waited for Hattie to speak.
“Thanks for your help,” Hattie said after a minute. “I don’t know what they might have done if you hadn’t been there.”
“Well I was there. Who were they?”
“Local crackheads. How did you manage to take that knife off him so easily?”
“As you said, they were just crackheads. I’ve done a bit of kickboxing in the past.”
“You’re full of surprises, Powell.”
“You better not go shopping alone in the near future.”
“I like your style, Powell. You haven’t bothered suggesting we report them to the police. That’s cool. You know I’ve sold them drugs and would get in trouble. Thanks.”
“What you do or don’t sell is none of my business.”
“I like you, Powell. If you feel like some company tonight, be sure to let me know.” She smiled very seductively and Powell’s heart missed a beat but he wouldn’t be taking her up on her offer.
Back at Tintagel, Hattie helped unload the shopping and then went to find Scott. He listened to Hattie retell the events at the supermarket.
“I’ll speak to Doug and have him sort them out,” he said, when she’d finished. “I’m sorry you had to experience that.”
“It would have been very scary if Powell hadn’t been with me.”
“Powell seems very capable in many ways. I’m hearing good things about his work.”
“I like him. I hope he stays.”
“I’ll thank him personally later. Now I have a few things to do before dinner, if you don’t mind?”
Hattie took the hint and left Scott to his work. She felt like a drink and headed to the kitchen as it was almost time for lunch, which meant the wine would be available for the next hour. She poured a large glass of white wine and not wanting company, headed to the reading room.
“Didn’t think you used this room,” Powell said as Hattie entered.
“I wasn’t feeling hungry but I did need a drink,” Hattie explained, holding up her glass before sitting in an armchair.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Especially now I have a drink.”
“You might be experiencing some of the after effects of shock.”
Hattie took a large drink of wine. “I’m feeling better already.”
“I’ll leave,” Powell suggested. “If you want some time alone.”
“Don’t go. I didn’t want to answer endless questions from everyone else but you’re okay.”
“Thanks. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about Hattie. What was life like growing up?”
“I can’t complain. I had everything I wanted.”
“You didn’t say that with conviction,” Powell challenged.
“It’s strange but I never remember being cuddled or kissed as a child. When I have children, I intend to kiss them and let them know I love them, every day.”
“You mean your parents didn’t easily show affection?”
“No. They bought me things but I was an only child and I often felt very alone.”
“What are your parents like?” Powell asked.
“My mum is okay but she’s always worried what someone else will think of her. She lives her life constrained by social rules.”
“And your dad?”
“My stepdad never really wanted me around. I was an inconvenience.”
Powell was shocked to discover Charles wasn’t Hattie’s real father. “But I’ve heard you refer to him as your father in the past.”
“Mum encouraged me to call him Dad when I was growing up. It’s only as I was older, I started referring to him sometimes as my stepfather. It irritated him.”
What happened to your real dad?”
“He was killed in a speedboat accident when I was just two years old. I never knew him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My mother thinks I’m searching for a father figure in Scott. She may be right but I just find him hot as hell!” Hattie laughed.
Powell was realising Hattie’s life had been more complicated than he first imagined. “Well us men are like fine wine. We get better with age.”
Scott was thinking about Powell and how his arrival had coincided with Doug reporting that someone, possibly MI5, was asking questions. Scott had heard the story about Powell’s girlfriend being killed by terrorists. Where there were terrorists, there would be MI5 not far behind.
Perhaps Powell was actually the target of MI5’s interest. Maybe they were keeping tabs on him and his presence at Tintagel had led to the questions. It might all be routine. It was food for thought. Scott didn’t want MI5 accidentally stumbling across his business, while they were keeping an eye on Powell.
He needed to remain calm and not jump to conclusions. It could all be a coincidence and it was probably still Hattie’s parents poking around but he would have Doug check out Powell. This wasn’t the right time to have someone meddling in his affairs.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Doug knew where Steve and Pete lived. He organised a raid on their property for early in the morning. A time when he knew they would be sleeping off the previous night’s excesses. He doubted they ever crawled out of their beds before midday.
A Sergeant broke down the front door with a battering ram and officers poured into the filthy flat, they called home. Doug followed them into the lounge just as the two men were being rousted from their beds. Looking dishevelled, the two suspects were dragged into the living room, noisily complaining about the intrusion.
“This is a violation of our human rights,” Pete complained.
Doug tried not to laugh. Where the hell had Pete learned that phrase? Nowadays, it seemed every petty crook and waster was going on about their human rights. “We have a warrant to search these premises,” he explained. “It’s all perfectly legal.”
“Don’t you lot make a mess,” Steve demanded.
Doug had no idea how they would ever notice the difference to the current state of the place. Doug had seen tidier squats.
