The Secret Fear

by Solomon Carter

  Hogarth scanned the emails on his phone as Palmer watched the big window across the street. It was past lunchtime and the shop was quiet, but the staff inside were still active. It was the quietest Hogarth had seen it. He glanced up to see Miray and Izmir Yuksel chatting at close quarters behind the counter. It looked like an intense discussion and ended when Miray touched his face. Izmir nodded his head and held her hand. It looked like she was appealing to him about something.

  “Those two are playing a very dangerous game,” said Hogarth.

  Palmer glanced at Hogarth’s phone. “So... what did you get from your friend Liv?” said Palmer.

  Hogarth sighed. “Here. You can read it yourself. These are the internal comms the brass sends out to people like Melford. DCIs, chief constables, all the senior police management. All the big boys get these. Remember when Melford said he’d heard about some new threat against local businesses, he said he’d got that information from these emails.” He handed Palmer his phone before turning to look at Miray and Izmir talking behind the shop window. Palmer watched Izmir nod again, then saw him put his mobile phone to his ear, then turned her attention to the email on Hogarth’s phone. She finished scanning the police bulletin and looked up with a frown. In the shop, Izmir had finished his call and was talking to Miray again.

  “Izmir’s just called someone, Sue. Let’s hope it was comrade Ahsen.,” said Hogarth. “If so, we might have a green light on our plan to reel them in.”

  Palmer nodded. “Guv, there’s nothing in these emails about any threat to local businesses. Or any business at all.”

  “No there isn’t, is there?” said Hogarth, his eyes gleaming.

  “What then? You think Melford made it up? That he’s got us acting on false information.”

  “Now did I ever say that, Sue?”

  “No. Because you knew you didn’t have to. But you still might be wrong. He could have got his information from another batch of emails, a special circular, or a private email...”

  “Yep. I know the drill. And you’re heading in the right direction. But take it a step further. That Thorpe Bay shopkeeper knew Melford. So did the car salesman. I know from the way they spoke to him, how they addressed him. Then I’ve noticed Melford hiding notes from me every time I walk into his office. It was schoolboy stuff. Covering his secret notes with his hands. But it all starts to add up. Factor in his twitchy behaviour and something is definitely going on. And I don’t think it can be good.”

  “What do you think is going on with him?”

  Hogarth shook his head. “It’s personal, that’s for sure. I know I’m not exactly the model professional when it comes to keeping work and private life apart, so I’m prepared to give the Long Man benefit of the doubt. But to be honest, he’s had a ton of that already.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Hogarth shook his head. “I don’t know yet, so don’t start fretting. Let’s just get the Sen murder in the bag before we take on anything else.”

  They watched Yusuf Yuksel appear from his office. He was dressed in a black suit and white shirt, fixing his cufflinks. Izmir and Miray parted quickly. The old man failed to notice how close they’d been and he was already talking at them. Izmir approached the old man looking tense as he spoke, and the old man frowned.

  “Hold up,” said Hogarth. “What’s this?”

  They watched as the old man and the son disappeared behind the counter and shut the side-room door behind them. It looked like a heated meeting was about to take place.

  “I don’t like that,” said Palmer. “I don’t like that at all.”

  “It can’t be that. Izmir must know what would happen if he told his old man about his dealings with Ahsen.”

  But the door stayed closed for a full five minutes. They watched Miray as she stared at the door. The emotional reactions on her face were enlightening. “From the look on her face, father and son must be having a blazing row...”

  Palmer stayed silent and watched on with trepidation. When the old man came out of the office, he was red faced and fuming. Izmir followed, pale and apologetic. Hogarth saw the old man had put on a black tie. The man was still shouting at Izmir

  “Look out. Old Man Yuksel’s gone the full Don Corleone. What is he playing at?” Then Hogarth noticed Izmir was dressed smartly too.

  “Guv, I don’t like this... what if he’s told the old man about Ahsen?”

  “You don’t know that. Why would he? Izmir would likely get punished too,” said Hogarth. “Hold on a sec.” Hogarth looked again at the Yuksel men. “They’re both dressed up for something. Hang on. What time is it?” Hogarth glanced at his dashboard clock and shook his head. “No. That can’t be right.” Palmer was too focused to listen to Hogarth’s mumbling.

