Blood Falls

by Tom Bale

Ellie shrugged, gave a curious smile. ‘An interesting question, with no easy answer. It’s not as though we get together to compare notes. Most people avoid talking about him at all, just in case.’

  ‘So there would be reprisals if people did challenge his behaviour?’

  ‘Oh yes, but it would be done in such a way that you could never know for sure.’

  ‘Nothing to take to court?’

  ‘Exactly. Not that anyone in their right mind would ever give evidence against Leon. It was the same when he moved into domestic security. As you’ve probably noticed, Trelennan has a lot of expensive property. Quite a few holiday homes and rental cottages. The owners pay handsomely for Leon’s guards to patrol the streets, especially out of season when the homes are empty. But when he first starting touting for business there wasn’t much interest.’

  ‘I suppose crime in these small towns has never been a huge problem?’

  ‘Not really. But guess what? Suddenly there was a spate of burglaries and vandalism …’

  ‘Which stopped as soon as they signed up for his patrols?’ Joe sighed. ‘The oldest trick in the book.’

  ‘You’ve got it. But one of the consequences was that crime in general just plummeted. On the rare occasion that somebody did run amok, they had to answer to Leon. A few broken bones later and everyone got the message. If you’ve got uniformed thugs patrolling the streets, no one’s going to break into a house, whether it has one of Leon’s alarms or not.’

  ‘And to the outside world it looks as though he’s wrought a miracle.’

  ‘Absolutely. Another thing you can’t fail to notice here is the absence of ethnic minorities. I’m ashamed to say it, but I suspect there’s a lot of unspoken support for Leon’s racism, even if no one wants to consider too closely what he might be doing to discourage black and Asian people from settling in Trelennan.’

  Joe was reminded of the taxi driver’s taunt: You’re gonna fucking love it here, you are.

  ‘Why do people stand for it?’

  Ellie rubbed her thumb and forefinger together. ‘The financial benefits. No crime, no vandalism: that equates to more tourists, more money being spent. A lot of businesses have flourished under Leon’s regime.’

  ‘So everyone’s happy?’ he said sardonically.

  ‘You sound like me. A born cynic.’ Ellie picked up her wine and then thought better of it, pausing with the glass almost touching her lower lip. She shook her head.

  ‘No, not happy,’ she said. ‘A whole town walking on eggshells isn’t conducive to happiness.’

  First, they broke his toes. Before they asked a single question, they broke his toes.

  Vic couldn’t believe it. Even when they tied him to the chair, he felt sure there’d be a chance to talk his way out of trouble. But Leon wouldn’t have it.

  ‘You’ll have an opportunity to explain later. First there’s punishment for taking the piss on a grand scale.’

  They used a set of giant steel bolt cutters. The man who did it was called Reece, Vic gathered. The one he’d seen in Birmingham. Dimly, through the alcoholic haze, he worked it out. They must have recognised his voice, traced him to Tunstall and followed him down here.

  Before Reece went to work, they stuffed a rubber gag between Vic’s teeth and put tape over his mouth so he couldn’t spit it out. To muffle the screams – but not because someone might hear and come to the rescue.

  Because they didn’t want to listen to a lot of noise.

  True to their word, his boots were kept on to reduce the mess. He couldn’t say for sure how many toes were broken: a couple on each foot, at least. A quick, efficient process, the steel jaws tightening beyond painful, down into a crushing, splintering agony the like of which he’d never known, and then … snap snap.

  Sweat broke out over his whole body: a river of it, soaking his clothes as effectively as if he was standing out in a monsoon. When they were done there were puddles on the floor and he’d sweated out the alcohol, the last of his defences.

  By the time they removed the gag he was brutally sober. He was proud that he hadn’t fainted, but he couldn’t stop himself from throwing up. They’d anticipated that: caught it in the towels which they used to mop up the sweat.

  After vomiting himself ragged, Vic was too exhausted to scream or cry. The broken bones were throbbing like bass drums, his feet swelling against the rigid leather. He couldn’t have taken the boots off now if he’d wanted to.

  ‘No more bullshit,’ Leon told him. ‘You answer every question truthfully. If you do that, and I’m happy with the answers, you might not have to suffer too much more pain. Clear?’

