by Sam Hepburn
I ran out of the hospital entrance, round the side of the main building and sat on some concrete steps going up to a fire door. The cool air stung the cut on my forehead and woke my brain up. I checked for anyone watching then I texted Nina, telling her to call me as soon as she could. I sat there for nearly twenty minutes, budging up every now and then to make room for patients in hospital gowns sneaking out for a fag.
Finally my phone beeped.
‘Hey, Nina. Any news?’
‘I am not sure. Vulture’s people came early this morning. Then old man I have not seen before went up to office. He was English. He had list of people he called fences. What does this mean?’
‘They buy stolen stuff then sell it.’ Mum’s obsession with cop shows was coming in useful.
‘Yes, that makes sense. Old man said these are fences who have big knowledge of jewels.’ My brain started to fizz. ‘But list was very long, many names, many addresses, some not in London. Viktor got angry. He said there are too many. He was swearing and shouting.’
‘You’re sure this list was to do with finding Yuri?’
‘Everything Viktor does in these days is to find Yuri. The Vulture has put money up to one million pounds. But only if he brings Yuri in by tomorrow.’
‘A millon? Why the deadline?’
‘Viktor does not know. But you think maybe Yuri has jewels he tried to sell?’
Pictures of the glittering emeralds in Yuri’s Oxo tin slid through my head. Glancing round I moved away from a couple of newly arrived smokers.
‘Joe? Joe, are you there?’ Nina hissed.
‘Yeah, I’m here. And yeah, Yuri does have some jewels. Some famous emeralds.’
‘What do you mean famous?’
‘They’re very old and worth a mint. Greville Clairmont had them with him on the day of the murder. There was stuff about them in the papers.’
I could sense her turning this over. ‘How did Yuri get these emeralds?’
‘I . . . I think he must have found them at Elysium,’ I said, trying to ignore all the darker possibilities still hovering at the back of my brain. I walked up and down, kicking an empty fag packet around, trying to clear enough space in my head to connect the pieces. ‘OK. So it looks like Yuri might have tried to sell some of the emeralds and someone recognised they were Clairmont’s.’
‘Yes. I think this is right.’
‘Then that someone started spreading rumours round the black market. And the rumours reached the Vulture.’
‘Why would Vulture think it was Yuri who tried to sell these emeralds?’
The dark possibilities started swirling around again. ‘Who knows?’ I said.
‘Did Yuri have only emeralds?’ Nina said.
‘He was the one who sent me the tie-clip. He had some diamond cufflinks that matched it.’
‘He sent you tie-clip? By postman?’
‘Yeah.’
Where from?’
‘Catford.’
‘Cat-ford.’ She said the name very slowly, drawing out the sounds. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive. It’s in South London. Me and Bailey checked the postmark.’ I gripped the phone hard. ‘Why? What about it?’
‘I think maybe I saw this Catford on Viktor’s list.’
It was like catching sight of a tiny flare in a pitch-black tunnel.
‘Did you see the whole address?’
‘No.’
‘A name?’
‘No. I brought in tea. List was on desk. I saw it for maybe ten seconds.’
‘Can you sneak another look at it?’
‘No, Viktor and Bogdan went out and took it with them.’
‘To Catford?’
‘I do not think so. It was not at top of list.’
Yuri having a tin of priceless emeralds and sending post from Catford, and some well-known jewel fence living there might just be a coincidence. But it was the only lead we’d got. ‘I’ll go there first thing tomorrow,’ I said.
‘Without name or address? Where will you start?’
‘I don’t know.’ I started pacing again. ‘From what I’ve seen in cop shows, fences sometimes run second-hand shops or pawn-brokers as a cover. So I’ll go round all the likely looking places and see if Yuri’s been in. Someone might know something.’
‘This is what they call long shot?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Does Catford have station?’
‘S’pose.’
‘I am helping my father tomorrow. I will tell him I am ill and I will meet you at Catford station at eleven o’clock.’
She didn’t say what she’d be helping her father do and I didn’t ask.
