Human Conditioning

by Hirst, Louise

  She gulped hard as she considered leaving him. How would she explain why she was going? Would she tell him that she knew about his secret life? Would he find out that she had reported him? What would he do to her if he ever did find out?

  Eventually, Lily fell asleep, but her dreams did not give her any comfort.

  Chapter forty-six

  Aiden stepped into Gina’s flat. It was dark outside, but the flat was dark too, and quiet. He leant around the kitchen doorway and flicked on the kitchen light. It brightened the hallway enough for him to see but not enough to immediately alert any unwanted visitor upstairs.

  Closing the front door with a quiet click, he slowly and vigilantly made his way into the living room. The room was empty, but he could just make out Gina’s trusty silver box on the coffee table and a large bag of white powder next to it. It was all the confirmation he needed to be certain that she hadn’t done a runner. She would never willingly leave that much heroin behind.

  Stepping into the living room, he peered up the stairs to see a faint light coming from the bedroom. Taking the stairs, he reached the bedroom but before he could open the door, the door swung open. A large middle-aged man with a thick neck, round belly and tattooed arms showing beneath his vest halted in surprise when he saw Aiden standing there. “Fuck, man, you scared me!” he gasped.

  “Who’re you?”

  The man ignored Aiden’s question, not knowing who he was, and instead began ranting. “I don’t think you’ll get much more out of her, mate. She fucking passed out on me, man. This place has gone to shit!”

  Aiden barged him out of his way so he could get into the room. The man wanted to fight him, but as Aiden stepped into the light to reveal his true size, he thought again. Even against this Will Carling look-a-like, Aiden was big.

  Aiden surveyed Gina’s body. She was breathing, but her breaths were shallow and quiet. Her clothes had been ripped and her inner thighs were red from recent force. He turned to face the man who had obviously done this to her. “Why are all the lights off downstairs?” he asked steadily.

  “She insists on it… the crazy, junkie bitch…!”

  At that, Aiden swung his fist and landed a hard blow to the man’s temple. He landed like a sack of potatoes on the carpeted floor and was out for the count. Aiden loomed over him, and hocking spittle from the back of his throat, he spat in the man’s face. “Fucking ponce,” he muttered, and stepped over to the bed.

  Sitting beside Gina, he took her arm and checked her wrist for a pulse. It was slow but he didn’t think anything of it. She was obviously off her face.

  Two hours later, Aiden was watching an episode of Bottom on BBC2 in Gina’s living room. He didn’t have much time for television, but the two characters, Richie and Eddie, were quite amusing to him. He couldn’t contain his laughter when Richie started beating Eddie up with a frying pan.

  Gina awoke to the sound of Aiden’s laughter. She recognised it immediately, but it wasn’t a sound she had heard in a very long time. It lit up her heart to hear it now. Aiden was there! She attempted to spring out of bed, but her aching body resisted. Her mind was in a fuzz, and she felt sore between the thighs. But then, that was no different to any other day.

  Slowly, she pulled herself up and noticed that her clothes were torn. That bastard Bailey! She remembered his hard hands and thick fingers clawing at her flesh. He was a frequent user of the flats, though he’d only seen her a few times. He had been a last-minute arrangement because one of his regulars had been taken to hospital having dropped a pan of boiling water over herself – or so her minder had said. Whether it was an accident or an assault, none of them would ever know.

  When Michael Bailey had arrived earlier that evening, she had been out of it. It was supposed to have been her day off. He hadn’t been at all impressed by the state of her. She was barely conscious when he had arrived, and she assumed she had finally passed out on him because there was no money on the bedside table.

  Descending the stairs, dressed in her dressing gown, she peeped through the banister to see Aiden lying comfortably on her couch, one arm resting under his head, the other hanging over the side of the couch with a smoking cigarette between his fingers. He was focused on the television and laughed sporadically as the comedy played out in front of him.

