Guts for Garters

by Linda Regan

  Melek nodded and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. ‘I ain’t afraid of a fight, even if I’m upset now.’

  ‘You never grew up the way we all did, having to beg and whore for food,’ Panther told her. You ’ad parents and things.’ Her voice became threatening. ‘So, you’re on trial, we’ll be watching you.

  ‘I’ll prove myself,’ she said. ‘You wanna get Harisha an’ I know more about him that anyone.’

  ‘That’s true, she does,’ Lox said, looking at Alysha. ‘An’ I never grew up on this estate neither, but you know I’d give my life for you.’

  Alysha nodded warmly. ‘Yeah, I know, an’ me for you.’ She turned back to Melek. ‘You’ll start as a soldier, but you can work your way up,’ she told her. ‘We are out to get money in our coffers, the more you get us, the better you’ll do.’

  ‘It’s a bit like being Robin Hood, if you know who he is,’ Tink said.

  ‘Yeah, I do,’ Melek nodded.

  ‘That’s good, cos I’m still not sure,’ Tink told her. ‘But Panther says he’s really famous, and one day we might be.’ Tink was now dabbing Melek’s cuts and cleaning her face up. ‘No one gets away wiv hurting an Alley Cat. If they do, the rest of us will kill them.’

  ‘It’s a lot better than them SLR,’ Melek said quietly.

  ‘Yeah, it is. But you have to pass a test,’ Alysha told her.

  ‘I’ll get you inside info on Harisha an’ stuff.’

  ‘Good,’ Alysha nodded. ‘And you can get that cunt Harisha back for what he’s done to you.’

  ‘An we’ll make sure he goes down, too,’ Panther assured her. ‘Then he’ll be out of your way, and clear of our territory,’

  ‘I told you about the tunnel under the river near Lambeth, didn’t I?’ Melek said. ‘That’s where he keeps all his gear; guns, drugs, and machetes too. I’d be dead if he knew I’d told you that.’

  Alysha nodded. ‘Yeah, you did, and we made good use of that information,’ she grinned. ‘So you wanna know what you gotta do?’

  ‘What?’ Melek asked, looking from one face to another.

  ‘You are gonna get cuntface, Harisha, locked up on a rape charge,’ Alysha told her.

  Melek looked suddenly dry-eyed and sober. ‘What, snitch to the feds?’ she said looking baffled. ‘I thought we deal with our own stuff.’

  ‘We do,’ Alysha agreed looking from one Alley Cat to another. ‘But this is the plan. You are gonna talk to the feds,’ Alysha told her, looking at Panther again. ‘Because, she paused carefully weighing her words, ‘we use the feds too.’ She let that sink in. ‘See that’s how we do so well. It’s called being cleverer. Feds think we are the victims, and we let them think that. An’ so they help us, an’ in return we can help our estate, an’ rebuild our estate.’

  Melek stared at Alysha. ‘You’re a grass?’

  ‘No. We are victims,’ Tink said sincerely.

  ‘’Cept we’ve learned that if you wanna survive you have to be smarter than everyone,’ Lox said.

  ‘The authorities have written us off as a waste of money and space,’ Alysha said. ‘No good to no one. So, we’ve turned the tables. ‘

  ‘Together, we have a plan,’ Panther added.

  ‘And we will win,’ Alysha assured her. ‘Harisha is scum. You said that yourself. You wanna get one up on ’im?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Then let’s get ’im put away, and all like ’im. He’s poisoning all the youngers for miles around, feeding them crack. He needs to be got rid of. Don’t matter ’ow we do it, as long as it’s done. And that’s where you come in.’

  Melek stared at her, but said nothing.

  ‘Harisha will go down for a long time,’ Lox assured her. ‘So never again will he nor his bastard Turks bother you, after this. If they try, we’ll fight together. We’ve already killed one.’

  ‘We never meant to kill Burak,’ Alysha said again.

  Melek nodded slowly. ‘OK. I’ll do it,’ she said.

  ‘You won’t regret it. We’ll look after you,’ Tink told her.

  ‘But if you double-cross us,’ Panther said looking at her with cold eyes. ‘Then, we will kill you.’

  ‘Cos Alley Cats are going forward,’ Alysha said stretching out her hand to Melek. ‘And we don’t let nothing get in our way. So?’

