End of the Line

by Robert Scragg

  ‘Detective, are you still there?’

  ‘Hmm, yes, I … look, I have to go.’

  ‘And Mr Tyler?’

  Porter wavered, just for a moment, a toes-on-the-edge-of-the-cliff moment. He wanted Tyler so bad it was a physical ache, to force the bully to give up the goods. Not like this though. That last step would be a fall he didn’t know if he could recover from. He’d known coppers, good men at heart, guilty of one bad choice that forked their road onto a less than righteous path, for what they told themselves was a just reason. Never was though, not in the end. There had to be another way, one that didn’t end up with him in Nuhić’s pocket.

  ‘I have to go,’ he said again, and ended the call.

  Bell was at the foot of the steps now, rummaging in her pockets, pulling out an e-cigarette, and now she clocked him. Confused creases in her forehead were visible even from here. She started towards him, and he was about to meet her halfway when he remembered the phone still in his hand. That realisation made it double in weight, palms instantly slick against the edges.

  Józef’s eyes were on him now, flicking between Porter and the approaching Bell. Couldn’t let her see the Slovak, or at least not pick up on the connection between them. A bin stood by the railings to his left, and he made a show of scrunching up a receipt from his pocket, tossing it in with one hand. Seeming to grip the railing with the other, while sliding the phone onto the top railing, just out of sight below the level of the bin.

  ‘Didn’t have you pegged for a smoker,’ he said, turning to face her.

  ‘Reformed, please,’ she said, holding out the chrome tube. ‘Tried going cold turkey, but with a job like this, you know, sometimes the little vices get you through the day. Speaking of little vices, what brings you out here? That wasn’t a butt of your own you were chucking away there, was it?’

  ‘What? Oh, that, no, just some chewing gum.’

  ‘What’s yours then?’

  ‘My what?’

  ‘Little vice. Everyone’s got something, right?’

  Over her shoulder, Józef stood out like a penguin at a polar bear convention, angling his head, clearly watching them even though he had zero chance of hearing what was being said. Porter forced himself to focus on Bell, to the point he was worried she might think he was staring a little too hard. He needed to steer this his way, get out of here without his white-van man entering into the equation.

  ‘Vice? Coffee, if you can count that. Drink enough of the stuff to keep Sleeping Beauty awake. Speaking of which, I was just going to grab one. You want anything?’

  ‘Mm-mm,’ she mumbled, taking a long draw on her device. The breath out was more of a billow, like someone had just thrown water on a blaze, except this cloud smelt fruity.

  ‘I’m all caffeined out, thanks. I’ll make do with a hit of wild berry,’ she said, holding it towards him like a baton.

  ‘I’ll, um, I’ll see you back in there then.’

  She shook her head. ‘Nope, got to see my gaffer, remember?’

  ‘Ah yeah, course. Let me know what your guy comes up with then.’

  He left it there, moving past her, back towards the steps. Józef gave him a quizzical look, clearly expecting a second half to their conversation. Porter couldn’t even risk a glance back towards Bell or the bin. Had to make do with an exaggerated eye-roll to one side, hoping it was a clear enough warning. Whether Józef had seen the move with the phone was anyone’s guess. Didn’t matter to Porter if he couldn’t find it. Thank God Bell didn’t smoke anything that needed a bin.

  He quickened his pace, saw Józef let his stump of a cigarette drop, grind it into the pavement with his heel. How had Nuhić known about the connection to Tyler? Was Józef following him? He’d done it once before at his boss’s request. If he had been, would he have stepped in if Porter had been caught by Tyler’s two thugs?

  Nuhić’s call buzzed around his head like a mosquito. Nothing for nothing. The Slovak would want something in return for whatever information he had. If not now, then down the line. Porter couldn’t set foot in that bear trap. There was no telling when it would snap shut.

  ‘Porter!’

  The shout came from behind him. He turned, Bell walking towards him through a haze of scented smoke.

