by Ed James
‘He abducted you, did he?’
‘I didn’t want to go, man. Didn’t have no choice.’
Fenchurch stared at Unwin. Why wasn’t he butting in? ‘Start from the start.’
Qasid focused on the desk, rubbing at his nose. ‘I lived in East Ham. Went to school there. Then got into a gang.’
‘So how did you get in with Kamal?’
Qasid gave a slight shrug. ‘We friends, bitch.’
Fenchurch folded his arms, watched Unwin’s shaking handwriting scrawling across the page. That was all he was going to get. ‘This morning, when you killed Victor Morgan, Kamal told you to do it. Right?’
‘You’re not listening to me, bruv. I ain’t saying shit.’
‘How did he know Victor was going to be there?’
‘I didn’t ask. Learnt a long time ago not to ask him anything.’
‘Do you know who he did it for?’
‘Ain’t saying shit, bitch.’
Fenchurch leaned over to the recorder. ‘Interview terminated at—’
Fenchurch stuck his head against the wall in the corridor. ‘Jesus Christ, Kay, I thought we had him.’
Reed patted him on the back. ‘So did I, guv.’
‘He was going to spill. Bloody Dalton buggering Unwin.’
‘Any chance we can get shot of him?’
‘Not without a ton of shit falling on our heads, Kay.’
‘What now? The other three kids?’
Fenchurch stared at the interview room across the corridor from them. Felt like Room 101, all the shit in the world in one place. ‘Time we spoke to Kamal.’
Chapter Forty-Three
‘Mr Unwin, you need to let your client speak.’ Fenchurch got up and prowled around the interview room. ‘Kamal can’t get a word in edgeways.’
‘Please respect my client’s right to silence.’
‘He’s not being given a chance to exert any rights. You keep cutting in.’
‘Fine.’ Unwin folded his arms and leaned back, shaking his head. He swept an arm forward. ‘Fire away, then.’
Fenchurch crouched in front of Kamal, just about ignoring the searing pain in his knees. ‘I’m going to charge you with a few crimes. You’re going to prison for a very long time. This is your chance to start clearing your conscience.’
‘So why should I speak to you?’
‘To clear your name. Suggest any mitigating circumstances.’
Kamal laughed. ‘You offering me a deal?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Let’s hear it, then.’
‘I can only go so far, Kamal. You ran a gang of kids who stole mobile phones, which you sold to various shops for money. I don’t think you shared many of the spoils, did you?’
‘This supposed to be getting my cooperation?’
‘You kept the cash for yourself, didn’t you?’
‘You see where I lived, man. See the clothes I wear. These sweatpants ain’t Confederate or even Grimey, man. I ain’t no high roller.’
‘So where is it? Stuffed in your mattress?’
‘Ain’t no Cheddar, man. Ain’t no nothing.’
‘Then I can’t help you.’ Fenchurch got up, his thighs burning and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he sat next to Reed. ‘Let’s talk about the other stuff you’ve been doing. Maybe see if we can bring your sentence down.’
‘What’s this other stuff?’
‘You’re killing people for money, Kamal.’
‘Where is this cash? I ain’t seen any of it.’
‘You’ve murdered two people so far.’ Fenchurch didn’t let his gaze wander from his dark eyes. ‘You arranged for your people to kill Saskia Barnett and Victor Morgan.’
‘Never heard them names, bro.’
‘You know a Qasid Williams and a Lewis Cole?’
‘Sure, they my homies.’
‘They killed these people.’
‘If they did, why am I here? Why you not speaking to them?’
‘We’ve spoken to them. But they work for you. Means you’re complicit in this.’
‘That right?’ Kamal slapped Unwin’s arm. ‘You want to show my lawyer here the evidence?’
‘We’ve got some evidence of you murdering someone in Hackney a couple of years ago.’
‘Evidence. Right.’
Fenchurch ignored the look Reed was shooting him. Eyebrows standing upright, eyes wide. ‘Iron-tight.’
‘Why am I not in jail, then?’
‘Because of your tendency to disappear.’
Kamal stared at Unwin, tongue slowly circling his lips, getting a pinched brow from the lawyer. Then he shrugged at Fenchurch. ‘Evidence, bro.’
‘You know Saskia Barnett, right?’
