Find My Way Home

by Mark Timlin

  And I calmly put the Colt against my temple and pulled the trigger. Graham Jackson jumped when the hammer went down on another empty chamber, but I didn’t. And I knew then that I was beyond hope or help or anything like that.

  ‘All right,’ he said after a moment’s thought. ‘But if you try—’

  ‘Save it, Graham,’ I said. ‘You’re in no position to make threats.’

  Not that I was particularly, but then I had an idea. I walked back over to the sofa and picked up his warrant. ‘I’m going to borrow this,’ I said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Don’t worry, son, you can have it back. I just need it for something. I won’t drop you in it. Right, I’m off now.’ I checked the wire that bound his wrists and loosened it a touch. ‘You’ll be out of that in ten minutes. Just time for me to make myself scarce. Don’t forget our meeting, will you? I’d hate to turn up and find no one there. Or alternatively a couple of van loads of woodentops. Because either way you and Bell will be in deep shit.’

  He nodded again, and I left, taking the two other .38 Special bullets with me. I remembered that there was a mini-cab office a couple of streets away, but as I reached the main road one of those things happened that makes living in London worthwhile. From up the deserted street I saw a lone black cab with its FOR HIRE sign lit. I flagged it down and the driver dropped me off in Maida Vale. It was light by then, and I walked the last of the way to Diane’s flat where I found her fast asleep in bed. And all the way I could hear the echo of that hammer coming down on air, and I can still hear it to this day.

  I managed to grab a couple of hours’ kip next to Diane before she woke me getting ready for her first day back at work. ‘What were you up to all night?’ she asked.

  ‘Business,’ I said.

  ‘Monkey business, I reckon. What are you doing today?’

  ‘More business,’ I replied sleepily. ‘Don’t know when I’ll see you.’ Or if I ever would again. I was going to play all ends against the middle and it was going to be extremely dangerous. But I didn’t care. In fact I was looking forward to it.

  Diane gave me a cup of coffee in bed and a brief kiss. ‘See you later,’ she said.

  ‘God willing,’ I replied to her back as she left the room. I felt a pang of something as she left, but I wasn’t sure what. Indigestion, maybe.

  I leant back against the pillow and lit a cigarette. I needed a plan to get all the main players together in – what? I checked my watch – nineteen and a half hours. I grinned, dropped the butt into my cup and headed for the bathroom.

  When I was shaved, washed and dressed I called Nancy. ‘I’m going to need you and your car today,’ I said. ‘And it’s going to be a late one.’

  ‘Have you found something?’

  ‘Something,’ I replied. ‘Meet me outside Maida Vale tube at ten.’

  ‘I’ll be there.’

  ‘Good,’ I said and broke the connection.

  Next up was Tony Lambretta. I called the number that Harry Stonehouse had written in his address book on my mobile.

  A male voice answered the phone after three rings. I wondered if it was the John Duncan I’d kicked in the head. ‘Mr Lambretta,’ I said.

  ‘Who wants him?’

  ‘Nick Sharman.’

  There was a pause. ‘You’ve got some fucking nerve phoning here.’

  It was. ‘How’s the head?’ I asked.

  ‘You bastard. Be careful, Sharman. One day you’ll turn round and I’ll be there.’

  ‘What? Looking for your wallet? I bought me and the bird a nice meal on your Access. Cheers. Now I’d love to chat but time’s a-wasting. Get me Lambretta. Tell him it’s something to his advantage.’

  The phone went down with a bang and I was left listening to air for a long three minutes. Not even any muzak for company. Eventually I heard the receiver being picked up. ‘What?’ barked a deep voice.

  ‘Mr Lambretta. Nick Sharman here.’

  ‘I know who it is. What do you want?’

  ‘I’ve found the money.’

  ‘Bollocks you have.’

  ‘Believe me. It wasn’t difficult. Not with my contacts.’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Hold on. Not so fast. I want my share, don’t I?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort ya.’

  Sure, I thought. Into a few black garbage bags if I’m lucky. ‘You’ll need a few mates,’ I said. ‘There might be some rough stuff.’

