The Lost

by Roberta Kray

  Harry did as he told, waiting while Stagg quickly patted him down. When he was sure that he wasn’t carrying, Stagg stood back and grunted. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘You go first.’

  Slowly Harry preceded him out of the door. The chill night air slapped against his face; if nothing else it had the useful effect of waking him up. He climbed the eight stone steps and then limped round to the front where the white van was parked. It was dark but not too dark to see. There were streetlamps beyond the hedge and a thin lemon glow escaped from the windows of the house.

  ‘So what’s the catch?’ Stagg said.

  ‘There isn’t one,’ Harry said. ‘What you want is right here. It always has been. Al never intended to rip you off.’

  ‘Like hell he didn’t.’

  ‘So why isn’t he miles away by now? He’s had the time and more. What’s he doing cowering in some shabby London basement when he could be getting sunburn, peeling the skin off his nose and sipping cocktails in the Caribbean?’

  Ray Stagg gave a derisory snort. ‘Because he bottled it,’ he said. ‘Because he’s a bloody moron.’

  ‘No,’ Harry said. ‘He had an accident. He ran a guy over.’

  Stagg didn’t look convinced. He didn’t look too interested either. They were standing by the back doors to the van. Ray pushed the keys into his hand. ‘You open up.’

  While he fiddled with the lock, Harry considered his options. He wasn’t sure if Stagg was armed or not. Probably not. On a purely sartorial level he wouldn’t want to spoil the elegant line of his expensive silk suit and on a more practical one it was doubtful that he’d take the chance of being caught in possession of a firearm. Ray left that kind of responsibility to his mindless minions. He could possibly take him out but if Rizzer got even a hint that something was wrong he was liable to start shooting.

  Harry opened the doors and stood back. He watched as Stagg leaned over, grabbed one of the boxes and pulled it towards him. He removed a couple of vodka bottles and peered inside. Lifting out a bag, he stared at it and then quickly slashed it open with a penknife. He dipped a finger inside and licked it with his tongue. ‘Well, fuck me.’

  ‘It’s like I told you,’ Harry said.

  Stagg grinned. ‘I always suspected you might be an honest man.’ He delivered the statement as if it was an insult.

  ‘So what next?’

  ‘What do you think?’ Stagg said softly.

  Harry hoped he hadn’t misjudged the situation. For all his recent disappointments, he had no immediate desire to stop breathing. ‘If you kill me, you’re going to have to kill Al too … and somehow I don’t think your sister is going to be too happy about that.’

  ‘She’ll get over it.’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Harry glanced back towards the flat. ‘Al’s her husband. He’s also the father of her kids. You’re going to have to murder three people – and for what?’

  ‘Silence?’ Ray suggested coldly. ‘Money?’ For a second his expression was deadly serious but then his eyes suddenly brightened and his mouth widened into that familiar slimy grin. He laughed. ‘No need to shit yourself, Harry. I’m not going to knock anyone off – unless I have to.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘I’m sure we can come to a mutually agreeable arrangement.’

  ‘And what kind of an arrangement would that be?’

  ‘A simple one. I take the gear and you forget you ever saw it. You walk away and you keep your mouth shut.’

  ‘And why should I do that?’

  ‘To help out a friend of yours.’

  Harry frowned, feigning ignorance. ‘And who would that be?’

  ‘Ah, come on, we both know who we’re talking about. Mac’s up to his neck in it. That poor guy just never learns, does he? Show him a pack of cards and his brains float out the window. He owes me over eighty grand and the profits from that two-bit agency of his are hardly going to pay it off. So this is the deal – you stay quiet, I’ll wipe the debt, Mac keeps his business and you keep your lousy job.’

  Harry pretended to think about it. ‘And what about Agnes?’

  ‘What about her? She’s hardly going to go running to the cops. Have you ever seen her passport?’

  ‘And Al?’

  ‘It’s like you mentioned earlier – he’s family.’

  ‘And what about me?’

  Stagg stared at him for a good few seconds before he started to laugh again. ‘Oh, I get it,’ he said. ‘You want a little extra for your troubles.’

  ‘And if I do?’