  Her heart swelled, and a warm affection settled in the pit of her empty stomach as she watched the man she loved acting so carefree and happy. She took a moment to enjoy the view, revelling in the fact that he was there and Bailey was not. She wondered if Aiden had seen to Bailey and at what stage of the evening he had done so. She didn’t want to imagine that Aiden had walked in on them having sex, so she banished the thought and savoured the scene before her a little longer before she descended the stairs entirely.

  “Aiden,” she murmured as she reached the bottom step.

  Aiden turned, and when he saw her he sat up and switched off the television with the remote control at his side. Stubbing out his cigarette in one of the three ashtrays on the coffee table, he stood up and stepped over to her. Taking the tops of her arms, he squeezed her gently. “Are you alright?” he asked, searching her face.

  She nodded and smiled shyly. “Did you meet Bailey?”

  “That prick that was with you whilst you were passed out on the bed?” he asked reproachfully, and she wasn’t sure whether he was angry at Bailey for taking advantage, or at her for having passed out.

  “It was supposed to be my day off,” she explained, in case it was the latter. Aiden nodded. “What did you do to him?” she asked.

  “I knocked the cunt out,” he replied.

  She smiled wearily. “Where is he now?”

  “He came round about an hour ago. I politely asked him to leave.”

  Aiden was all hostility regarding Bailey, and this made Gina smile all the more. He was angry because somebody had hurt her. That had to mean that he cared for her. “I’ve missed you,” she announced. “It’s been months…”

  Aiden settled back on the couch. Taking a cigarette out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket, he lit it up and inhaled deeply. “Three fucking months to be exact,” he replied on his exhale. “Fucking Old Bill must have been tipped off… so much for protection.”

  Gina stared at him, but didn’t offer any suggestions. She had wondered often, over the past few months, whether her conversation with Lily may have sparked off the investigation. It was certainly a coincidence that the flats should be put under surveillance right after Lily had arrived on her white fucking horse. But she would keep her suspicions to herself. Aiden must never know that she had talked to his wife. Whether or not he cared for her, such news would put the nail in her coffin for sure.

  Suddenly, Gina stumbled and she had to grip onto the banister to stay upright. Aiden instinctively jumped up to help her. Taking her chin, he lifted her face. “You alright?” he asked, staring with concern into her eyes.

  “I’m fine, just a little tired,” she replied, but she avoided eye contact.

  Aiden continued to survey her, frowning with concern. Her eyes were glazed and dull, her pupils constricted. Her body looked as if it was struggling to hold her weight, yet she was skinnier than ever, her face drawn and emaciated. When he had taken her arms before, they had reminded him of Kate’s skinny arms when she had been a child – the original reason for him nicknaming her ‘Bone’.

  Gina coughed suddenly, causing Aiden to step back out of the firing line of the spittle that spewed out from her mouth. She put a hand over to stifle the urge to cough again and managed to choke the word ‘sorry’ before she fell into a coughing fit.

  Aiden watched with wide eyes as she keeled over, her knees hitting the floor with a loud thud, her hands supporting her body as she dropped onto all fours and began choking up violent coughs from the pit of her stomach. “Are you going to be sick?” he asked in a fluster. Gina responded with a shake of her head but, suddenly, she projectile-vomited all over the carpet. Convulsing on all fours, she could
n’t stop retching as the little solid she had in her stomach evacuated her body and she was left with yellow bile that hung from her lips and burned the back of her throat. “Have you been drinking?” Aiden asked, not quite knowing what to do or say.

  She shook her head again. Soon the retching subsided and she was able to whisper, “I need a flannel. Can you get me one from the bathroom, please?” Aiden took the stairs and was back in seconds with a flannel that he had run under the cold tap. He took her arm and helped her to rise. When she was on two feet, he gave her the flannel and escorted her over to the couch. She sat and wiped her face clean. “I’m sorry,” she announced after a strained silence. “Are you sick?” Aiden looked genuinely worried.

