Karl buckled up his seatbelt and left Thomas to fill in the missing words: the Shadow State.
“The thing is, Thomas,” Karl sounded like he was stalling, “Moretti isn’t stupid. He may have killed the caretaker before he called you and restaged it on the phone, or even played you a recording, to keep you on the line.”
Thomas kept the speed at just below the limit, heading west.
“If he is tracking my phone then we’re in shit because I can’t switch it off.”
Traffic in the early hours was as light as a feather, but the conversation was leaden.
“You can’t trust my father, Thomas. He’ll use you and then drop you, just like he did with my ma.”
Thomas noted how Karl had left himself out of the equation. Karl pointed to a parking space on the street and the car glided to a halt.
“Who’s taking us to the observation site today?”
“Wen — the DC. Poor sod, having to work the Sunday shift.”
Thomas said nothing as Karl tucked his Browning 9mm deeper into the bag.
DC Jun Wen had put on a suit and Thomas couldn’t figure out who he was trying to impress. He nodded to the DC, clocked the wedding ring with its Chinese characters, and stifled a smile as Wen covered his hand.
Wen said little on the journey over and Thomas expected nothing less. Surveillance Support Unit personnel were incomers, and fly-by-nights, the ever popular floaters. The surveillance tag team they replaced had left behind half a packet of digestives. Thomas reasoned that was probably as good as the day would get. Wen helped himself to a biscuit and left them to it.
There were no calls on the bugged line and only one vehicle to film in three hours of tedium. It was the same set-up as before, with the car passing once and returning after a few minutes. Whoever had replaced the caretaker kept longer hours and stayed out of sight.
Karl sat beside Thomas at the window, hands together, prayer fashion, nudging his lower lip. “We’ll have to talk to Edwards, we can’t stay here.”
“Try explaining that to Christine.”
Surveillance ops had gone badly before, as recently as their last assignment on Benefits Investigations. There, a claimant had impersonated her dead aunt — having wrapped her in plastic — so she could still get her pension and a carer’s allowance. They’d never quite lived that one down with the Benefits Team, or the police.
Towards the end of the shift DS Edwards got in touch.
“Hi, Karen!” Thomas gestured to Karl, who was staring at him from the window. “I thought you were off today?”
“Yeah, so did I, only it didn’t work out that way. I’m coming over to pick you two up. Another team will relieve you earlier than scheduled — special request.”
The two women accompanying Edwards did not look like they’d given up their Sunday voluntarily.
“Malone.” Thomas nodded, recognising her from the SSU’s London West office. A shame he couldn’t remember her first name as well. He passed her the remainder of the biscuits by way of an apology.
Edwards drove as though she’d been on a course, all mirrors and slick gear changes. Thomas had taken the front seat, just in case Karl’s bag spilled open and sparked another work-related incident.
“Where are we going?”
“The, er, mother of the child wants to meet you.”
Thomas looked back to Karl, who had opted for a nap. In forty-five minutes of driving, Edwards talked about everything except the thing that mattered. Two sisters, university, the joys of police training and the holiday she took in Madagascar after her fiancé dumped her. Thomas sat back and listened to the monologue. Maybe Karl had the right idea.
Karl didn’t stir until they passed a sign for Amersham, when he yawned like a seal barking at half speed.
“So you moved her then?” Thomas tried his luck.
“Uh huh.” Edwards was concentrating now, following unnamed lanes until, finally, the car emerged on the outskirts of a picturesque hamlet.
“Best if we leave our bags locked in the boot,” Karl chipped in, grinning to Thomas.
The house had character and the large flowerpots either side of the front door suggested a warm welcome within. That image faded the instant they got out of the car. Edwards made a call on her mobile and someone waved from an upstairs window.
Two police officers met them at the front door. Karl seemed unintimidated by the sight of the holstered Glocks, but Thomas held back.
Smiler number one introduced himself. “DS Baines.”
