by Parker Bilal
‘All I am saying is that this is a tricky case. Cal’s involvement already puts us in a difficult position.’
Donny stroked his pointed beard. It was a gesture Crane had seen him use before. He seemed to think it made him look wise.
‘You’re not saying you won’t take my money?’
‘Not in so many words.’
Crane’s coffee arrived, or rather landed on the table. She looked up, but the waitress was already gone.
‘I just need to be sure that there are no conflicts of interest.’
‘I’m a businessman. Actually, all of this is behind me. I am interested only in clearing the cloud that hangs over my name. You can understand that.’
‘Of course. I understand perfectly, and believe me I’m not here to judge.’
Donny mulled this over and appeared to find nothing he objected to. ‘So, what can I tell you?’
‘I’d like to talk about your investments.’
Donny frowned. ‘Éla re, what investments?’
Crane reached into the bag she had slung over her shoulder. ‘Well, let’s start with the Kratos Corporation. Was that your idea – the name, I mean?’ She flashed a broad smile. ‘I really like the reference to the old god.’
A knowing smile formed on Donny’s face. Nothing improved his mood more than being recognised as a sophisticated man of learning.
‘Thank you. I feel it’s important to remember these things. You know, all of that stuff, the old gods, these are what made the world we live in possible.’
‘Of course. I see that.’
Donny was enjoying himself. ‘So, what else do you need to know?’
‘Well, according to this, you have been investing in property through a number of firms, including the construction company YDH. Ypres Development Holdings.’ She offered him another smile. ‘Not Greek this time. It’s a nice reference to the Ypresian formation.’
Donny’s expression suggested the name wasn’t his idea, but he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to claim it as such.
‘It’s just a name.’
‘I meant, since it’s part of the London Clay sequence that runs underneath this city.’
‘Sure.’
‘So, have you heard the news about your lawyer, Barnaby Nathanson?’
‘What about him?’
‘He’s dead. Someone murdered him last night in his flat in Pimlico.’
‘Dead? I don’t …’
Donny’s response seemed genuine.
‘Let’s get back to the business at hand. YDH was connected to Magnolia Quays and Howard Thwaite. His wife was murdered on the site and the company’s shares subsequently dropped. At which point you bought a controlling share.’
‘That’s not a crime. It was an opportunity. I would have been a fool not to.’
The new waitress sailed past their table three times without noticing Donny snapping his fingers. The bodyguard was equally useless, sitting by the door playing a game on his phone. Donny’s irritation began to show.
‘Why are you so interested in my business affairs?’
‘We need to know that our clients are not trying to use us for some kind of illegal activity.’
‘Illegal what? I’m legit. Didn’t he tell you? I’ve gone straight.’
‘Come on, Donny. You don’t expect me to believe that, do you? Completely legit?’
Donny looked pained. ‘Well, we’re getting there. I mean, it’s not for want of trying, right? With all these regulations and what have you. I blame the EU.’
‘Sure you do. Let’s get back to your investments.’
‘Gamoto!’ muttered Donny. ‘Okay, what do you want to know?’
‘You have money invested in a firm called Novo Elysium.’
‘I’ve never heard of that.’
Crane tilted her head. ‘It’s the offshore company Nathanson put your money into. He specialised in moving money around.’
‘If you say so.’
‘Donny, what I’m trying to get at is that there’s too much smoke here for there not to be a fire.’
‘I get that. I hear what you’re saying.’ Donny waved his goon over and told him to fetch him a brandy. Then he leaned over and tapped his finger on the table in front of Crane. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. Whatever this Nathanson was doing for me, it was legal. That’s what he did.’
‘I’m not disputing that. What I’m saying is that somebody killed him for a reason, and if it wasn’t you then you could be in danger.’
That amused Donny. He threw his head back and laughed at the ceiling. A cartoon laugh.
‘You are priceless, you know that? Your idiot partner is lucky to have you. Speaking of which, shouldn’t he be here with you for this interrogation?’
