‘That’s between me and the girl. You don’t need to get involved.’
‘Look, she agreed to come because she wants to talk to you about her father,’ I say and his eyes narrow.
‘I’m not frightened of him.’ he says.
‘That’s not what I mean,’ I say, but he’s not listening.
‘I thought we had an agreement, Mickey. For you and me, this is strictly business. All you have to do is deliver the girl and walk away. The sooner we can get past this, the sooner we can start talking about the future.’
I realise he’s trying to deflect me with a far from subtle reminder of the offer he made back at his country house. Words that have repeated in my head since: ‘With you on board, we could push back, maybe even recover some lost ground. In time, you could take the lead. One day, we might even be able to take down the whole corrupt empire.’
‘Not until you tell me what you want with her?’ I push back, surprising even myself with the strength of my conviction. My pulse is racing and adrenaline is making me light-headed; outwardly I’m just managing to keep my cool.
‘You’re breaking the first rule lad. You’re getting too involved. Just tell me where she is.’ As he says it, I notice that Mac the Butler has morphed into a gorilla, shifting his weight in a territorial posture. I instinctively step back before Herb holds up a hand and the ape gets back into his cage.
‘I’m not always this forgiving to people who play games with me, lad.’ His voice lowers and he shakes his head while his eyes remain locked on mine. ‘We go a long way back and I value your loyalty coming back to help me out after all this time. So I really don’t want to have to do this the hard way. But that’s your choice.’
‘But I didn’t say I…’ My feeble protest tries to surface, but I’m almost grateful when he plunges it back underwater.
‘We don’t seem to be getting anywhere with this.’ He raises his voice and the window frames vibrate. ‘Like we said before, you’ll be well-rewarded, Mickey… when you bring her here. So, where is she?’
The room suddenly feels colder and the hairs on my neck bristle as I try to compete with his stare. Seconds of deafening silence seem endless until the door crashes open and we all jump. It’s Grace, standing at the threshold, with a gun pointing at Mac. That wasn’t one of our ground rules.
‘Mickey, what’s he talking about?’ she shouts and her eyes dart around the room as if she’s trying to watch everyone at the same time. ‘What reward do you get for bringing me here?’
‘Grace, it’s not like that,’ I say, but instantly freeze when she spins and points the gun at me.
‘I thought you were on my side!’ she shrieks, stepping into the room towards me.
‘Put the gun down.’ Herb intervenes, his voice now gently calming. ‘No one needs to get hurt tonight.’ He’s holding out his hand towards her and as she looks back at him, the intensity in her eyes seems to ease and her grip on the gun loosens. It’s like she’s been mesmerised.
In that split second, Mac makes his move and lunges at her. They both have hands on the gun and it’s being waved wildly around the room. I duck for cover and then hear a loud click, looking up in time to see Mac holding the weapon, and Grace sitting on the floor dejected.
‘Huh,’ he snorts before letting the pistol fall to the floor and the silent impact sends a piece of plastic bouncing across the room.
‘That was very foolish,’ Herb says. ‘If you’re going to carry, you should be ready, willing and able to use it. Toy guns are for children.’
Grace gets to her feet and looks at me with a face full of contempt. I shake my head to protest my innocence but she looks away.
‘So, now I’m here old man,’ she says to Herb, ‘what is it you want from me?’
‘Have a seat.’ He gestures to the only other chair in the room; a wooden one I recognise from the kitchen. ‘Let’s try to be civilised.’
She remains standing but he ignores her defiance and turns back to me. ‘Mickey, your job is done. Mac will see you out. And, don’t worry… we’ll sort out the money.’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’ I look across at Grace and she’s still glaring at me. ‘We came here together and we’re leaving together.’
‘That’s very sweet.’ Herb mocks me. ‘But remember, a moment ago? She was pointing a gun at your head. This is just between me and her now.’
‘I’m not leaving her alone,’ I insist. It’s a futile gesture because this time when Mac makes a move Herb doesn’t intervene and I’m manhandled out of the door, all the way to the pavement.
