by Mark Timlin
‘Shapiro?’ I said. ‘That’s not Irish.’
He got my drift. ‘Mother married a guy from the garment district. He was Jewish. She insisted we were brought up as Catholics. It got confusing round Christmas time.’
I was beginning to like the geezer.
Latimer was getting more impatient. As he swung the coffee pot about, he heard metal grating inside. ‘What the hell’s that?’ he said, peering inside with a frown.
‘The clip from Sleeping Beauty’s gun,’ I said. ‘But it shouldn’t spoil the taste.’
He banged the coffee pot down in disgust and sat next to Parker.
‘So what’s the deal?’ I asked.
Parker looked at the two police officers and then at me. ‘I’m a broker in high-risk, high-profit consumer durables,’ he explained.
I had to laugh and he almost looked hurt. ‘Is that right?’ I said. ‘Let me think… from all this,’ I gestured round the room, ‘and the goon on the floor, and the two coppers from different time zones, I’m going to guess it’s not teddy bears for Bosnian babies.’
‘Not exactly,’ said Parker.
‘Cut the crap, Parker,’ said Shapiro. ‘You ain’t runnin’ this show, just remember that.’ Then to me, ‘Our friend here is a big-time drug dealer in the Apple. And I mean big time. He’s involved with all his homeboys from JA. Yardies, you call them. But they’re just the same old scumbags to me.’ At that moment, Isaac began to come to with a groan, and Shapiro helped him to his feet and pushed him down on the other side of Parker. ‘Sit still and shut up, stupid,’ the New York copper said, and Isaac did as he was told, but the looks he gave me could’ve stripped paint. ‘Mr Parker made a big mistake a few months ago,’ Shapiro went on, ‘that left half a dozen guys dead on a little farm in New Jersey. And his buddies put out a contract on him. A most lucrative contract that had every low-life in the city checking that his gun was loaded. Naturally he came running to us. To me. Scum like him always do.’ Parker looked offended, but Shapiro ignored him. ‘I’m in control of a small department linked to the DEA. Very small, very exclusive. We’re not interested in some junkie dealing a little to support his own habit. We go for big-timers. Like Mr Parker. He wanted to exchange what information he had for a new life somewhere quiet. Very commendable. But I had other ideas. I was over here earlier this year helping out my good friends at the Metropolitan Police. They’ve been having trouble with Yardies too. Glocks and Sigs on the streets of old London town. And loads of drugs. It was getting just like back home. Anyway, Mr Parker told us that he had big dealings with one or two players here, so I figured that maybe we could be of some use. Naturally he jumped at the idea…’
By the look on Parker’s face, I somehow doubted that.
‘…so I got in touch with Superintendent Latimer and here we are.’
‘And me?’ I asked.
‘You helped clear up a case some time ago for the Met,’ said Latimer. ‘You know the territory. We thought you might like to help us again.’
‘I was coerced into getting involved in the case by a bunch of renegade coppers who weren’t quite sure which side of the law they were on. It ended up with about twenty people dead, and me almost being put away for a long stretch of porridge. And now you want me to sign on again. I don’t think so.’
‘We just assumed that as a concerned citizen –’
‘You assumed wrong,’ I interrupted. ‘Come on, Judith, we’re going home.’
13
‘Not so fast,’ said Latimer. ‘Let me put my cards on the table –’
‘No. Let me,’ interrupted Parker.
I looked at him.
‘Mr Sharman,’ he said. ‘Before I came here I made some enquiries. I have friends over here. And legal advisers.’
‘McAllister,’ I said.
‘Precisely. As I told you, all this was not my idea. But I was… am… between a rock and a hard place. My life is in danger. I have agreed to help the federales. But I need someone who is familiar with what goes on over here at street level. Without that someone, I would rather take my chances alone.’
‘What about Isaac?’ I said.