  Vic nodded. Tested his voice and croaked, ‘Yes. Yes, Mr Race.’

  ‘First up, how does a hopeless old scrote like you get hold of information that’s supposed to be worth a fortune?’

  Vic shut his eyes while he gathered his thoughts. He had no intention of crossing Leon, but despite everything – the abandoned restaurant, the merciless damage they had done to him – he couldn’t completely let go of the idea that there was something to be salvaged from this. A payment, no matter how modest. Enough for the taxi fare to Bodmin and a bottle of cheap Scotch.

  ‘Prison,’ he said. ‘Couple of years back. It was bollocks, I got fitted up by these bastard filth—’

  ‘Victor,’ Leon crooned. ‘Confusing us with people who give a fuck …’

  ‘Sorry. Anyway, I got eighteen months. Shunted round to various nicks, like you do. For a time I was in Belmarsh with a load of well-serious faces. Premier League, they were.’

  ‘Oh yeah? Like who?’

  ‘Well, maybe not the very top. Not the Man U’s or suchlike, but a Newcastle, a West Brom.’

  ‘What about Arsenal?’ Fenton said, sounding pleased with himself.

  ‘A lot of Arsenals in jail,’ Leon added, chuckling. Even Vic managed a smile. He couldn’t begrudge them a bit of light relief, now could he?

  ‘So a bloke in there, he’s nursing one hell of a grudge against your man.’

  ‘Joe?’

  ‘Uh-huh. Had a photo of him in the cell. Not a great picture. Copied lots of times and gone all grainy, like. But it was him. Your feller.’

  ‘Got a name?’

  ‘I been racking my brains, honest I have. “Joe” sounds right to me, but I don’t recall the surname. I ain’t gonna lie to you and make it up.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ Leon said.

  ‘Why the grudge?’ Fenton asked.

  ‘This Joe, he’s filth,’ Vic told them. He expected more of a reaction than he got.

  ‘He’s still serving in the police? You know that for sure?’

  ‘Well … no. But at the time, he was. That’s not all …’

  Vic paused, wanting them to appreciate what he had. His eyes wouldn’t stop watering, blurring his vision. Leon and Fenton swimming in and out of focus, standing over him. Not happy. Not impressed.

  ‘He was working undercover, see. My bloke in Belmarsh had planned a major job. Bullion. This Joe infiltrated the gang and put a fucking stop to it. Blew ’em apart from the inside.’

  Forty-Eight

  JOE FELT RELUCTANT to press on with his questions. This was the kind of evening he hadn’t had in years, an evening heavy with potential, dangerous and thrilling.

  They’d returned to the lounge. Ellie seemed more relaxed now the meal was over: her voice softer, her movements languid. He was continually drawn to her eyes; each time they captured his attention he found it almost impossible to look away.

  ‘Go on,’ she said, breaking his reverie. ‘What’s on your mind?’

  My wife, he could have answered. And guilt, like a dentist’s drill, vibrating through his skull.

  He said, ‘Does Leon have any police officers on his payroll?’

  Ellie gazed at him, as if trying to read what his question was designed to conceal.

  ‘I don’t know. From what Glenn has let slip over the years, it may be that there are “arrangements” in place.
Then again, Leon is smart enough to allow that rumour to flourish, as further discouragement to his enemies.’

  ‘So either way it makes him pretty impenetrable.’

  ‘I take it you don’t believe he earns an honest living these days?’

  ‘I’m sure he does in part. What makes me dubious is the nature of his businesses. They all lend themselves to criminal activity.’

  ‘Do they?’ Ellie twisted on the sofa so she was facing him, wide-eyed and keen to hear more. Her chin rested gently in one hand, cradled by long elegant fingers.

  Joe stifled a shiver. ‘The taxi firm and vending business give him a distribution network. They both involve mainly cash transactions. Same with the amusement arcade: more cash, and no inventory. Perfect for money laundering. Then the security firm: a lot of muscle on tap for protection, intimidation and extortion.’

  ‘And now you work for him, too.’ She stopped abruptly. ‘Why would Leon risk employing you if he was still involved in crime? He must have heard about your past.’