  Melek hesitated and then reached out and took Alysha’s hand. ‘Count me in,’ she said. ‘But could anyone lend me a skirt to wear, or a pair of jeans? I can’t go home like this.’

  Eleven

  02:00 Thursday

  Desk Sergeant Derek Spaniel disliked working the all-night shifts. When he was a young PC he’d set his mind on a CID job for the very purpose of avoiding the dawn choruses. In those early days of his police career he’d enjoyed working nights. It was the dragging himself out of bed at 3.30 in the morning that he couldn’t abide. CID didn’t have to do all that.

  Then he got married, they had a baby, then another, and it just never seemed to be the right time to sit those CID exams. And now the years had gone by and here he was, looking forwards to his pension. He kept a photograph of his large family on his desk, and a brochure for Las Vegas. That was where he was taking them all when he retired next year, and he was counting the days.

  He had just been to the canteen and got his supper, with some strong tea in the mug his youngest grandson had brought him last Christmas, when the internal phone rang. It was Valerie on the switchboard.

  ‘There’s a Mrs Wilkins on the line asking to speak to DI Johnson or DI Grainger. As neither are here,’ Valerie told him, ‘d’you want to talk to her? She sounds a bit all over the place.’

  ‘Put her on,’ he told Valerie, balancing his large oatcake on the counter and his full mug of tea on his paperwork.

  ‘Sergeant Spaniel speaking, can I help you?’

  ‘I was wanting to talk to Detective Johnson or Detective Grainger,’ she said. Her voice was nervy and hesitant. ‘Is that possible?’

  ‘It isn’t, I’m sorry, madam. I can pass a message to them for you. What was it concerning?’

  ‘Er … oh, er, I can’t … it’s a bit worrying. Sorry, no, I need to talk to her … Detective Johnson.’

  ‘About what, madam?’

  ‘It’s about some …’ The line was getting fainter, as if she was moving away from the phone.

  ‘Sorry, I missed that, could you speak up, please, Mrs Wilkins? I’m having trouble hearing you. What is the message for DI Johnson? Hello? Can you give me your contact number and I’ll pass it on to her, please. It’s about, what?’

  There was silence the other end.

  ‘Mrs Wilkins, this is a bad line. What was it about?’

  Her voice was very faint. ‘Nothing, oh, er … nothing. I’ll call again?’

  ‘I can put you through to the investigation room. If no one’s there you can leave a message, would that help?’

  ‘Oh … er, yes, if you like.’

  The new SLR lock-up reeked of engine oil. It had previously belonged to a car-mad retired businessman. The man had recently passed away, his cars sold, so when the SLR heard about it going empty they broke in, changed the lock, and took it over. It was their current meeting place.

  The location was perfect, on the corner of some parkland and near the boundary of their territory and the Aviary. Every now and again the gang took over a new lock-up, and moved some of their stash of arms and drugs from the tunnel to their new garage, ready to be sold on the street. Moving their gear around kept the feds at bay. If any of them got a sniff that drugs were in a lock-up, by the time they came to investigate the gear had been moved on. Harisha was always one step ahead.

  He was going to have to forfeit the weapons he had recently stashed in his acquired lock-up on the Aviary. He didn’t mind, it was a cheap price to pay for grassing Alysha Achter. Her DNA, and her skanky Alley Cats’, would be all over it after what Melek had told him they’d done to Burak in there. Now Alysha Achter would get her comeuppance. Her and
those skanks would be arrested in no time for possession of weapons. The chief skank was already on probation, so she would get a long lump for possession of dangerous weapons and drugs with intent to sell. He smiled at the thought of her rotting in jail. He would take over the business on the Aviary and no one would dare stand in his way. There were good pickings; lots of youngers around to feed free drugs to, get them begging to buy crack in no time, and then they were his to use; build up his street girls, and make himself even riches.

  The rest of his stash was under the river, in the locked tunnel. It was safe there. In the next few days he would send his inner circle of lieutenants over to move some of it to this new lock-up, ready to sell on the streets. By that time Alysha Achter would be out of his way and he’d move onto the Aviary.

  Since his encounter with Melek he’d been home, changed, bathed, and eaten, then spent two hours on the phone wheeling and dealing drugs and firearms to his contacts. The power that made him feel always gave him a hard-on, so he had called in two of the gang girls and had sex with them. He was about to do it again when his mobile had rung, with news from Bilaboo and Trent that the feds were all over the Aviary and had broken into the lock-up as planned.