‘Go,’ he says pointing to where my car is parked.
‘I’m waiting here,’ I say. ‘I’m going to be taking her home.’
He shakes his fat head and I make a lunge to get past him. He almost dislocates my shoulder pulling me back and wraps his huge arms around my chest so I can’t move.
‘Walk!’ he growls. While you still can is implicit in the way he sends me hurtling towards the lamppost. I manage to avoid it and remain on my feet and slowly walk backwards in the direction of the car, while he stands on the pavement watching. I try to come up with a new plan but he’s still there when I start the car.
‘Tosser!’ I yell as I drive past and he swats it like a fly and returns it to me deftly on the tip of his stubby middle finger.
Around the corner I stop the car and dial the number I stored earlier. A mobile rings five times and I start to worry it was only for daytime use. Then I hear a familiar voice.
‘Melville,’ it says.
‘It’s Michael Field. We spoke on the phone yesterday.’
‘Ah yes, Mr Field,’ he says, sounding a bit off-guard. ‘Sorry about this morning. Something came up and I couldn’t...’
‘Yeah, don’t worry,’ I say, only the dire circumstance forcing me to let him off the hook mid-cringe. ‘It’s not about that. Well… I suppose it is related.’
‘What is?’ he says.
‘I know where Herbert Long is.’
‘You’ve seen him?’
‘Yes. I’m not far from a house he owns in South Woodford. I had to leave but I’m concerned about a friend who’s still there with him.’
‘Concerned about what?’
‘Look,’ I say, wishing I’d thought this through. ‘We haven’t got time for a long explanation. He’s gone to a lot of trouble to get her and it looks like there’s been some weird stuff going on in that place.’
‘Her?’ he says, his tone more urgent. ‘Who is she? And what kind of weird stuff?’
‘I can’t explain it over the phone. I’m just really worried about Grace.’
‘Grace?’
‘Her name’s Grace de Manton,’ I reply, surprising myself with the instant recall. ‘She said she knows you.’
‘de Manton?’
‘Yeah. She’s m…my… girl... she’s a friend.’ I stutter with frustration at having to explain myself to him and then remember how our previous conversation ended. ‘She’s the reason your guv’nor paid me that personal visit yesterday.’
‘Oh, that Grace. Right… where exactly is this house?’
Near Miss
Melville’s suddenly very concerned and says I should have dialled 999. He can’t attend because it isn’t his patch and it would take too long anyway, but he promises to get his Met colleagues on the scene urgently. I drive around the block, park at the far end of Bleak Avenue and shadow-hop back towards the house. The first thing I see is Mac the Bouncer standing at the front door, which forces me to go round the back and over the fence.
Everything’s dark and quiet at the rear, so I venture around the side and give the back door handle an optimistic twist. Grace’s simple philosophy of breaking and entering without the breaking part makes me smile as the door opens and, thanks to her, I make a dignified entrance into the kitchen. Already I can hear voices and I prickle. They’re no longer in the front room. They’re much closer. That’s another of our ground rules compromised.
&nb
sp; The inner door is ajar and I stand behind it for cover should anyone come through. At first the talking is very quiet and I only pick out the occasional word. Herb says something like: not worth living. Grace’s tone is too subdued for me to catch her response. Herb’s getting louder. His voice echoes around the concrete walls, but the outburst is muffled by the time it arrives at my ears and I can only make out the occasional phrase.
‘... the bastard...’ he says with crystal clarity, before his voice falls away again to a mumble. ‘... in it together...’ The ebb and flow continues, each sentence ending like a wave crashing onto rocks.
‘… long time for this day …had the chance …paid the price …that bastard Pinner’s turn.’
These final, chilling words are followed by a loud bang that reverberates around the house, shaking me into action, and I look around the kitchen hoping to arm myself. I burst into the room brandishing a fire poker.
