‘It’s all right, I’ve just thought of something.’ He had just remembered the other computer reference he hadn’t been able to pin down: Leman’s publican boss saying that Leman knew his way round a circuit board all right. ‘It’s nothing important. Please go on.’
‘Well, one day he asked me why I was so fascinated by computers, and I told him they are the greatest power of all. The man – who controls the computer controls the world, I said. He seemed very struck by that and asked me if I could teach him. So I did. He was really keen,’ Ling added with a small, reminiscent smile. ‘And quick, too. He never had to ask anything twice. He had a wonderful brain. Well, I suppose he still has. I don’t know why I’m talking as if he was dead.’
‘Because he’s dead to you, perhaps?’
Ling looked struck with this piece of psychobabble. Yes. You really do understand, don’t you?’
‘You see and hear a lot in this job,’ Slider said gravely. ‘So it was while you were teaching him about computers—?’
‘He’d come through to the back of the shop after I locked up, and we’d sit down in front of the screen together.’ One day our hands met accidentally on the keyboard and something electric passed between us, Slider thought. ‘We’d go for a drink afterwards. Then one day it was a meal. Afterwards he took me to this house he owned, that was let out as bedsits. There was an empty room – I was still living at home, you see. And after that he said why didn’t I move into the room so that we could see each other whenever we wanted.’ He shrugged. ‘So I did.’
‘Did he charge you rent?’
The question seemed to offend Ling. ‘It was for his convenience as much as mine. Once the shop started doing well and I was on profit-sharing I could have afforded to rent a place myself, but I preferred to save the money towards buying somewhere later on. The financial question never came into it. We loved each other, you see.’ The animation left his face. ‘He really did love me. I don’t suppose you’ll believe that, but—’
‘Of course I do,’ Slider said, obedient to the cue.
‘I was his first,’ Ling said dreamily. ‘He’d never even thought about it before – it came as a complete surprise to him. He was married and everything. He had a struggle to overcome his prejudices. But when he did, it was wonderful. And we were faithful to each other. That’s why it lasted. It’s the ones who aren’t exclusive who get into trouble.’
‘Did you give him a ring?’ Slider said on impulse.
Ling looked suspicious. ‘Why do you ask that?’
‘I noticed he was wearing a ring in the shape of a skull. I thought it was an odd thing for a man like him to wear.’
‘He thought it was cute, or funny, or something. He saw it on a stall in Portobello Road one day. We were just mooching about looking for bargains. Anyway, he bought this ring and had two copies made in gold, and gave one to me. He always wore his, and I wore mine till we broke up, and then I gave it back to him. I wasn’t sorry about that, at least – I always thought it was ugly. Not me at all.’
‘So why did you break up?’
‘He changed. I don’t know why, but he got harder. He started dabbling in things I didn’t like. And he started going with other people. I wasn’t going to stand that. What did he think I was? He told me to put up and shut up, but I wasn’t having it, even if he did employ me. Then he asked me to do something dishonest, and that was the end of that. We had a blazing row, and he sacked me, and told me to get out of the house as well. So I was glad I’d saved up the money after all. I put it into this business, and went back to living with my mum and dad. They’d moved down here by then, to Fulham.’
‘Did they know about your relationship with Cate?’
‘Dad didn’t. Mum sort of guessed, but she’d never say anything. She’s quick on the uptake, Mum is. It was her that showed me the bit in the newspaper about Ronnie Slaughter topping himself. ‘You got out just in time,” she said. “He’d have driven you to it in the end.”’
‘You knew Ronnie, of course?’
‘He lived next door to me in the same house,’ Ling said with a shrug. ‘But he was very shy. He hardly ever spoke to me. And I think he might have been a bit jealous of Colin visiting me there. He worshipped Colin, you see.’
‘How do you mean, worshipped?’
‘What d’you think? Poor old Ronnie got the fuzzy end of the lolly all his life. It’s no fun being gay when you look like him. Then Colin picked him up out of the gutter, gave him a good job and a nice place to live, treated him like a human being. Ronnie would have died for him. Or killed. He’d have burned down Buckingham Palace if Colin asked him to.’
Slider nodded thoughtfully. Killed for him, or died for him? Or perhaps even both. ‘How did he meet Ronnie in the first place?’
‘Hanging around the Crooked Billet. Ronnie was, I mean. Colin used to go there a lot. I suppose he still does,’ he added bitterly. ‘He must make his pick-ups somewhere. Though I suppose he’s still got his regulars tucked away in bedsitters. Caged rabbits – visit them at his own convenience on his own premises, the way he used to visit me.’
‘Have you ever heard of a man called Peter Leman?’ Slider asked on impulse.
Ling nodded, biting his lip. ‘He’s one of them. He worked at one of the shops for a while, till Colin picked him up. He was the first Colin was unfaithful with. I like to think he chose him because he looked a little bit like me.’ His eyes slid sideways. Of course his name isn’t really Peter Leman. Colin made a new identity for him, called him Peter after me, and Leman – that’s an Old English word for sweetheart, did you know that? He called him that because he knew I’d find out. He just wanted to hurt me.’
