by Jeff Gulvin
He brought the tea up to her. She was taking a shower and he waited until the fall of water had ceased and she came through in her robe, a towel wrapped about her hair. She touched him lightly on the shoulder and took the proffered cup. He stared at the bag by the bed.
‘You unpacked yet?’
‘Not yet. No.’
‘Want me to do it for you?’
She looked at him and shook her head. ‘I can do it,’ she said. She sat down on the bed and the robe slipped up her thigh, her tattoo Cumman na mBan was blue against the white of her skin. As if she sensed his gaze Eilish covered it over again.
‘Girls get to school all right did they?’
‘Yes.’
He moved himself back on the bed, crossing his legs underneath him. ‘The police were here, Eilish.’
She stopped, the teacup halfway from the tray to her lips. ‘Why?’
‘They were looking for Young Young.’
She looked round at him now.
‘They found his car by the park. They thought he might’ve come here.’
‘Why did they think that?’
James stared at her. ‘I don’t know. But they must know he does or they wouldn’t have come. They know you hang out with him, Eilish.’
‘What did you tell them, James?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing at all?’
‘I said he hadn’t been here.’
‘That night or never?’
‘I could hardly say never, Eilish. They knew.’ James slid to the edge of the bed.
Eilish took a fresh pair of jeans from her drawer. ‘Did they ask anything else?’
‘They wanted to know where you were —when you’d be back.’
‘Did you tell them?’
‘Of course I told them. What was I supposed to do. Young Young killed someone, Eilish.’
Eilish shrugged and took her underwear off the radiator. ‘Leave me alone now, James. I want to get dressed.’
Webb and DCI Westbrook stood in the investigating officer’s room at the Hendon. Weir sat across the desk from them, Ryan leaned against the wall.
‘Then we’re back where we started again.’ Weir raked his fingers over his scalp. They had just told him that their final suspect was alibi’d.
Ryan looked at Webb. ‘How is she alibi’d?’
Webb looked disinterestedly at him. ‘Come on, Slips.’
Ryan shook his head and looked back at Weir. ‘I’ll get back on the phone then, Guv’nor.’
Westbrook sat down. ‘It is PIRA, Frank,’ he said. ‘They just made a mistake that’s all.’
‘And you’ve run out of nominals?’
‘For the moment. Inquiries go on.’
‘So who were they after? Come on, Westy—you can tell us that much.’
Westbrook looked at Webb, then he sighed. ‘They’ve lost a lot to us over the years, Frank. With the ceasefire ending they’re active again. Their one big fear is snouts.’
‘Snouts.’ Ryan folded his arms.
Westbrook nodded. ‘Some of them are women. Some of them are over here. That’s where we’re looking. We can’t tell you any more than that.’
‘Really helps doesn’t it.’ Ryan moved to the door. ‘The lover is something to do with this. That’s who we need to find.’
Webb shook his head. ‘Won’t help you, Sid. It’s a mistake. Jessica was the wrong target that’s all. Who she was with is irrelevant. He’s probably married, kids maybe. Would you come forward?’
‘What about the dummy?’ Weir said. ‘What about the New Forest, someone in the back of the car.’
‘Coincidence or somebody conning you, Guv. Your man Case. Lives on his own, no girlfriend. He probably made it up, chased her for the hell of it and then when somebody killed her he got scared, came to you before you got to him.’
Weir shook his head. ‘You haven’t interviewed him, George. I think he’s telling the truth.’
Westbrook sat forward then. ‘The dummy is theatre if it happened at all. PIRA don’t do theatre and they shoot their targets, not people attached to them. They’re fighting a propaganda war as much as anything else. They don’t need the publicity of killing innocent women. Wouldn’t help their fund raising would it.’
Again Weir shook his head. ‘I don’t think it’s that simple. I think there is a link. Somehow we’re missing something.’
‘I agree,’ Ryan stood by the door. ‘If it’s okay with you, Guv, I want to talk to Case again. I’ll either get him back in here or go to see him down there.’
‘Whatever you want, Sid.’ Weir looked at the two men from SO13. ‘You do what you have to,’ he said. ‘Us — we’ll do what we have to.’
