‘I’ll be sure to mention it to him.’
‘You’re going to speak to him then?’
‘Of course.’ George looked longingly at his bag of delicious smelling food. He pulled the car out and headed towards the address. ‘I need to know what he knows.’
‘I still don’t get how you reach that point without him immediately knowing that his handler has stitched him up. You’re going to burn him forever.’
‘I’ll need to be creative, that much is true.’
‘Creative? I think I remember the last time you talked about being creative. It involved a brick and a victim’s window. Try to be a bit more subtle this time, George. You might not care if some of your colleagues continue to dislike you, but I don’t have quite the same attitude to people’s impressions of me. Or the same thickness of skin.’
‘Oh, come on, Ryker! Since when have you cared what people think?’
‘Since I realised I was staying in this half of the county. A lot of these people still don’t know me. And a lot of them don’t owe me anything. In the northern half everyone owes me something, that’s the way I like it.’
‘Understood. I owe you, Ryker. That much I do know.’
‘Too right you do. Let me know how it goes.’
‘You know I will.’ George tapped the screen to end the call.
Larendon Place was in the centre of Dover, not far from the main train station. It was up a steep hill, so steep that he had to take it easy so the car didn’t ground out. He pushed up the hill in first gear and rounded the second corner onto the target road. He looked at the door numbers; they were in the hundreds. His address was down the other end. His phone beeped. He guessed it would be Yarney’s mugshot. There still weren’t many people out and about on foot but he wanted to check the image straight away, just in case he walked past him. Heroin addicts were notoriously early risers. He picked up his phone. He had a text message from his wife on the screen. It said simply: Are you awake? Can we talk?
George pulled over into a gap between the lines of parked cars either side of the road. He typed out a reply. Of course.
The phone rang through the speakers almost immediately.
‘Sarah,’ George said. He tried to sound cheery.
‘I should have known you would be awake. I don’t even know why I asked.’
‘I’ve been up for hours. I’m at work already, actually. We’ve got a lot going on.’
‘So I’ve seen on the news. Are you working that awful shooting incident down in Dover?’
‘It’s one of those jobs, Sarah. Everyone’s involved.’
‘Are you going to be able to do this afternoon? I thought you had the day off today.’
‘Yes. Don’t you worry about that. I came in this morning to help out, but I’ve just got a few bits to do and then I’ll be heading home. That’s why I was up and out so early — so I could have plenty of time to get sorted.’
‘Good. Charley’s really excited, George. I told her she was seeing you today. She’s already been in this morning for her birthday presents. I had to send her away. Anything before eight just isn’t acceptable during half term.’
‘Of course. I forgot it was half term. Is that what you called for? To make sure I wasn’t going to be kept late?’
‘Well, it did cross my mind to check. But no, actually.’
George’s phone pinged through the speakers. It was a WhatsApp message from Emily. ‘I wanted to talk to you about something, but . . . you know . . . it’s a bit difficult.’
‘I seem to remember you had to do the same thing last time and you managed quite well. You hit me with it when I had a mouthful of coffee. Oddly enough I’ve got a takeaway on the go in here, do you want me to let you know when I’m about to take a swig?’ George heard a chuckle, but it sounded nervous.
‘No, you’re okay. There’s no need to pick Charley up. We’re going to use it as an opportunity to go shopping in Maidstone. We’ll meet you at the Junction Eight services. You can pick her up from there.’
‘We?’
‘Yes, George. Ronnie will be with me.’
‘Ronnie?’
‘Yes. He wants to meet you. Just briefly if you want, but it might be nice to sit down, all of us, and have a cup of coffee there. I want Charley to see that this can work out. She’s been kicking back a little with Ronnie recently — well, since we came back here, really. I think if she sees you there — if she sees us all there, I think she might be a bit more accepting.’
‘I see.’ George took a swig of his coffee. It stopped him biting back immediately.
‘If she sees you are okay with it all, then I think she will be a lot better with it too. That just seems logical, doesn’t it? I don’t want her confused and hurting anymore. I want her to see that she needs to move on — like we all have.’
‘The last conversation we had, you were giving me some more time to get my head around the divorce. Now you’re assuming I’ve moved on. Do you think two days is long enough for that? There seems to be a lot of assuming going on here, Sarah. That I am comfortable with all this. That I’ve accepted this whole situation. I don’t even know this Ronnie, and why on earth would I want to? My daughter is kicking back against him? Well, I say good! Why would I want her to move on, to accept that she has a new dad?’
‘He’s not a new dad—’
‘You’re damned right he isn’t! So let’s not start by talking like he is and talking about how I should help with the transition. What transition?’
‘I thought you would have got your head sorted by now. I thought you would be able to understand the logic. Your daughter is confused, she can’t move on and it’s making her miserable. I’m just asking for a coffee where she sees us all behaving like adults. That isn’t too difficult is it?’
George’s phone pinged with another message from Emily. He scooped it up. Yarney’s mugshot had been taken too close; his pale skin reflected the harsh light of the custody camera. He looked painfully thin and had long mousey hair that hung over his face in greasy-looking clumps. His eyes were a washed out blue and stood out as the only dabs of colour.