  ‘I’ve got plenty.’

  ‘I’m sure. Get them ready for tonight.’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Three-thirty. I’ll let you know the details later. You got a mobile number?’

  ‘’Course.’ He reeled off ten digits and I scribbled them down on a piece of paper.

  ‘I’ll talk to you later,’ I said. ‘With the full SP.’

  ‘This better not be a wind-up.’

  ‘It ain’t. Trust me. We’ll talk soon. And I don’t want any trouble with Duncan. Keep him on a short leash.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Good,’ I said and cut him off.

  That’d give him something to think about.

  Nancy was waiting for me when I got to the tube station. ‘What’s happening?’ she asked.

  ‘You’ll find out,’ I replied. ‘In the fullness of time.’

  ‘So where are we going?’

  ‘Dalston. The General Hospital.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’ll find out. In the fullness of time.’

  ‘Have I offended you in some way, Nick?’ she asked.

  ‘You’ll find out. In the fullness of time. Now drive. And keep to the speed limit. I’m armed, and I don’t need a pull.’

  She did as she was told, even though she kept asking questions all the way that I fended off as well as I could, and after a couple of false starts we ended up in the parking lot at Dalston General. ‘You wait here,’ I said. ‘Don’t leave. I don’t know how long I’ll be. I’ve got to see a man about a dog. I’ll meet you back here as soon as I can.’

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be here.’

  ‘Good,’ I said, quit the car and headed for the back entrance.

  I found a hospital register on the wall by the lift. Intensive Care was on the fifth floor and I headed upwards. I found an orderly who, after I showed him Jackson’s warrant, covering as much of his photo as I could with my finger, checked his clipboard and told me that Robber had been transferred down to a private room on the third floor. That was a good sign, and I used the emergency stairs to go down. There was a redheaded sister sitting on the desk by the door. I brought out Jackson’s brief again and flashed it at her, using the old finger trick again. ‘Police,’ I said. ‘DS Jackson from Denmark Hill, looking for Jack Robber.’

  She smiled at me most engagingly. ‘You’re a long way from home,’ she said in a soft Irish accent. I must confess I was smitten.

  ‘Old friend,’ I said. ‘You know he used to be on the force.’

  ‘Word gets around. He’s in three one seven.’

  ‘How is he?’ I asked.

  ‘Being a nuisance. Which I imagine means he’s getting better.’

  I kept a straight face. ‘Any of my colleagues about?’ I asked.

  ‘No. Not any more. They were with him all the time at first, I believe . . .’

  ‘Manpower,’ I said. ‘Overtime. You know how it is.’

  ‘It’s the same everywhere,’ she said. ‘I could tell you some stories.’

  Anytime, I thought. ’Specially in private, with her in her nurse’s uniform and black stockings, but I had other fish to fry. ‘I bet,’ I said. ‘Can I go straight in?’

  ‘Yes. But he might shout at you.’

  ‘I think I can deal with it,’ I said, smiled, winked just in case we ever met again, and headed in the direction in which she pointed me.

  I tapped on the door of room three one seven and opened it. The shades were drawn and it was cool and dim inside with only th
e muted sound of daytime TV to disturb the peace. I walked over to the bed which contained a figure holding up that day’s Express in front of his face, and I said, ‘Morning, Jack. How’s your bad luck?’

  The paper went down and he looked at me. ‘Well now,’ he said. ‘Look who’s here.’

  ‘They think I’m Graham Jackson,’ I explained. ‘Don’t disillusion them.’

  ‘I won’t ask why,’ he said. ‘But I assume you’ve been busy in my absence.’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Thanks for asking. I’ll survive.’

  ‘It was close, I think,’ I said.

  ‘Did you call the ambulance?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Then shot shit out of the police car.’

  Another nod.

  He laughed out loud. ‘Christ, I wish I’d been there.’

  ‘You were.’

  ‘So I believe. Thanks, by the way. You saved my life by all accounts.’