  They watched as Yuksel pointed at Izmir and barked again before he disappeared into the office. Miray started to talk rapidly to Izmir who nodded and pulled a black tie from his pocket. He looked upset, Miray was comforting him, and yet apparently lecturing him too.

  “On no. You know what happens today?! But they can’t be going there—” said Palmer.

  “I almost forgot about it. That’s exactly where they’re going – to Baba Sen’s little send off. These bloody Yuksels have got no shame at all...”

  They watched as Yuksel emerged from the office door dressed smartly in black. This time they saw Devirim Atacan emerge at his shoulder. Devirim was wearing black too. He looked sharp and dangerous.

  “Oh no...” said Palmer. Hogarth started the engine.

  “Damn it, Sue. I think you might be right. Izmir’s panicked and told Daddy who’s his alibi. That spineless bucket of... Call Simmons. Tell him to get his backside to Hamlet Court Road now. If Miray is right, Ahsen Sen has just been dumped right in it. That service is going to start in less than half an hour. We’d best get some others on standby.”

  Palmer called Simmons’ mobile. Simmons answered after a couple of rings and he started talking first.

  “DS Palmer! I was just about to call you. Good news. We’ve just taken a call from Izmir Yuksel. He says our unknown contact will come forward to support his alibi later on today. I bet you’ll never guess who it is...”

  “Ahsen Sen,” said Palmer.

  “Oh,” said Simmons, crestfallen. “But if Ahsen Sen confirms it I suppose that means we’ll have to rethink the whole case.”

  “I wouldn’t say that just yet, Simmons,” said Palmer. “Listen, we’re going to need you down at Hamlet Court Road asap. And make sure you bring some backup.”

  “Shall I bring Kaplan?” said Simmons.

  “I said backup, Simmons, not someone to hold your hand!” Palmer ended the call.

  “When you’re grumpy, Sue, you start to sound just like me.”

  Only the grin on Hogarth’s face stopped Palmer from swearing.

  Hogarth pulled out onto West Road. As they raced away past Yuksel’s Cash and Carry, Palmer watched Izmir and Yusuf Yuksel walk slowly to the door. Both men were dressed in black. But it was yet to be seen how many deaths would be mourned that day.

  Twenty-four

  Authentic Kebab was still dead silent, its windows still screened off while nearby Fauntleroy’s had never been so busy. On one side of the pub’s entrance stood an orderly line of well-wishers stretching all the way to the Wimpy Bar. On the other side stood a pack of noisy scruffs. Some of these clutched bunches of flowers while others held tins of super-strength booze, swigging between their words. Those queuing were Turkish, Indian, and Chinese interspersed with a few British whites. Those in the melee were almost all whites, and most were as skinny as scarecrows. Hogarth looked and shook his head.

  “What the hell was Orcun Sen thinking, hosting a bloody memorial service for a motley crew like that – and in Fauntleroy’s too? It’ll end in tears,” said Hogarth. He craned his head at the crowd as he pulled into a parking space a hundred yards beyond the pub and tucked out of immediate sight.

  “Orcun’s grieving, guv. And he
didn’t know when his father’s body would be released. He needed to do something. I just wish the Yuksels would leave them alone.”

  “If Izmir dropped his bombshell about Ahsen they’d be coming here anyway. You know why.”

  Palmer looked pale and anxious. She gazed over Hogarth’s shoulder, looking at the queues and at the passing cars.

  “And look, Sue, there’s our old chums, Roly and Nev – they’ve probably turned up for any leftover chicken.”

  Hogarth pointed to the two taller men among the huddle. Both wore long black padded coats. Their Bear Grylls all-weather gear for begging.

  “According to Ahsen, I think those two might have known the man pretty well.”

  “As a free lunch,” said Hogarth.

  The pub’s wooden doors were opened by Orcun Sen. He was dressed in a smart black shirt and black tie. Hogarth thought it looked as if he was going to play the vicar. He was accompanied by two women, middle-aged, broad-hipped and Turkish looking.

  “Must be extended family or something,” said Hogarth. “But where’s Ahsen?”