‘I’ve got another call. I’ve got to go.’
‘What? Isn’t that just like—?’
George ended the call. He’d had enough of her voice, enough of her trying to make it all sound so normal. The breaking up of his family . . . and all she needed to complete it was his endorsement. Well, she wasn’t having it and he wouldn’t be made to feel like it was something he should do for Charley either. Like it was the best thing for her. The best thing for her was her family back together. Her real family.
He pulled away, suddenly aware that he would have been drawing attention to himself sat in a car ticking over in front of the tightly packed terraced houses. The people around here had a sixth sense for coppers. He drove the length of the road. It dipped in the middle and the target address was just up the other side of the dip. There was a space almost outside on the opposite side of the road. He pulled up and turned off the engine. He picked up his phone and looked back at the message from Sarah: Can we talk? She didn’t want him to talk; she wanted him to listen then agree.
He peered out across the road. The house was near to a junction. Larendon Road carried on after. There was movement, someone had walked up the hill and turned left towards the target property. Shit! It was him!
George froze. He had planned on intercepting Yarney going out. He knew he would have to go out and score his heroin. Any addict would start their day with a hit. He’d had a vague plan of waiting for Yarney to score and then stopping him when he knew he was in possession. That way he could use the drugs as leverage somehow, get him talking at least, offer him a deal when he found the drugs. Yarney walked right up to his door and continued through. George watched the door thud shut. His opportunity was gone.
The phone pinged again. Sarah. Another message: You need to start getting your head around all this, George. Not for my sake, not for yours. We’ll talk
later. Ronnie thinks it best that he stays away, for today at least.
Well, good for Ronnie. George was up and out of the car before he even knew it. The air was crisp and cool and he sucked a great lungful of it in as he stormed across the road. George wasn’t thinking about options, he wasn’t thinking about how to play it now and he certainly wasn’t thinking about subtleties. He used his momentum and his rage. His boot met with the door around the handle and it flew in on the first kick. The sound had an impact on George, like being jolted awake from a bad dream — what the hell was he doing? Too late now. House entries were dangerous at the best of times; even with a full team behind you, you had to secure everyone as quickly and as forcefully as possible. He could already see movement at the back of the house, someone ran from the living room into the kitchen. George stomped down the corridor. ‘POLICE!’ he roared.
He glanced right. The living room was sparse: a sofa and not much else. No people at least. He found Yarney in the kitchen. He looked the same as in his picture, down to the washed out skin and the scraggly hair, but the pale blue eyes flared wide now. Yarney had backed into a kitchen unit. His right hand was raised high and it gripped a crude-looking kitchen knife. His left arm was pushed firmly into his jacket pocket. George fixed on the blade and reached out with his own hands, showing that they were empty.
‘The fuck you doing in my house? The fuck you doing?’ Yarney took huge gulps of air as if he was trying to quell his own panic.
‘Nicholas, are you alone? Before I start speaking?’
‘What? Yes, I’m alone. But I’m the one with the knife, yeah? So don’t think that means nothing.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that. I’m a copper, okay? A police officer. I’m not here to hurt you, but I can’t talk to you if there are other people about. I don’t want to put you at risk.’
‘The fuck you don’t! What you doing kicking my door down? You can’t be doing that!’
‘You’re right, Nicholas. You’re right. I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t really think this through. I got a mate back at the nick. He says you might know something that could help me — something I need to know. I got desperate, okay? I didn’t think it through and I fucked up. But I do need to talk to you.’
‘Talk to me? About what?’
‘The shooting. There was a shooting up near Canterbury. Someone died. You might know something about who was there — about who did it.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
George’s frustration came rushing back, replacing the shock that had come in the wake of his earlier rashness. His voice found force. ‘You do. I know you do. I don’t have time for games. I don’t have time to wait for you to come out of your house so I can make a story about why I’m talking to you. I don’t have time to make it look like it was a coincidence that you phoned your handler this morning with some information and I’m at your door a few hours later asking for more.’
‘At my door? You kicked your way through it, way I see it!’ He lowered the knife a little; the body language was changing slowly. He was recovering from the shock maybe. He didn’t seem so on edge.
‘Yeah, I did.’
‘You got no right.’
‘I don’t.’
‘I want your name and number. I ain’t having this. I could make a big complaint — maybe get some compensation money.’
‘Put the knife down at least. I’m no threat, Nicholas. That’s not why I’m here.’
‘I’d rather keep it. Your name and number and then you can get out.’
‘You can have it, but I’m not giving you anything here. You’ll get it back at the police station.’
‘Police sta . . . what are you talking about? I ain’t going to no police station.’
‘You’re under arrest for possession of class A — heroin. You do not have to say anything but it m—’
‘What you talking about? Heroin?’
‘That’s what you’ve been out for this morning, Nicholas. That’s what you’re holding onto for dear life in your left pocket. Am I right? Do I need to take you down the nick? How much did you get? A couple of wraps? It’s hardly worth it for that, is it? Be clever. Talk to me. Tell me what you know and I’ll leave you with your score.’