‘Oh, and Joe there is something else.’
‘What?’
‘Vulture. She is woman.’
It was like she’d exploded a bomb in my head. Every theory, every clue, every bit of certainty I’d built up was cracking and crumbling.
‘No. No, you’re wrong. Me and Bailey worked it out. It’s got to be Greville Clairmont, ’specially if he knows about the emeralds.’
‘Viktor was very shocked about it, too. I am telling you. She is definitely woman.’
‘Who says?’
‘When Vulture’s people came this morning. I brought them breakfast. I make sure I forget things, I keep coming back and I hear them talking – I must go now.’
I leant against the wall and beat the bricks till my fists were raw.
Bailey picked up on the first ring. ‘Where are you? I’ve been trying to get you for hours,’ he said.
‘At the hospital. They got the Professor.’
He didn’t need to ask who they were, just drew in a wheezy breath and said, ‘Is he gonna be all right?’
‘Dunno. They’re still operating.’
‘Did you get the files?’
‘Nope. The curator sent a note saying they didn’t exist. It’s a lie. I know it is. The Vulture’s people either paid him or threatened him to say it.’
‘This is bad, Joe.’
‘Yeah, well, I’ve got some more bad news. The Vulture’s a woman.’
There was a long silence then all he said was, ‘Interesting.’
‘It’s not interesting. It’s a total disaster. It blows the whole KGB connection and everything else we’ve come up with. Now we’ve got nothing.’
‘Maybe. Maybe not.’
That’s the difference between me and Bailey, no one could ever accuse him of overreacting.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve been going through your nan’s scrapbook, picking out everyone who visited Elysium, and seeing what happened to them over the next few years.’
‘So.’
‘Out of forty names I’ve checked so far I’ve a found a German scientist who got done for spying for the Russians ten years later, a guy who got forced out of the navy because some weapons he was testing ended up in Moscow, and this business man, Ron Chapman, who’d always made a big thing about being an all American boy till it turned out he was Feliks Glazkov from some village in Siberia. So even if Clairmont wasn’t running a Soviet spy ring from Elysium, it looks like somebody was. And I think Ivo Lincoln found out who.’
‘So why’d he go burning over to North London to tell Mum about it?’
‘Search me. Maybe it was your nan.’
Even I laughed then. ‘Yeah, well keep the theories coming. You might come up with something sensible.’ I checked the time. ‘Call you later. The Professor’s coming out of surgery any minute.’
I was glad I was there when the surgeon came to find Bitsy but he talked that weird doctor-speak that could mean anything. He said the operation had gone ‘as well as could be expected’ but the Professor was still ‘critical’. As far as I could see it just meant he wasn’t dead. At least that was an improvement on the last conversation I’d had with a hospital doctor.
I spent the night in a hard plastic chair in the hospital corridor, dozing off every few minutes then waking in terror. At six Bits
y took me down to the canteen where we pretended to eat eggs and toast, and she gave me the money to get home. I felt bad taking it but she insisted. I picked Oz up from St Saviour’s in a spaced-out daze of exhaustion. It was a different porter on duty. I can’t say I remember his name or his face, only that he’d given Oz some left over toad in the hole for his breakfast, which was pretty decent of him. But by then the only thing I could focus on was the tiny flicker of hope that I might pick up Yuri’s trail in Catford.
As soon as I got on the train I called Bailey and told him the plan. He approved.
‘I’ll text you a list of pawn brokers and second-hand shops,’ he said. Then he went quiet for a minute. ‘Or you know what? I could bring them over, meet you there.’
‘No way.’
‘I’m good at detective work. You’ll miss something.’
‘You’re sick, remember? Jackson will do his nut if you leave the flat.’
‘He won’t even know. Danielle’s out all day and I’ll be back by the time Jackson gets home.’
‘S’posing something happens? I can’t risk it.’
‘I’m loads better today. I’ll be fine.’
‘You won’t. You know you won’t.’
‘I’m going mad cooped up in here!’