  She felt like rolling her eyes. It was obvious that she was sick, but the bewildered concern on his face made her heart melt. “Must’ve been something I ate,” she replied. But she was lying. She had been suffering with the same coughing fits for weeks now. Sometimes the coughing made her sick, but sometimes it was just a cough. She was pretty sure she had a chest infection. Her father had had a chest infection once, and it had given him the same fits of coughing, chest pain, shortness of breath and the shakes, all of which she had experienced for several weeks.

  “I have doctors, G. You should have told me you weren’t well.”

  “You haven’t exactly been around for me to ask…”

  Aiden nodded. “I know. Do you want me to contact Dr Crow?”

  “Will it stop you worrying?” she smiled timidly.

  “Yes.”

  “OK.”

  Aiden looked awkward all of a sudden. “I need you to look after yourself,” he said, and she got the impression that he was saying this with some ulterior motive in mind. What did he want of her now? “I’m not going to be around much,” he added, and his eyes found hers.

  Gina gulped. “What do you mean?”

  He ran a hand over his face and he seemed to have given himself an internal reprimand because his expression hardened suddenly, his eyes all of a sudden devoid of emotion. He took a deep breath and replied, “What I mean is, I can’t come here anymore, not after the place has been put under surveillance. I’m stepping down and will be a sleeping partner from now on.” He paused, gauging Gina’s reaction. She just sat staring up at him, totally speechless and befuddled. He hesitated then said plainly, “Gina, from today, you’re on your own.”

  Gina dropped her head, and suddenly her whole body began to convulse as her hysterical sobbing began. Sobs soon turned into deep moans as if she was in pain. The coughing started once more, then she wailed, and Aiden had no idea how to comfort her. He didn’t want to. It was hard enough informing her that he would never see her again. If he comforted her now, he may fall victim to his own compassion and take back his words.

  It was imperative that he step back, and lay low. The police may not have found anything on him this time round, but he was on their radar now and so couldn’t keep returning to the flats. He was taking a big enough risk as it was being there tonight. It was all about self-preservation. He couldn’t put his freedom at risk. He had a family. What would they do without him?

  Gina subsequently spiralled deeper into the greatest depths of her despair. Her delirium had engaged her for almost an hour and when her sobs finally subsided, she found herself in a daze, confused and alone. She hadn’t seen him go, but Aiden was no longer with her, and, this time, she knew she would never see him again.

  She was on her own.

  Chapter forty-seven

  October 1991

  “Ma’am, can I have a word? It’s urgent.”

  Inspector Lemmington peered around the door to Detective Inspector Summers’s office inside New Scotland Yard. Lemmington was a tall, well-built officer of twenty-nine years, with mousy brown hair and brown eyes. He was quite the jack-the-lad amongst his male counterparts, but he’d learned within the two years he’d worked under Detective Inspector Anne Summers that he would have to respect the opposite sex if he were to keep his job.

  Anne was on the phone and was surprised Lemmington was still in the office, as it had gone midnight. “Hold, please…” she instructed down the receiver. Then, rather hurriedly, trying her best not to be rude, she said, “Yes, Simon, what is it?”

  “We’ve received a tip-off, ma’am… on a drug factory just outside of Wiltshire.”

  Anne’s blonde eyebrows furrowed. “Well, can’t the matter be dealt with by the local police?”

  Lemmington replied, nodding his head with zeal, “It’s a big one, ma’am.”

  He looked earnest enough, and considering it was rare to see Lemmington so motivated, she believed him. “OK, take a seat,” she instructed, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of her desk. Then down the phone receiver, she said, “Something has come up, Adrian. Thanks for staying on. You can go home now. Can I just have the report by tomorrow afternoon? Good. OK. Bye.” She hung up and stared at Lemmington. “Go on.”

  “Major operation, ma’am… all kinds of class As, and safe houses here in London, and apparently, the one in charge is our man, Frankie Adams… and another name… an Aiden Foster… originally from Hackney apparently… now lives –”

  “Aiden Foster?” Anne interrupted, her eyes wide.

  “Yeah, you know of him?”