  I was relieved he took it like that.

  ‘Have you told the coppers what really happened that night?’ I asked him. ‘They think I shot you. You know that?’

  ‘Not you. Someone else.’

  ‘Jack, I was there. The coppers and paramedics saw me.’

  ‘Not well enough for ID. You were covered in blood, and it was dark, remember. I had an old mate at Dalston, a DS, come in, and he told me all. The two uniforms and the ambulance crew couldn’t say for sure who it was, and I assured him you were nowhere near.’

  ‘But I’ve done a runner.’

  ‘On holiday I said. Welsh Wales, camping. No phones, no papers. A complete break.’

  ‘And they believed that shit?’

  ‘No. But what could they do about it?’

  ‘What about the car?’

  ‘What car?’

  ‘The Audi I borrowed that the Bill found covered in blood in Maida Vale. They gave my mate a good spin about that.’

  ‘Coincidence. No prints. You always wore those stupid gloves.’

  ‘You didn’t.’

  ‘But I was careful. I always am. Anyway, how often do fingerprints figure in a case outside Inspector sodding Wexford stories?’

  That’s the truth. ‘Did you tell them who really shot you?’ I asked.

  He shook his head. ‘No. Just some geezers. An old score maybe. I made some enemies.’

  ‘Were you still thinking about the money?’

  ‘Maybe. I dunno. But we can forget about that now.’

  ‘No, Jack,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a couple of scores to settle myself.’

  ‘If you just kept your head down, you’d be all right, and this would all blow over.’

  ‘I’m tall, with a big head, Jack,’ I replied. ‘I find it very difficult to keep it down.’ Then I changed the subject. ‘Did your widow woman tell you I called?’ I asked.

  It was his turn to give me a nod.

  ‘And Diane tried a couple of times. Pretended she was your niece. Got a lot of old hassle.’

  ‘I heard about that too. My sister let it out she had no children. Good move.’

  ‘I wondered.’

  ‘Bloody woman. She just won’t leave well enough alone. Call box. Right?’

  A third nod from me.

  ‘Good thinking. At least they couldn’t trace.’

  ‘How long before you’re out of here?’ I asked.

  He shrugged. ‘God knows.’

  ‘But you’re better now. Out of danger.’

  ‘Look at me. What do you think? No. Don’t answer. When you’re around everyone’s in danger.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘But I’ve been worried.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. I was getting used to you being around.’

  ‘Well you can stop all that old bollocks for a start. You’ll have me in sodding tears. If you’re determined to keep putting your nose where it’s not wanted, you’d better tell me what’s been happening.’

  I told him. Everything, from the moment he’d been shot until the present.

  He listened without interrupting, then said, ‘Good work. But you’re playing with fire trying to handle this all on your own.’

  ‘Piece of cake,’ I said, with more confidence than I felt. ‘And tonight we’re all going to meet at the storage place.’

  ‘All?’

  ‘The lot. Cops, bikers, blaggers, Nancy and me.’

  ‘Where do the bikers come in?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘And then? When you’re all together, what happens?’

  ‘And then, Jack, I reckon there’s going to be a whole load of trouble.’

  I looked at my watch. It was already past noon and I had lots more to do before I was finished. ‘I’m going,’ I said. ‘You might hear about it on the news.’

  ‘And you might disappear, and I’ll read about you being found in black sacks in a few weeks like Harry was.’

  That was exactly what I was scared of.

  But, ‘Just keep the TV on,’ was all I said, and I shook his hand when he assured me it wasn’t going to give him any grief in his injured shoulder, and I left. On the way out I waved to the sister and she waved back. Maybe it would be my lucky day after all.

  Nancy was waiting where I’d left her. ‘Everything OK?’ she asked.

  ‘Just fine.’

  ‘Nick, tell me.’

  ‘OK,’ I said after a moment. ‘I know where the money is and we’re going to get it tonight.’

  She looked at me in astonishment. ‘You’ve found it?’

  ‘That’s my job,’ I said. ‘There’s many a slip, though. We’ve got to be careful.’

