by Faith Martin
And Steven Crayle, with a small, rather sad smile, agreed that, in spite of the challenges and the excitement of the new job beckoning him, that he probably would.
It was dark before five o’clock, and for once Jake Barnes was glad of the long, winter hours of night-time. As he reached for his coat, relieved that they were clocking off on time after all, he was pleased that he wasn’t going to be late.
The last thing he wanted to do was keep Darren Chivnor waiting. ‘Well, have a good weekend everybody,’ he called, and saw Jimmy raise a vague hand his way. Wendy, who was busy applying black lipstick, prior to a night’s clubbing somewhere out Reading way, waved cheerily.
The moment he was out of the door however, Jimmy got up, reaching for his mobile, and by the time Jake was pulling out of HQ in his distinctive Jag, Hillary and Jimmy Jessop were already heading for her car and also glad for the long hours of darkness as it meant that Jake wasn’t likely to spot that he had a tail.
‘He’s not heading for his place, guv,’ Jimmy said, when they’d been on the road for less than five minutes. It was in the rush hour, but since they were going towards the city and not away from it, they weren’t getting caught up in the worst of it. ‘His place is near the Banbury Road roundabout. He’s going past it, see?’
‘Headington,’ Hillary agreed, as they watched the sports car take the first exit on the approaching roundabout. ‘Perhaps he’s visiting someone in hospital,’ she said. There were several large hospitals out that way.
‘Perhaps,’ Jimmy said. ‘But hospitals have long visiting hours and I had the feeling, from the way he was antsy to get off on time, that he’s on a tight deadline.’
Hillary said nothing. It was possible they were on a wild goose chase, but she trusted the old ex-sergeant’s nose. When he’d told her that he suspected something was in the air, she’d been more than willing to ride along with him and see if he was right.
‘He’s heading for the park,’ Jimmy said in surprise, some twenty minutes later. ‘Why would you want to visit the park after dark on a cold November night? Especially if you haven’t got a dog that needs walking?’
Hillary shrugged. ‘Maybe he’s meeting a girl for a romantic rendezvous.’
‘In November, guv? They’d have to be desperate. He’s got a nice, warm, cosy mansion waiting for him back in north Oxford.’
Hillary smiled in acknowledgement. ‘But perhaps they’re al fresco freaks,’ she said wryly.
When the E-Type pulled in opposite the long line of black iron railings that bordered the park, and tucked itself into a line of cars on one side of the residential street, she was careful to turn off down another side street rather than pass him. Even though the orange-coloured streetlights would probably have made her pale-green Volkswagen look a different colour, she couldn’t risk him spotting them now.
She pulled in at the very first available spot and jogged briskly back up the road. Jimmy, puffing slightly, was right beside her, and they were just in time to see Jake pass through one of the sets of gates.
‘Do you know what time the park closes?’ she asked.
‘No idea, guv. Probably not till late, though.’
Hillary nodded, waited for a break in the traffic, then dashed across the road. She was wearing a long black woollen overcoat and flat sensible, heavy boots. Jimmy was dressed in a rainproof parka jacket in sage green and similar footwear.
‘Can you see him, guv?’ Jimmy asked. His night vision wasn’t the best, these days.
‘Yes. Over there. It looks as if he’s heading for the public loos.’ As she spoke, both of them had the same thought at once.
‘Surely he’s not cottaging?’ Jimmy said.
‘No,’ Hillary said flatly. ‘He’s not gay. And even if he was, he’d be too smart for that.’
‘He’s definitely going inside guv,’ Jimmy said. As they moved closer to the unlovely, square, brick built convenience, several people passed by them, walking quickly, heads down, intent on getting home and out of the cold November night.
‘I don’t like this,’ Hillary said quietly. ‘If he’s meeting someone inside, there’s no way we can go in without being spotted. If he gets into trouble, we won’t know about it until it’s too late.’
‘We’ll just have to wait outside. Pick him up again after the meet,’ Jimmy agreed.
‘We might be better off waiting to see who else comes out later. Right now, we need to know who he’s been seeing, rather than where he goes afterwards – which is probably home anyway.’