  They waited a minute and scanned the crowds. Hogarth trying to peer through the pub windows, straining his eyes.

  “I can’t see him,” said Hogarth.

  “That could be a big problem...”

  Palmer felt her dam of anxiety beginning to crack apart. Thankfully Ahsen appeared in the door beside his father, purse-lipped and quiet. His hair was tightly tied back and he was dressed in black casuals. Palmer’s panic died down, but not by much.

  “Watch out. Here come the Yuksels,” said Hogarth. A black Mercedes glided down the street, with old man Yuksel at the wheel. The man found a space on the other side of the street a little further down and took his time to park up.

  “So where’s Devirim Atacan?” said Palmer.

  “Good point...” said Hogarth, sounding concerned. He scanned the street and peered through the Merc’s dark windows.

  “Where is he?” said Palmer, chewing her lip. She looked around the street, but the man was nowhere in sight.

  “Hang on – look down there!” Hogarth craned his neck to look down the residential side street that ran alongside the pub – Annerley Road. A long way down Annerley, Hogarth could see two men, one dressed in casual clothes, one in a smart black suit.

  “That’s Devirim Atacan. And I’ll bet you any money that other bloke is the one who pulled the gun in Basildon. Bloody hell. Something’s going to happen. We need be out there now!”

  They waited in the car as old man Yuksel and his son walked down the street. The old man was dressed in black all the way down to his leather gloves. It was pure power-dressing, Mafyasi style. Izmir walked with his father, but there was a cool distance between them as if neither man could stand to be close to the other. They watched as Devirim Atacan arrived on foot near the corner of Annerley Road, drawing up at the same time as the Yuksels. Devirim’s backup man lingered in the distance, watching them. Atacan and old Yuksel laughed and patted one another on the arm with chummy camaraderie, but Hogarth recognised the nervous tension between them. He felt it in the air. Compared to Devirim, Izmir Yuksel was now the outsider. Izmir stood aside, head down, looking around. The old man knew, thought Hogarth. Izmir had been an utter coward and now he was an outcast too.

  “Look. The old man knows for sure. Looks like Izmir was more afraid of his father’s anger than he was afraid of us.”

  “But if Ahsen gets hurt, it won’t all be on him.”

  “Don’t do that,” said Hogarth, shaking his head. “We can go now. Just stay well back. And we don’t set foot in that pub until we see what they’re planning. We can’t be seen...”

  They opened the doors of Hogarth’s car and stepped outside onto the street. Palmer looked around and felt the danger in the air. Something was going to happen. It was a matter of if, not when. They walked at a slow pace, dawdling by the window of the grand old department store across the street. The window displays provided a convenient excuse for keeping their backs turned, and using the reflections in the glass, they were still able see the people trickling into bar across the street. Hogarth stiffened as he saw Yusuf Yuksel, Izmir, and Devirim Atacan getting closer to the pub door. The young man, Ahsen, was clearly visible within, but it was Orcun Sen who greeted them. Hogarth couldn’t stand it. He had to take a look. He turned around to take a look and found Palmer was already watching. Orcun Sen stiffened in the doorway as Yuksel made his approach. Hogarth’s breathing stopped, held fast in his lungs. The old man nodded at Orcun and said a few quiet words in Turkish. Orcun simply stared at him, grim and sombre. He looked as tense as Hogarth had ever seen him. It seemed as if Orcun might lash out and hit him at any second, but Yuksel stood still and quiet, and a moment later Orcun stepped aside to let them in. It seemed to take a great deal of effort. They watched Izmir snake deeper into the crowd of people inside.

  “There,” said Palmer. “Did you see that?”

  “What?” said Hogarth.

  “Izmir just walked past Ahsen – and he said something to him.”

  “About using his alibi? But he must have done that already,” said Hogarth.

  “Could be something else then,” said Palmer. “A warning, perhaps.”

  Hogarth saw Yuksel and Devirim Atacan inside the pub at the back of the crowd, lingering near the double doors of the entrance. The two older women had replaced Orcun Sen at the door. The pub looked about full.

  “We best get in there before they close the doors,” said Palmer. “It’s heaving – so busy anything could happen in there.”