  ‘Yours?’ she asked, holding out the phone handset.

  The grin he fixed her with felt as fake as a politician doorstepped by the press. He fought the urge to see if Józef was still there, still watching. Deny it, and he risked her going through it, no idea what might be on there besides the number Nuhić called from. What if she called it to identify the owner?

  ‘Old age,’ he said, trotting back down the steps to meet her. He held his hand out and she slapped it into his open palm. ‘I popped it down when I was wrapping my gum up.’

  ‘You’re working too hard,’ she said.

  ‘Par for the course,’ he said, still smiling, expression feeling like it’d been stuck on with glue that was starting to give.

  He saw her glance right, over to Edgware Road.

  ‘Help you with something, sir?’

  Shit. Józef.

  Porter saw the burly man act confused, look around as if surely, she must be taking to somebody else. Not a soul within twenty feet. He put a palm to his chest.

  ‘You are meaning me?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, angling off towards him. ‘You were staring. Do I know you?’

  ‘I do not think so, no.’

  ‘Then why were you staring?’ She didn’t give him time to answer. ‘That your van, sir?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, it’s—’

  ‘It’s parked in a bus stop. I’m going to have to ask you to move.’

  His gaze flicked between her and Porter, but he said nothing. Just shrugged and pushed off the railings.

  ‘No problem, Officer.’

  She watched him go, before turning back to Porter. ‘For a man who wasn’t staring, he managed to clock the fact I was a copper. You seen him around before?’

  Porter gave what he hoped was a nonchalant shake of the head.

  She turned again, watched him drive off. ‘Bet he wouldn’t have given us a look in that van if we’d asked.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ said Porter, pocketing the phone he realised he was still holding before she could ask any more questions about that.

  ‘I can smell a wrong ’un a mile off, and that one, my friend, had a stench about him.’

  ‘Now who’s been working too hard?’

  She tapped her nose. ‘When you know, you know.’

  She turned and left without another word, leaving him stood there wondering. Was that last part about Józef or aimed at him? He didn’t have much time to consider, as he turned back towards the station and saw Evie holding the door open. He tried for another convincing grin, but the tank was empty.

  ‘Evie, I was just—’

  ‘Was that her then?’

  Bollocks.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  ‘She’s been assigned by CTU, Evie. I can’t just refuse to work with her because she’s a woman.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ she said, jabbing a finger at the lift button. ‘You really think that’s what this is about? That I can’t handle you working with another woman?’

  ‘Well, what then?’

  She stabbed at the button again, twice more. Gave it up as a bad job and strode back towards the door leading to the street. He put a hand on her shoulder as she passed, stopping her, and she rounded on him with a stern look.

  ‘I’ve been worried sick about you, about everything that’s going on, and you can’t even be honest with me about where you are or who you’re with.’

  ‘It was one drink, Evie, for Christ’s sake, nothing more. And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want a scene like this.’

  ‘Oh, it’s a scene now, is it?’

  ‘Come on now, I didn’t mean it like that.’

  ‘How did you mean it then?’

  ‘I’m not tryin
g to make excuses, really I’m not, but this …’ He looked around, as if they were surrounded by visuals of everything bouncing around his mind right now. ‘All of this, not being able to work Holly’s case, not properly anyway, it’s killing me, Evie. Imagine if someone had done that to your mum, your dad, and you were benched. That, and Winter ran rings around us today.’

  ‘I heard,’ she said, a little of the heat taken out of her words. ‘Nick told me. Be honest though, Jake, if this had been a few weeks back, you probably wouldn’t have arrested him on the spot, would you?’

  She was right. He knew it, hard to admit, but couldn’t deny it. After a pause, he shook his head.

  ‘And that’s why you need to stick inside the lines on this one, babe. You’re as good a detective as anyone in there, but this is throwing your judgement.’

  ‘And you could just stick it all in a box, could you? Ignore it and hope for the best?’