  ‘Who had it?’

  ‘A couple of your old boyfriends. Philip Bell and Graham Jackson.’

  At least she had the good grace to blush.

  ‘Those bastards,’ she said. ‘I never knew.’

  ‘You can’t trust anyone these days,’ I said as dryly as I could.

  ‘Where did they get it?’ she asked, ignoring my tone, or more probably not even hearing it.

  ‘Harry gave it to them.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s true. He sold out the gang to get protection, then let our friends in on where the money was hidden. They liberated it, and stashed it away. If Harry had stayed put where he was, he’d’ve got a share. But he just couldn’t leave you alone, could he?’

  ‘It wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. He never told me where the money was. He said he’d never seen it.’

  ‘Whatever. Anyway, tonight we go and get it.’

  ‘Is it safe?’

  ‘I’m trying my best to make sure. I need to go to Peckham.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Enough already. I’ve told you everything you need to know for now. Trust me.’

  She gave me an old-fashioned look and started the car.

  Nervous Norbert Green wasn’t in the Angel of Mercy, but his mate the barman was. As soon as he saw me he decided he had business in the back. I waited patiently until the punters started getting a bit stroppy at the lack of service and he was called back by the landlady who’d served me. I watched as he pulled their pints, and he kept looking at me out of the corner of his eye until he passed close by and I said, ‘Norbert been in?’

  ‘I don’t know any Norbert,’ he said.

  I grabbed him by his skinny tie and pulled him half-way over the jump. ‘Don’t fuck about, son,’ I whispered into his ear. ‘Unless you fancy choking to death.’

  He was going very red in the face but no one interfered. I suspected that such a show was pretty regular in that neck of the woods if you’ll excuse the pun, but nevertheless I eased off the pressure and he pulled back, coughing and spluttering. ‘Too many fags, son,’ I said. ‘Bad for the wind.’

  ‘Norbert’s not been in,’ he said eventually. ‘Why don’t you leave him alone? Didn’t you get him into enough trouble the last time?’

  ‘And now I’m here to
get him out of trouble,’ I said. ‘Got an address?’

  ‘You think I’d give it to you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Otherwise I’m going to beat you to a sodding pulp.’

  He gave me the address then. A men’s hostel just up the road. ‘Cheers,’ I said as I left. ‘If you see him before I do, be sure to tell him I’m looking, will you?’

  I went back to where I’d left Nancy in the car and we drove to the address the barman had given me. After I dropped him a score, the caretaker, or whatever they called him – probably the concierge in these poncy times – told me that Norbert had gone out early as he usually did. ‘Probably up the hospital,’ he said.

  Oops, I thought.

  I got Nancy to drive back into Peckham and she parked up the car and I left her in a café drinking coffee and reading the local paper as I started scoping the pubs. And there’s a hell of a lot of pubs in Peckham.

  I tried the Pit Pony, the Sacred Heart, the Golden Fleece, the Frog In Petticoats and what seemed like two dozen more in and around the main drag. No sign of Norbert. Then I started on the pubs in the side streets. It was well past three before I went into the darkest, seediest boozer yet. A beer shop at the end of a cul-de-sac called the Little Red Engine. And there was Norbert sitting in the corner in front of a pint and a brimming ashtray.

  As soon as he saw me he tried to head towards the back exit, but I caught him easy, threw him back in his seat and ordered a couple of large scotches.

  He looked like he needed one. His head was bandaged, and from what I could see of the wound that seemed to cover one whole half of his head, it appeared that someone had taken a chain-saw to his face.

  ‘Let me guess,’ I said.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ he said.

  I pushed the gold watch in front of him and he downed it in one, so I ordered another. ‘Had an accident, Norbert?’ I asked.

  ‘It was that fucking Larry,’ he said. ‘I thought you weren’t going to mention my name.’

  ‘Sorry about that,’ I said. ‘It just slipped out.’

  ‘And look at me now.’

  ‘Want to get back in his good books?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t want nothing more to do with him.’