‘Do you know what his real name is?’
‘No. He was one of Colin’s waifs and strays. He set him up and just made a puppet of him, gave him everything. That’s how he does it – makes them dependants. He likes them grateful, you see.’
‘Why?’
‘So that they’re his willing slaves. Nice to have someone to get their hands dirty on your behalf, don’t you think? And he can play them off one against the other, too – do as I say or I’ll chuck you and go to X instead. And of course he likes to be sure they keep their mouths shut.’
‘About what?’
Raised eyebrows. ‘You don’t think he wants people to know he’s gay, do you? That would put the lid on all his committees and clubs wouldn’t it? The highly respected pillar of the community. The golf club would probably ask him to resign.’
‘Oh, surely that sort of thing is quite acceptable nowadays?’
‘Much you know,’ Ling said shortly, and relapsed into a brooding silence.
‘What was the dishonest thing he wanted you to do that caused the final break-up?’ Slider asked after a moment.
Ling came back slowly. ‘Oh – he wanted me to put something through the books to clear it. He said it was just a technicality, to speed up the export licence, but when I started asking questions, he clammed up and told me to mind my own business. I told him it was my business, and that I wasn’t going to put my name to something I didn’t know all about, and he said all I needed to know was that he was boss, and I should do what I was told. So then I knew it was something dodgy, and I refused point blank, and that was that’
‘What was it he wanted put through the books?’ Slider asked.
‘A consignment of hardware for the Iraqi government. That was before the invasion of Kuwait, of course.’
‘What sort of hardware?’
‘Oh, just ordinary office computers. There was nothing against selling to Iraq as long as it wasn’t military equipment. That’s why I reckoned there must have been more to it than met the eye.’
‘You think the computers might have had a military application?’
‘Why not? Everything depends on computers nowadays. Like I said, the man who controls them controls the world. There’s nothing you can’t do if you’ve got the right gear.’
‘So I suppose
if you got hold of the right gear, you could get a high price for it?’
‘Sky’s the limit.’ Ling grew animated. ‘Listen, those new fighter planes can launch a missile and put it through one window of an office block a hundred miles away. You don’t know it’s coming. You don’t even know the plane’s there. You never see it. It never sees you. Just suddenly, out of the blue – voomp!’ He made a mushroom cloud with his hands. ‘Pin-point accuracy. All done by on-board computers. And what controls those computers? A microchip. A little bit of silicone not much bigger than my thumbnail.’
Slider was silent, things falling into place in his mind. He formulated his next question slowly, carefully. ‘If you were to hear that Colin Cate was involved in some kind of illegal deal, something to do with computers, something that was worth so much money that it was planned months ahead – something so important it was worth killing three people to protect—’
Ling’s lips grew pale. ‘I don’t want to know about it,’ he said quickly. ‘Don’t tell me anything. I don’t want to know.’
‘Could a microchip be worth that?’ Slider said, leaning forward. ‘A stolen microchip?’
Ling’s eyes were distant, viewing a desolate landscape. ‘Say someone developed a new chip – something to do with weapons systems – or with an anti-missile defence system – a completely new capability – that’s happening all the time. And say someone else managed to steal that chip before it could be put into production—’
‘A prototype?’
‘Yes, if you like. If someone stole that prototype and could get it to someone else who wanted to produce it—’
‘Who? Who would want to do that?’
He shrugged. ‘It would have to be a government, because of the funds and facilities involved – an individual or a company just wouldn’t be that powerful. But it would have to be a country outside of the cosy UN circle, with a government able to put the thing to work in secret and make sure people kept their mouths shut about what they’d got and where it came from.’
‘A country like Iraq?’
‘Iraq couldn’t do it. Not now.’
‘What about China?’
‘Yes. They’ve got the facilities and the money, and they want the capabilities. China would buy.’
‘And how much would they be prepared to pay?’
He shrugged again. ‘Write down a number,’ he said elliptically.
‘Millions?’
‘Billions,’ said Ling.
CHAPTER 18
Lam to the Slaughter
WHEN JOANNA OPENED THE DOOR, she had a numb and congested look to her face as though she had been asleep, and she stared at Atherton with a just-woken sort of blankness.
‘I thought I’d come and see if you’re all right,’ he said.
‘Oh. Yes. Well, that’s nice of you. Come in,’ she added with belated hospitality. She led him into the living-room. There was music scattered about on the floor, and her fiddle was propped upright in the corner of an armchair with the bow laid across the chair arms. ‘I was just marking in some bowings,’ she said, scuffing the sheets together with a bare foot. She stopped in the middle of it and looked up at him. ‘Would you like a drink, or is it too early? Silly question. What would you like?’
‘Have you got a beer, by any chance?’
‘I think there’s a lager. Will that do?’
‘Yes. Fine.’
‘All right. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll just’ she said vaguely. She scuffed the sheets further out of the way, and then went out towards the kitchen. Wandered, was perhaps the right word.