‘But what if this is just the first stop of the evening, guv? He might be going on somewhere else even more important after this.’
Hillary sighed, then tossed her car keys over to the old sergeant. ‘If our boy comes out alone, follow him in my car. I’ll hang around and see if I can clock who he was meeting inside.’
‘Guv, we should do it the other way round,’ Jimmy said. He didn’t like the thought of her alone, in the dark park, with who knew what sort of low-life hanging around. ‘I’m more likely to recognize anyone he may have met up with than you are.’
Hillary, who knew what the old man was thinking, smiled grimly. ‘I’ve seen the photos, Jimmy. Besides, there are plenty of bushes I can hide behind. Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything stupid.’
Inside the men’s lavatories, Jake Barnes was hoping Darren Chivnor wasn’t going to do anything stupid.
He’d chosen this place for their meeting simply because he had reasoned that the thug would probably feel safe here. After all, a men’s public toilet, in the middle of a public park on a cold, dark November night, was hardly the place where either of them might run into anyone they knew and, by now, Jake was aware that Chivnor must be getting very wary, if not paranoid, about being seen with him. His connection with the police was in the public domain after all, and Chivnor’s boss wouldn’t be any too happy to hear about them getting chummy.
Inside, standing over a chipped sink, Chivnor was looking in the mirror and checking out his spots. He’d arrived a good hour early, and had clocked who was about. The fact that there were definitely no cops about was a good sign. He’d also checked on the stalls. The two which were occupied had quickly emptied, and his own shaven-headed, tattooed presence had sent the few others who’d come in to take a leak, quickly scurrying through their business and leaving.
Now all was silent.
‘How’d you get my mobile number?’ Chivnor asked, the moment Jake Barnes stepped through the door. ‘It’s supposed to be fireproof.’
‘When you have money, you can buy anything,’ Jake said easily. In fact, his PIs had tracked it down. ‘Like what’s in this envelope for instance,’ Jake added, wanting to get down to business as fast as possible.
The scent of urine and the cold chilly air reminded him just how alone and isolated he was here. He knew this man’s reputation, Chivenor had to have a knife on him somewhere, and if he’d decided that whatever it was Jake was peddling wasn’t worth the risk…. Well, what better place could he ask for than this to do something about it? If Jake’s body were to be found here, Hillary Greene and the other cops at HQ would surely assume the worst, that he’d either been cottaging or mistaken for someone going down that route, and had fallen foul of a gay-basher. Or maybe that he was simply the victim of a straightforward mugging gone wrong.
Either way, he wanted to get Darren Chivnor’s attention focused on something else. Now he had it.
‘What’s that then?’
‘Well, money, for a start. But something much more impressive,’ Jake said.
Darren snorted. ‘Nothing’s more impressive than money, my friend.’
‘Take a look and see,’ Jake said, stepping forward and very carefully placing the fat brown envelope in the sink beside the skinhead. He was careful not to get too close.
Darren eyed him with something of a knowing smirk, then shrugged, and reached for the envelope. First he took out the wads of cash.
‘Nice. Twenty grand?’
&nb
sp; ‘Good guess.’
‘I never guess. Here, what’s this?’ Now Chivnor was looking at a driving licence, but although it was Lisa’s face that was looking back at him, the name on it was that of Chelsea Cordwainer. If Barnes knew about Lisa, what else might he know?
He rooted inside and came out with another licence. This time, it was his photograph, but it bore the name of Michael Rawlings. He tipped the envelope up, and quickly sorted through the documents, becoming more and more excited: birth certificates. Social Security numbers, tax information. Passports.
‘Shit,’ he said, inspecting them carefully. ‘This is top quality gear.’
‘It’ll pass any inspection, by anyone, anywhere. You can set yourself up in a new life with that. You and your girlfriend both.’
‘Not on twenty grand, mate. Get real,’ Darren Chivnor sneered.
Jake shrugged magnificently. ‘Oh that’s just spending money. The real money on offer has a lot more zeros after it than that.’
‘How many more?’
Jake smiled. ‘Enough to buy the dream,’ he promised. ‘What is it, Darren? A beach bar in Mauritius? A boat-hire business in Benidorm? Luxury holiday lets in Australia?’
