‘The NUP. You’re a member, aren’t you?’
Kev tried to keep his breathing under control. ‘You know that. You saw the tats the other night. We talked about it.’
‘Yeah, I know, but it’s more than that, isn’t it? You’re more than just a member. Just a voter.’
Kev swallowed. His throat was dry, ashes. ‘Not any more. When I left my job I left the party. An’ everythin’ I was doin’ for them. That’s a part of me life that’s over.’
Amar sighed, nodded. ‘Shame. Because I need your help.’
‘To do what?’
Amar put down the mug that had been on the way to his lips. ‘I’ve got to trust you. I mean, really trust you.’
Kev was confused, wrong-footed, mentally running to keep up with the way the conversation was going. ‘I’m not a thief nor nothin’. Not gonna run off with your PIN number, like.’
Amar managed a smile. ‘Never thought you were.’
Kev relaxed at the sight of the smile. But only slightly.
‘You know the other night, when I told you I worked in IT? Well, I didn’t tell you the whole thing.’
Kev shrugged. ‘Did you not think I’d see you again, then?’
‘Not like this. I use computers but I also do surveillance, monitoring, all sorts of stuff. I work for an information brokerage. We’re like—’ he shrugged ‘—private detectives. But a bit better.’
Kev’s eyes widened.
‘We’re working on a case at the moment. And it’s become very … complicated. Not to mention dangerous.’ Amar stopped talking, let that sink in.
‘How?’
‘We think the NUP have taken one of my colleagues. Kidnapped her, I suppose. We don’t know whether she’s … if she’s OK, or anything. But they’ve got her. We want her back. And we need your help.’
‘But I’ve left them.’
‘They’ve taken my colleague. They might have taken someone else, we just don’t know. They’ve tried to kill another colleague of mine. They’ve also murdered a fence on Westgate Road and kidnapped a boy.’
Kev felt butterflies in his stomach. ‘Which boy?’
‘His name’s Jason. He’s the one we think you and your gang were looking for.’
The name hit Kev like a hammer. ‘They’ve got him? Aw, no …’
Amar frowned, confused by Kev’s reactions. ‘Why are you upset? You were looking for him.’
‘Yeah, but … I was gonna, gonna let him get away again …’
Amar’s eyes lit up. ‘Did he stab you?’
Kev, his face downcast, nodded. ‘I let him. It was, was the only way to let him escape.’
‘They wanted you to do something, or make him do something and you couldn’t, that right?’
Kev nodded again.
‘They’ve got him now.’
Kev looked up. ‘And your friend.’
Amar nodded. ‘We know they’ve been behind all the racist attacks recently. They’re planning something big to coincide with the election. Something that could tip the city over the edge, start a full-scale war on the streets. My partner Peta, we think she found out what it was and they’ve taken her. How am I doing so far? Am I right?’
Kev felt his whole world collapsing around him. His face was screwed up as if in pain, like he was dodging falling shells, exploding walls and ceilings, dead and dying bodies. Bodies aflame, screaming …
‘Kev?’
He looked up. Amar was staring at him, concerned. Kev felt tears well in his eyes. Fought them back. ‘You’re right,’ he said, his voice dry from dust and debris, ‘that’s what they’re plannin’. Major Tom’s had everyone at the farm for weeks, drillin’ them like they were marines, gettin’ them to be like an army. An’ I … I was part of it.’
‘To what end?’
‘Send them out on the streets on election night. Where the, the immigrants an’ that lived. With guns. Real guns with real bullets. An’ anyone who gets in the way, we were gonna get rid of them.’ He looked at his cooling coffee in disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his own mouth, as if he had been part of it.
‘Jesus …’ said Kev, as if suddenly seeing daylight after a lifetime under ground. ‘Killin’ all those people …’ Kev felt a wave of emotion build within him. He tried to hold it back, couldn’t. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry …’
‘What are you sorry about? What did you do?’ Amar’s voice was quiet, a priest in the confessional.