  ‘Honestly? I don’t know. But this isn’t about me, it’s about you, and—’

  ‘Exactly, and I need the likes of you, Milburn and anyone else telling me how I should feel like I need a hole in the head right now.’

  The words landed hard. He caught the moment they registered, saw her blinking in disbelief. She reset just as quick though.

  ‘I know I pushed for this Jake, us. I chased after you. First you lie to me about where you were the other night. Now I find out you were off having a drink with someone else.’

  He went to speak, but she held up a palm to stop him.

  ‘I trust you, Jake, really I do, but that needs to be a two-way thing, and if you can’t give that …’ She paused, swallowed hard. ‘Well, let’s just say we’ll be doing this dance again over something else somewhere down the line, and there’s only so many times …’ She tailed off.

  ‘What? What are you saying, Evie?’

  ‘I don’t even know,’ she said. ‘I’m tired. Haven’t slept much these last few nights. I’m going home. You do what you have to do, and I’ll see you … soon.’

  ‘Evie, wait—’ he started, but she had already brushed past him, out of the door and halfway down the stairs now. ‘Evie!’ he called one last time She glanced over her shoulder as she stepped out onto Edgware Road, as sad a smile as he’d seen, and disappeared as a bus hid her from view.

  ‘Shit,’ he spat out. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’

  As weeks go, there hadn’t been a worse one since he lost Holly. Now, here he was, watching any hope for justice slip through his fingers, halfway to cocking up the best thing that had happened to him in the last few years and dropping more balls at work than a narcoleptic juggler.

  Way to go, Jake.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Evie chanced another glance, but the 332 bus to Bishops Bridge had cut off the view of the station. She was breathing fast and shallow, a hangover from the conversation with Jake, more so than the hightailing it over the road. She’d felt a few seconds away from tears when she’d spun on her heel and left him. More frustration than anything else. Wanting to help so badly, that needing to support him in every sense, but afraid of the consequences if it all fell apart.

  Milburn would have a coronary if he knew what Jake had been up to. Correction: was still up to. The super would likely find out eventually, but it couldn’t be from her. That would act like ice in the cracks that were appearing, force them apart. Only way she could think to get through to him was via Nick. The two of them were tight, a stream of sticky situations and complex cases had given them something not far off a brotherly vibe. She’d speak to Nick, two heads better than one. Just the thought of it lifted her mood, and even just that fraction was a tangible difference in weight.

  She merged with the flow of people squeezing into the crimson tiled doorway of Edgware Road Tube station, grabbing an already read copy of the Evening Standard for the journey. The lift down to the platform was pin-your-arms full, and as it dropped, so did her mood as her mind wandered.

  Holly felt like a silent partner in the relationship at the best of times, but these last few days, Evie could swear it was like a physical presence in the room. Jake’s ties to her, to that part of his past, were what drove him to take risks. Risks though that affected the here and now. None of this changed how she felt about him, but she couldn’t just sit there and say nothing when his decisions affected her, their future.

  The lift was a full-on sensory experience, not quite muffled strains of Beyoncé drifting from headphones to her left. Someone a little too keen on garlic, with weaponised breath nearby. Enough to turn anyone claustrophobic if they spent more than a few minutes inside. The knot of people poured out in front of her when the doors opened, and for once, her timing was perfect. A train glided in as she stepped onto the platform. Barely anyone got off, leaving those waiting the task of inserting themselves into any gaps that looked vaguely people-shaped.

  Evie didn’t mind the commute. Didn’t mind standing either. People-watching on the Tube was like a real-time version of Gogglebox. Depending on the time of day, you could sit back and relax, soaking in anything from domestics to drunken nights out. There was even a guy who frequented the Bakerloo line, busking on the carriages with his battered guitar. Never made much in tips, but damn he could bash out a tune.

  Two stops made the difference, and by the time they pulled into Baker Street, she’d worked out how to broach it with Nick, how to suggest he played it with Jake assuming he was on board. And why wouldn’t he be? Any cock-ups Jake made would leave a mark on Nick too. Guilt by association, even if he was nowhere near any of it.