Darren carefully stuffed all the impressive paperwork back into the envelope and shoved it inside his leather jacket. ‘OK, so just what is it that you’re after? It has to be about Dale, right? If you think I’m gonna shop him to the cops you’re out of your mind. I wouldn’t live a day.’
‘Don’t let the fact that I’m a civilian consultant at Thames Valley fool you,’ Jake said flatly. ‘I couldn’t give a shit about whether or not they take down your boss,’ he said – more or less truthfully. ‘I have my own agenda.’
Darren smiled wolfishly. ‘I thought you might. Go on then. Surprise me.’
But just then, before Jake could do just that, the door opened and a man came in. His name was, of all things, John Smith, and he was a janitor at one of the hospitals on the other side of the park. He was walking home via his regular route through the park since he’d lost his driving licence in the previous month after failing a breathalyser. He was in his mid-fifties, and there was nothing out of the ordinary about him at all – save for the fact that he had a lot of curly ginger hair.
Darren Chivnor knew a man called Curly Monroe who worked for Dale in one of his clubs. For a split second, seeing all that curly ginger hair in the poor lighting of the men’s loo, all his paranoia and fear burst out like a leopard from ambush.
When he’d got the text message from Barnes requesting this meeting, he’d been amused by the choice of location, but also relieved. If on the wild off-chance any of the other lads who worked for Dale spotted him here, he could tell them that he’d been bored and had gone out for a bit of gay-bashing. It was widely known that Dale couldn’t stand poofs, so it would have given him the perfect cover and alibi.
Now, seeing whom he thought was Curly Monroe coming through the door, Dale reached instantly for his knife. It was a switch-blade, and sprang open instantly, glinting wickedly in the dim lighting.
Three things happened at once.
Going into his act, Darren snarled viciously, ‘Get out of it, you bloody wanker! Poofs like you make me sick.’ So saying he suddenly lunged for Jake. He made sure to feint a little as he did so, missing him completely.
The second thing that happened was that John Smith, realizing that he’d just innocently stepped into a very nasty situation indeed, took a step back, putting him directly under the full light, thus showing him to be much older than Curly Monroe, and a fair bit shorter.
And thirdly, Jake Barnes, after one wild look at the knife, turned and legged it at a very creditable rate of knots indeed through the door and out into the night.
Darren Chivnor swore viciously. John Smith very quickly followed Jake’s example and also legged it.
Outside, Hillary Greene had positioned herself slightly to the left and rear of the toilets, and heard a door bang open explosively. She was thus the first to see Jake Barnes flying out and running away down the path. She’d taken one step forward when she saw the ginger-haired man who’d just entered also come back out, looking over his shoulder fearfully, and running off down the path.
She shot a quick look over to the right where Jimmy was standing concealed in a laurel bush. She took another step out, then froze, as the skinhead from Jimmy’s photos shot through the door.
In his hand was a viciously sharp-looking knife.
Chivnor hesitated in the doorway, wondering if he should go after Barnes to explain, but quickly realizing that that would be a mistake. The millionaire would be bound to think that he was trying to race him down and finish the job with the knife.
He also doubted that Barnes would be in any mood or condition to listen to reason.
He swore again, viciously, when he realized that he might have just blown his best chance to earn a big enough stake to strike out on his own.
Still, he consoled himself, it wasn’t a complete waste of time. He had twenty thou to add to his bank account, plus a set of grade-A documents for his and Lisa’s get-away, when the time was right.
Besides, he knew how to contact Barnes. He’d just give it a few days, and then telephone him and explain what had really happened. Once he’d had a chance to get over the fright, Barnes would have to understand why he, Darren, had to be careful. And if that had been Curly Monroe back there, they’d both have been toast if Dale Medcalfe had found out what it was they were up to.
Not that Darren knew, even now, just what it was that Barnes really wanted. But to go as far as he already had, the man must want it bad. Badly enough to take another chance on him, surely?
