‘How could I do that?’
Karen had a strange smile. It lifted her top lip to reveal a slightly crooked tooth below. Even so, despite that – actually, on second thoughts, maybe because of it – it was cute. And it did the job on Jason.
Moments later he was in Faye’s room. ‘Fancy a quick toilet break? I’ve got to adjust the cam,’ he said, knowing Faye would jump at the chance – and do more in the toilet than just a wee.
‘Thanks, sweetheart,’ she said, smiling at him, and he thought, not for the first time, how much he liked Faye. He hoped he wasn’t helping get her into trouble with Karen.
Anyway, on with the job. Aware of Karen, in the office watching, he found Faye’s handbag, rifled through it, and in seconds flat had discovered her real name. Letting himself out, he returned to the office.
‘Well?’
‘Her real name is Emma – Emma Drake,’ Jason told Karen, and watched closely for her reaction, which was a slow nod, the name evidently coming as no surprise to her. ‘You know her,’ he pressed.
‘Yeah,’ Karen said. ‘You might say that. You might well say that, Jace.’
A couple of days later Faye killed herself, and for Jason the days of wine and roses were over. Not only did he have the trauma of that to deal with, but the studio had been shut down. And now he was out of a job.
So what did he do? As before, he sat around, smoked weed and watched porn, only now he wasn’t getting paid for it. It was what he was doing when the buzzer went.
He crossed his small flat to the intercom. Thumbed the button. ‘Yeah? Who is it?’
‘Jace, it’s Karen, sweetheart. I’ve got some wages for you. Well, not just wages. A little thank you, you might say, for all your hard work and discretion.’
That’s more like it, he thought. He’d been feeling a little bit taken for granted. He’d briefly considered getting in touch with Karen and dropping a hint: Wouldn’t it be awful if the police found out about Faye? But then he’d had second thoughts.
He buzzed her up, waited until he heard her tap at the door and then went to open it.
‘Oh,’ he said, because it wasn’t just Karen. With her was a tall guy wearing a leather bomber jacket.
‘Oh, don’t mind him,’ Karen tried to reassure Jason. ‘Just Dmitry getting jittery. Thinks I shouldn’t go anywhere alone.’
Jason kind of hoped she might just give him his wages at the door, but she made to come inside and he had little choice but to admit her.
‘Nice place you’ve got here.’ She smiled and he was 99 per cent certain she was taking the piss, but what the hell? This was Karen after all, and he liked Karen, in all the ways.
He wondered if he should offer them tea, but then remembered he didn’t have any tea to offer. Besides, he really just wanted to get back to his weed and porn.
Karen stood there looking a bit like a secret agent. Black coat belted tight at the waist. Black leather gloves. ‘So you haven’t managed to find any other work yet?’ she said.
‘I’m considering my options,’ he replied, dropping into the sofa as if to watch the TV, even though it was switched off.
‘I’m sorry about the studio shutting,’ she said. ‘It was this business with Faye.’ He looked across at her and tried to work out what she was thinking. Jason wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box but he wasn’t entirely dim either, and he knew better than to ask Karen straight out whether she’d been involved in Faye’s death. For a moment the curiosity almost got the better of him, but then his eyes slid to the bodyguard guy, and he thought better of it.
‘I hope that you’ve been discreet, Jace,’ she said, smiling, but with a scrutinising look on her face.
Sunk into the sofa, Jason suddenly felt vulnerable as Karen loomed over him. She moved forward a little and put one hand in her pocket. He swallowed. ‘What do you mean?’ he said, knowing precisely what she meant but figuring it was best to play dumb. The bodyguard guy hadn’t moved from the front door.
‘What I say,’ she said sweetly. ‘You ain’t said anything to anybody about any of the goings-on at Foxy Kittenz, have you?’
‘What? No, of course I haven’t. This is pretty much my social circle right here.’
‘Good,’ she said. She pulled a black-gloved hand from her pocket and swiped across his neck.
