The Tale of the Wolf (The Kenino Wolf Series)

by Cyrus Chainey

  The day was dragging the way only sitting in a government office could: miserably. After about three hours that felt like forty years, during which I was sure I’d grown a beard, the receptionist informed me that Mrs Hardwicke would see me soon. I smiled meekly. It was already one o’clock, and whatever strength the fry up had given me had long since dissipated.

  I left just after seven exhausted, drained from my encounter with the system. The various forms and bureaucratic red tape that I’d had to get involved in wiped out my strength. But I’d recovered Betsy, she was mine again and I was allowed to drive her. I grabbed a mini-cab and raced towards The Hanging Man. Curtis had phoned and told me he’d done the recon.

  I reached just after eight. Tabatha and Curtis were already there, keen as mustard, sitting in one of the booths.

  ‘Did you sort it or are you still a pedestrian?’ Tabatha said laughing when she saw me.

  ‘Yes. It’s sorted.’ I returned.

  ‘Shall we begin?’ Curtis was being ultra-professional.

  On the table was a folder, I sat down and Curtis flipped it open. As much as Curtis can be a bit of a clown, when it came to things like this I had to respect his professionalism.

  ‘Okay.’ He continued. ‘I went down to the address you give me: big swanky place, proper country house. Your man was right … the place is empty’

  ‘How do you know?’ I queried.

  ‘I knocked the door.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Don’t worry I was pretending to be a gardener. I had a load of tools in the ride. ’

  ‘What if someone had answered? ’

  ‘I would have done the gardening. Money’s money, Wolfy. I know what I’m doing. Anyway this is the place.’ He pulled out a couple of photos of the building. ‘I think the car switch is a good idea. We can park the second vehicle here.’ He pulled out an ordinance survey map. He’d circled the location. In one of my fits of paranoia I'd phoned Curtis and told him that we needed a car switch. I still didn’t trust any of it.

  ‘What about the hedge? ’ Colin had said there was a secret entrance in to the compound; a hedge that overlapped another one, giving the impression from a distance of unbroken greenery.

  ‘It was there. Everything your guy said was true to the letter. ’

  ‘See?’ Tabatha said digging me in the ribs. ‘I told you Colin was alright. You’re just paranoid.’

  I smiled mockingly. I couldn’t be arsed to get in to it. Curtis finished giving us the run down. He’d really done his homework. It was really on. We were really going to do this.

  With Betsy stuck at Leon’s I got Curtis to give me a lift. I wasn’t going to move her until I’d double-checked the status of my beloved motor at the local police station, as well as my own. Regardless of what the DVLA was saying I was being cautious.

  I walked into my flat tired and weary, but excited, and then I saw him sitting in my armchair, and understood how joy is truly fleeting. It was Bosley.

  ‘What d’fuck are you doing in my house?’ I’d just been planning a diamond heist and had come home to find Bosley sitting in my front room. To say my heart was pumping was an understatement. I had to play it cool. ‘I hope whatever reason you have is accompanied by a warrant.’

  He didn’t respond, just continued to stare daggers.

  ‘A warrant? You know … the bit of paper that gives you the right to turnover my house?’

  ‘This isn’t how it’s meant to be?’ he asked, looking round at the debris. The flat was wrecked. Bosley was raging but holding it in.

  ‘What? How the fuck d’ya think I live?’

  All my personal belongings were scattered everywhere. My clothes, papers all my bits were on the floor. The furniture and all the electronics were where they were supposed to be but it was obvious that the place had been turned over.

  ‘I didn’t do this,’ Bosley replied.

  ‘Then who did?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know? You’re sitting in my house and my house is a tip but you don’t know why? Which reminds me … where the fuck's your warrant? And why are you in my house?’

  ‘I haven’t got one.’ There was menace in his voice. He’d been drinking; I could see it on him.

  ‘You broke into my house?’ I was shocked. Bosley, a man so honest he didn’t cross the road unless the green man beckoned, had broken into my house.

  ‘Yeah, well, don’t get all innocent with me, you little shit. You think you can threaten me?’