Edwards led the way in and the three of them squeezed past him. Two other officers introduced themselves and one swiftly returned upstairs. The other, on balance, would be the family liaison. She looked as pleased to see them as the others. The mother — the kiddie in her arms a dead giveaway — got misty-eyed, and only the liaison officer’s suggestion of coffee managed to calm her down.
Karl excused himself for a piss. Thomas reckoned he was planning to have a nose around the house, either that or he’d recognised the lone officer upstairs and wanted a private chat. Whatever the case, by the time Karl came downstairs the coffee was percolating and mother was playing, well, mother.
She started gushing again about their act of bravery while one of the coppers sneered from the sidelines. Thomas understood. Those poor bastards put their lives on the line every day and no one gave a shit about them most of the time, while he and Karl had happened to be in the right place purely by chance.
The woman glanced around her.
“Could I have a minute or two alone with . . ?”
Thomas knew a pro working the crowd when he saw one. “Thomas.” He thumbed towards his colleague. “And he’s Karl.”
The coppers shuffled off, promising they’d be back in five minutes, and to stay away from the windows. The mother flinched so Thomas tried smiling. Thanks guys: social skills r u. Edwards started to get up, paused, and then decided she probably wasn’t welcome either. Thomas didn’t try to change her mind. The atmosphere seemed to settle once the door had closed.
She put the baby in its pushchair and reached for her bag. Thanks to time spent with Miranda, Thomas recognised the Chanel logo, along with an approximate price tag.
“I’d like to express my gratitude.” She’d already started writing a cheque.
Thomas waved her away, but Karl had leaned in a little, the better to read her name upside down.
“That won’t be necessary,” he assured her.
“They wouldn’t tell me who you were or who you worked for, but I knew you weren’t with the police.”
He glanced at Karl, who shrugged his shoulders. Fine — his call, then.
“We’re a surveillance team attached to the police.”
She nodded. Her blank face suggested this was as much information as she needed to know.
“Your turn,” Karl sat back down. “Who are you and why did Arlo Moretti want to put pressure on you?”
Mrs Leibowicz — Thomas had spotted her name on the chequebook — looked to the door and laid a hand on the pushchair.
“My husband and I are directors of a pharmaceutical company. In the last year our business went through a few challenges and we needed to negotiate a series of loans. A condition was the transfer of some equity. However, ahead of the fourth loan our fortunes improved unexpectedly, so we cancelled it. But Mr Moretti had been to a lot of trouble to provide the funds and is now insisting on his full equity share. He gave us a deadline to sign it over.”
Thomas read between the lines. They’d sat down to dine with the devil and now he wanted to make sure they picked up the tab. Moretti had a winning lottery ticket and he wasn’t about to let it go.
“Where’s your husband now?”
“He’s in Slovakia, finalising some business.”
A tap on the kitchen door and Edwards appeared.
“I think we’ve outstayed our welcome, guys. My colleagues would like us to leave.”
Karl scraped back his chair against the flagsto
nes.
“I’ll meet you two at the door. I just need a quick word with — sorry, what was your name?”
“Barbara.”
Thomas followed Edwards out like a shadow, waiting behind her as she swapped pleasantries with the other cops. He wanted to ask them about the Glocks and how they found them compared with the heavier Sig Sauers. But nobody likes a smart-arse.
Karl caught up by the front door. He looked happier than a man who’d started work at six a.m. on a Sunday had a right to be. With his back to Edwards, Karl tapped his shirt pocket.
“All straight, Tommo.”
Which could only mean nothing of the kind.
Edwards was more relaxed on the journey back to London, springing for lunch at a roadside cafe.
She left them to it, heading for the ablutions. “Back in a mo.”
Karl dipped into his pocket and waved a cheque in front of Thomas’s face.
“Ta-dah!”
Two thousand pounds — for doing their day job.
“Karl! You can’t accept it.”