Kev saw the student again. Sooliman, his name was. Lying on the floor. Breath leaving his body for the last time. Major Tom smiling, putting down the bat, wiping his forehead. Hard work this, he had said. We’ll have earned our beer tonight. The others laughing. Kev joining in, wanting to be one of them, but inside knowing that he had crossed a line. A line he desperately wanted to get back behind. Knowing that he had become something else, something he didn’t like, couldn’t face. Knowing in that moment that he wanted out.
‘Kev?’
‘I can’t … You wouldn’t …’
‘You can tell me.’
‘It’s awful. That student, that boy … I know who killed him. I was, was with them.’ Tears sprang to Kev’s eyes. He made no effort to hold them back.
‘Jesus … You …’
‘Major Tom. The guy in charge. It was him. I was just, just there. But I may as well have killed him. I did nothing to stop it.’
Amar said nothing.
‘I’m sick, I’m disgustin’ … I’m … I’m …’ Kev cried. Let it all out in huge, racking sobs. ‘So,’ he said eventually, ‘what you goin’ to do with me? Turn me in? Hand me over to the cops?’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘Because I’m a, a murderer, a killer …’ The tears started again.
Amar sat in silence until Kev was cried out. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
‘You handin’ me in, then?’
‘No.’
Kev looked up.
‘Wuh-why not? I need to be punished.’
‘Seems like you’re punishing yourself enough for that. Let it go, Kev. You did something horrible. Now’s your chance to atone for that.’
Kev looked at him, light in his eyes.
‘I need your help, Kev. You can turn yourself in later, but I need your help.’
Kev said nothing.
‘The farm? Where’s that?’
‘In, in Northumberland.’ Kev sniffed back the remaining tears. ‘Major Tom’s runnin’ it.’
Amar nodded. ‘D’you know where it is? That’s probably where they’ll be holding Peta.’
‘And Jason.’ Kev thought. ‘Shit, Jason … I know what they were goin’ to do with him …’
‘What?’
‘Aw, Jesus …’
‘What?’
‘Make him a suicide bomber. A martyr for the cause.’
‘Shit …’ Amar rubbed his eyes, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘This is … this is so fucked up …’
‘So what d’you want me to do?’
‘Go back to the farm,’ he said. ‘Find Peta. Get her out of there.’
‘And Jason.’
‘Him too.’
‘Then get back here. We’ll inform the police.’
‘Wuh-what about me?’
Amar smiled. ‘You’ll be a hero. Does that sound like atonement?’
Kev tried to smile. It didn’t go far. Back to the farm. Back to his old life. His heart sank at the thought. He knew what they did to traitors and spies. Especially spies.
Kev thought of the student again, saw the flames. And through the flames, thought of that atonement. Peace. He could make up for what he did in the biggest and best way possible. He had no choice. He had to do it.
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘sounds simple.’
Amar smiled, put his hand on Kev’s leg. ‘Thanks, Kev. You’re doing the right thing.’
Kev said nothing. Didn’t trust himself to speak.
‘Right,�
� said Amar, taking his hand away and making to stand up. ‘Let’s get—’
‘Just a minute.’
Amar looked at Kev.
‘Put your hand back where it was.’
‘Kev, we don’t have time for—’
‘Please.’
Amar looked into Kev’s eyes. Saw what was going on there. Understood.
‘Please.’
Kev moved closer. Amar felt a hand on his body, a mouth on his mouth. Felt a need emanating from Kev that was more than just sexual.
Amar knew what Kev wanted, knew how to help. That torment that Amar had first recognized was still there. The same need he recognized in himself.
They came together, their mutual needs too strong to resist.
Mary Evans sat on the bank of the Tyne, looked at Richie. He was staring out ahead. She didn’t know if he saw the green trees and fields of Ryton Willows on the other side of the river, or something else entirely, something not in the physical world.
She had brought him to the Tyne Riverside Country Park. A green and naturally beautiful part of the city, surprisingly just a few minutes away from the West End of Newcastle. Nature reserves, trails, a leisure centre and restaurant. Space. And peace.