Jason saw the blood that sheeted down his front a second before he saw the Stanley knife in Karen’s hand. He flailed around uselessly for a few seconds on the sofa now saturated with his blood before unconsciousness quickly faded his world to black.
CHAPTER 23
‘I’M REALLY NOT sure how I feel,’ she told him.
Shelley looked at her. ‘Come again, Luce?’
‘I said I’m really not at all sure how I feel about you going off to work for the Drakes under the circumstances.’
‘Um, right,’ he said. ‘Did I ask how you felt, then?’
Her lips pressed together. ‘No. You didn’t ask, actually. But you were about to ask. Or you should have asked. And just so we don’t get to the point where I get mad at you for failing to ask, I’m giving you my opinion anyway.’
There were times that Shelley suspected he was more at home in the field than he was in his own house. This was one of those times. ‘Uh, right. Sorry, Luce. I should have asked. Of course. We’re in this together.’ Deep breath. Let’s start again. ‘Okay, how do you feel about me going?’
‘I just said.’
‘Yeah, but …’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel.’
He spread his hands, thinking, I can’t win. ‘I just want to be there. See to it they don’t end up doing something stupid.’
‘You don’t want revenge?’
He shook his head emphatically. ‘No. I don’t want revenge. What I want is to stop this from escalating.’ It was the truth. He wasn’t in it for payback. A whole bunch of other reasons, maybe. But not that.
She looked at him. ‘All right, I’ll take your word for it. But listen, Shelley, if you need backup …’
‘You’re here.’
‘Of course I’m here. But look, don’t do anything that needs backup, okay? Go in there, tell them not to be such gung-ho arseholes, and get back out again, all right?’
‘Roger that,’ he said.
‘You owe me a brainstorming session, remember?’
‘Sure.’
‘Oh, and one more thing, Shelley.’
‘Yes?’
‘Susie Drake. She’s a good-looking broad.’
He swallowed. ‘Yes.’
‘Anything ever happen between you?’
‘No,’ he replied. ‘You and I were engaged at the time.’
‘I’ve got eyes, Shelley, and I know potential when I see it.’ She pursed her lips, giving him a comical look that nevertheless held serious intent. ‘Just you watch yourself, okay?’
He smiled, relieved the moment was over. ‘Don’t you worry about me, Luce.’
During the drive he tried to clear his mind. He knew what his job was: making sure Guy Drake’s thirst for revenge didn’t result in a bloodbath. He’d packed enough to stay a few nights – plenty of time to talk some sense into Camp Drake. He resolved to have a quiet word with Guy and Susie – a chance to lay down some of the ground rules – before he did anything else.
When he arrived, he saw the usual array of vehicles in the drive, although in place of the electric-blue BMW was a van with the words ‘Freeman Van Hire’ emblazoned on the side. He looked at it for a moment, puzzling over its incongruity, wondering if it was at all significant.
The front door was ajar and he let himself in. Right away his heart sank when he saw that one of his key demands had been ignored. Last night on the phone he’d told Susie he didn’t want to work with either Gurney or Johnson. As in, he refused to work with either Gurney or Johnson. It was either them or him.
‘I’ll inform Lloyd,’ she’d said, which Shelley had taken to mean: I’ll tell Lloyd to give them the boot.
And so, with no sign of Susie or Drake, Shelley grabbed hold of Bennett and took him to one side, which in this case was the Drakes’ pool-hall-sized kitchen.
‘What the fuck is going on, Bennett?’
The other man held up his hands, a gesture Shelley was beginning to realise was as much his habit as chewing was for Guy Drake. ‘Well, it’s nice to see you too, Shelley, good morning and all that. Have you had a coffee yet?’
‘Yeah, yeah. Yadda yadda yadda. What’s Gurney doing here?’
‘He’s here because I need him, that’s all there is to it.’
‘Well, then, maybe Susie didn’t tell you what we discussed last night, because one of the conditions of me coming was no Gurney, and no Johnson.’
‘And Johnson isn’t here. Do you see Johnson? Johnson has the day off; he’ll play no part in this operation. Doesn’t even know it’s happening. But I need a three-man team on this. You of all people should know that.’