Ellie drank tea with Anne, the cleaner. Somehow their breaks seemed to coincide these days.
‘The man you told me about,’ Ellie said. ‘The one in Ireland. Has there been anyone since him?’
Anne shook her head.
‘No-one?’
‘I loved him, Ellie. How could there be anyone else?’
Ellie put down her cup. ‘That must be awful.’
Anne lifted her eyebrows. ‘To love just one man. Why?’
‘I didn’t mean that. I meant to love him and lose him — like that.’
‘Shot. Killed. Murdered.’
The words hit Ellie like bullets, spat from Anne’s mouth with a bitterness she could almost taste. ‘You’ve never got over it have you.’
‘No. I haven’t. It’s been twelve years, Ellie, but you don’t recover from something like that. I saw him lying in the road, no jacket on, just his shirt and his tie and his trousers, lying on his side with blood in the gutter and the rain soaking into him.’
‘You saw it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, Anne.’
Ellie sat back, looked up at the clock; it was almost time to go back to work. ‘How did it happen exactly? I mean, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.’
Anne lifted a palm. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘It does me good to talk. I hate the thought of ever forgetting him.’
‘Maybe you should though—you know—move on.’
‘You think so?’
‘Don’t you?’
Lines cut deep into Anne’s brow then and she pushed at her hair with red-nailed hands. ‘I think I’d betray him if I ever did that — betray our love — everything we went through.’ She pushed her cup away. ‘The worst of it was we’d had a fight. He stormed out and by the time I went after him it was raining hard. He was walking, too much to drink I think. He never took his jacket. The police ambushed him. They claimed he was a terrorist but he wasn’t. He didn’t even have a gun. They said he didn’t do what they told him. They said he went for a gun but one was never found.’
‘The police?’
‘Yes.’ Anne looked at her then. ‘I think there was a soldier too.’
‘A soldier?’
‘Yes.’ She leaned forward then. ‘I’ve looked into it. Well, you can imagine. Anyway, I discovered that when the police went out like that there was usually a soldier with them. Almost always I think.’
‘What happened to the men responsible?’
Anne opened her hands. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Absolutely nothing.’
Vanner and Jimmy Crack drove over to Hackney, Vanner driving, Jimmy next to him, Vanner smoking, the window wound down a fraction.
‘Keithley wants him over at Hendon asap,’ Jimmy said.
‘When’re they moving him?’
‘This afternoon.’ Jimmy stared out of the window. ‘What happened with Eilish?’
‘Spoke to Steve Riley this morning. They picked her up at South Mimms and followed her back from there.’
‘Where’d she go?’
‘Uxbridge. The barber’s shop.’
‘She didn’t meet Stepper then?’
Vanner shook his head.
‘Next time.’
Vanner looked at him. ‘W
e’ll give her a tug in Belfast, Jim. Get the Antrim Road boys to pull her with the gear. Then you and me can fly over, see if we can’t get her to lay down. She’s got kids. She won’t want to lose them.’
Vanner pulled off the road and parked beside an idling TSG troop carrier. Downstairs the custody sergeant greeted them.
‘Interview room 1,’ he said. ‘And rather you than me.’
‘Frighten you does he?’ Jimmy said.
‘Bloke’s a headcase, mate. Loco. He’s been sat in there since you nicked him and threatened just about every copper in London. The things he’s going to do to the Ninjas when he finds out who they are.’
Vanner shook his head. ‘Let’s get his arse shifted eh.’
The sergeant moved around the desk and picked up his keys. He walked to Young Young’s cell and dropped the visor.
Vanner peered through. He sat on the bench along the wall with his hands in his lap. The sergeant opened the door and still he sat there, then he looked up slowly and stared into Vanner’s eyes.
‘Who the fuck are you?’
‘Drug Squad, Young Young. Here to do you a favour.’
‘Fuck off.’
The sergeant took a step into the cell. ‘You watch your mouth,’ he said. ‘And get up. We haven’t got all day.’
Young Young sat where he was and the sergeant stepped closer. Young Young round-housed him, a swinging arc of a punch which caught him behind the ear and knocked him against the wall. Vanner balled his fists, then suddenly Young Young charged, fists out in front of him, both arms. He hit Vanner like a battering ram, sending him back through the open cell door and into the far wall. Vanner dropped to one knee, the wind knocked right out of him.