‘Not saying nothing.’
‘Sure you don’t know her? Your name was her last word. She died saying your bloody name.’
‘I don’t know she.’
‘That right? We’ve got a recording of her calling a burner phone. Quite a few times, as it happens. I called it myself and someone who sounded a lot like you answered it, said to meet at Boundary Park. Your little friend, Qasid, turned up there. You saying that’s not connected to you?’
‘Then he must be doing stuff behind my back. This is nothing to do with me, man. Better speak to them.’
Kid was good. Kid, ha. He was thirty if a day.
Fenchurch couldn’t help but grin. ‘Seems like you’re dropping them in it.’
‘Ain’t dropping nobody in anything, man.’
‘Where are the rest of them?’
‘What?’
‘There were six of you down there. Your gang should be a lot bigger. We’ve got reports of over twenty kidnappings.’
Kamal raised his hands in the air. ‘Nothing to do with me, man.’
‘Kamal, your part in this is over. Don’t you get that? You’re going away for a long time. Some judges might throw away the keys.’
‘You’re fitting me up, man.’
‘This is your last chance to help us.’
‘I doubt it is, man.’ Kamal pursed his lips, rocking his head slowly. ‘Good night, sweetheart.’
Fenchurch stormed into the Obs Suite.
Docherty looked up from the monitor and bowed down, fanning his arms like Fenchurch was Cleopatra. ‘All hail DI Fenchurch.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘That’s you getting a conviction, is it?’ Docherty leaned back in his seat and stuck his feet on the desk. ‘You big, soft shite. Practically let him walk out of the door.’
Fenchurch jabbed a finger at the screen Kamal was on, lost in conversation with Unwin. ‘I’ve seen two people stabbed to death and that . . . animal pushed Waheed in front of a bloody train.’
‘Aye, and he’s keeping himself quiet. Christ’s sake.’
Fenchurch rubbed a hand down his arm, igniting the pain-pleasure release from the bruises. ‘Do you want to have a go?’
‘Not sure what else we can get out of him.’ Docherty got up and patted Fenchurch’s arm. ‘We should just let him stew.’
‘Stew?’ Fenchurch glared at him, his gut churning. ‘Boss, I’ve been to hell and back on this case. I don’t want him getting away with it.’
Docherty gripped his shoulder tighter. ‘You’ve done all you can. That’s all I ask, okay?’
Fenchurch swallowed hard and sunk back onto a desk. ‘How’s Waheed doing?’
‘Still in surgery, last I heard. Dawn’s up there just now. His wife’s there as well.’
‘Christ.’ Fenchurch collapsed against the desk. His body ached and drums clattered in his ears. His acid reflux was climbing up his throat. ‘Feels like a game over here.’
Docherty shrugged. ‘We’ll put in the man hours, we’ll put in the time.’
‘Is that enough, though?’
‘What else can we do, Si? We’ll get him for what he’s done. Mark my words.’
The door clattered open and Reed stormed in, clutching a wad of paperwor
k. ‘Guv, you need to—’ She nodded at Docherty. ‘Sir.’
Fenchurch got up. ‘What is it?’
‘I had Lisa looking into that story Clinton Jackson told us about this dead dealer, Honest John. She checked with that Oscar guy in Trident. It was part of their investigation when they still had it.’
‘So they know about it?’
She nodded. ‘Xolani was investigating it for them. They know Kamal did it, guv. Got his prints on the knife, got Xolani as a witness.’
‘So Kamal had Jackson wound up over nothing?’
‘Looks like it.’ Reed jabbed her thumb towards the door. ‘Your old man’s looking for you, by the way.’
Fenchurch looked up. ‘What?’
‘Him and Savage are mooching around. Said the operation to prosecute Kamal is their remit.’
Fenchurch shot a glare at Docherty. ‘Are you letting them, boss?’
Docherty raised his hands, palms up. ‘I don’t really care. Could do without losing the resource but as long as someone puts him away and gives the kids back to their parents, I couldn’t give a shit.’
‘Well I bloody do.’
Fenchurch’s dad sat facing the door, DCI Howard Savage next to him. He frowned at his son. ‘Simon?’
Across the table, Ronald Cole glared out at Fenchurch. His wife cuddled into him, rocking with tears. Straight black hair and a bright-blue dress.