  She gulped and added swiftly, “Frankie’s been off our list for over a year now… and the tip-off?”

  “Anonymous. We couldn’t trace the call… but it’s worth investigating, isn’t it?”

  Lemmington was begging for this. She knew this would be right up his street. Frankie Adams had been one of the first assignments he had been involved in when he had started at the Met. Frankie had been under investigation for drug-smuggling and distribution, but they hadn’t been able to get enough substantial evidence to hold him, so they had eventually dropped the case despite the fact that they all knew he was guilty.

  She couldn’t believe Aiden had been named as a possible suspect. It had to be the same Aiden she knew, her son-in-law. How many other Aiden Fosters could there be in Hackney? She couldn’t understand it. Whatever she and her husband thought of him, he was clean. She knew. She had looked, after Lily had announced their engagement. He did have a file, but it had nothing on it apart from some petty crimes he’d owned up to when he had been a kid.

  She shook her head in dismay and Lemmington raised his eyebrows. “Something wrong, ma’am?”

  “No,” she replied, and sighed. “OK… take Mitchell with you to this factory tomorrow. I assume you received an address?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Right, sniff around and report back to me before 5:30pm tomorrow evening. Do not under any circumstances approach anyone or be seen, and do not spend time going over any of these men’s files. I will do that if, and only if, you find something of suspicion.” Lemmington nodded once to confirm his understanding, jumped out of his seat and headed for the door. “And Simon…” Anne called.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “We get tip-offs all the time. I am not giving you permission to make assertions…”

  He made a salute and said, “Innocent until proven guilty, ma’am! Am I OK to go home now?”

  “Yes. I didn’t realise you were still here…” she replied distractedly.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then!” Lemmington added, and turning on the heels of his boots, he walked briskly from the office.

  As Lemmington whipped his leather jacket up from the back of his chair at his desk and made to leave, he wondered how long it would be before DI Summers found out that most of Scotland Yard were already aware that Aiden Foster was her son-in-law, that half of her workforce was on his payroll, and that everyone kept schtum about him because of that fact. He also wanted nothing more than for this tip-off to be true, because the quicker Aiden was sent down, the quicker the depletion of the bent coppers he had to work with on a daily basis.

  Chapter forty-eight

  It was 6:30am. A Vauxhall Cavalier crawled
up the Wiltshire country road and pulled over at the foot of a narrow country lane that, Lemmington had been informed, led to the suspected drugs factory allegedly run by Frankie Adams.

  PC Mitchell Wainwright sat quietly beside Lemmington, surveying the area but allowing Lemmington to take the lead. He was his senior after all. A docile black Westie dog named Dodger lay on its belly on the back seat. It was Lemmington’s dog.

  “There are several track marks here, so there’s definitely something down there,” Lemmington announced as he switched off the engine and they both climbed out of the car.

  “What if we’re spotted?” asked Wainwright.

  Lemmington grinned and, opening the rear door of the car, he scooped up Dodger and placed him on the floor. He already had a lead attached to his collar. “We’re just two friends walking our dog.”

  “We’ll look like boyfriends walking our dog…” Wainwright muttered grumpily, and they headed cautiously up the lane, Dodger following lazily behind.

  ************

  Lily gasped when she opened her front door to see Robert Wesley standing on her doorstep, presenting a hangdog smile. His long blond hair was loose and as scruffy as ever, and he was casually dressed in faded blue jeans and Converse with a black-and-white striped, long-sleeved top. He reminded Lily of that good-looking American frontman everyone was so crazy about these days, Kurt Cobain, but without the exquisite blue eyes – which, for one obvious reason, she was grateful for. Robert had beautiful chocolate-brown eyes. Friendly eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “Don’t be mad…” he pleaded cautiously.

  “How did you know where I lived?”

  Robert blushed. “A friend from the gym gave me your address…” Lily’s eyes narrowed and he quickly went on, bashfully tucking one side of his blond locks behind his ear, “I would have liked to have bought you flowers, but I wasn’t sure whether that was appropriate or not.”