Young Young was loose in the custody suite. He started for the stairs but Jimmy lifted his fists like a boxer and stepped into his path. Young Young stopped and his eyes suddenly shone.
‘Oh fuck, a fighter. Come on then, you bastard.’
Two uniforms appeared on the exit stairs as Young Young came for Jimmy. He spat on the floor and lifted his own fists in mockery. ‘I could fuckin’ eat you.’
Jimmy looked in his eyes. ‘Come on then, pussy’
Young Young swung at him. Jimmy dropped his shoulder, riding the punch then ducked in close and hit him with an upper cut to the sternum. Young Young dropped like a sack.
He lay on the floor, both arms about his middle, his eyes bulging as if they were going to explode. Vanner grabbed him by the collar and the sergeant fastened plastic cuffs on his wrists. The two constables were staring at Jimmy who stood over Young Young like a fighter back in his corner. Vanner glanced at their faces. ‘Lafone,’ he said. ‘1988. Light heavy.’ They got Young Young to his feet and Vanner grinned at Jimmy. ‘Still got that punch then, you bastard.’
Jimmy smiled wickedly. ‘Took down a few trees since you, Guv.’
In the interview room Young Young slumped in the chair, still trying to right his breathing. Vanner leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette. Then he moved to the chair, scraped it back and sat down. ‘My name’s Vanner,’ he said. ‘And I don’t like you.’
Young Young looked cautiously at him and even more so at Jimmy. ‘Take the cuffs off, man. I ain’t gonna hit no-one.’
‘Fuck you,’ Vanner said. ‘You know what—that’s two assaults to add to the murder.’ He leaned across the table so his face was close to Young Young’s. ‘We don’t like people who hit coppers, Young Young. We don’t like them at all.’ He sat back again and blew a steady stream of smoke in his face. ‘Six feet six and taken out with one punch. Some hardman you are.’
Young Young snorted phlegm into his mouth. ‘I’d’ve taken him.’
‘What—from where you lay on the floor?’
Jimmy Crack took his mobile phone from his belt and laid it on the table. He unfastened his watch from his wrist and laid it next to the phone. ‘Ten minutes, Young Young. You behave yourself that long and we’ll take the cuffs off. You misbehave after that and we’ll give you the hammering of your life.’
Young Young eased his face back, looked from one to the other of them and nodded.
‘Good.’ Vanner crushed out his cigarette. ‘We understand each other. Now, do you want a lawyer?’
Young Young did not reply.
‘We’re going to ask you some questions, Young Young,’ Vanner went on. ‘It’s your right to have a solicitor present. Do you want one?’
‘No.’
‘Good.’ Vanner leaned in his elbows. ‘What did you do with the gun?’
‘Don’t have a gun.’
‘Bullshit. You carry an Uzi 9mm. Think you’re the fucking Terminator.’
‘He’s a white pussy bitch.’
Jimmy sat forward then. ‘Later on today the Murder Squad will roast you about Jimmy Carter, Young Young. They got a match on the bullets you sprayed into the snooker hall when you broke Holden Biggs’s head. They’ve got your car and your car’s paint on the bumper of another car. You broke a tail light didn’t you.’
‘Nothing wrong with my car, man.’
‘You’re a liar. Young Young. You should’ve got them to put the rusty screw back. There’s a shiny new one now.’
Young Young bit his lip.
‘They’ve got two witnesses,’ Vanner said harshly. ‘One is the bouncer. He picked you out, pal. You’re going down the line.’
For a few minutes they sat in silence, Young Young looking at the table top. After a while he lifted his face and his eyes were small, black and darting. ‘How come you knew where to find me?’
‘We’re clever.’ Vanner tapped his fingertips on the table. ‘We’re Drug Squad, Young Young. The Murder Squad comes later.’
‘I don’t do drugs.’
Jimmy smiled at him. ‘Stepper-Nap, you were his body armour. Pretty Boy, looking to take over the Brit-Boy Massive. Am I right?’