But the room is empty. The second thing I notice is that the heavy metal door on the right is open and the dialogue is continuing from inside the chamber. That spiteful little room has tricked me again, ruining my heroic entrance. At least my embarrassment is spared as I dart unnoticed into the corner and stand with my back to the cinderblock wall, just a few feet from the open door. Opposite me, the other cell remains stubbornly locked.
‘...covered it up!’ Herb’s still yelling. ‘Might as well have put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger. And all I ever wanted was the truth. But he denied me that. Now it’s time for justice.’
‘But this isn’t the way,’ Grace says.
I move closer to peer into the room. All I can see is Herb’s hand resting on the bench and a lump hammer within his reach. I tighten my grip on the poker.
‘I want him to suffer. I want him to know how it feels.’ Herb continues to rant and picks up the hammer and slams it down on the bench. I’ve heard enough and I’m about to burst in when I hear Mac shouting from the front.
‘Filth!’ he yells, accompanied by the sound of police sirens approaching.
Relieved I don’t have to challenge Herb to a medieval duel, I move back into the kitchen and manage to pull the door behind me before Knuckles makes it in from the hall. I don’t think he’s seen me but I don’t wait to find out. I’m out the back door and over the bottom fence even faster than the last time I had to leave in a hurry.
By the time I emerge from the alleyway onto the street, the blue lights have stopped flashing on the police car parked along the road. I find a vantage point behind the neighbour’s front hedge, where I have a good view of the front door, and it must be ten minutes before Herb opens it and steps aside to let a policewoman out. Another cop emerges behind her but there’s no sign of anyone else. I crouch there, completely bemused as the three of them conclude what appears to have been a polite conversation.
‘No harm done,’ Herb says.
‘Well, I’m sorry to have disturbed you sir.’ The woman puts her notebook away, replaces her cap and, with a nod of her head, turns to the other copper and they walk down the path towards the front gate.
‘What a waste of time,’ she says as the front door closes. ‘They must think we haven’t got enough to do.’
‘Bloody provincial CID. Who is this Melvin anyway?’ the man-cop adds as they get into the car.
When it pulls away I want to jump up and down and wave my hands about to stop them. Instead I squat there in stunned disbelief; so much for calling the cavalry. My thoughts return to Grace and I imagine her hidden in the house, restrained and silenced so the Old Bill couldn’t see her. Not only could they not see her, they didn’t even seem the slightest bit suspicious that someone could have been locked up in one of those grisly cells.
I sneak up the side path and around to the small kitchen window at the back when the sound of a snapping twig sends me scurrying for cover. I turn to see Mac emerging from the far corner of the garden. He stares straight towards me but then looks away, panning the wilderness for movement. I hold my breath, waiting for the moment he sees me and charges. Luckily, he doesn’t. He just clambers noisily through the dense wilderness across the bottom of the garden and peers over the fence. Presumably seeing nothing, he turns and comes back towards the house, by which time I’ve been able to bury myself deeper into the bushes. He looks back in my direction again. By now I’m well-hidden. He gives up and goes indoors.
I hear the key turning in the lock and find the courage to reach back up to the window. The inner door is open and I get a quick glimpse of Mac talking to Herb in the hallway before it crashes inwards, rebounding with a bang off the dresser and closing back on itself, leaving me with a freeze-frame of Herb, his fists clenched and his face set with rage. I’m guessing Mac saw me when the police arrived; they’re pissed off with me for raising the alarm and want to make me pay for it. The door remains closed and it looks like they’ve given up trying to find me, so I decide to go back around the front and squat in the dark recess at the side of the bay. No sooner am I in position, the light inside goes out and, seconds later, the front door opens and the two men come out of the house. Herb secures the door while Mac walks to the car and unlocks it. I think about Grace left inside and can’t decide whether to confront them or wait until they’ve gone, in the hope I can get back in and rescue her. I make a hesitant move towards the car but they drive away before I’m anywhere near them.