And it would all go when the new development went through.
She summoned up a smile. Felt any remaining warmth, empathy slide off like a silk dressing gown falling to the ground. Concentrated on what she was here for. What she had to do. ‘Remember when we used to come here, Richie? When we were students?’
Richie, still staring ahead, nodded.
‘We used to lie here, just you, me and as many mushrooms as we could find. Remember?’
Richie gave a small laugh, nodded, rocking back and forward.
‘We used to say that when we were in charge, we’d make all the drugs legal, put them on the National Health.’
Another nod, rocking. ‘I tried … I wanted you to be, to be my girlfriend. This is, is where I asked you …’
She sighed. Tried to ignore the residual fluttering in her chest. No time for sentimentality. This was work. This was important. ‘I know. I remember.’
‘An’ you … You said no.’
She felt impatience rise within, tamped it down. Kept her voice sweet. ‘That was then, Richie. Things were, were difficult then.’
Richie said nothing, continued to rock.
‘But they were good times, though. Wished they had never ended.’
Richie stopped rocking. Turned to face her. ‘Why did you bring me here?’
The fluttering became a beating of fierce wings. She swallowed hard. ‘Because … because this was always our special place. And because I’ve always, always liked you, Richie.’
She reached across, touching his greasy hair, stroking it, trying not to let her revulsion show.
Richie looked at her outstretched arm, felt the touch of her hand. His eyes widened, he began to shake. ‘But not … not like that. You said. Then. You were never my girlfriend. Always Trevor’s.’
Mary Evans sat forward, stroked her hand down his equally greasy face and on to his shoulder, kept a smile on her face, tried to calm him. ‘It, it could be like that, Richie. It’s not too late.’
He stopped rocking, looked at her.
‘Really?’
Mary Evans nodded, concentrating, keeping the mask in place. This was the difficult bit. ‘Yes, Richie. Just a, a couple of things to get out of the way first. Then we can be together. Properly.’
Richie frowned. ‘But you’re, you’re a, a lesbian.’
Mary Evans smiled. She noticed her hand was shaking. She thought of what she had to lose, had to gain. The shaking stopped. ‘People change,’ she said.
Richie turned to look at her, a pathetic hope in his eyes, brightening up his ruined face. There would have been a time when that look would have touched her, made her waver. But not any more. The things she had done, would do … She was far beyond that now.
‘There’s just something you’ve got to do for me first.’
‘What?’
‘Trevor … he’s got something in his head at the moment. Something he’s doing, am I right?’
Richie nodded.
‘He’s …’ Richie stopped himself, looked at Mary Evans like a guilty child caught doing something he shouldn’t have. ‘I promised not to tell.’
Another smile. Those wings beating, tearing to get out. ‘It’s OK, Richie. You can tell me.’
‘He said you’re …’ Richie’s features darkened. ‘You’re doin’ somethin’ bad.’
Mary Evans fought with the rising tide of emotion building in her chest. Kept smiling. ‘Is that what Trevor said? Oh, come on, Richie, it’s me. Mary. Do you think I’d do something bad? Honestly?’
Richie frowned, thinking hard. Jesus, he looked pathetic, she thought. He quickly looked up, shook his head.
‘That’s right. Now, you can tell me what Trevor’s doing, can’t you?’
Richie looked at her, unsure. She gave another smile.
‘Come on, Richie. If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?’
Richie made his mind up. ‘He’s … It’s about some land or houses or something. An’ his, his daughter … She’s been taken.’
Mary stiffened at the word ‘daughter’. The wings inside her flapped a different beat. She wanted a cigarette. ‘Right. Anything else?’
Richie screwed up his face in concentration. Again he looked childlike, this time a child who desperately wants to please. ‘An’ he’s, he’s got a gun.’
Mary Evans tensed. ‘What for?’
Richie looked straight at her. ‘Dunno. Protection, he said.’ His voice was tiny, cowed.
Mary Evans stared at him.
‘I … I was just goin’. Leavin’ them. Goin’ back to St Hilda’s. I didn’t … didn’t want to be with him any more. It upset me too much.’