‘I said, no way!’ I was shouting and he was shouting back.
‘You can’t tell me what to do!’
‘Don’t be an idiot. You’ll get in the way!’
He started coughing, just a few croaky breaths at first then it got worse.
‘I didn’t mean it like that. Bailey? Are you OK? What’s happening?’
I heard the squirt and suck of his inhaler.
‘Shall I call Danielle?’
‘I don’t need a babysitter. I don’t need anyone. Just butt out.’
He rang off. I’d never have shouted at him if I hadn’t been so tired. I wanted to call straight back but I knew he wouldn’t pick up till he’d cooled off.
I scrutinised every face in the carriage, saving them to memory in case they were following me, then I snatched an uneasy hour of sleep. As soon as I woke up I texted Bailey. After a twenty-minute silence I texted him again and started picturing allsorts, none of it good. He’d had a relapse, the Vulture had got him. I tried calling. Got his voicemail. The panic went stratospheric when Jackson’s name flashed up on the screen.
‘What’s happened? Is Bailey OK?’
‘This ain’t about Bailey.’ The way he said it froze my insides.
‘I’m sorry about nicking your phone, Jackson, I’ll put it back.’
‘This ain’t about no phone. This is about Viktor Kozek. He just called me asking if I knew where you were and if you’d found Yuri. So I did some checking with Bailey and I made him tell me exactly what’s been going on.’
All I managed was a couple of strangled gulps that got drowned by his stream of fury. Jackson’s anger usually came out cold and sneery. Not this time. He was yelling like he’d totally lost it, sputtering and breathing funny. If I hadn’t known better I’d have thought he was scared.
‘I told you. You ain’t up to the task of dealing with Viktor Kozek. He’s into stuff I don’t want nothing to do with, but your sharp little schemes are gonna bring those crazy Ukes down on all our heads. Forget about Yuri, forget about Catford and keep right outta London! You hear me?’
The phone went dead, like he’d snapped a lifeline.
I felt bad he was angry but at least if Viktor’s thugs turned up at the flat, Jackson would be looking out for Bailey. No way was I stopping the search for Yuri, though. Not now I’d come this far.
CHAPTER 17
At Catford station I did a careful check of all the passengers crowding the platform. None of the mums with screaming toddlers, grey-faced office workers or old women chewing toffees looked like they were freelancing for any Ukrainian crime bosses and no one from my carriage even left the train. So all in all, by the time Oz spotted Nina skulking behind the ticket office with her scarf pulled up and her hoodie pulled low, I’d got the queasy, hunted feeling in my stomach just about under control.
As Oz tore over to meet her, I stopped to check a text from Bailey: ‘Leave Catford now!’
Yeah, right. Bailey wasn’t a quitter. Jackson must have been standing over him, forcing him to send it. I didn’t want to think about Jackson or what he was going to do to me for disobeying him. I shoved the phone back in my jeans.
‘Hey, Nina. Do you want to get a drink or anything before we start?’ I said.
‘No. I need to know. Is this Yuri?’
She handed me a printout of what looked like an ID card, signed, stamped and printed in Russian. It was hard to tell if the photo was in colour because the man’s staring face, his dirty uniform, the board he was holding up with a number scrawled across it and the metal bars behind him were all the same dingy shade of grey. But it was Yuri all right.
‘Where’d you get it?’
‘It is his prison identity card. Vulture emailed it to Viktor. I printed copy when I cleaned office.’
I didn’t know what to say to that. ‘Cheers’ doesn’t seem to cut it when someone’s just risked their neck to help you.
Two kids walk into a shop and ask if any dodgy-looking Ukrainians have been in there trying to flog a load of knocked-off jewellery. It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. Only for some reason nobody in Catford wanted to hear the punch line. You didn’t need a whole lot of brain cells to see that me and Nina weren’t anything to do with the law but that didn’t stop us getting some pretty imaginative suggestions about what we could do with our picture of Yuri and our description of the Clairmont Emeralds.