‘You forgetting who’s got the knife?’
‘You might as well put that down now, Nicholas. You’re not going to use it. Right now you’ve got a wrap of heroin in your pocket and a copper in your kitchen. Maybe I shouldn’t be here, but you do anything with the knife and all that will be forgotten. You’ll go to prison. If you were going to do anything with it you would have done it already. I just want to talk.’ George swallowed. He knew he had to stand firm to back up his bluff.
‘I don’t got nothing to talk about.’
‘I know who you are, Nicholas. I know you’re connected with people in Dover that are of interest to us. And I know that you might have heard some rumblings about my shooting up near Canterbury. Listen, I went up there. I saw what some piece of shit left behind. If you can help, you should. Trust me on that. This is not someone who deserves your protection.’
‘What you saying? That I should be all moral and help you lot out? I don’t know how much you think you know about me but the moral angle? That ain’t the right one. I lost my morals a long time ago and I got no intention of getting them back to be honest. The world’s shit. You gotta be shit to survive. Or at least you gotta be paid.’
George reached slowly for his back pocket. Nicholas tensed his right arm up, but didn’t try to stop him. George kept his movements smooth as he pulled out a leather wallet. He flipped it open to reveal his police badge and then pulled out two twenties. He dropped one of them on the kitchen bench.
‘Twenty quid? That ain’t even going to get my door repaired.’
‘I’ll sort the door. My mate tells me that twenty quid normally does it.’
‘You don’t look like you’re in a position to barter with me, man.’
‘Call it a starter. If you tell me something I don’t already know or something I need, you can have the other one.’
‘I don’t even know much.’
‘Then it’s easy money, right?’
Yarney’s right hand finally dropped to his side. His grip on the knife was looser. He didn’t drop it, but George could cope with that. He moved his badge back towards his rear trouser pocket.
‘Hands where I can see them, yeah? I been gassed before. That’s some horrible shit you lot use.’
George put his hands back out. He pushed his badge into his coat pocket instead.
‘I’m not here to gas you. Jesus, Nicholas! Just tell me what you know.’
‘I know about this gang. They run the scene in Dover right now. It changes around, you know, but they’ve been running it for six months. This fella who I was telling your mate about . . . he came down here just a few weeks ago. He was with some crew who go out doing rich people, you know? Out in the country, like. They see a mansion and they go in hard and get what they want. They’re not from here. They’re into their coke — all of them, probably. I think they move some about too. There are, like, four of them. They’ve been down here just a couple of weeks but they’re big spenders. They got a reputation straight away. That happens when you get a new Billy Big-Bollocks in a small town like this. Then I hear they got the hump with one of the lads on the crew. They all fell out. I don’t know what it was about exactly but I think he owed them all money or something. It’s always about the money, right?’
George hummed some listening sounds. He didn’t want to interrupt Yarney’s flow.
‘So apparently they’re all here because this fella who they’ve got the hump with, he knows a place with cash stashed up. A lot of cash, yeah? Like a career job or summin’ that should at least keep them in lines of charlie for a little while. Whatever. The job goes bent. I guess that’s the shooting you’re talking about. These boys, they don’t do guns. They seemed switched on. They didn’t want the atte
ntion that comes with it.’
‘How did he know though? About there being money at the place? You can’t even see it from the road.’
‘He knew him — the old fucker there.’
‘Knew him? You sure?’
‘Stan, right?’ Yarney said. George must have reacted and Yarney noticed. ‘It is Stan! So you know I ain’t giving you no shit. It’s amazing what these boys will talk about when they’re off their face on coke. “Stan the man,” they said. “Stan the man with a hundred grand!”‘
‘How did they know him?’
‘Not all of them did. At least that’s the impression I got. Just the lad they had the hump with. Some of them were pissed at being away from home. I think they travel around a bit but they clearly didn’t trust this lad.’
‘So, the lad they fell out with — did he fire the gun?’
‘I don’t know that much. I haven’t really talked to anyone since the job. I got to hear a few bits late last night, like — that a gun was involved, that it went bent. I knew it would be stuff you lot wanted so I told your man that I was hearing things. I said I would keep my ears out. He told me what he always does — said not to put myself in harm’s way and to let him know what I heard. He said he would come back to me later in the week. He never said nothing about no out of control suit coming down here an’ kicking my door in.’
‘I guess he didn’t. To be fair he couldn’t have known. The problem we’ve got with this sort of thing is that we can’t be waiting until the end of the week. I need to be doing what I can.’
‘I can’t help you no more.’
‘You don’t know where they were staying?’
Yarney looked away and his eyes fell to the floor. There was just a moment of hesitation. ‘I don’t, man. I don’t know that much.’
George stepped in a little closer. ‘It doesn’t come from you, anything you tell me. We have ways of taking action without anyone ever knowing where the information came from. Think about it . . . if they were off their heads and talking and you know where these people are or where they’ve been, so do a lot of other people. Is that right? Do a lot of people know where they are?’
The George Elms Trilogy Box Set Page 38