“Too bloody right I can. Half’s yours, anyway. And don’t give me that boy scout look. There are always extracurricular expenses. And besides,” he turned the cheque round and snapped it to emphasise the telephone number on the back, “Now we have a new lead for Moretti.”
Despite the windfall they let Edwards buy them lunch. She had come out well from Mrs Leibowicz’s temporary tragedy and was happy to oblige.
“All I’m saying, lads, is that it must be strange going from job to job every few months.” She took another bite of meat pie, ignoring the filling that oozed onto the paper plate. “You must feel like temps.”
Thomas felt Karl kick his foot under the table. Now seemed the perfect time to mention the scope of their assignment.
Edwards finished her pie and then wiped her mouth roughly with a napkin. “The DI is going to want to know why.”
Thomas kicked Karl back.
“Just tell him we have evidence connecting Arlo Moretti to Mrs Leibowicz.”
Edwards stared at the plastic tablecloth. “Leave it with me. I’ll talk to him when I get back to the station.”
Chapter 12
Thomas made a call to check Natalie Langton was home. She told him she’d been expecting him ever since Jack’s release date had been confirmed.
“Why don’t you come over? The kids are with my mum.”
He had to give her credit for consistency. “I’ll see you in an hour.” He turned to Karl. “We’re on. I still don’t like this.”
Karl opened his case and waved a finger over the surveillance equipment, as though he were picking a chocolate. “It’s for the best, Tommo. The phone, the living room and the kitchen. We’ll leave the bedroom unmolested — I’m not an unreasonable man, especially if he’s been locked up for six months.”
Natalie Langton was at the door before the second ring.
“Couldn’t you keep away, huh?” Her face fell about a foot when she saw Karl beside him, and then it gave way to fear. “What’s going on?”
“Relax, Natalie.” Karl took the lead. “We’re just here to modify the terms of your agreement.”
Natalie flushed an angry shade of red, laced up the top of her blouse and flounced back inside. “I should have known I couldn’t trust you.” She snatched at a glass and wrestled with the contents — it wasn’t a fair fight.
Karl helped himself to the remaining glass, sniffed it and then took a sip. “Your secrets are safe. Why don’t you and Thomas have a chat in the kitchen and I’ll call you when I’m done.” He raised a hand. “I’ll be as quick as I can, so play nicely.”
Natalie closed the kitchen door with a shove. “What the fuck is going on? Who’s the Irish?”
“Someone who’ll want to have a chat with Jack. Not about this — they have their own unfinished business.”
She scowled at him while he talked her round.
“When you collect Jack from prison, I’ll be your driver. We’ll even throw in a free limo.” He smiled. “I’ll claim it back on my expenses.”
Karl rapped on the door. “Everyone okay in there? Time to swap rooms.”
Thomas couldn’t tell if Natalie understood what was going on, but he wasn’t about to drop any hints. They moved past Karl and sat on the sofa. Natalie crossed her legs and hunched in, as if to take up as little space as possible. He felt bad for her — it couldn’t be easy having a scumbag for a husband. Still, she’d had her chance to leave while Jack was in prison, when he’d confronted her about her affair with Ray Daniels. For good or ill, she’d placed her bet. It always came down to choices and consequences.
She dabbed at her face. “I want to make a new start with Jack.”
“You still can.” Thomas heard the sound of a small power drill next door, followed by a portable vacuum cleaner. Nice one, Karl.
“So you wanna put my husband inside again?”
He didn’t have an answer for that — Karl’s department. And maybe she didn’t know where Jack got his drugs from, or that a fair proportion of his profits were funnelled to the cartel as one of the Shadow State’s many lines of business.
Karl burst in from the kitchen. “Sorted. Let’s get out of here. Charmed to make your acquaintance, Natalie.”
“Piss off.”
“Jack’s surely a lucky man.”
* * *
“Okay.” Karl went through his list for a second time. “I think that about covers everything.”
Thomas pulled a little at his tie. “What do I do if Jack checks for a wire?”
“And why would he do that? Fresh out of prison I think he’ll have other things on his mind.”