‘What operation?’ Shelley was getting a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘We’ve located Foxy Kittenz, where Emma killed herself.’
‘And … ?’
Bennett’s eyes did the military look left and right, a look that meant: This is not my idea, I’m following orders here. ‘And we’re paying it a visit,’ he said.
‘When? Not …’
‘In one. Tonight.’
Shelley pulled off his hat and raked a hand through his hair. ‘Right, look, I know where you’re coming from on this. I know Guy. He’s hurting. He wants revenge and he’s used to getting what he wants. But Susie’s worried about him. I’m worried about him. The point of me being here is to stop him doing anything stupid. You said so yourself last night, remember? Or did I imagine that?’
Bennett pulled his hands from his pockets, tipped his glasses up his nose and then leaned to Shelley, taking him into his confidence. ‘You’re right. Maybe I’m just a bit out of my depth here.’
‘I never said—’
‘You didn’t need to.’ He lowered his head as though finally admitting an uncomfortable truth. ‘Maybe you should speak to Mr Drake. He’ll listen to you.’ Clearing his throat awkwardly, he added, ‘He wants to burn the place down.’
Shelley gaped. ‘He what? All right, where are they?’
Drake and Susie chose that moment to enter the kitchen, Susie in front and Drake wheeling two small suitcases just behind. Shelley’s own overnight holdall was still at his feet. He hadn’t yet removed his coat, and he looked from Susie to Drake as the couple joined them at the kitchen’s central island.
‘David,’ she said, coming close to kiss him. Enveloping him in a cloud of perfume. That perfume again. That same perfume.
‘Susie,’ he said, softening, ‘we need to have a word.’
‘Of course, of course. You’re probably wondering what’s going on.’
‘You might say that.’ He gestured at the suitcases. ‘Are you going somewhere?’
‘Into town,’ said Drake, by which of course he meant into London.
‘Tonight? Right. What about this … operation?’
For a moment he allowed himself to believe that it was all a case of crossed wires, until Susie reached for him, her head tilted to one side. ‘Oh, David, I’m sorry it’s such short notice. I had no idea about this when I spoke to you last night, but thanks to Mr Bennett, we’ve found out where—’
‘He told me. What I want to know is what you’re planning to do.’
‘We’re going to get those scum tonight, whether you like it or not,’ Drake said, defiant, angry and commanding. ‘Do you understand me, chief ? We’ll start with this lot tonight and then we’ll move on to the dealers. Now, you’re in my house, on my dollar, and you’d better get your head round that or you might as well sling your hook right now.’
Shelley shrugged and reached for his holdall.
‘David, no,’ said Susie quickly. She turned to Drake. ‘David isn’t here to stop you taking action – “revenge”, if you want to call it that. He’s here to prevent you doing something stupid. Something that’ll come back to haunt us. That’s what you need to get your head round.’
Bennett took a deep breath. ‘There’s a famous proverb,’ he said. ‘Confucius, I think. When going in search of revenge, first dig two graves, one for your enemy and one for yourself.’
‘Who the fuck’s side are you on?’ Drake said, turning to Bennett. ‘Matter of fact, who the fuck’s side are you all on?’ He waved a hand, and for the first time Shelley noticed Gurney, who stood by the door to the kitchen and watched them with his arms folded across his chest and an amused expression on his face.
‘Yours, sweetheart,’ said Susie to Drake. She gently calmed him and the colour in his cheeks gradually subsided and the fire in his eyes dimmed. Shelley had seen Drake rattled before – the kidnap attempt for one. But he’d never seen him like this. Never seen him so close to the edge. Susie turned to Shelley. ‘I got tickets for a show, reservations for dinner and booked us in at the Connaught.’
‘Drake’s not joining the operation, then?’ asked Shelley.
‘You can bet your sweet peach I’m joining it,’ Drake cut in before Susie could reply. ‘A friend at the Connaught. A car back here. I’ll be part of it all right, don’t you fret.’ He cast a sideways glance at Susie. ‘Just you try to stop me.’