‘He’s busy, and besides, I don’t need him to hold my hand.’
‘Right, right.’ Donny reached for the bottle of Metaxa that had arrived on the table and poured them both a glass without asking. He drained his and refilled it. ‘Okay, what more have you got?’
‘You’re involved in something you don’t really understand, Donny. Nathanson is dead, probably because he was blackmailing somebody.’
‘I appreciate your concern, darling, but you don’t have to worry about me. Let’s talk about why you don’t want to work for me.’
‘Okay, let’s talk about that. You asked Cal to keep you informed, basically of anything he found out relating to the murder of a woman who used to work for Goran Malevich. Why does that concern you?’
‘It concerns me because I was suspected of having something to do with Goran’s death. I don’t like suspicions hanging over me.’
‘And you think finding out who killed the girl will vindicate you?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? I am an innocent man. I want the world to know.’
‘Right.’ Crane sipped her coffee.
‘Look,’ said Donny. ‘Let me ask you a question. Why is this a problem? The police don’t care who killed that girl. Your boy has an interest and I’m paying him to find out.’
‘You see, that’s the bit that interests me. Of all the people still around you’re the one person I would think had a pretty good chance of knowing who did it. You were there, on the inside. You knew who was in the game, who had something to gain, who could have found her.’
Donny held his hands wide. ‘What can I say? I don’t know everything.’
Crane looked at him. She wasn’t sure she believed him. Hell, she wasn’t even sure Donny believed himself.
44
The message from Doc Wyatt came in while he was sleeping. Drake listened, yawning while waiting for the kettle to boil.
‘You might want to stop by. Somebody dropped something off for you.’
Kelly called as he was driving over.
‘So we managed to get the safe open at Nathanson’s place and guess what we found?’
‘You’re asking me?’
‘That’s another question,’ said Marsh. ‘You need to get your act together.’
‘No doubt. What did you find?’
‘The answer is nothing. Safe was bare. And according to the people at his office he kept a lot of cash in there.’
‘How much?’
‘Anywhere between fifty to a hundred grand.’
Which explained, at least in part, why Spider had taken off. ‘That’s a lot of money to keep at home.’
‘Nathanson was the nervous type, by all accounts. He would disappear every now and then.’
‘The money was in case he needed to make a quick getaway.’
‘That’s what I would say. The point is that it’s gone now.’
‘The killer took it.’
‘That would be the logical conclusion,’ agreed Marsh. ‘Except they left a drill bit embedded in the safe door. We found the combination inside a cupboard in the kitchen.’
‘So either they found that before they finished drilling …’
‘Or somebody else found it afterwards. We spoke to a neighbour
who recalled a visit by a gas man around the time. Only British Gas has no record of a leak being reported or one of their engineers being called out. Where were you at the time?’
‘Me? I told you, I was babysitting.’
‘As an alibi that sounds just far-fetched enough to be true.’
‘You know Maritza, don’t you? It’s her son, Joe. You can check with her. I’m sure she’ll be happy to confirm.’
‘I’m sure she would. Sounds like you have it all covered. You do realise that removing evidence from the scene of a crime is an offence.’
‘I remember something about that. What makes you think I had anything to do with this?’
‘Call it my sixth sense.’
‘I’ve always felt that was overrated. What did you find on Nathanson?’
‘I’m not sure I’m authorised to share that with you.’
‘Kelly, I’ve been trying to do you a favour, remember?’
‘That’s exactly it. I’m not sure any longer who’s doing who a favour.’ Marsh sighed, realising that resistance was hopeless. ‘The fraud squad were building a case against him. Nathanson was running a string of investment funds that were transferring finances out to the Gulf and back. Dubai seems to have been a favourite destination. They’ve been through his offices but the feeling is that we’re missing a stack of documents.’
‘Which you think were in the safe.’
‘I’m just saying. If you know anything about this, you need to come clean now.’