“Dunno. Just trying to cover all eventualities.”
“You concentrate on the driving, Tommo, and let me take care of everything else.”
Thomas picked up Natalie on schedule. She sat in the back, like a princess. If she was nervous she hid it well under her cocktail dress. He glanced back periodically through the rear mirror and she made a point of fixing her pleats.
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
He forced a laugh and listened to her laughing back. Yes he did — trouble. Theirs wasn’t the only car outside Wormwood Scrubs prison, but no one else had a top-of-the-range Mercedes waiting to convey them back to Civvy Street.
Jack was fourth out of the starting blocks. He looked massive, as though his six-month prison sentence had all been an extended visit to the gym. Natalie lowered her window and waved. Then she poured herself out of the car and stood by the door, posed like a mannequin. Jack took his time coming over, every inch the conqueror. Enjoy it while you can, you cocky bastard, Thomas thought — you’re about to be colonised.
“Nice motor, Nat, but you needn’t have gone to all this trouble.”
“It was Thomas’s idea.” She cast a thumb in his direction.
That was his cue to lower the window. Jack stalled, thinking it through as he stood by the car. Thomas waited it out. It wasn’t as though Jack had any better offers and besides, he was on show and he knew it.
“Come on, Jack, let’s get you home. Mum’s having the kids tonight.”
Thomas watched in his wing mirror as a breeze made merry with Natalie’s pleats. Jack didn’t need a second invitation. He sat by the open window, behind Thomas, breathing in the cool air.
“You looking for a job then, Thomas?”
Natalie let out a nervous laugh.
“Nah,” Thomas hit the accelerator. “Just wanted to see you home in style.”
“Much obliged.”
Thomas flicked on the radio and grinned to himself. I think you’ll find the word is ‘obligated’. He’d half-expected Karl to follow them, even though Thomas had reluctantly agreed to wear a wire. Like Karl had said, “We can’t fill the interior with electronics if it’s only a twenty-four hour hire.”
The sight of Jack’s wandering hands in the mirror reminded Thomas to raise the privacy barrier. Ten minutes into
their journey he heard a mobile go off and Jack started talking. Back in business. Doubtless Karl would wheedle the details out of Natalie some other time. Not a level of detail he needed to know about, and he was glad of that, it was one for the pros.
Jack rapped on the barrier and made a big show about stopping around Aldgate to buy some champagne, as if Natalie wouldn’t have thought of that. Thomas said nothing, dropped the screen and let the big man have his moment. Natalie was sweetness and light, even when Jack helped himself to the money from her purse. But her mood soured once Jack was out of the picture.
“I don’t know how you sleep at night.”
This from the wife of a coke dealer — among other things. He didn’t give her the satisfaction of a response. Jack couldn’t help being a prick again when they reached their house in Forest Gate, insisting they give Thomas a fifty, once again from Natalie’s purse. Truly a class act.
From what Karl had said, the Langtons would receive a visit the next morning, part of the gradual but inevitable process of turning Jack against his suppliers and associates, who — knowingly or otherwise — were inextricably linked to the Shadow State.
Karl met him at the rendezvous point, forty minutes after delivering Jack and Natalie to their castle.
“Would you believe they were shagging on the sofa five minutes after you left them?”
“Thank God there were no cameras.”
“Well,” Karl winked, “You say that, Tommo.”
Chapter 13
Caliban’s had been the obvious choice for a meeting with Heick. Miranda agreed to close the place for a ‘private event’. Thomas asked for Sheryl to be present too, so she could meet the man who’d been making her life such a misery. Eight p.m., dress casual, and no recording devices.
Karl seemed more guarded than usual. Hardly surprising, since he hadn’t seen his father in years. Thomas drove him there for six-thirty and they played several games of pool where neither of them had any interest in the outcome. Miranda kept score. It helped to fill the time.
Sheryl arrived around seven, watched a couple of games and then had a private word with Miranda.
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