He went to the kitchen, took the small white bag of powder from his pocket and placed it in a jar on the side, which contained a few tea bags. He made a bad job of covering the powder with the tea bags and quickly returned to the lounge.
The two men were sitting on the sofa, fidgeting uncomfortably like they needed a fix.
“I’m not staying here,” Pete said and started to rise from the sofa.
One of the officers shoved him back down, none too gently.
“You can’t touch me,” Pete complained. “It’s against my human rights.”
“I’m Inspector Williams,” Doug interrupted. “As has already been explained to you, we have a warrant to search this property. Please sit quietly while we do our job. Otherwise, I will have you put in handcuffs and charged with assault.”
“I haven’t assaulted anyone!” Pete exclaimed.
“Then sit there and don’t move,” Doug ordered.
Pete did as he was told. He suddenly grinned and said, “You won’t find anything. We’re what you might call short at the moment.”
Short of a few brain cells, Doug thought.
The Sergeant instructed three officers where to start searching. One was despatched to the bedr
oom, one remained in the living room and the third went to the kitchen.
The suspects sat in silence until a shout from the kitchen alerted Doug and the Sergeant that something had been found.
Doug went to the kitchen and acted as a witness to the discovery of the cocaine stash, which had been in his pocket only ten minutes earlier.
Returning to the lounge, Doug left the Sergeant to read the suspects their rights.
“That isn’t ours,” Pete screamed. “You’re fitting us up. It’s against…”
“I know,” Doug interrupted. “It’s against your human rights. Give it a rest.”
They were handcuffed while screaming obscenities and accusations.
Doug knew he had left sufficient drugs so they couldn’t just claim it was for personal use. They would be prosecuted for dealing and were certain to receive a jail sentence.
The drugs would be deposited in the property room back at the police station, which was exactly where they had been until the previous evening. He’d signed them out and returned them an hour later, except what he returned was baking powder. The original case for which they were evidence had concluded and the drugs were shortly to have been incinerated.
Working for the regional organised crime unit, he had constant access to a supply of drugs and was finally making some real money by supplying Scott.
However, he couldn’t keep dipping into the property room and the doubling of Scott’s order would require him to find other routes to source his product. He was already working on a solution to the problem. He knew who supplied most of the dealers in Sussex. Doug was going to set up a meeting and offer his services in exchange for supplies at a good price.
Powell had an uneventful day. At lunch, Scott invited him to sit next to him and thanked him for helping Hattie, at the supermarket. Tommy looked irked at being pushed from his normal seat as he made room for Powell to sit down.
Scott asked Powell a variety of questions about his past. Powell recognised Scott was probing, trying to find out more about him but he was subtle and pleasant in his manner. Powell managed to ask a few questions of his own but Scott was very good at avoiding answering. They played a game of ping pong with their questions, neither of them learning anything really useful about the other.
At dinner, Powell returned to his seat in the middle of the table and quickly found Carol and Kirsty to each side.
“Hope you don’t mind us joining you?” Kirsty asked. “We saw you mixing with the elite end of the table at lunch.”
“And you want to know why I was sitting next to Scott?”
“Are we that obvious?” Carol asked. “Not much different happens around here from day to day. We girls need something to gossip about.”
“I’m sorry but this isn’t worth gossiping about. Scott thanked me for helping Hattie with the shopping yesterday and then just asked me how I was settling in. I told him everything was going well and I found you two especially helpful.”
“Now you’re taking the piss,” Carol replied.
Powell held his hands up in the air in mock surrender. “Okay. I didn’t specifically mention you but I said everyone was making me feel very welcome.”
“How are you getting on with solving the meaning of life?” Kirsty asked.
“Slow progress,” Powell admitted.
The conversation remained light throughout the rest of dinner. They carried their plates to the kitchen and Powell helped wash up as it was his designated turn.
On the way back to the lounge, he encountered Carol in the hallway, having an animated conversation with Tommy. Powell stood back for a moment, not wanting to interfere. He saw Tommy take her by the arm and it was evident Carol wasn’t happy.
“Hi guys,” Powell said cheerfully, as he approached. “What’s the plan for the rest of the evening?”
“Get lost,” Tommy replied.
“That’s not very friendly. And you look as if you’re hurting Carol. Please let go of her arm.”
“I told you to get lost,” Tommy replied, letting go of Carol’s arm and turning to face Powell. He puffed out his considerable chest and stared Powell in the eyes. “Is there something wrong with your hearing?”
“Carol, do you want to go play some table tennis?” Powell asked, completely ignoring Tommy.
“She’s going upstairs with me,” Tommy answered. “Now piss off before I forget you’re new.”
Carol took a step closer to Tommy and linked arms. “We’re wasting time here,” she said. A small nod in Powell’s direction was telling him not to interfere.
