by Penny Grubb
‘Listen, whatever the Thompsons have cooked up, I need to stay properly in touch with the office. None of this ducking under the radar, dropping out of sight stuff. And you need to keep me up to date on what’s happening here. If this is some ploy to get me out of the way, we need to know.’
‘Of course we’ll keep in touch, Annie. I’m going to need your input, but the timing of this Hull job’s just a coincidence. Don’t get paranoid.’
Annie’s gaze focused somewhere in the crowd now building between them and the bar. Her hand reached out to raise her glass to her lips. As she tipped the liquid into her mouth, she thought of the man on the station, buried in his paper, pretending not to see her, and about this unexpected job that would take her hundreds of miles away. Pieternel was right. It must be coincidence. How could the two things be linked? But her misgiving remained. Something didn’t add up.
CHAPTER 2
Monday, mid-morning and 200 miles away, the scene gave Annie a sharp contrast from the cityscape that usually surrounded her. She crawled her car along the bumpy track that twisted towards her rendezvous. After her rushed departure from London and the long drive through the morning traffic, the calm felt unnatural. London quiet was always accompanied by the background bustle of the city at some level.
She had reached Hull after a crack of dawn start and had been at the Thompsons’ office by 9 a.m. only to have to wait the best part of an hour before both sisters arrived in a flurry of speculation as they saw her pacing up and down by the door. By their own admission neither had expected her actually to show up. Barbara fished for details of the contract she’d signed. Annie stalled, knowing a row would ensue once Barbara found out how much they were paying her. By the time Annie had dragged their attention on to the job she was here to do, it was to learn that she had better hot-foot it out of the office if she were to make it to the meeting with the client.
‘It’s nothing you can’t handle,’ Pat tossed after her. ‘Drugs … kids … right up your street.’
And now she was here in the middle of nowhere. A battered Range Rover sat alone at the end of a track that had widened into an irregular surface criss-crossed with tyre marks. She pulled her car to a halt beside it, killed the engine and looked around. The dirt roadway along which she’d driven snaked back past a large, square stable block and on out of sight between fenced paddocks. Ahead lay a vast open expanse, a rickety sign at the corner labelling it a ‘Lorry Park’. To one side nestled a long one-storey building, functional rather than attractive, that tailed off into a derelict-looking annexe at the far end. No sign of life from the blank doors and misted windows. Ahead, a wide footpath meandered away over the crest of a gentle hill.
A tall, angular woman climbed out of the other vehicle and Annie went to meet her.
‘You must be Jean Greenhough.’
The woman stretched out her hand to shake Annie’s. ‘How do you do, Miss Thompson. Good of you to come.’
‘No, my name’s Annie Raymond. Pat Thompson brought me in to work on your case.’
The woman gave her an apologetic smile. ‘Yes, I understand … I didn’t mean … I know it can’t take priority. Had Miss Thompson made any initial enquiries? She said she would.’
‘Let’s start afresh,’ Annie said. ‘I want you to assume that I know nothing at all. How about telling me about this place, for starters?’
The woman looked taken aback, but Annie smiled reassuringly and listened as she explained that this was the back way in to one of Yorkshire’s busiest racecourses, in easy reach of Hull, York and Beverley. The racetrack wasn’t visible from this off-stage area but on race days it would be packed with horses, boxes, grooms and all their paraphernalia. Today it was a deserted wasteland.
‘This is where we’re having the camp,’ she ended.
Again Annie smiled and nodded, not wanting to admit to how totally clueless she was about what this woman wanted.
Since she and Pieternel had spoken on Friday night, she’d sought answers to this strange call from her Hull past and found none. Pieternel had signed a contract whose co-signatory was Vincent Sleeman. Annie had laughed outright at that.
‘If that’s Vince Sleeman’s signature, I’m a domestic goddess. He hates my guts. If he gets wind of any of this, he’ll have me out of there faster than you can blink.’
‘That’s what you’re to say if anyone quizzes you, you were hired by Sleeman. But apparently this Sleeman guy’s ill, really ill.’ After a pause, she’d added, ‘They paid for you in advance.’
‘I know.’ Annie remembered how their eyes had met briefly, Pieternel’s gaze searching her face the way hers had Pieternel’s. They both wanted to know what on earth it was in her that the Thompson sisters needed so badly.
And now she stood in the back of beyond, face to face with the client Pat had brought her halfway up the country to work for.
‘Tell me about this camp,’ Annie said to Jean Greenhough.
‘There’ll be thirty odd kids here next week. There’s always a bit of messing around. Someone gets hold of a few bottles of beer or something. They go mad on the last night, but we turn a blind eye if they don’t go overboard. They’re on the brink of adolescence. You have to cut them some slack.’
‘And what’s different this time?’
‘A young man approached me a few weeks ago, said there would be drugs at the camp. Class A drugs. That’s way beyond pushing boundaries. That’s well over the line.’
‘Did you know him?’
‘No, he was a stranger. He said he knew the supplier and didn’t think it was right to involve kids.’