‘Where is Pryce on this?’
‘He’s not a happy camper. He keeps asking for the forensic lab report and Archie keeps stalling.’
‘When he gets it, he’ll come after me.’
‘I think that’s a safe assumption.’
‘Great,’ said Drake. ‘Look, I appreciate you sticking your neck out on this one, Kelly.’
‘No problem. I’m just waiting for you to return the favour.’
‘I’m working on it.’
Drake clicked off the call. He was still puzzled about Nathanson. Whoever had killed him was after something he was holding on them. Was he running some kind of extortion racket on top of everything else?
The Mad King George had finally changed its name officially to the one most people knew it by. The Alamo. Doc Wyatt was behind the counter, looking pleased with himself, still his usual cheery self. He wore red and black tartan trousers and a yellow Hawaiian shirt covered in blue parrots.
‘So, the stranger returns.’
‘How are things, Doc?’
‘You know me.’ The tall man shrugged the dreadlocks over his shoulders. ‘Never one to complain.’
‘Things are changing.’
‘You saw what they done?’ Doc Wyatt nodded his head.
On his way into the Freetown estate Drake had been surprised to notice how much was going on here. The old swimming baths, which had been the scene of the end of his last case as a police detective, were now shrouded in scaffolding and green netting. It was about to be turned into a shopping mall named, obviously, the Bathhouse.
‘Whole neighbourhood’s changing, man.’
Not for the worse, Drake might have ventured, but he knew how sentimental Doc was about the old days, when the two had grown up running wild over the estate. One of the differences between them. Drake was not the sentimental type, generally speaking, and he wasn’t interested in nostalgia. Nevertheless, he had noticed that the row of run-down shops that stretched along the east side of the square had undergone some visible renovation. There was now a health-food shop and some kind of Italian trattoria promising stuffed artichokes and coniglio al forno, whatever that was. Doc rested an elbow on the counter.
‘Had to change up the whole menu. Now we got tapas and I don’t know what. Can’t pronounce half of it. But what can you do, right? Progress, innit?’
‘If you say so.’
‘Yeah, that’s right. I forgot. As if you could give a fuck.’
‘I’m here, aren’t I?’
‘You are at that. You had a visitor.’
‘Don’t tell me, Spider?’
‘You’re clairvoyant. I tell you, I’ve known him for longer than I care to admit, but that boy was hopping up and down like a cat in a burning car.’ Doc Wyatt wagged a finger. ‘What kind of trouble has he got himself into?’
‘He was doing me a favour. He got cold feet.’
‘I heard you’d chucked in the Old Bill.’
‘This is different. Private security firm.’ Drake was never sure exactly how to explain what he was doing these days. ‘Spider left something for me, you said?’
Doc Wyatt levered himself off the counter and disappeared through a doorway into the office. He came back out carrying a mauve carrier bag from a fancy supermarket and a wide grin.
‘Don’t see many of those round here,’ he said. ‘Well, not yet at any rate.’
‘Give it time.’
Drake took the bag over to a table in the corner and laid out the contents. There was a large accounts ledger and a series of card document folders. Drake leafed through the ledger and saw lists of acronyms, none of which made immediate sense to him.
‘There was no cash in here?’ he asked when Doc Wyatt arrived with a couple of beers.
‘Do I look like the kind of person who would try something like that on?’ Doc looked offended.
‘Course not. I had to ask.’
‘Fair enough. How much are you missing?’
‘A lot. How did Spider look?’
‘Well, he wasn’t driving a Ferrari, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘So, his usual nervous self. Say where he was staying, how I could get in touch?’
‘Nothing like that. I mean, he hasn’t been around here for ages. He probably thought this was a good spot for a drop-off. If there was money in there he’ll be long gone. He moves like a rat up a drainpipe. Disappears like a ninja, that one.’