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ I had no idea what Bosley was talking about. I’d only just clocked that he’d found me. I was living in a friend’s house. It was meant to be a secret address.

  ‘You think you can blackmail me?’ Bosley threw a blue plastic bag at me. ‘You think this shit scares me?’

  I opened the bag. It contained at least a kilo of cocaine and a fat wad of bank notes; at least five grand.

  ‘What the fuck are you on about? You been sniffing this shit?’

  ‘Did you really think I’d let you threaten me and take it lying down?’ He looked half-crazed.

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about? You’re sitting in my house and you’ve got a big bag of Charlie.’ I’d completely lost what was going on.

  ‘Here.’ He shoved a typed note into my hand it read:

  If you continue to poke around where you’re not wanted maybe someone will investigate you.

  ‘I didn’t write that! It’s got fuck all to do with me.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me! I know you broke into my house and planted that shit ’cos it wasn’t there when I left.’ He was standing up facing me down. I could smell the booze on him.

  ‘Fuck you. Broke into your house? You’re standing in my house saying I broke into yours? What’s wrong with you … you gone mad?’

  ‘I know it was you ...’ he rasped. He looked like he was going to kill me.

  ‘I never broke into your house. I got an alibi; a good one. I was in the DVLA filling out a form. I’ve been there all bloody day. There was some fuck-up and I was lost in the system. One of your flatfoots collared me this morning saying I didn’t have a driving licence.’

  ‘One of your slimy little friends did it then.’

  ‘Bosley, you’ve gone mad. What the fuck would I leave money and Charlie in your house for?’

  ‘Cos you don’t want me to investigate.’

  ‘Yes, I do, you dumb idiot. I want you to catch Longy’s killer. Bosley, two things: first, I’ve been in the DVLA all day — run the tape you can see me sitting there — and second, I ain’t got no money to leave this much gear in your house. How much is in here … five, six grand?’

  ‘Near six.’

  ‘Six grand? Bosley, I’d shoot you before I gave up six grand.’ He knew I was telling the truth.

  ‘Why were you in DVLA?’

  ‘Weren’t you listening? I didn’t exist … all my papers had disappeared: driving licence, car reg, the whole lot. I was lost from the system. This is the first time today I’ve come home and, frankly, I wish I hadn’t.’

  ‘Really?’ Something clicked in Bosley’s brain. ‘I’ve spent the whole of today in the Tax Office. They lost my NI number. If I didn’t get it sorted, I wouldn’t get paid.’

  ‘Really?’ I replied. ‘Ain’t that curious? I end up in the DVLA all day, and you end up in the Tax Office. Both of us lost from the system.’

  ‘Very curious,’ he concurred, sitting back down, ‘and both of us getting a visit.’ He pointed at the mess on the floor.

  ‘You wanna drink?’ I offered pulling out a bottle from under a pile of clothes.

  ‘Yeah.’

  I broke out the tequila and two glasses and sat opposite him. Neither of us said anything. I still wasn’t sure whether this was a set-up. He could’ve been wired.

  ‘Stand up!’ I said ‘Stand up!’ Bosley got up and I checked him for wires. He was clean.

  ‘Trusting soul, aren’t you?’
/>   ‘See these clothes, see this house? The only reason these aren’t prison grey and these aren’t prison bars is because I’m not a trusting soul ... By the way, how did you find me? How did you know I was here?’

  ‘I’m the police. It’s what we do.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  I poured out two shots of tequila

  ‘I can’t believe you thought I’d set you up.’

  ‘It’s not beyond you.’

  ‘True, but that much money and Charlie? Bosley, I really would have shot ya.’

  He gave me a shocked look.

  ‘What? It’s hard times. We ain’t all on the police payroll.’

  He smiled. It was genuine.

  I poured out two more shots.

  ‘Honestly now, what’s going on?’ Bosley pleaded.

  ‘Honestly, I haven’t got a fucking clue. Every time I’ve tried to find out someone ends up dead.’

  ‘That’s not exactly what I wanted to hear.’

  ‘Didn’t think it would be.’ This was the first time Bosley and I had a conversation where we hadn’t tried to out fox each other.