  ‘Nothing wrong with that,’ Stagg said. ‘We all need to make a living. How much are we talking about – ten grand, twenty? I hope you’re not going to get too greedy.’

  Harry gazed up towards the sky. The clouds were low and grey. A few flakes of snow were starting to fall again. ‘Before we get into the finer detail, I think there’s something you should see.’

  ‘I’ve seen as much as I need to.’

  ‘Humour me,’ Harry said. He backed along the hedge to the entrance of the drive and gestured across the road. The silver Audi was parked directly opposite. And behind the car, Warren was standing with his elbows leaning on the roof. He had a phone against his ear. ‘You think I didn’t know you were tailing me? My partner only drove around the block a few times so you’d think I was alone. He’s got the cops on fast dial and he’s just waiting for the nod.’

  Stagg’s face grew tight. It didn’t take him long to come back with the anticipated retort. ‘And Rizzer’s waiting too.’

  ‘Which is why you should tell him to lay off unless you want to spend the next twenty years in the slammer.’

  Ray Stagg glared at him. ‘So how much do you want?’

  ‘It’s not about money.’

  ‘I need the gear back,’ Stagg insisted. His face had turned pale. ‘It doesn’t belong to me.’

  ‘Tell it to the judge,’ Harry said. ‘Only I think you’ll find there’s a bag of charlie in that van with your prints all over it.’

  Stagg stared down at his Gucci shoes for a moment. Then he raised his eyes and smiled. ‘Okay, so what if I offer you something that money can’t buy?’

  ‘And what would that be, exactly?’

  ‘No,’ Ray Stagg said. ‘You’re right. You’re not the kind of guy to make a deal – not even if it means nailing the bastard who killed two of your colleagues and crippled you forever.’

  Harry flinched. ‘What?’

  ‘You heard.’

  ‘You’re lying,’ Harry said.

  ‘I’ve got proof. I’ll show you – but we wipe those prints first.’

  ‘Forget it.’ Harry had been waiting years to get the goods on Ray Stagg. He wasn’t going to let him wriggle off the hook that easily.

  ‘Think about it,’ Stagg said. ‘They’re never going to make the charges stick. I’m not the one in possession of the gear – Al is. It’s his van not mine. So, yeah, I looked in one of the boxes to check that the vodka wasn’t damaged. What’s wrong with that? I found a curious bag inside, a bag that shouldn’t have been there, and I opened it. Imagine my shock when I discovered something that looked suspiciously like cocaine.’ He gave another of his sharp sarcastic laughs. ‘Any decent brief will have this whole misunderstanding sorted out in a matter of hours.’

  Harry shook his head. ‘Good effort, Stagg, but if you’re that confident, why even bother to try and make a deal?’

  He raised his shoulders in a leisurely shrug. ‘Because it would still be an inconvenience, a tedious waste of time. I have better things to do with my evenings than spend them down the local nick.’ He paused. ‘And then, of course, there’s the other small matter – those poor dead comrades of yours.’

  Harry bristled but remained silent.

  ‘Admit it,’ Stagg said. ‘Tell me there isn’t a little niggling doubt. Tell me that it hasn’t crossed your mind, even for a second, that I could just be speaking the truth. Are you really going to let this opportunity slip through your fingers?’

>   ‘Give me one good reason why I should believe you.’

  Stagg thought about it. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Haven’t you ever wondered why you never managed to turn up one damn thing on your somewhat over-frequent raids on Vista?’

  ‘Because someone was whispering in your ear.’

  ‘Spot on. I just hate bent coppers, don’t you?’ Stagg reached into his jacket pocket, slowly enough not to cause any unnecessary alarm, and took out a pack of Gitanes. He hit the pack lightly against the back of his left hand until a cigarette jumped free. He lifted the pack and pulled the cigarette out with his lips. Then he lit it, inhaled deeply, and exhaled a long slow stream of pungent smoke. ‘And have you ever considered that the very same person might also have been whispering in Jimmy Keppell’s ear?’

  ‘Keppell?’ Harry repeated.

  ‘Well, it was his factory you walked into,’ Stagg said smugly. ‘Or didn’t you realize that?’

  Harry hadn’t realized that.