‘Describe this man to me.’
The woman narrowed her eyes as though visualizing him. ‘He was black, slim, tall for his age. Twenties, I’d say, hair all different lengths, sticking out. Jeans, T-shirt, the usual thing.’
‘You didn’t manage to find out who he was, I suppose?’
‘Yes, he gave me his name, but only if I promised not to tell anyone.’
Annie looked closely at the woman in front of her. She could just about buy the young guy with a conscience, but struggled to imagine him trusting Jean Greenhough with anything as precious as his real identity.
‘You’re not going to tell me, are you?’
‘I don’t break my promises.’
Annie suppressed a sigh. ‘What made you go to the Thompsons?’
‘I didn’t at first. I went to the police. Promises don’t count when you’re reporting a crime. They looked into it, and a man called round to see me, a Sergeant Greaves. He said it was a kids’ feud. The lad turned out to be one of the kid’s cousins, trying to get him into trouble.’
Annie tried to read the woman’s expression. ‘And…?’ she prompted.
‘I … uh … I’m not convinced there isn’t more to it. Someone recommended the Thompson sisters to me.’
Annie drew in a deep breath and looked around at the fields, imagining them packed with shrieking kids. There was no job here; certainly nothing to justify dragging her 200 miles. The words played in her head like a jingle she couldn’t shake off.
… doesn’t add up … doesn’t add up….
The wide carriageway that took her back into Hull cut its path through a landscape of sweeping green hills and fields. Annie remembered this road with its free-flowing traffic. It relaxed her as she drove. Hunger gnawed inside her. With the early start and all the rushing about, she hadn’t stopped to eat or drink. The office back in Hull held no promise of anything better than cheap coffee, but that was where she headed. This business must be settled right away.
She decided she would stay on for the rest of the week to justify some sort of fee. In all conscience, they would have to pay back a part of the advance payment.
The buzz of the phone cut into her thoughts, and Annie stretched her thumb sideways to the button on the steering column as she threw a glance at the screen. An unfamiliar mobile number.
‘Hello. Annie Raymond.’
‘Hi, Annie. It’s me.’
Annie struggled for a moment to put a name to the voice. Then she remembered and laughed. Christa Andrew was one of their regular temps, a bit of a loose cannon but a sharp operator, whose familiar bouncy tone was muted as though she was keeping quiet in a church. ‘Christa, how are you doing? What are you doing?’
‘Walking in your footsteps.’ That same lowered tone, and did she now detect a hint of unease? ‘Pieternel asked me to cover. Something’s not right, Annie. I’m following this guy. Haven’t got his name yet, but he has this funny bit of hair that sort of sticks up and …’
‘I know who you mean,’ Annie interrupted, feeling the smile wiped from her face as her body tensed. She looked ahead for somewhere to stop. This call needed her whole attention. ‘What’s happened? Where are you?’
A prickle of apprehension ran through her as Christa described the trail she’d followed. It wasn’t exactly the door left temptingly ajar that Annie had envisaged, but was the brink of something nasty, nonetheless. She was thankful that Christa had been worried enough to call.
‘Get away from there. Don’t hang up, keep talking to me but get back. Now. You’re being watched. They’re leading you in. Be quick, Christa.’
‘But if they’re watching me, I don’t want them to know I’ve sussed them.’
‘For God’s sake, Christa, get out of there! We don’t know who we’re dealing with.’
‘OK … OK … but I’m not going to …’ A pause, during which Annie held her breath. ‘That’s it. I’m playing dumb. I’m going the wrong way. I’ll pretend I’ve missed the trail. I should have known, you know. This guy leaves a track that a kid could follow. He waits if you get too far back. Did you know that? I just thought …’
‘Christa, these are not amateurs, whatever they look like. Whoever they are, they’re using us. You have to get out of there. Where are you now?’
‘I’m back near the main road. I’m looking all puzzled, like I can’t understand where I’ve gone wrong.’
The wide road ahead of Annie climbed towards a roundabout. She accelerated towards it and turned left, off the main carriageway, breathing out her relief as she found herself on a road where she could stop. The isolation of the few buildings now ahead of her matched uncomfortably with what she listened to from the phone.
‘It’s OK, I’m back on the main street now. I’m … Oh my God!’
Annie felt her teeth clamp tightly shut as she heard the exclamation, but Christa’s tone held wonderment rather than fear. ‘What,’ Annie hissed. ‘What is it?’
‘He’s followed me back. I can see his reflection.’
‘Christa, you must get away. Get yourself —’
‘I’ve got it!’ Christa cut across her. ‘I need to phone someone, Annie, but I’ll ring you back. I’ll get the arrogant bastard.’
‘No, Christa …’ but the phone had gone dead.
Annie called straight back, and thumped her fist on the wheel in frustration at the sound of Christa’s voice-mail answering her.
She felt helpless and too far from the action. ‘Christa, you must ring me as soon as you get this.’