  ‘I’ll tell you what, Bosley. I’ll tell you the little I know and then you can tell me the little you know. If, by the way, you don’t tell me, I’ll have you nicked for breaking into my house.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  I explained to Bosley why I’d gone to see Longy and Patrice Laussant. I left Tommy out of it. If Bosley’s luck was anything like mine, he’d ask one question and Tommy’s head would fall off. I told him Longy, when I’d seen him, was heading to see his brother Michael. But nobody had seen Michael, so I didn’t know whether he’d reached there or not. I also described the Tom Jones action figure. I would’ve have shown it to him, but it was in Betsy and she was still hiding at Leon’s. I also explained about the Russians, and how they were looking for Longy.

  Bosley in turn told me that the man in the cowboy hat was called ‘The Beggar’. He wasn’t on any computer system, but a friend in Interpol had known about him. The Beggar was a professional assassin and had gained his name because of his penchant for pretending to be homeless. That way he could stalk his victims without being noticed. Nobody saw the homeless; people deliberately went out of their way not to see them. My admiration was growing for this hitman’s cunning. Bosley also told me how Patrice Laussant had the same mind-altering drug in his system as Longy. He suspected The Beggar was behind Laussant's death as well. The drug, alas, was untraceable.

  ‘So between the pair of us we’ve got fuck all then,’ I said

  ‘True. But it’s enough for someone to want to threaten us.’

  ‘I take it you don’t regard our government visits as a coincidence then?’

  ‘Not when we’ve both been broken into at the same time, no. You know this means there’s some real powerful people out there who don’t want us to look into this?’ Bosley had voiced what I’d been trying to avoid saying.

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Indeed.’ He concurred.

  ‘What do we do?’

  ‘Be very discreet.’ Bosley smiled. I think he thought I was ready to concede defeat. Not a chance. There was a hitman out there who’d probably like me disposed of and a friend who needed doing right by.

  ‘You especially have to be careful. Don’t tell anyone what you’re investigating. Make sure people think you’ve given up. And I’ll try to avoid The Beggar.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I saw his face.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry. He’s probably not in the country. His kind fly in, do what they have to and then fly back out again.’

  Bosley may have been right. But just in case I was still going to watch my back. I was still carrying the tranq gun, and had no intention of moving without it. I made a mental note to get some more darts.

  ‘You want me to get rid of this?’ I said, tapping the bag. He was unsure how to respond. There was still the old Bosley and me relationship that he hadn’t fully conquered.

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ he said reluctantly.

  ‘You wanna make a profit?’

  ‘Give it back.’ He reached across.

  ‘Bosley, it was a joke. I was joking. Calm down. I’ll get rid of it. Don’t worry.’ He slowly pulled back his hand.

  ‘How?’

  ‘Trade secret. Don’t worry.’

  ‘I don’t want to see those drugs reappear.’ He was deadly serious.

  ‘Bosley, I don’t sell drugs. I do a lot of things, but I don’t sell drugs. I don’t have the stomach for it.’

  ‘What about the cash?’

  ‘Cash I do. Cash is a game I like to play, although I wouldn’t trust this money. I reckon it’s a bit traceable, but I can get rid of it.’

  ‘I’ll leave this with you then. Don’t make me regret this.’ He waved his finger at me.

  ‘Take it back then. I was only doing you a favour.’ Sometimes in my life it’s not about money but about favours. It can sometimes be very handy having people owe you, and Bosley was someone who was definitely a useful debtor.

  ‘I’ll trust you.’

  ‘As you wish. We need to find Michael, Longy’s brother. He’s got something to do with this. The fact he’s not around tells me that.’

  ‘I’ll look into it ... discretely.’ He smiled as he said it.

  We swapped numbers, promising to call if we learned anything.

  Tuesday 7:00 p.m.

  It was Tuesday. The stag party was that night. I was going to be on the go for forty-eight hours minimum. It was either going to be the most successful two days of my life or the most disastrous. I had it as a fifty-fifty punt which, frankly, were better odds than I usually had.

  Knowing that I was going to be up for so long, I decided to sleep all the day. Curtis was arranging the last few bits that were needed, so I didn’t really have anything to do but wait. I even had Bosley looking into Michael. So a good bit of kip seemed like the best course of action.