Young Young did not say anything.
‘Yeah, I’m right. Bigger Dan. Little Bigger, your half-brother. Carmel Connolly. Eilish McCauley. The list goes on and on.’
Jimmy looked at Vanner then and Vanner squinted at Young Young. ‘Stepper set you up, Young Young. Jimmy Carter. You know that — your Daddy set you up. Shooting up Carter’s snooker hall. That was dumb. Dumbest thing I ever saw. Dumbest thing Stepper-Nap ever saw. He was doing a deal with Carter. You went and blew it for him. Why’d you go and do that?’
Young Young sneered at him. ‘Don’t know what you’re all talking about, man. Don’t mean nothing to me.’
‘Liar.’ Vanner stood up. ‘I knew you were stupid. I just didn’t know how stupid.’
Young Young stared at him. ‘Don’t call me stupid.’
‘Better than pussy isn’t it?’
Young Young’s eyes flashed.
‘That’s what Biggs called you didn’t he. Bad-mouthing a bad man like you. You couldn’t let that happen so you walk into Carter’s place with your gun and make a mess of the ceiling. But Carter’s a bad bad man, Young Young. Much worse than you. He wanted your head. Stepper wanted a deal so you took a beating instead. Trouble is — you went and spoiled it by killing him.’
Jimmy Crack shook his head. ‘Why’d you do that, Young Young — shoot the Irishman? Jimmy Carter of all people. Don’t you know about the Irish? I thought all you black boys knew about the Irish.’
‘Don’t scare me, man.’
‘No?’ Vanner laughed in his face. ‘They will when they get you inside. They never ever forget. I was a soldier, Young Young. I can tell you they never forget. When you go down you’re history.’
He stood up and paced to the wall, leaning one hand against it. ‘You should’ve kept hold of your gun—let the firearms team shoot you last night. At least that’d be quick. When the Irish get you inside—and believe me they will—they’ll make you sweat for a while and then one day they’ll come for you. But they’ll make it really slow. You ready for slow, Young Young?’ Vanner moved round behind him then and took off the cuffs. ‘Nine minutes. I’m d
oing you a favour.’
Young Young brought his hands out in front of him and massaged his wrists. Jimmy leaned towards him and offered one of Vanner’s cigarettes. Young Young glanced briefly at Vanner then lit one.
‘We can help you, man,’ Jimmy said.
Young Young frowned. ‘How?’
‘Keep you away from the Irish.’
‘How?’
‘Easy. A word in the right ear when they decide where to put you. Make sure it’s a block full of brothers. They’ll love you for taking on the Irish. But if you ended up with any of them—?’ Jimmy shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t want to be you.’
Young Young snorted then and shook his head. ‘You think I’m an arsehole? I talk to you and I get fucked by the brothers. I don’t talk and I get fucked by the Irish. Maybe I’ll take my chances.’
‘Wrong.’ Vanner sat down. ‘We don’t expect miracles. You talk to us some and who would ever know’
‘I don’t know jackshit.’
‘We think you do.’ Jimmy looked evenly at him. ‘We know about the doctor, Young Young.’
Young Young’s eyes flickered.
‘We know about Eilish and Stepper-Nap. We know she’s running for him. We know about Pretty Boy’s plans.’
‘I ain’t talking to you.’
Vanner looked at him and moved to the door. Jimmy got up from his chair. ‘Fine,’ Vanner said. ‘Then it’ll be the Irish. Watch your arse when you sit on the crapper.’
He had his hand on the door.
‘Wait.’
Vanner turned once more, aware of the tension in his chest and his arms. He looked back at Young Young.
‘You can really do what you said?’
‘Yes.’
‘Put me with my kind? Keep them Irish away from me?’
‘With a word in the right ear.’ Vanner moved back to the table. ‘But we don’t do it for free.’
Young Young seemed to ponder then. Vanner gave him another cigarette. Young Young looked up at him. ‘Motherfucker stiffed me didn’t he.’
‘Big-time.’
Young Young nodded. ‘I don’t know much. I got paid to hit people is all.’
‘We know that,’ Jimmy said. ‘Who washes the crack and where, Young Young? They’ll never know you told us.’