  ‘He knows I used to be a cop. Why he offered me the job, I haven’t yet fathomed.’ Joe was silent for a moment. ‘Ellie, there’s something else.’

  He relayed Patrick Davy’s account of the attack in Newquay. It turned out that Ellie was vaguely aware of it, but not the possibility that Leon’s men had been responsible.

  ‘In this case it appears the police did investigate, but Reece and the others had a watertight alibi. One of the people who backed them up was Glenn.’

  ‘So you’re wondering if Glenn is a villain, too?’ She stared hard at the floor. ‘The truth is, my heart wants to say no, but my head says it could be true. I don’t think he’d participate in an assault. That’s not him at all. But afterwards, if he was asked … no, if Leon asked him to give someone an alibi, then I think he would do it.’

  ‘And Derek Cadwell? Would he be up to his neck in it?’

  ‘That’s harder to say. Outwardly he’s a lot more respectable than Leon. I’d suggest theirs is more of a strategic alliance, so it’s quite possible the attack was arranged as a favour for Cadwell.’

  ‘Alise hinted that Leon has a particular hold over Cadwell, because of certain … proclivities.’

  Ellie looked simultaneously thrilled and appalled. ‘No! I’d like to believe that, because he’s such an arrogant turd.’

  ‘You’ve never heard any rumours like that?’

  ‘Nothing at all. And like I said, I’m a nosy cow. Did you ask how she found out?’

  ‘She wouldn’t say. Just pleaded with me to take it on trust.’

  ‘Hmm. No offence, but I think you misjudged things there.’

  ‘That’s pretty much what Diana said.’

  ‘Well, there you go. We agree on something.’

  Joe frowned. ‘Oh, you agree on a lot more than that.’

  Ellie shifted position on the sofa. ‘Really? I’m not sure I like the way you said that. Are you cross with us?’

  ‘Confused more than cross. I hear all these negative rumours about Leon – and Glenn for that matter – and yet both of you seem inclined to stick up for them, even though you concede that many of the rumours may be true.’

  ‘“Innocent until proven guilty.” That principle just about applies these days, doesn’t it? But maybe you’re right. You can’t have failed to notice how isolated this place is. That breeds a certain insularity, I suppose. It’s us against the world.’

  ‘I just don’t want to see either of you ending up on the wrong side.’ Joe raised a hand, forestalling any objections. ‘Sorry. That sounded patronising. Not what I meant.’

  Ellie looked amused rather than affronted. ‘Then you’d better hurry up and find the truth for us. What rank were you, by the way?’ She sprang the question so quickly that he saw no good reason to evade it.

  ‘Detective sergeant, when I finished.’

  ‘A detective? How exciting. Did you ever do anything dangerous? Any undercover work?’

  ‘You said you wouldn’t pry.’

  ‘You can always refuse to tell me. Official secrets or whatever.’

  ‘Okay. I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Spoilsport.’ She pulled a face. ‘I’m at a disadvantage. I don’t have the benefit of your professional interrogation techniques.’

  Joe snorted. ‘You have techniques that more than match what I’m capable of.’

  ‘Oh yes? Like what?’

  ‘That sulky lip, for one thing. And those eyes.’

  ‘What about my eyes?’

  ‘Forget it. I’ve had too much wine.’

  ‘So have I. It’s nice, isn’t it?’

  ‘Was. We drank it all.’

  ‘I mean the effects of it. Present tense.’

  ‘I am a little, actually.’

  Ellie burst out laughing. He felt himself blushing. ‘It wasn’t that funny.’

  ‘Ah, but I have a fatal weakness for wordplay.’

  Joe smiled, said nothing. They were so close now that he could feel the heat radiating from her body, her thigh almost touching his.

  ‘Why did you leave the police? Is that an official secret?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Hmm. So here’s a real leap in the dark. Does leaving your career also explain why you’re estranged from your family?’

  ‘More than you can possibly know, I’m afraid.’

  And then, sensing what her follow-up would be, he decided to be reckless rather than indiscreet.

  He blocked the question with a kiss.

  ‘So who is this feller in Belmarsh?’ Leon said.