As Darren Chivnor stood there in the dark, watching the richest man he knew running hell for leather down the path, he wanted so badly to believe that Barnes had been telling him the truth. That he really wasn’t working for the coppers, and didn’t care about bringing down Medcalfe, because then, maybe, just maybe, he could grab the real cash prize, start a new life with Lisa, and not even have to double-cross Medcalfe for it.
And that was the equivalent of Darren’s Holy Grail.
For her part, Hillary Greene remained frozen. She kept her eye on the skinhead who, much to her relief, didn’t give chase, but slowly closed the knife and slipped it into his back pocket. Then he turned and began to walk off in the opposite direction from Jake.
Seeing that the Boy Wonder was safe, she turned her head to look for Jimmy. She spotted him at once. She raised two fingers to her eyes, pointed at Jimmy, then stabbed them in Jakes’s direction, indicating that she wanted Jimmy to follow him.
She then pointed in the direction Chivenor had taken, indicating that she was going to follow him. Jimmy didn’t look too happy about it, but dutifully took off after Jake. Hillary, giving the skinhead plenty of time to get ahead of her, set off after him.
Her heartbeat was slowly returning to normal by the time she’d followed him to one of the park’s other exits. As she’d half expected, he got into a car and drove off. She sighed, then reached for her mobile.
She dialled Jimmy’s number, knowing that the canny old man would have set it to vibrate, and not to ring.
‘Guv? You all right?’ His voice was lowered and gruff, but he didn’t sound breathless. She’d been a bit worried, at the rate Jake had been burning shoe leather, that the old man might not have been able to keep up with him.
‘I’m fine. Our tattooed friend left by another exit and got in a car. Where are you?’
‘Not far from where you left us, guv. When Jake realized that he wasn’t being chased he slowed down.’
‘What’s he doing now?’ she asked curiously.
‘Being sick in a privet hedge,’ Jimmy said succinctly.
‘Good,’ Hillary said vindictively. ‘It’s time that boy learned a hard lesson or two. He’s had things too easy, and all his own way for far too long.’
‘Shall I let him know we’re here, guv?’
&n
bsp; ‘No. Go back to the car. I’ll be right behind you.’
‘OK. Guv …’ Jimmy began carefully, ‘I really thought Chivnor was going to stick him back there.’
‘So did I for a moment or two,’ Hillary agreed. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be speaking to Steven. It’s time we got to the bottom of this. When young Jake’s had a chance to get his nerve back, we’re going to tackle this thing head on. Whatever it is.’
‘Guv,’ Jimmy’s relief was palpable as he hung up.
But when Hillary dropped the old man off at HQ before motoring back to Thrupp, she found that Steven, waiting for her on the boat, had other things to talk about.
And this time, he wasn’t going to be put off.
‘Hey, you look beat,’ he said, standing up as she walked down the narrow corridor towards the small living area in the prow. ‘So I won’t keep you. I just wanted to talk. About us,’ he said. He had that determined look in his eye, and she felt her heart sink.
‘I know you keep avoiding it whenever I try to bring it up, but it’s been nearly two weeks,’ he carried on. ‘Whilst I don’t want to crowd you, or hurry you, I just don’t know how much longer my nerves are going to be able to stand the waiting.’ He managed a brief, if rather tight, laugh.
Hillary, who’d just been about to tell him about Jake, slowly took off her coat instead and looked at him warily.
Barnes could keep until Monday: clearly, this couldn’t.
She’d always known that she would have to come to a decision soon, of course, but she still had no idea what she was going to say. She’d allowed the Sylvia Perkins case to push the dilemma to one side, but suddenly, here she was, facing it like a deer in the headlights, and feeling just as paralysed.
‘Steven,’ she said tentatively. Why couldn’t they just stay as they were? It was what she wanted to wail, like a spoilt little kid not getting her own way. Suddenly she felt ashamed of her cowardice.
She’d been mucking him about, and he didn’t deserve that. Again she opened her mouth, this time to apologize, but Steven was already holding up a hand, forestalling her.
His suit was slightly rumpled and he looked a little tired, but still his devastatingly good-looking, elegant, and sexy self. She’d become so used to having him in her life, in such a short space of time, that the idea of losing him left her feeling oddly panic-stricken.