Drake knew it was true. The money in Nathanson’s safe wasn’t really his concern. Spider was welcome to it. He would have liked to have heard his side of the story, but Doc Wyatt was right. He was probably on his way to Thailand or somewhere. He’d be back when the money ran out.
‘You win some, you lose some, is what I always say.’ Doc Wyatt smiled as he got to his feet and went over to serve a customer.
Drake turned back to the folders and began pulling out sheets of paper, trying to make sense of them.
45
Drake was driving west when he became aware of the siren coming up behind him. In the mirror he spotted a dark Mercedes saloon with blue hazard lights. He pulled to the kerb, expecting it to go by. To his surprise, it slowed. When the window slid down he saw the man in the driving seat was Vernon Pryce.
‘Follow me.’ Pryce pointed ahead and then took off. Drake swore to himself as he put the car in gear. The lights and siren cut out. They drove for about ten minutes, west in the direction of Battersea Park, and then north towards the river.
Without taking his eyes off the road, Drake reached for the bag lying next to him and leaned down to tuck it out of sight under the seat. He followed along behind the Mercedes, thinking about possible outcomes. If Pryce had something solid enough he wouldn’t have wasted time with all of this. He would have stormed in and slammed the cuffs on Drake with as much fanfare as he could muster. But that wasn’t what was happening.
It wasn’t long before he saw the indicator light on the Mercedes start flashing as the car ahead turned down a narrow street. Then they were pulling up alongside the brick walls of St Mary’s Church. The Mercedes rolled down the low ramp towards the river before coming to a halt. Pryce switched off the engine and got out of his car. Drake followed suit. The sun was shining and the gleam off the river carried a hint of warmer days to come.
Pryce leaned against the front of his car and lit a cigarette. Drake didn’t ask for one and none was offered, which was just as well, as he didn’t want to have to accept.
‘Okay, so what’s t
his all about?’
Pryce had a slick grin on his face. ‘I’ve got the missing link. The piece to tie it all together.’
‘That would explain why you’re looking so pleased with yourself.’
‘Last night someone broke into the flat of the solicitor Barnaby Nathanson.’ Pryce blew smoke at the sky. ‘This is where you tell me that name means nothing to you.’
Drake stared at the river but said nothing.
‘Nathanson was tortured and killed. They were trying to get into his safe.’
‘Any idea what they were after?’
‘As far as we can tell there was cash in there, a fair amount, but that’s not what they were looking for. Nathanson had a cocaine problem. Feeding that habit led him into some dark places. He made a lot of unsavoury friends, and a few famous ones too.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
Pryce held up a hand to stop Drake interrupting. ‘I think he was blackmailing someone and they got tired of it.’
‘So they killed him. Took the evidence away with them.’
‘It looks that way.’
‘What does any of this have to do with me?’
A thin smile carved itself into Pryce’s narrow face. The kind of smile that is devoid of emotion.
‘Turns out one of Nathanson’s clients was your old friend Donny Apostolis.’
‘He’s not my friend.’
‘Whatever.’ Pryce jabbed a finger. ‘The point is that my feeling is this is the missing link. Once we start going through Nathanson’s records we’ll find it.’
‘Find what?’ Drake stared at the other man. There was something inherently primitive about the set of his jaw, the closeness of his eyes.
‘The silver bullet. The head found at Clapham Common station was wrapped in a bloody rag. The DNA analysis of that blood doesn’t match the victim’s. If it matches yours, then I’m going to be a very happy man.’
‘Even you have to admit that would be a little too convenient, don’t you think?’
That brought a laugh. ‘Poor old Cal. The whole world is against you, right?’
‘I had nothing to do with that woman’s murder.’
‘Listen to yourself. Do you really believe that? I mean, whichever way you cut it, you’re in the mix somewhere. She was your witness. You wouldn’t share her with anyone and then all of a sudden she’s gone. Three weeks later she’s dead, cut into pieces by some savage butcher. Well, now she’s back. Risen from the dead, if you like. Come to ask for justice.’