Shapiro sniggered. ‘Sergeant Isaac Lopez, also of the NYPD. Did you think your people would let anyone tote a gun round this burg without official permission? Not that it did him much good.’ He sniggered again. ‘Isaac here works undercover. We put him in with Parker two months ago, when all this first blew up.’
‘He’s not much good is he?’ I said.
‘Not the greatest. But he has little regard for you Limeys. Maybe a bit more now, huh, Isaac?’
Isaac just sneered in my direction.
‘And besides,’ Shapiro continued, ‘he has to get back to sort out some details. And a doctor’s appointment, hey, Izzy?’
‘The offer of the money still stands,’ said Parker. ‘That is my personal money.’
‘Not if the IRS gets there first,’ said Shapiro. He seemed to be enjoying the whole set-up, as was proved when he took the lid off the serving trolley and made himself a bacon roll. ‘You want something, honey?’ he said to Judith. ‘Coke or something?’
‘Please,’ said Judith. She still has an insatiable thirst for sweet drinks.
‘There should be something in the minibar. Isaac, get the young lady a drink, and whilst you’re at it fish your magazine out of the coffee pot. You never know when you might need it.’
‘This is getting us nowhere,’ I said. ‘I’m not interested. Not for money, for glory, nor for the chance to do the right thing.’
Latimer sucked air through clenched teeth. ‘All right, Mr Sharman,’ he said. ‘You’re the boss. What you say goes, but it would be easier if you were in.’
‘Easier for whom?’ I said. ‘You. I don’t care, mate. All I care about now is my daughter. So when she’s finished her drink we’ll be off, and frankly if I never see any of you again, it’ll be too soon.’
But my old dad always said you should never say never.
14
Wednesday
The next day I took Judith out to do some Christmas shopping. We ate lunch in Selfridges’ restaurant. By then she was loaded down with bags from Bond Street and Oxford Street and my credit card had almost expired from overwork.
As she dug into a vegetarian lasagne, I thought that it was time to talk about the future. I told her about the call from John Condie in Aberdeen and she looked at me closely as she carefully wiped her mouth. ‘I want to live with you, Daddy,’ she said.
‘At the flat? I don’t think so.’
‘We’ll get a new place. I’ll have enough money to buy somewhere nice if what you say is right.’ It was amazing how sensible she was becoming.
‘And I live off my daughter? No, Judith. Maybe if I was eighty and dribbled a lot.’
‘You do dribble a lot.’
‘No I don’t.’
‘But you could.’
‘And school. You’ve got exams soon.’
‘Next summer.’
‘It’ll be here quicker than you think.’
‘I could get a transfer to somewhere in London. There’s some great schools down here.’
‘You’ll lose continuity. Teachers. Friends.’
‘I can’t go back to the house.’
‘No one was suggesting you would. Don’t be daft! How about a friend’s? Somewhere you could stay for a while.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘No thanks. I’d rather live in cardboard city.’
‘It won’t come to that.’
‘Come up to Scotland.’
‘My life’s down here.’
‘What life?’
It was below the belt, but true. ‘Sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean it.’
‘This is crazy,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a rich daughter all of a sudden, and we’re arguing.’
She started to cry again. I knew then I should’ve waited to talk, but the warm, crowded atmosphere seemed to me the best place. A middle-aged matron at the next table scowled at me over her steak pie. I shrugged, but I felt like I’d been caught beating Judith up.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked.
She nodded but the tears continued to plop on to her plate of forgotten food.
‘Really?’ I said.
‘Really. But it’s you I’m worried about, Dad. I’ve seen you like this before. Just drifting around. You need to work. Otherwise you’ll brood, and get drunk all the time.’
Charming, I thought. Character assassination now. But of course she was right. ‘Something will turn up,’ I said, like Mr Micawber. ‘Something always does.’
‘Something has,’ she said. ‘And you’ve turned it down.’
‘We’ll sort it out, Judith,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t let you down.’
And I meant it.