Susie ignored him. ‘We need you there, David. You have to—’
‘“Look after Guy”, is that right?’ seethed Drake. ‘You needn’t bother, Shelley.’
‘You sure?’ shot back Shelley. ‘Then what’s all this I hear about burning the place down?’
Bennett winced, glaring daggers at Shelley, who realised, belatedly, that the arson plan was news to Susie.
Oh well. There was an expression beloved of one of Shelley’s old instructors at Hereford. He used to say it whenever he farted. Better out than in.
CHAPTER 24
‘WHAT? ABSOLUTELY NOT. Absolutely not, Guy, is that understood?’
Susie was raging, as angry and upset as Shelley had ever seen her. Even so, Drake wasn’t ready to give in. In his mind’s eye he was dancing on the ashes of Foxy Kittenz and he wasn’t about to part with that image easily.
‘Why?’ he yelled at her.
‘Because we’re not gangsters, Guy,’ she threw back. ‘We’re not terrorists.’
‘Then what?’ roared Drake. ‘How do we hurt them?’
Shelley was about to answer when Bennett cut in. ‘We smash their equipment,’ he said coolly.
‘“Smash their equipment”,’ snorted Guy derisively. ‘It’s not exactly a mortal fucking blow, is it?’
‘We do enough to put them out of action,’ continued Bennett, still in diplomatic mode. ‘Look, sir, whatever measures we take, there’s always the chance this gets traced back to you. Imagine if it was, if you were exposed in the press, perhaps even prosecuted. If that happened and it turns out that you’re a man who put a bunch of lowlifes out of business then I dare say you could style it out and emerge looking like a bit of a folk hero.
‘But arson is a different proposal altogether. You look reckless. You look dangerous and out of control. As Susie says, like a gangster.’ He spread his hands, no-brainer, but like everybody else in the room he was braced for Drake’s reaction. It was clear to all of them that Drake had taken the idea of fiery vengeance to his heart.
‘All right,’ Drake agreed reluctantly. ‘No burning.’
The quick change in Drake’s thinking didn’t completely ring true with Shelley, but it was the best they were going to get. The meeting broke up and Guy and Susie left for London. With the light outside beginning to fade, Shelley picked up his holdall and took it
to his room.
It was the same room he’d stayed in all those years ago, and like Susie’s perfume it had a transporting effect on him: the low eaves, having to stoop to avoid banging his head; even the bed linen looked the same.
He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, painfully aware of how much time had passed. Remembering a little girl who stood in that very same room and, like Hermione from the Harry Potter stories she loved so much, had performed magic, showing him that his mistakes were in fact hard-won experience.
He’d thanked her by leaving.
‘Is that why I’m here, Emma?’ he said into an empty room. ‘One good turn and all that?’
And what would Lucy say if she were here, sitting beside him? She’d tell him to pick up his holdall and leave if he wanted, because nothing he could do would bring Emma back anyway. Get out, before the bad shit happens.
But he couldn’t do that. He was an old soldier. He had an undiminished sense of doing his duty.
He returned downstairs. The house he remembered from years ago always had various helpers and employees hanging around: cleaners, housekeepers, gardeners, chauffeurs. But if those people still existed in the Drake household – and Shelley assumed they did – then they’d been given temporary leave of absence. Shelley, Bennett and Gurney were the only occupants, all a little wired with anticipation and circling each other warily.
As night drew in and the three of them began preparing for the operation – reluctantly, Shelley had bought into the whole ‘operation’ title – they gathered once more in the kitchen, the only downstairs room that was lit, where Gurney opened a laptop to Google Earth.
‘Here’s where we’re going,’ he said, navigating to a location at Millharbour in Docklands, a road lined with anonymous buildings on one side, land ready for business redevelopment on the other. The buildings were squat two-storey affairs, studies in anonymity, the colour of soggy cardboard: storage, office units, studio space and …
‘This one,’ said Gurney. His finger moved across the screen. ‘We can park the van here. Be out of the van and in the building in about ten seconds.’
Revenge Page 8