Left alone, Atherton stooped first and gathered up the music and put it in a pile in the armchair with the fiddle, then looked around the room for information. She had never been houseproud, but there was an air of neglect about the room. The dust was thicker than usual on the surfaces; there were dead flowers in a vase on the bookcase; opened and unopened mail littered the telephone table; an empty mug stood on the mantelpiece; and a record lay dumb on the turntable of the record-player, its empty cover forlornly on the floor. He walked over to look at it. Elgar’s second symphony, a reissue of the famous Barbirolli-LPO recording. Strong stuff, he thought. Good for weeping to if you felt that way inclined.
She came back in with a glass of lager in one hand and a whisky in the other. She had obviously taken the opportunity to splash water over her face, for it looked a little less puffy, though shinier, and the edges of her hair were damp.
‘Here we are. It’s only Sainsbury’s. I hope you can drink that,’ she said with a fair approximation of cheerfulness.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’ She sat in the corner of the Chesterfield with one foot tucked under her, and he sat correspondingly at the other end so that he could face her. ‘Well.’
‘Well,’ he said. ‘How are you?’
‘Did Bill send you to find out?’
‘He doesn’t know I’m here. I came because I wanted to know.’
‘I’m coping.’
‘Really?’
‘Just about. Fortunately I’ve got quite a lot, on at the moment, including this beastly school concert.’ She gestured towards the music. ‘There’s about eight of us do it. We go into schools that have school orchestras and we sit in and lead the sections. We rehearse in the morning then give a concert to the rest of the school in the afternoon. We do about three a year and it’s horribly hard work and we don’t get paid, but it’s supposed to encourage the young entry. Though why in God’s name we want to encourage more of the little beasts to become musicians when there isn’t enough work for us all as it is, is beyond me. Still, it seems to be the thing to do. The worst part about it is having to stay to school dinner with them. I still have psychological scars from eating school dinners. Do you remember spam fritters, or are you too young? I can never quite work out how old you are.’ She took a breath and looked at him. ‘I can hear myself talking. Will you for God’s sake say something and stop me.’
‘I don’t know what to say. I didn’t think you’d take it this hard.’
‘Oh, you thought I was just a careless little homebreaker did you? Desperate for a man, and any man would do?’ Before he could answer she waved a hand back and forth in the air, rubbing out the words. ‘No, cancel that. I can’t think of any reason in the world why I should be rude to you.’
‘Because I came here asking for it. I’ve given you my opinion unasked before now. I was always willing to interfere.’
‘You were against us in the beginning,’ she said. You wanted me to leave him alone. I’m not sure now you weren’t right.’
‘He really loves you.’
‘I know. But it doesn’t seem to be enough, does it?’
Atherton stirred restively. ‘Oh, come on, you must have known it would be hard for someone like him to break away.’
‘Yes, of course I did. But not this hard. I thought by now he would have argued the whole thing out with himself and come to his decision, but it never seems to get any better.’
‘And now you don’t want him any more.’
‘Of course I want him. But he’s got to want me – so much,’ she anticipated his protest, ‘that the price seems worth paying. I just don’t think he thinks it is.’
Atherton shook his head, not in negation but to indicate it was all beyond him.
‘How is he? How’s he taking it?’ she asked after a moment.
‘Well, he’s keeping busy, like you. But I don’t know whether he’s coping. I was against it at the start,’ he said, meeting her eyes, ‘but now I wonder whether you really can break it off. I don’t know whether he can manage without you.’
‘He did before we met.’
‘You don’t miss what you’ve never had. It’s different now. He’s got used to sharing everything with you.’ He sighed, not wanting to say the sort of things he was saying. ‘This job – it takes a lot out of you. We each have to find a way to cope.’
‘And w
hat’s yours?’
‘Sometimes I get so sick of it,’ he said reluctantly. ‘The squalor and the stupidity and the waste. People think it’s a glamorous job, but it’s not. A lot of it’s boring and a lot of it’s just plain nasty. And most of the villains are so utterly stupid and gormless—’
She nodded encouragingly.
‘Often I wonder why I’m doing it – when it seems more nasty than usual. But then I think, someone’s got to.’ He half smiled. ‘And then when I’m being less self-deceptively noble, I think, what else could I do? Once you’re in it’s hard to get out. It’s your family, you see. More than that, it’s your – your justification. When you’re a copper, you’re larger than yourself because you’re part of the whole. Out there, on the outside, you’d just be you, all on your own, very small and alone. So you stay in.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I do see that.’
‘I bear it better than Bill because I’m detached,’ he said, and hearing that that didn’t quite explain it, he raised his hands before him like a man demonstrating the size of a fish, trying to take a grip on what he meant. You see, to us there are two sorts of people – those who commit crimes, and those who don’t – and the difference is absolute, it’s fundamental. To me, I’m different from a criminal in such a fundamental way that I don’t take any colour from them. But Bill doesn’t really see himself as separate from the misery he works in. To be truthful, he doesn’t see himself at all. The ability to stand back from your own personality and view it as if it were a third party is not a universal gift.’
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘Not universal and not a gift.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ he said, waving away what he thought was an irrelevant aside. ‘But he hasn’t got it. And what it means is that he needs you far more than you will ever need him.’
‘Don’t be so sure about my needs.’
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