  ‘And quite a lucrative one too – there’s a lot of money, allegedly, to be made from crack cocaine – until some low-life made an anonymous call. There’s no sense of loyalty today, is there?’ Stagg paused again, savouring the moment. He took another drag on his cigarette. ‘Fortunately for Keppell, he had a friend, a very good friend, who tipped him off and gave him the time he needed to plan a thoroughly unpleasant surprise for you all.’

  Harry studied him closely. His pulse was starting to race. Stagg couldn’t be trusted but what if he was telling the truth? He had a flashback to that dreadful bloody room, that room filled with dust and death and despair. A stew of anger was bubbling in his guts. ‘You’ve got a name?’

  Ray Stagg looked across the street at Warren. ‘Not before you tell your guy to put his phone down.’

  ‘And what about your guy?’

  The two of them locked eyes. It was an impasse that could not be resolved unless one of them gave way.

  ‘Why should you want to put Keppell in the frame?’ Harry said.

  Stagg pulled on his cigarette again. His eyes turned dark. ‘I grew up with Tommy Lake.’

  Harry studied him closely. Stagg was a sly one but he had a look, an edge to his voice, that made him wonder. It was the first time he had seen anything even approaching humanity in his face. He took a chance on his instincts and looked over at Warren. ‘Ten minutes,’ he called out. Warren nodded.

  Stagg nodded too.

  ‘Shouldn’t you call Rizzer?’ Harry said. ‘He might be getting worried.’

  ‘He won’t get worried until I tell him to.’

  ‘So let’s talk,’ Harry said.

  ‘In the van.’

  Harry shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’ He had no intention of passing beyond Warren’s field of vision. ‘We talk here or not at all.’

  ‘Okay,’ Stagg said. He reached back into his pocket and took out a tiny Dictaphone. ‘This is just a taster. I have the whole thing, with visuals, on a nice clear tape.’ He glanced up and down the street, then over his shoulder, before pressing the play button.

  A voice floated tinnily into the evening air. Harry recognized it as Stagg’s: Keppell’s always been trouble. And then another voice, a voice that was familiar but which he couldn’t quite place. I never trusted him. Not since that goddamn mess at the factory. He was only supposed to get out of there, that was the deal, not blow the whole bloody building to pieces.

  It came to Harry suddenly, turning his blood to ice. ‘Holt,’ he murmured. ‘Jesus Christ.’

  Stagg switched off the machine. ‘There’s more, a whole lot more, chapter and verse in fact. Your mate tends to chatter on when he’s had a few bevvies.’

  Harry felt his heart thumping, a sickening rage-filled beat that thrashed against his chest. Sweat prickled on his forehead. For a moment he could barely breathe and then, unable to contain the ferocity of his anger, his hands balled into two tight fists. If there had been a wall beside him he would have taken out his frustration on the brickwork.

  Stagg took a step back. ‘Yeah,’ he said softly. ‘The world’s full of traitors.’

  ‘Holt,’ Harry muttered again.

  ‘This is how I see it,’ Stagg said, speaking low and fast. ‘You let me take the gear now and I give it back to Keppell. That way I get him off my back. In a few days’ time I’ll give you the tape. I presume you know someone you can trust with it … or are they all on the take down that nick?’

  Harry snarled at him. ‘Don’t push it!’

  Stagg raised his hands. ‘Okay, okay.’

  Harry tried to concentrate, to figure out where to go next. His throat was dry and he had to force the words out. ‘Keppell won’t be happy when he finds out what you’ve done.’

  ‘No reason why he should find out,’ Stagg said, ‘not if we play this properly. I doubt the tape will be admissible in court. It’s just a lever, a way of getting Holt to spill his guts – and he will. He’ll give them dates, times, everything, the minute he thinks his own neck’s on the line. He’ll be more than willing to give evidence against Keppell.’

  ‘And what if he incriminates you too?’

  ‘He can try,’ Stagg said, ‘but he’ll be wasting his breath. There’s no proof I ever gave him a penny. Sure, we were friendly for a while; he used to come to the club and even dropped by my house for drinks occasionally, but when I discovered what he was really like …’ That smarmy grin appeared again. ‘I’m sure if you have a quiet word, they’ll be persuaded to see it from my point of view. Let’s face it, all I’m doing here is my civic duty – helping them catch a bent piece of filth and nail a cop-killer at the same time.’