Tommy smiled at her, obviously pleased by her change of attitude. “Looks like you will have to find yourself a new ping pong partner.”
“You don’t have to go with him if you don’t want to,” Powell stressed.
“Of course she bloody wants to go with me,” Tommy answered. “Learn to mind your own business.”
Carol tugged on Tommy’s arm. “Let’s go.”
Powell moved out of the way as the two of them walked past and ignored Tommy’s smug grin. He was fairly sure Carol was only going with Tommy to avoid trouble. She probably thought she was saving Powell from being on the wrong end of Tommy’s fists.
CHAPTER NINE
Powell returned from his morning run and after his shower, went down to breakfast. He immediately looked for Carol and found her sitting alone in the dining room. Even at a distance, he could see the beginnings of a black eye. He was pleased there was no sign of Tommy.
“Can I get you some more coffee,” Powell asked, spotting her empty cup and deliberately avoiding the subject of her eye.
“Thanks,” Carol replied with a smile. “Black, please. Like my eye. Don’t pretend you didn’t notice it.”
Powell was surprised by her good humour. He poured two coffees and then sat beside her.
“Sorry about last night,” Carol apologised after tasting her coffee. “I shouldn’t have got you involved.”
“I got myself involved. What happened to your eye?”
“Walked into a cupboard. Careless of me.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You need to be careful,” Carol warned. “Tommy can be a mean son of a bitch.”
“Then why did you leave with him last night?”
“I owed him.”
“What does that mean?”
“He gets me my supplies but unlike some of the people here, I have to pay for everything. I’m behind with my payments so Tommy told me it was time to pay up and as I don’t have any money right now…”
“He blackmailed you into having sex with him?”
“That sounds more dramatic than the reality. I’ve fucked him before so it wasn’t really a big deal.”
“I had the distinct impression if I hadn’t come along you would have refused to go with him.”
“That was a little too much weed giving me some false courage. You don’t want to say No to Tommy. Actually, I’m grateful you came along because it made me see sense. He would have hurt me far more if I hadn’t seen sense.”
“So the black eye is his doing?”
“Please stay out of this,” Carol implored. “I can handle Tommy.”
“Really? I’m not sure how him thumping you rates as handling him. How is the rest of your body. Have you any more cuts or bruises I can’t see?”
“Not really.”
“Not really? What does that mean? How did he hurt you?”
“Only the way some men like to when they have sex.”
Powell didn’t want to force Carol to answer any more of his questions. He’d learned enough. “Are you okay now?” he asked. “Do you need a doctor?”
“I’m fine and thanks for asking. Everyone else around here is scared to death of Tommy and runs a mile at the mere mention of his name.”
Powell knew it was only a matter of time before he and Tommy would come to blows. Powell couldn’t stand bullies but especially men who mistreated women.
“Does Scott know what T
ommy is like?”
“Of course. Tommy doesn’t shit without Scott’s approval.”
“So why do you stay?”
“I’ve been anorexic, bulimic, done far too many drugs and even self-harmed when I was a teenager. I’ve had one very screwed up life but the funny thing is, I’ve done none of those things since living here. Well apart from smoking a joint whenever I want one but that doesn’t count as it’s almost medicinal. I’m well fed and if I wasn’t living here, I’d be working on a checkout at Asda and living in a crappy squat somewhere, probably doing heroin.”
“So how do you pay to live here?”
“At first Scott didn’t want any money. He just enjoyed my company and everything was great. Then Hattie came along and that all changed. Be careful of her, she’s not the sweet and innocent girl she portrays. She soon had her claws into Scott and I was history.”
“So how do you get by now?”
“I make deliveries for him and in return he gives me a little money and I get to stay.”
“What type of deliveries?”
“I don’t look inside the parcels.”
“That won’t be an adequate defence if you end up in Court.”
“Look Powell, I shouldn’t be telling you all this. You seem like a decent guy so if I was you, I’d get the hell out of here, first chance you get.”
“Thanks for the advice. I’m not planning to spend too long here. I just want to get my head straight. There’s been a lot happening in my life over the last couple of years.”
“Well be careful and stay clear of Tommy. He used to be in the army. He’s been to Afghanistan and when he’s drunk, he tells stories about how they used to amuse themselves cutting up the locals. After last night, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve made an enemy of him and Tommy is not someone you want as your enemy.”
Powell smiled reassuringly. “I’ve handled worse than Tommy.”
Carol raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I’d like to hear those stories sometime.”
“When do you make your deliveries?” Powell asked. “Is it a regular time and place?”
“Why do you want to know? Are you planning to rob me?” Carol looked genuinely concerned. “Tommy will kill me if I mess up one of his deliveries.”