Fenchurch closed the door behind him and nodded at Ronald, his expression as sombre as the cuts and bruises would allow. ‘Mr Cole.’
His wife looked up, bloodshot eyes blurry, mascara running down her cheeks. ‘Where’s my boy?’
Fenchurch patted his dad on the shoulder. ‘I just need a word with my colleagues.’
Dad got to his feet and nodded at the Coles. ‘We’ll just be a minute.’
Mrs Cole tugged back at Savage. ‘When do I get to see my boy?’
‘We’ll be discussing that now.’ Fenchurch held the door open for Dad, leaving Savage with the parents. He shut it and rested against the steel.
A couple of DCs clutched coffees further down the corridor, looking shell-shocked.
‘What are you doing here, Dad?’
‘Howard’s borrowed me for a bit. We’re working together to help sort this mess out.’ Dad prodded a finger across Fenchurch’s face, digging into the fresh wounds. ‘Simon, what the bloody hell have you been up to?’
Fenchurch batted his hand away. ‘Catching robbers and killers, Dad.’
‘I worry about you, son.’ Dad stared at the door. ‘I was with them when the call came in about their boy. They just want to see Lewis. More than anything. Sure you know the feeling?’
‘Dad. Don’t.’
‘Can’t imagine what’s going on in their heads, though. How’d it feel if Chloe just turned up.’ Dad swallowed, his eyes bulging. ‘How’d it feel if she was a murderer?’
Fenchurch held his gaze until he looked away. The old goat wouldn’t take no for an answer. He clenched his fist, ready to punch something. The wall, Dad, himself. ‘We only found five of these kids. There’s at least twenty in your little hunt.’
‘Howard’s got a team going down other abandoned stations. Maybe they’ll find them and maybe they’ll speak.’
‘Sounds like a bloody long shot to me.’
‘It’s worth a shot, son. York Road’s a good punt. Not far from there.’
‘Make sure you keep away from the stations. They’re not in that good a nick. City Road was one of the best.’
Dad cackled. ‘Like I’d get my hands dirty, son.’
The door burst open and Savage stepped out into the corridor. ‘Ian, which room is Lewis in?’
Fenchurch used an arm to block his progress. ‘I need a word before you speak to him, sir.’
‘Excuse me?’ Savage frowned at Fenchurch. ‘They’ve just been reunited with their son. They need—’
‘I don’t care what they need. Their son has murdered someone. I need him to start speaking.’
‘You’ll get in there when I’m done with him, Inspector.’
‘We need to get their son talking.’
‘Put the Fenchurch blunderbuss back in its case. We’re playing this softly, softly.’
‘This isn’t the time, Howard. They’re the carrot I’m dangling. That kid needs a stick right up his arse.’
‘Inspector, you’ve not got the authority to—’
‘Go and chase up Docherty, if you can be bothered. I’m heading back in there and I’m using them as bait.’ Fenchurch turned back to the room and smiled at the Coles. ‘Now, if you’ll just follow me?’
Chapter Forty-Four
Fenchurch locked eyes with Roofie. Lewis Cole. Yellower whites than Qasid, very different bone structure on his face. Not that similar when you spend time with both of them. ‘You know what you’ve done, don’t you?’
A shrug. Then a sniff. ‘Ain’t done nothing.’
Unwin looked up from his legal pad, the yellow page almost covered in arcane scribbles. ‘My client—’
‘—murdered someone.’ Fenchurch tossed a photo on the table. ‘Saskia Barnett. You stabbed her on Thursday night. I was there, I saw it.’
‘Sure it’s not Qasid you saw?’
‘You can only do that trick so many times.’ Fenchurch tossed over a copy of the Crime Scene Report. ‘Lewis, we’ve got your prints on the knife.’
‘Would help if you wasn’t a racist, bruv.’
Fenchurch glanced over at Reed, his nostrils feeling like they were going to pop. ‘Your parents are outside.’
‘What?’
‘You heard.’ Fenchurch collected up the sheets of paper. ‘They’re outside, just waiting on me letting them speak to their pride and joy. You do remember them, right?’
Lewis blinked away tears. ‘No, man, no.’ He shook his head in a wide arc, eyelids flickering.