  He told Bilaboo that he was delighted, things were going to plan. That was when Bilaboo broke the news that the feds had found nothing: the drugs, guns, and machetes that had been stored in that lock-up had disappeared, and the lock-up was empty.

  Harisha immediately flew into a rage. ‘Those filthy skanks must have been tipped off. They’ve stolen my gear, again,’ he told Bilaboo. ‘They think they can make us look like cunts. They must be found and punished. Call a meeting,’ he barked. ‘As many soldiers at the new lock-up as we can track, and asap. No one does the SLR down.’ Then he added that Bilaboo should also pass the word that soldiers were to be careful if they were carrying weapons, as it was highly likely a stop and search patrol would be in place.

  Harisha kicked the chair hard as he clicked his phone shut. Not only were those skanks trying to make him look like a cunt, but Melek hadn’t phoned him yet to apologise for displeasing him earlier today. Normally, after he had beaten and raped her, she would be on the phone within the hour, crying and saying she was sorry, that she couldn’t live without him. Now, hours had gone by and he had heard nothing.

  By the time Harisha showered and got to the meeting, the soldiers had gathered. He walked to the front of the lock-up and stood on an old wooden box. He was a short man so he always stood on a box when addressing his gang, it made him feel more powerful.

  Most of the soldiers had their hoods up and were carrying. They had been expecting friction because of the death of Burak, and then Zana, so all were tooled up in case anything went down: shanks, bats, cleavers, hammers, and a few guns. The Chinese boys had machetes inside large windbreaker sweaters, and were ready to do serious damage with them, but it seemed none had, as yet, even seen any of the top Alley Cat girls.

  ‘You must be very careful what you are carrying,’ Harisha told them. ‘It’s flooded with feds out there. You must carry indiscreet tools. Nothing that can link us back to the missing gear from the Aviary lock-up’

  ‘Everyone is out an about looking for them Alley Cat skanks, an’ we’re heavily tooled, innit?’ Odd, a Chinese boy, told him.

  ‘Just be careful,’ Harisha warned them. ‘Anyone got anything to report on bout Zana or Burak? he asked.

  ‘I heard Melek took photos of Zana when she was beat before,’ Odd said. ‘She’s put them photos online too. There’s one on Zana’s Facebook, Wajdi shouting at her, and you’re in it, Harisha, you’re in the background, and it’s on fucking Facebook.’

  ‘How’s I on it?’

  ‘Zana must have been with Burak, hanging out an’ all, and Wajdi turned up. You was just hanging in background, but it was you,’ he said. ‘Feds’ll cop that one soon enough.’

  Harisha looked furious. ‘Melek’s been mouthing off,’ he told them. ‘I sorted her earlier, but I ain’t seen her since. When I see her, I’ll tell her to take the picture down, but still, I could just be there, couldn’t I? I didn’t have to be involved just cos I was hanging out in the back of a picture someone took. Ain’t no crime in that.’

  Bilaboo shook his head. ‘Melek ain’t got sense,’ he said.

  ‘I saw her earlier,’ Adder said.

  Harisha’s head turned in Adder’s direction, ears pricked. ‘How’s that? Where d’you see her?’

  ‘You sent me over to Aviary to watch the lock-up that the feds found and were breaking into. I saw her then. She’s on Aviary territory.’

  Harisha turned his angry eyes to Bilaboo, then he brought them back to Adder. ‘Doing what?’ he asked.

  Adder shrugged. ‘Dunno, she looked a bit roughed-up. She was at the back alley that leads to Sparrow block.’

  Again Harisha turned to Bilaboo. The penny was beginning to drop. ‘That’s where them Alley Cat skanks live.’ he said, his voice giving away his anger as he looked at his cousin Bilaboo.

  ‘Find her. I want her brought in here,’ Harisha shouted at them all.

  ‘What, you think she’s a turncoat?’ Bilaboo asked shaking his head in disbelief.

  Harisha raised his voice again. ‘We need to find her. She knows way too much. So get out there and get looking. Just take weapons you can conceal, but take your phones in case you need backup or something. She’ll fight you, if you try to get her.’ He raised his voice and gave the word, ‘Everyone get out there, and find that slut, and I want them Alley Cats.’ He turned to Bilaboo. ‘Phone Melek, tell her I want to see her, or arrange to meet her, and then bring her here, to me.’