‘Don’t worry about that.’ The words came out absently. Mary Evans’s mind was spinning, calculating her next move.
Richie frowned again. ‘I … I was watchin’ you, you know. Lookin’ out for you.’
Those wings, back again. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘The way you looked out for me, y’know, looked after me. I was at your office. I saw that girl go in. Peta. She’s Trevor’s daughter, you know.’
‘I know.’
‘Aye. She went in. An’, an’ them two blokes come out. An’ then Trevor. He was there. That’s why I went with him. ’Cos he was there.’ He gave a shy smile. ‘So is that it? Are we boyfriend and girlfriend now?’
‘Not quite.’ She struggled, kept her voice even.
‘How d’you mean?’
Mary Evans took Richie in her arms. Confused at first, he nestled into her arms, snuggling down. ‘I looked after you for years, Richie. Made sure you got help, somewhere to live. You were like a … child. A son, I suppose, that I felt responsible for.’ She kissed him on the forehead.
Richie rocked backwards and forwards, a soporific smile on his face.
Then abruptly she pulled away from him, stared straight into his eyes. She had stopped smiling. Her eyes were hard, cold. Like a look from them could freeze the Tyne. ‘But you’re not, are you, Richie? You’re not my child. I’m not responsible for you.’
‘What … what d’you mean?’
‘You’re an adult. An adult who fucked up his life. And has no one to blame but himself.’
She stood up, throwing him off her in the process. He looked up at her like a dog about to be beaten.
‘What … what … I don’t understand …’
‘No, Richie, you don’t. You never did.’
‘What … what you goin’ to do to me?’
‘Me? Nothing.’ She looked round. Two men detached themselves from behind nearby bushes. Waqas and Omar. They moved towards Richie.
‘Goodbye,’ said Mary Evans. ‘I used to like you, but you’re too pathetic for words.’ She walked away.
Didn’t see the look of incomprehensi
on on Richie’s face as it turned into fear, into pain. Didn’t see or hear any of that.
She took out a cigarette, lit it, took the smoke down deep into her lungs, exhaled.
Watched the smoke leave her body, rise up into the sky.
Watched it dissipate into the hot air.
36
Trevor Whitman pulled his daughter’s Saab up in the car park, killed the engine, tried to get his head straight.
Washington Services on the A1. Southbound.
He sat, drumming his fingers on the wheel, looking round, checking for watchers. No one. Or no one he recognized. He looked at the bag on the seat beside him. Thought of what it contained.
A rap at the window. He jumped, looked up, startled, grabbing instinctively for the bag on the seat. Relaxed. Lillian Knight’s face was looking back at him. He sighed, opened the passenger door, placed the bag behind the seat. She ran round, got quickly in. She fell into his arms. He grabbed her, held on like she was the only thing keeping him from falling off a very steep precipice.
She pulled away, looked at him. ‘Peta, have you …?’
He shook his head. ‘They’ve still got her. But I’ll … Did you bring what I asked you?’
She had placed a briefcase between her legs. She patted it.
‘Good.’ He stroked her face. Even now, her features creased, coarsened and reddened by worry, stress and tears, she looked beautiful. ‘Try not to worry. It’ll all work out. It will.’
She sighed, her eyes pleading for his words to be true. Knew she wanted what her heart was feeling to win out against what her head was telling her. Knew it wouldn’t.
He put his arms round her again, pulled her hard to him. Held her.
‘I don’t … don’t want you to go,’ she said.
He said nothing.
‘Let me come with you.’
‘No, Lillian. It’s safer if you go home.’
She pulled away from him again. ‘Not for me. I have to sit there, on my own, waiting …’
‘It won’t be long now. I promise.’
They clutched each other like drowning mariners.
‘I, I love you, Trevor.’
Whitman’s eyes locked with hers. ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said.
She pulled away, the move hiding any sadness that he couldn’t match her declaration. ‘You’re a brave man,’ she said. ‘And selfless.’
White Riot Page 27