When we got back to the house there was a car blocking the entrance to what the tenants euphemistically call the drive, which in fact is an area of hard parking that used to be the front garden. There were two men sitting in the car. When I tooted them they got out. It was Latimer and Shapiro.
‘Jesus,’ I said to Judith. ‘What the hell do they want?’ I rolled down my window. ‘Can you move your car?’ I asked politely. ‘I want to get in.’
‘Certainly,’ said Latimer, and he did so. When I was parked up, they came over to the car.
‘Afternoon,’ said Latimer. ‘We need to talk… alone.’
‘You’re wasting your time,’ I said.
‘Pubs are open,’ said Latimer. ‘We’ll buy you a drink.’
I looked at Judith. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll go upstairs and try on some of my new clothes.’
‘OK,’ I said to the two policemen as Judith and I got out of the car and I locked it. ‘But I’m not going to change my mind.’
‘It’s Christmas,’ said Shapiro. ‘Goodwill to all men.’ He looked at Judith’s shopping bags. ‘Or young women, by the looks of it.’
Judith grinned. ‘I took him for every penny,’ she said. ‘He’s a softie.’
‘That’s not what I heard,’ said Shapiro.
After Judith had gone indoors we all got into Latimer’s motor and headed down to Tulse Hill. He parked the car at the back of the Tulse Hill Hotel and we went into the saloon bar, which was about half full, with Johnny Mathis singing ‘When A Child Is Born’ on the jukebox. Latimer set up the drinks whilst Shapiro and I found an empty table right at the back, as far away from the speakers as was possible. Latimer joined us and passed round his cigarettes.
‘What’s all this about?’ I asked when my cigarette was lit and I’d had the first sip of my pint.
Latimer took a sheaf of papers out of the inside pocket of his overcoat and passed them to me.
‘What is it?’ I asked, without looking.
‘The passenger manifest for Seagram International flight number 713 from New York to Chicago last Friday afternoon.’
I felt a cold hand inside me again, wrenching my guts. ‘Is this a joke? Because if it is, I don’t appreciate it.’
‘It’s no joke,’ said Latimer. ‘Take a look.’
I opened the papers. The first and longest list was the economy class.
‘Look in business,’ he said.
I did as I was told and found the second list. It was much shorter. Halfway down I read: Louis Rudnick, Laura Rudnick, David Rudnick (infant).
‘Yeah,’ I said, and my voice sounded strange.
‘Now first-class.’
An even shorter list. The last two names were: Jefferson Parker, Isaac Lopez.
‘I don’t believe it,’ I said. ‘This is a set-up.’
Shapiro pulled a newspaper from his pocket. It was open to an inside page and folded tight.
‘This is from the New York Times last Sunday. Two days before we met you.’
It was a list of the passengers on the plane again. The same names appeared as on the list that Latimer had given me.
‘Fuck,’ I said.
‘It took us a while to work it out,’ said Latimer. ‘The different surnames. I’m very sorry for your loss. And your daughter’s. She seems like a good kid.’
‘We’ve been in touch with the FBI,’ said Shapiro. ‘There was a bomb on the plane. It blew the tail off just as it was coming in to land. Why it was left so late, no one knows. Maybe it was a faulty timer, maybe they wanted it to happen right then at O’Hare. But another thirty minutes and the plane would’ve been all but empty. By the way, the bomb thing. That’s classified. Only a few people know.’
I tapped the paper. ‘So where were Parker and Lopez?’
‘En route to London under fake ID,’ said Shapiro. ‘A couple of good men took their place on the Chicago flight. Friends of mine.’
‘And you’re sure whoever it was was after these two?’
‘From the initial FBI findings there was no one else on board who was a likely target. We’re going ahead with the assumption that it was our boys they were after.’ Shapiro again.
‘And they killed my ex-wife, Judith’s mother. And her family.’
‘Plus nearly four hundred others,’ said Latimer. ‘But yes.’
‘And a couple of days after, the supposed target tries to hire me to work for him.’