  ‘Look, Mr Race, I came here in good faith. You told me yourself: you’re a businessman, but decent with it. Fair-minded.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I will. But this has to be worth a … a gesture, at least. Let’s say a grand? That’s small change to you.’

  Leon shook his head. ‘As bargaining positions go, yours isn’t the strongest I’ve seen.’

  ‘I’m asking you to see sense. I mean, all these people know I was here—’

  ‘Believe me, Victor, nobody saw a thing. Take my word on that.’

  ‘But Mr Race …’ Victor groaned, some of the fight going out of him. Leon was surprised he’d had so much to start with. In other circumstances he might have found some admiration for the man, but he couldn’t forget the fury that Victor had inspired, trying to extort a hundred grand out of him.

  Leon had nurtured that anger, kept it bubbling under until it was needed. Now he turned to Reece, who was lurking a few feet away, cradling the bolt cutters in his arms.

  ‘Break his fingers.’

  ‘No, Mr Race, please—’

  ‘Give me the name.’

  ‘All right. All right.’ Pale as a ghost, Victor began to weep, snot leaking from his nose. ‘Doug Morton. The bloke in Belmarsh was Doug Morton.’

  Leon shrugged, but Fenton said, ‘Rings a bell.’

  ‘He’s West London,’ Victor told them. ‘A serious face in his day. So were his dad and his uncles before him. Most of the family’s dead or banged up.’

  ‘And Doug’s still inside now, is he?’

  ‘Yeah. But he’s burning up with hate for Joe. He’s got this picture, like I said. The screws don’t know about it. He shows it to everyone. “If ever you set eyes on this bloke, you let my boy know.” That’s what he says.’

  ‘And who’s that?’ Leon asked.

  ‘Danny Morton. Doug had two sons. Danny’s the youngest. The way Doug tells it, he’s dedicated his life to finding this Joe.’

  ‘So how come you didn’t go straight to the Mortons?’

  Victor grinned, weakly, the sort of smile you’d give on your deathbed. ‘That’s what you thought I was planning, eh?’

  ‘If you could have got away with it, you would have.’

  ‘No. I wouldn’t dare. Not unless I had this Joe locked up somewhere. If I sold him to Danny Morton and couldn’t deliver, I’d be a dead man.’ Vic managed a bark of laughter at the irony. ‘Danny
Morton’s a head case. I thought – huh – I thought it would be safer to deal with you.’

  Leon had to smile at that. He noticed Fenton mulling over something.

  ‘You said Doug Morton had two sons?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Victor said. ‘The eldest … ah, Gary, I think it was. He died when the bullion job went tits-up.’

  He looked up, held Leon’s gaze. Leon felt a shiver run through him as he guessed what Victor was going to say.

  ‘This bloke Joe killed him. He murdered Doug Morton’s son – Danny’s big brother. That’s why they want him so badly. They’ll give anything to lay their hands on him.’

  Forty-Nine

  IN ONE SENSE, it was the easiest thing in the world to kiss her. It required virtually no movement and even less deliberation: he just did it.

  In another sense, it was much more difficult. What thoughts Joe had as their lips came together were simple but painful, amounting to no more than two images and a single concept.

  Helen.

  Diana.

  Betrayal.

  Then the kiss absorbed him completely, blotting out everything but the intense, thrilling hereandnow sensation of close physical contact. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else intruded. A perfect moment, and like all perfect moments it was over far too soon.

  They separated, staring at each other.

  Ellie said, ‘Oh my God.’ Her hand floated upwards, fingertips gently caressing her lower lip, as if to confirm where it was, and what it had done. ‘It’s just been so long. I’d forgotten …’

  Joe nodded. ‘Same here.’

  She thought about it, then said, ‘Can we do it again?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  The second time was both better and worse. More practised, obviously, but also more self-conscious. Another break, gasping for breath. This time Ellie ran her tongue over her lips, top and bottom, very slowly. She didn’t appreciate the effect it had on Joe until he tore his gaze away.

  He moved towards her, but she reached out with both hands, gripping his shoulders.

  ‘Joe, this is wonderful …’

  ‘But?’

  ‘I’m tired. And a bit drunk. Possibly a lot drunk. And I’m excited, but also confused, and scared, I suppose …’