‘They’re so proud of what you’ve achieved with your life. Everything they ever dreamed of. Killing people. Stealing phones. Living in a bloody tunnel.’
‘Man . . .’
‘I spoke to Qasid earlier, just after we interviewed you. He said you helped Kamal abduct him.’
‘He didn’t, man. No way.’
‘Don’t get smart with me.’ Fenchurch dropped the pages onto the desk. ‘Looks like Kamal’s been abducting kids off the street for years, then forcing them to commit a string of crimes.’
‘Shut up, man.’
‘Just imagine what your parents went through, Lewis.’ Fenchurch puckered his lips and blew out. ‘Problem I’m having is, well, Kamal’s got thirty people working for him. At least. I don’t get how one guy can hold so much sway over that many people, no matter how brutal he is. He needs lieutenants, people to keep the rank and file in check.’
‘It ain’t me, bruv.’
‘Was it Qasid?’
‘No, man.’
‘You’re part of a criminal conspiracy. That’ll be added to your charge.’
‘Come on, man, I ain’t speaking.’ Lewis paused and looked at the door. ‘Can I see my parents?’
‘Tell me first.’
‘Can’t tell, man. He’ll kill them.’
Fenchurch stared at his eyes for a few seconds. Kid definitely knew something. Maybe time to hang up the stick and use the carrot. He got up and waved at the camera. ‘Interview suspended at sixteen twenty-three.’
The door opened and Savage led the Coles in. They stood a few metres away from their son, wary and unsure.
Lewis’s face cracked, tears slicking his cheeks, his mouth losing all motor control. ‘Mum. Dad.’
Ronald Cole raced over and grabbed his son in a bear hug, almost knocking him off his seat. ‘My boy.’
His wife joined in, wedging her body between the men, arms pressed against their backs.
Fenchurch watched the reunited family, tears flooding three faces. Just that one moment where they reconnected, where all the wrongs of the past and the recriminations of the future flew out the windo
w. Thick mucus filled his throat, his sinuses. It stabbed at his gut, stung his heart.
Dad patted Fenchurch on the arm and winked. ‘Makes it all worthwhile, doesn’t it?’
Fenchurch just nodded. His breath came in fits and starts. ‘He’s a murderer, Dad.’
Unwin was still sitting there, writing away as though nothing was happening. Reed looked like she was trying to decipher his shorthand, upside down.
Ronald left his wife with his son. ‘Is there nothing we can do to stop this?’
‘I wish there was.’ Fenchurch swallowed. ‘Your son murdered a young woman. He might’ve been coerced into doing it but he still did it.’ His lip quivered, close to losing it. ‘It’s not for me to decide what happens to him.’
‘Can we at least spend more time with him?’
‘That can be arranged.’
‘Thank you.’
Fenchurch held his hand. ‘If he helps us.’
Ronald looked at him for a few seconds then gave a curt nod. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ He limped over to his son and whispered in his ear. Roofie — Lewis — blinked hard and slow, teary eyes gleaming under the strip lighting. More whispering then Lewis locked eyes with his father. Then he nodded, eyes shut. ‘Okay.’
Unwin looked up from his paperwork and waved a hand in the air. ‘I need some more time alone with my client.’
Lewis shook his head, strong and defiant now. ‘They need to hear the truth, man.’
Unwin grabbed his wrist. ‘You need to keep quiet.’
Lewis pushed the lawyer’s hand away. ‘I don’t want you here no more. Leave.’
‘You’re taking the side of a corrupt police officer against—’
‘Excuse me?’ Fenchurch got between them. ‘Corrupt?’ He focused on Lewis. ‘Your lawyer isn’t doing you any favours, Mr Cole.’
‘How dare you?’
Fenchurch glared at Unwin. ‘How dare I? You’re the one suggesting I’m corrupt.’ Back to Lewis. ‘It’s your call.’
‘Get out, man! I don’t want you here!’
‘Lewis, you don’t—’
‘Get! Out!’
Unwin collected up his stuff, shaking his head. ‘This isn’t the end of the matter.’ He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Fenchurch waited until Dad and Savage had taken Lewis’s parents out then nodded at him. ‘Do you want a Legal Aid lawyer to be appointed?’