  ‘S’pose she don’t wanna come?’ Adder asked. ‘I wouldn’t want to hurt her if she’s your girl, like.’

  ‘Not a problem for me, bro,’ Harisha assured him. ‘Drag her if you have to, just get her here, and call me when you find her. No matter what time it is.’ He looked at his lieutenants, his eyes flaring angrily. ‘If Melek has gone over to Alley Cats, or is fed-telling, then what happened to Zana Ghaziani will feel like a piece of sweetcake compared to what we’ll do to her. And get them skanky Alley Cats picked up. We’ll bring ’em all in here,’ he smiled, and then his eyes narrowed. ‘And then we’ll really hurt them.

  07:00 Thursday

  When Georgia had got home last night, she had lain in the bath for a full half an hour, with a notebook and her thoughts, and then she had slept for five hours without waking. She had needed the sleep. Today she and Stephanie would have to face the post-mortem of a burnt cadaver that, only a few days previously, had been the living, beautiful, and bright seventeen-year-old, Zana Ghaziani. Also on the mortuary table would be the butchered body of Burak Kaya, only eighteen himself.

  Two young lives wasted, and for what?

  Georgia was now standing next to Alison Grainger by the whiteboard at the front of the investigation room, heading the morning meeting. Banham had taken a place at one of the desks, about halfway back, where he sat listening, but never taking his eyes off Alison. Georgia was glad that Alison had all his attention, it kept it off her, but she also knew that everything she said and did was reported back to him.

  The usual keen trainee detective, Hank Peacock, had worked late into the night last evening, and had been in early this morning to finish off. Being a whizz kid with computers, he had spent the evening going through all the files on Zana’s laptop, her tweets and her Facebook page, as well as what remained of her mobile. With help from the boys in the TIU he had retrieved the SIM card from her melted phone, and had some of her texts and messages. They were printed out, along with the photos that been taken by Melek of Zana’s burn, and a photo on Facebook of Zana’s brother Wajdi, who looked as if he was threatening his sister. Zana had her hands held up defensively as Wajdi’s finger pointed ominously at her. The photos backed up the texts he’d recovered. Zana had texted Melek that Wajdi was threatening her. She had then forwarded that same text to Burak Kaya, adding kisses at the bo
ttom. There was a text to Zana from her brother, telling her that she was behaving like a whore, and he would knock that out of her, so she had better look out.

  As Hank Peacock passed the texts and the photos around the team, Georgia immediately noticed Harisha Celik in the back of the photo with Wajdi.

  ‘That’s Celik in the background,’ she said, holding the photo up so Banham could see. ‘Could it be the family paid his gang blood money?’ she suggested. ‘The family are strong suspects, but they have alibis,’ she carried on. ‘Perhaps they paid the gang to set her on fire. No one would suspect them if the connection was made between the SLR and Zana; her boyfriend was Harisha’s cousin. Suspicion would fall on a rival gang.’

  ‘That’s highly possible,’ Banham nodded. ‘Good thinking.’ He then thanked Hank Peacock for his hard work, and told him how much that effort had now helped the case. Hank beamed proudly, just like his namesake, Georgia thought, flicking a side glance at Stephanie Green who, she noticed, was busy eyeing up Banham.

  ‘Bring Wajdi Ghaziani in for further questioning,’ Banham said to Alison and Georgia.’

  ‘It’s the post-mortems, this morning,’ Georgia reminded him, ‘of Burak Kaya and Zana Ghaziani. Someone needs to be there.’

  ‘You go and bring in Wajdi,’ Banham told Alison. ‘Take Barry and Eric with you.’ He turned to Georgia. ‘Sergeant Green can attend the post-mortem with you,’ he said nonchalantly.

  Banham’s reputation at post-mortems when the cadaver was female went before him. Zana Ghaziani’s corpse was in a very bad condition, and Georgia was fully sympathetic that Banham wouldn’t be attending. Banham had told her of discovering his wife and baby murdered, and Georgia knew, only too well, how damaging emotional scars were. As she caught the look of amusement that passed between Barry Mitchell and Eric Peters, she glared angrily at them. ‘We’ll all meet back here later,’ she said. ‘Is there anything else?

  Hank Peacock had his hand in the air again. ‘There was a phone message, ma’am, from a Mrs Wilkins. It came in at 2 a.m. You might like to hear it.