  Hogarth watched the old man talking to Devirim Atacan through the glass. Both of them were looking towards Izmir and Ahsen.

  “It’s about to go off,” said Hogarth. “Just stay out of sight if you can.”

  They crossed the street just as the two old Turkish women moved to close the doors. As the doors started to shut, Hogarth pressed his hand to the porthole window. A woman with a face as wrinkled as a sun-dried raisin opened the door and looked him over. Her hair was grey and tied back in a bun. She didn’t seem convinced that he was welcome.

  “Friend of the family,” said Hogarth. “And a former customer.”

  The woman let them in and closed the doors behind them. The red-walled barroom was full to the brim, bodies nestled against bodies, suit jackets pressed against grubby parkers and torn anoraks. The smells of the street – alcohol and cheap food – mingled with perfume and expensive aftershave. Orcun and Ahsen Sen had taken up position beside the bar, assuming the role of host and assistant. In his black shirt, Orcun still looked like a preacher, but his face was grim, his eyes severe. Ahsen looked detached but nervy. His eyes roamed the faces in the bar and settled in Izmir’s direction more than once. Old Yuksel stood in the centre of the throng, calm and quiet. Izmir had shifted to the right, while Hogarth watched Devirim standing at the side left, arms folded, leaning against the wall like the entire thing was an awful waste of time.

  “Thank you all for coming,” announced Sen. His words were loud and slow. “I know how much Baba meant to some of you.” He spoke loudly, the pauses showing his emotion. “He was Baba. My father. And I know a lot of you called him Baba too. He loved that. He lived here in this country for twenty-five years, and he built Authentic Kebab from scratch – out of nothing but hard work. Baba’s hard work was the fuel of the business. Now, me and Ahsen will see if we can keep it running without him. It will be the biggest challenge of our lives. But my son and I must try – for Baba.”

  Orcun Sen swallowed and his eyes tracked over the crowd. He spotted Palmer and nodded at her. When his eyes passed over Yusuf Yuksel his expression hardened.

  “None of us know why Baba was targeted.” His voice was firm, his eyes steely. “Why he was killed. Those who knew him best will know what he believed in – how he tried to help others like us. Turkish families working hard to make a living. You here may have your own feelings why this happened. But you should know we will never rest unt
il the people who did this face the justice they deserve. Baba was a good man. Not always an easy man. But he believed those who did wrong should be punished. He was a man of faith. A devout man. His faith says let the punishment fit the crime. An eye for an eye, a nose for a nose, an ear for an ear, a tooth for a tooth. For the sake of my father, I hope it will be so...” His eyes lingered on Yusuf Yuksel. The old man nodded his head in agreement.

  “Too right,” said Roly Smundle. A few others cheered. Sen dipped his head.

  “We’ll all miss him,” said Orcun. “Thank you for coming. See there is a little food, a little drink. And all are welcome to make a donation in my father’s memory. The money will go to my father’s mosque. Please – take your time to pay your respects. I hope to see you again in happier times.”

  Sen and his son put some food platters on the counter and the first of the crowd came in a wave for sandwiches and handfuls of wraps. Some of the Turkish guests took prepared cash donations from their pockets and worked slowly to get towards the donation basket which was under Orcun’s supervision, although his attention was soon caught up in talking to the guests.

  “Hold up, what’s this?” said Hogarth. Palmer followed his eyes.

  They watched Yusuf Yuksel making his way through the crowd. He got within a couple of feet of the donation basket and tossed something into it. As soon as he was done, Yuksel made his way back into the crowd, notably faster than he’d approached. There was a rush of cool air and a sucking noise from the street as a door opened and closed. Hogarth looked round. Some people had already left. But that made sense. The street urchins could only grieve for so long. Hogarth scanned the crowd again and changed his mind. Izmir was missing.

  “Sue,” said Hogarth. He leaned close to Palmer’s ear. “I think Izmir just walked out.”

  “And I don’t think he’s the only one leaving,” said Palmer. Hogarth followed her gaze to see Ahsen walking to the back of the pub with an empty platter in his hand. He laid the platter on an empty table and made for the rear exit.