  I awoke after seven that night. I’d had a couple of spliffs to knock me out, force the sleep. I got dressed; it was a proper function so I dusted off some of my better togs; one of my Nat the Needle bespoke suits. It hadn’t had an airing in a long while, nothing to celebrate. I packed a holdall: jeans, T-shirt, sweatshirt, a plain black woolly hat, gloves and some old trainers.

  Tabatha was coming to get me. Betsy was still hiding at Leon’s and I didn’t fancy a bus adventure. She was driving the old Volvo Curtis had acquired from his cousin. Curtis was meeting us there with the 4x4 I’d requested; a Land Rover Defender, an old 110i. He’d done well.

  ‘You ready?’ Tabatha said as I got into the Volvo.

  ‘It would appear so.’

  ‘Chill, Wolfy. Stop being a pessimist. In two days we’re rich.’

  I just smiled and nodded. A horse ain’t won the race till it crosses the line and this horse was still in the stalls.

  ‘You look stunning.’

  ‘I know,’ she smiled. And she really did, dressed in a low-cut black dress with a slit up the side. It looked like one of Leon’s, although he never looked that good. She was also wearing black strappy stiletto heels. To say I wanted her was an understatement.

  ‘I know you know. I’m just making sure you know I know.’

  ‘I know. Let’s go. You got everything?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m ready.’ I said tapping my holdall, as well as double-checking the tranq gun and darts were in my inside pocket. If I was keen on carrying it before, after my little chat with Bosley I was doubly keen. We were now inseparable. ‘Drive properly Tabs, I don’t want any adventures.’

  ‘I always drive properly. ‘

  ‘No you don’t. You drive like a bank robber. You’re like a getaway driver.’

  ‘Well, it’ll be handy for later.’

  ‘Yes, Tabs, later. Not now.’

  She mumbled something under her breath and we pulled off and headed to Muzzi’s big townhouse in Holland Park: three floors of debauchery and luxury
inheritance.

  The party was already banging when we reached it. Music was blaring and people were hanging around outside drinking and smoking. I slapped hands with the ones I knew. I wanted people to see me there, although I needn’t have worried. Tabatha was drawing enough attention for the both of us.

  Curtis was already inside and looked like he’d been there a while. He was looking good in a long black suit with a jacket that came down to just above his knee. And, in a tribute to his former past, he was wearing a communist cap, one of those hats they all used to wear when they went off to work for a bag of spuds and a bottle of vodka.

  He’d parked the Land Rover a few streets away and was just chilling with a beer, chatting up some blonde. I gave him a thumbs-up and left him to his endeavours. The party was really thundering. It was only nine but it already looked like it had been going on for hours. Some bloke was skinning up on the belly of some white girl, and they were already wasted.

  I grabbed a beer and a barbecue chicken leg and generally schmoozed the party for the next few hours, chatting to this and that bod. Idle small talk mostly. I’d like to say my mind was focused on the job in hand, but it was mostly focused on Tabatha. I’d deliberately kept the beers under control and the one thing I knew, was that it wasn’t beer goggles when I looked at her.

  She was the reason I was involved. It was all about her. The money was the money and I’d never knock it, but this was about her. I wanted to say something, wanted to talk to her, but timing was everything and this was so the wrong time. While I was staring lustfully, a brainwave hit me. It was about two in the morning and everyone was having a blast. Curtis seemed to be getting somewhere with his blonde, and Tabatha was out in the garden being chatted up by some slick-looking character.

  Maybe my brainwave was jealousy inspired, I can’t deny the green-eyed monster was definitely in attendance, but there were other reasons too. I walked out into the garden towards Tabatha.

  ‘Let’s do it now,’ I said grabbing her.

  ‘What?’ she replied confused. I didn’t trust Colin. We’d told him the plan. He knew it all: knew that we were going to stay at Muzzi’s party till Wednesday; knew what time we were going … knew everything. So it made sense to go a day early, as a little precautionary measure. It wouldn’t make a difference if it was all on the up and up.