I was going off Catford big time. Not that I’d been that enthusiastic about it to start with. Apart from some fat show-off cruising past in an oversized Jeep, everyone looked skint and fed up, and the only places doing any business were the bookies and the McDonald’s. The constant buzz of my phone was annoying me, too. If Jackson thought he could get Bailey to change my mind he was wrong.
We’d been traipsing around in the drizzling rain for at least an hour, trying our luck in three jewellers’, two pawnshops and a couple of ‘cash-for-gold’ outlets when Nina stopped on the corner of a narrow side road and called me over.
‘What about that place?’
It was a seedy little junk shop that called itself Fat Marty’s Second-Hand Emporium. We went over to take a look. The window was crammed with heavy furniture, chipped ornaments, stained lampshades and a few bits of jewellery laid out on a table. It was mostly what Mum would have called ‘old tat’, except for a pear-shaped gemstone on a gold chain that was managing to sparkle even in the gloom. I watched Nina’s reflection, surprised when she lost that hard-edged look and started touching her throat and tipping her head from side to side like she was imagining the necklace on. She flushed when she caught me watching her. She looked away. Her skinny shoulders stiffened.
‘What’s up?’ I scanned the passers-by, worried she’d caught someone tailing us.
She pointed to the street sign. ‘Skardu Close. I think maybe I saw something like that name on Viktor’s list. It looked strange, not like English.’
A spike of adrenalin sharpened my voice. ‘You got the tie-clip on you?’
‘Yes.’
I glanced back at the junk shop. ‘OK. We’ll try something different this time. ‘First we’ll say we want to sell the clip, then once we’ve got him talking we’ll drop Yuri into the conversation and say he told us to go there.’
She nodded, slipped her hand in her boot, unclipped the tie-clip from the side of her sock and walked inside. My phone rang. It was Bailey again. Jackson must really be piling on the pressure. I shoved it back in my jeans, put Oz on the lead and dragged him in after her. We had to weave our way through mountains of junk before we got to a man in a ratty armchair with a fag in one hand and the paper in the other. If this was Marty he was fat all right. His grubby brown shirt was the size of a tent and the buttons looke
d like they were about to burst. He glanced up.
‘What do you want?’
‘To sell something,’ Nina said.
‘Oh yeah?’
She held out the tie-clip. He looked from her to me, put down his fag and paper and, with a surprisingly delicate snap of his nicotine-stained fingers, took it from her. Then he screwed a little lens thing into his eye socket, adjusted the lamp beside him and started inspecting the tie-clip from every angle. After a second or two he craned forward, pursing his lips and breathing through his nose, the way people do when they’re concentrating hard. He took out the lens, looked up at Nina and said, ‘Where’d you get this?’
‘That does not matter.’
His lip curled. ‘I’ll give you fifty quid.’
‘No. That is very bad price. It is real gold and real diamond.’
‘That’s as maybe but there’s not much call for this kind of thing, ’specially when the seller’s being cagey about where they got it. But I’ll do you a favour. I’ll make it seventy-five.’
‘It’s worth loads more than that,’ I said, ‘and we’ve got a friend who said he sold some jewellery here and that you gave him a good price no questions asked.’
‘Did he now?’ His eyes narrowed so much they nearly disappeared into his flabby face.
‘Yes and we kind of lost touch with him and we’re trying to track him down. Maybe you remember him,’ I held out Yuri’s prison ID. ‘He looks a bit older than this now.’
He glanced at the photo and grinned. ‘Doing time can do that to you. ’Specially if you’re banged up in one of them foreign jails.’
‘So, you remember him coming in?’ I said.
He picked up his fag and tapped a worm of ash on to the floor. ‘I couldn’t say. It’s my brother Robbie you’d want to ask. He usually deals with the jewellery side of things. I tell you what, leave this tie-clip with me and as soon he gets back I’ll get him to have a look at it and see what he can do price-wise.’
‘No thanks,’ I said quickly. ‘We’ll take it with us. How long will he be?’
‘’Bout an hour.’