Latimer shrugged. ‘It’s one of those one in a million coincidences that you wouldn’t believe in a film.’
‘And you think that there’s people over here involved?’
‘Over here, in the US, and in the islands,’ said Latimer. ‘They’re as thick as thieves, the lot of them.’
‘And you still want my help?’
‘Sure,’ said Shapiro. ‘That’s why we’re here.’
‘And the money’s still on offer?’
Latimer smiled cynically. ‘Still on the table.’
‘Well stick it,’ I said. ‘I’ll do this for nothing. Count me in.’
15
‘Good,’ said Latimer. ‘And once again, I’m very sorry.’
‘Not as sorry as Judith and me,’ I replied. ‘What now?’
‘Come to the hotel tomorrow morning at the same time and we’ll brief you,’ said Shapiro.
‘I’ll be there. I think maybe I’d better go and see Judith now.’
‘Are you going to tell her?’ asked Latimer.
‘I thought the information was classified,’ I said sourly. ‘Yes, I’m going to tell her. I think she deserves the truth. And I need to make sure she’s looked after. It’s Christmas at the beginning of next week. Not the happiest Christmas either of us is ever going to have.’
‘At least she wasn’t on the plane,’ said Shapiro.
‘There is that,’ I said. ‘We do have to look on the bright side, don’t we?’
I got up then and left the bar. I walked home the long way round, the cold wind whipping at the skirts of my coat as the early dusk fell and the street lights popped on one by one. I stood outside the house and lit a cigarette and looked up at the lighted window of the room where Judith was waiting, and wondered how the hell I was going to break the news to her.
I flipped the cigarette away after just a few drags and went inside.
Judith was watching TV in one of her new outfits. ‘Looking good,’ I said when she got up and gave me a twirl as I went in. ‘Quite the sophisticate.’
‘What did they want?’ she asked.
‘They had something to tell me about the crash.’
‘What?’
So I told her. She sat down as I did so and began to cry again.
‘I took the job,’ I said, when I’d finished. I didn’t tell her I was doing it for free. That didn’t seem to be necessary.
; ‘Good,’ she said. ‘I’m glad.’
‘But what about you?’ I asked.
‘What about me?’
‘It’s going to be dangerous. I don’t want you caught up in the crossfire.’
‘I’ll be all right.’
‘These people are bad,’ I said. ‘Very bad.’
And as I said the words, it occurred to me that Latimer and Shapiro might be lying. Christ, I’d been mugged off enough times before, and I wondered if the passenger manifest they’d showed me had really been legit. I’d just taken their word for it, but like so much else these days, newspaper clippings could be faked. ‘I’ve got to make a call,’ I said, and picked up the phone.
I punched in the number of my old pal Chas, who still works for one of the nationals up at Wapping. I got the switchboard and they put me through to his extension. A woman answered and it sounded like there was a riot going on in the background. I asked for Chas and the handset went down with a clunk and I held on for what seemed like ages. Eventually he came on the line. ‘What’s going on?’ I asked when he spoke. ‘World War Three?’
‘Office party,’ he replied. ‘What’s up, Nick?’
‘You heard what happened to Laura?’
‘Hold on.’
The phone went down again and the background sound diminished as I imagined he closed the door of his office on the revelries. ‘That’s better,’ he said when he returned. ‘Journalists… bloody lunatics… of course I heard… I’m truly sorry, Nick… I tried to call but got no answer.’
‘For a story?’ I asked.
‘No. As a friend. It’s Chas. Remember me?’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Bad time.’
‘Sure. So what can I do for you?’
‘A favour.’
‘What?’ He sounded suspicious. He’d done favours for me before and regretted them.
‘Not much. I need to know about a couple of other passengers on the plane.’
‘Something up?’
He always had a nose for a scoop, did Chas.
‘Maybe,’ I replied. ‘Can you get hold of a copy of the passenger manifest?’