  Harry took a series of long deep breaths. In his head, that name kept descending like a jackhammer: Holt, Holt, Holt.

  Stagg threw the cigarette butt down and ground it to a pulp with his heel. ‘So what do you say, Harry? If we work together, they could both be history by Christmas.’

  Harry knew what he was going to do, what he had to do. There was no other choice. He despised Ray Stagg but he loathed Holt and Keppell even more.

  ‘Whatever it takes,’ Harry said.

  ‘It’s a deal then,’ Stagg said. He put out his hand.

  Harry didn’t take it. He couldn’t. It would have been like shaking hands with the Devil.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  It was the day before Christmas Eve. The last week had been a long one and Harry had spent too much of it in small stuffy rooms with a series of stern-faced policemen. That he had once been a copper himself seemed to hold no sway with them. The questions had come thick and fast, an intensive interrogation that hadn’t stopped until they’d finally got Ray Stagg’s video in their hands.

  Still, there had been some consolations, the arrest of Jimmy Keppell being the most satisfying. The gangster hadn’t submitted without a fight which had added an extra charge of assault to the crime sheet. Holt was in custody too, doing exactly what Stagg had predicted he would: singing like a canary seemed the most suitable cliché. Even the drugs had been recovered although not in quite the quantity that might have been expected. Harry suspected that Ray had taken a more than generous commission for his trouble.

  He stared out through the windscreen. By now he should have been on his way to the coast, heading down to see his father, but instead he was with Jess hurtling along the motorway en route to Maidstone jail. He still wasn’t quite sure why.

  It was three days since Jess had called and asked if he’d be prepared to visit Paul Deacon. ‘He wants to see you.’

  ‘Why should he want to do that?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ she’d replied. ‘And you won’t have either unless you make the effort to find out.’

  ‘Do you think it’s about Ellen?’

  Jess had delivered one of her full-on sighs. ‘No, I imagine he wants to discuss the current deficiencies in Britain’s foreign policy.’

  ‘There’s no need to be sarcastic’

  ‘And there’s no need to be obtuse. Do you wa
nt to come along or not?’

  ‘Well, I’m kind of busy but …’

  So now he was driving through the Blackwall Tunnel, caught in that dim confined space part way between darkness and daylight. He was making an effort to concentrate, to keep well back from the car in front. Recent events kept running through his head. Valerie had been his first port of call after talking to Ray Stagg. He could still see her face turning as pale and grey as his own must have been. Although the news wasn’t anything she’d wanted to hear, she hadn’t been slow to respond. She had set the wheels in motion and those wheels were still turning.

  ‘I appreciate you coming to me first,’ she’d said.

  Whether that appreciation might ultimately extend to having a conversation about their own future remained to be seen. As things stood, it was kind of doubtful. How did he feel about that? He still wasn’t sure.

  Jess glanced at him. ‘You liked her, didn’t you?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Grace,’ she said. ‘Ellen.’

  Harry really didn’t want to go there. She still occupied too many of his thoughts. ‘I felt sorry for her.’

  Jess gave him a look. ‘You got too involved. Maybe I did too.’

  ‘Maybe you had better reason.’

  She shrugged and then tactfully changed the subject. ‘So what’s happening with Al?’

  ‘He’s out on bail. The guy he ran over was stinking drunk; it’s likely Al would still have hit him even if he had been paying attention. He might serve some prison time, or if he gets a smart lawyer – and I’m sure Stagg will oblige – he may escape with a fine.’

  ‘You don’t sound too happy about it.’

  ‘If he hadn’t done a runner, Tommy Lake and Troy Jeffries would still be alive.’

  Jess thought about it. ‘They’d still be alive if they hadn’t got involved in the first place. No one forced Tommo to stash the drugs and no one made Troy pick up the phone and call Jimmy Keppell.’

  Perhaps she had a point. ‘I guess,’ Harry said.

  ‘And Agnes?’

  ‘She’s back working at Vista.’

  Jess’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Tell me you’re kidding.’