The house is dark and silent again and I walk down the side path to the back door and reach for the handle. I already know this time it won’t yield. I feel nauseous with the thought of Grace locked in. I call her name but there’s no reply. I tell her I’m not leaving until I can get her out. Without a plan I sit on the doorstep with my head in my hands and wallow in my own helplessness. It feels like I’m sitting here for ages before Melville jumps back into my head. This time I’ll insist he comes. Only problem is, when I reach for the phone on my belt, the case is empty. I try to stay calm and persuade myself I left it in the car. The Banker’s not convinced; he knows I didn’t.
‘Don’t worry Grace, I’ll come back for you,’ I call through the airbricks and head back to the car.
Told you so, says the know-all in my head when the phone isn’t on or under the driver’s seat. I leave the door open and rush round to the other side and start rummaging around on the floor, desperate to avoid having to retrace my steps back and forth around this bloody house tonight.
‘Are you looking for this?’ It’s Grace’s voice that hits me like a bullet in the back of the head. When I look up she’s standing on the pavement, one hand on her hip and the other holding up my phone.
‘Thank God,’ I say. ‘I was worried sick.’
‘Well, you should be more careful,’ she says. ‘It was lit up like a Christmas tree at the bottom of the fence.’
‘I meant thank God you’re okay.’
‘Quick, come here,’ she says as headlights pan around a side turning along the road.
When I get to her she plants a big kiss on my lips and wraps her arms around me. I’m not complaining, but it is a bit unexpected. She must be pleased to see me. As the car slowly drives past I try to watch, but Grace pulls my head around so I can’t see it and carries on kissing me and caressing my head with her fingers, keeping her own face hidden in the process. The car rolls on beyond the next tree before pulling up outside Bleak House. Grace finally releases me.
‘Quick,’ she says with a gesture. I get back in my car like it all makes perfect sense. ‘Start the engine and drive away casually.’
‘Who is he?’ I say, even though that one is ridiculously low on my list of burning questions.
‘Don’t look at him,’ she says as we ease past the house.
‘Don’t look at who?’ I say struggling to keep my eyes fixed straight ahead.
‘That’s Jim Melville.’
Hanging Out
Ten thirty and we’re sitting in the dark in a deserted car park a couple of miles east of Redbridge. Apart from agreeing it would be
best to avoid going back to either of our places for a while and deciding to just park up and calm down, we haven’t spoken since driving away from Bleak House.
‘Talk to me about the gun,’ I say, slicing through the silence.
‘It wasn’t a real one,’ she says and looks away.
‘It sure as hell looked real when I was staring down the barrel.’ I glare at the back of her head.
‘Okay,’ she says, turning to face me to deliver her stinging counterpunch. ‘So talk to me about the money.’
‘I didn’t know the job had anything to do with you, remember?’
‘Yeah, but it seems to have changed somewhere along the line, doesn’t it?’ she says, and without giving me a chance to speak, starts impersonating Herb. ‘Like we agreed, Mickey, my boy, you’ll be well rewarded when you bring her… What the hell did he mean by that exactly?’
‘That’s not what he said,’ I say, splitting hairs. ‘As far as I’m concerned he was only paying me to get the camera. But maybe he’s twigged about the other package.’
‘What other package?’
‘It was lying there. As far as I knew it belonged to whoever was blackmailing him. I figured I was doing him a favour.’
‘And you took it?’ she says, jabbing at my conscience like a prize-fighter, probing for a weakness. ‘To help good old Herb?’
‘The truth is; I don’t know why I took it. It was just there.’ I’m on the ropes, floundering. ‘I’ve tried telling myself it looked like the first package and I wanted to be sure I got the right one… I know that’s bollocks. It was obvious. I knew I already had the camera. I just couldn’t resist. It was there for the taking. Low hanging fruit they call it in the City.’
‘Yeah, but they’re not taking other people’s money.’
‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ I say trying to tease out a smile but she’s intent on keeping me dangling.
‘You could have given it back,’ she says. ‘As soon as you knew it was his, you should have given it back.’
Mickey Take: When a debt goes bad... Page 21