  Baker Street faded away, replaced by Regent’s Park a minute later. The doors opened, old faces replaced by new. She was staring at a poster on the platform, the kind of glassy-eyed trance typical of weary travellers, when the boy approached her. He couldn’t have been older then eleven, twelve at a push. Cocky strut to him, rolling of the shoulders as he walked down the centre of the carriage, weaving between people intent on ignoring their surroundings. Evie paid him no mind. He didn’t properly register on her radar until he’d pulled a hand from his pocket, thrusting it towards her, something clenched in his fist.

  She felt something press against her jacket, looked down, puzzled, what she saw not computing. Her hand reached out instinctively, grasping at whatever he’d produced. Cold, metallic. The second she touched it, he darted out through closing doors, leaving her staring after him. Nobody else seemed to have noticed the exchange. Standard for the Tube. She looked down again, at her hand now pressed against her stomach. The object didn’t register at first. Took a second, the realisation crept over her, mind clearing like a sea fret blown away by the breeze. When it clicked, her hand opened of its own accord, the object tumbling to the floor. She barely managed to bite back a scream.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  ‘Where are you now, right now?’ Porter asked, a sensation like cold water trickling down his back.

  ‘Marylebone Road, just outside Regent’s Park Tube station.’

  Might have just been the background bustle of London traffic, but she sounded quiet, and in that instant all the frustrations of the last few days’ conversations were washed away. He just wanted to reach through the phone, wrap his arms around her.

  ‘Is there a transport police officer there?’

  ‘What? I … I don’t know.’

  ‘Wait, Regent’s Park? Albany Street station is a few minutes’ walk away. Head up the east side on Albany Street. It’s up there on the right.’

  ‘Jake, I’m fine. Whoever it was, they’ve gone. It was only a kid anyway.’

  ‘A kid who could just as easily have had a knife, or God knows what else, and who’s to say he was alone? These fuckers could be stood watching you now.’

  Even as the words left his mouth, he debated the wisdom of using them. Didn’t want to shake her up any more than she already was, but at the same time, snapping her back into focus, to be painfully aware of her surroundings, of potential eyes on her.

  ‘Se
riously, Evie, get to the station. I’ll be there in five minutes.’

  Four minutes and thirty-two seconds later, Porter bumped the borrowed squad car up onto the kerb, not bothering to lock it as he jumped out and raced up the ramp on the side of the building. Evie was leaning against opaque glass panes by the front door.

  ‘W-what are you doing? W-why are you not inside?’ he stammered.

  ‘I’m fine, really. Even if there’s anyone following, they’re not likely to try anything right outside a cop shop, are they?’

  ‘You should have gone inside.’ Stern parent scolding a stubborn child.

  ‘You said it yourself, you were minutes away, and I didn’t want to make a fuss.’

  He opened his mouth to hammer home his point again, but something about the way she looked made him stop. He wrapped both arms around her, pulling her in close, cradling one hand behind her head.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Sorry for being a prick lately. This is all my fault.’

  He felt her melt into him and stood like that for what seemed like an age, but it couldn’t have been more than ten seconds. She puffed out a loud sigh into his chest.

  ‘Yes, you have,’ she said finally, ‘but then you get that whole kicked puppy look, and it’s hard to stay mad at you for long.’ She pulled back a few inches, looking up at him. ‘We do need to talk though, about the case, whatever else you might have planned.’

  He nodded. ‘Fine, but not here.’

  A quick glance around. Nobody heading their way on the street, but no telling who might pop their head out of the station.

  ‘Where is it? Show me.’

  Evie reached into her bag, pulling out a postbox-red toy car. A Mini Cooper, complete with shiny new alloys. Couldn’t be more than a few inches long. Letters scratched into the roof made his teeth clench so tight, it felt like they might buckle and pop out.