That was her decision made at any rate, she thought as she restarted the car. Back to the Thompsons’, dump the file, give Pat a brief run-through, and then she’d be off. She could be in London in a few hours with no hold-ups. As she set off Annie clicked her London office number into her phone.
‘Annie here,’ she rapped out as soon as the phone was answered. ‘I need Pieternel. It’s urgent.’
‘Sorry, Annie, she’s in a meeting. She’ll have her phone off.’
‘This is urgent. Interrupt her.’
‘But she’s not here. She went to the client.’
‘Which client?’
‘I’m sorry, she hasn’t put it in the diary. I know, ’cos someone else rang for her only a minute ago. She just rushed off out. You know how she is.’
‘OK, thanks.’ Annie felt tension build in her shoulders as she clicked off the phone, and tried consciously to relax her muscles as she concentrated on the drive back.
As she pulled up outside Pat and Barbara’s office, her phone beeped. She grabbed it out of its cradle and pressed it to her ear. ‘Christa?’
‘Uh … It’s Mrs Greenhough. Jean Greenhough. We met less than an hour ago.’
Annie pulled in a breath, swallowing an urge to cut the call without words. There was an underlying hysteria to the woman’s voice.
‘Listen, I’m expecting a call. I’ll ring back, or I’ll get Pat Thompson to ring you.’
‘Please, I’ll be quick. Just thirty seconds.’
‘OK, but if my other call comes through, I’ll have to cut you off.’
‘I … uh … I told you I wasn’t happy. This business about it being one of the girl’s cousins. It wasn’t. I was sure it couldn’t be and I’ve just talked to her mother.’
‘Then I think you should go back to the police.’
‘I’ve just rung. The man told me to ring if I were still worried or if I heard anything else.’
‘And …?’ Annie prompted into a small pause. Jean Greenhough sounded upset.
‘He was really quite short with me. He said he’d never said it was a cousin. It was a college friend of the cousin. He said he’d get on to him and tell him to stop messing me about or he’d be up for wasting police time. And he … he said I’d to be careful or I’d be in the dock next to him. I … I’ve never been in trouble in my life. Not so much as a parking ticket. I thought about a complaint. He was so curt with me.’
‘A complaint’s a lot of hassle. Sleep on it.’
‘But police officers usually go out of their way to be polite.’
‘Yes, they usually do,’ said Annie, leaving unsaid the words with people like you, her ears straining for the beep of another incoming call. ‘Probably he’s just having a bad day.’
‘It’s made me more worried about it all, not less.’ Jean Greenhough’s voice betrayed the beginnings of desperation … that she’d somehow fallen foul of the law herself … that Annie would desert her.
Annie’s mind was too full to find any crumb of comfort. She said, ‘Sorry, I have to go. I’ll … someone’ll get back to you.’
She climbed out of her car and headed for the office. Halfway up the narrow staircase and her phone rang again. This time it was Christa’s number on the screen.
Annie pressed the phone to her ear as she turned to sit on the stairs. ‘Christa, where are you? Are you OK? What’s happened?’
‘Chill, Annie, I’m fine. I’m heading back now, going to tell Pieternel what I’ve done.’
Annie felt relief, but also a hollow sensation that wasn’t just hunger. Christa’s tone was smug. What had she done?
‘My kid brother has some mates who hang round there. I called them up.’
‘You can’t use kids, Christa. You’ll get into real trouble. We’ve told you before about sticking to the book.’
It exasperated Annie that Pieternel could be so prissy about the insurance cover in relation to herself, yet give a job like this to someone like Christa who would routinely use the dodgiest of techniques, which now apparently included recruiting minors to do the dirty work for her.
‘Yeah, I know. Anyway, I played dumb, got myself a burger and hung about eating it, eyes down, all gloomy. I was scared the man might give up before we were ready. Anyway, one of the guys called back. He was all set, so I got up and went through the mall, you know where I mean. And I knew the man’d go the other way to make sure I saw him.’
Annie heard the triumph in Christa’s voice; she was intrigued now to hear more. Recriminations could wait.
‘So Laces is in amongst the crush at the far side and soon as the man was in the crowd, Laces nicks his mobile.’
Annie held back from asking Laces’ age and gender, or whether Christa had the least idea what trouble she could make for them all, playing Fagin. At the same time her mind turned to the information they mi
ght abstract from the man’s phone.
‘Did you find out who he is, who he’s working for?’
‘I didn’t go near it. I don’t want Laces in trouble. While I weaved about looking in shop windows, almost seeing the guy, acting like a real dipstick, Laces put a tracker in it. Then I make like I’ve spotted the man and I dive back on his trail. So he heads off out again, bangs into Laces on the way and bingo, his phone’s back in his pocket but now we can follow him remotely so I just piss off first chance I get.’
Annie felt her mouth curve to a smile. She couldn’t approve of Christa’s methods and their cover would be blown just as soon as the tracker was discovered, but now they could report back the man’s movements.
Christa might be a loose cannon, unreliable as hell, but she was a wily operator and she’d known just when to call Annie to check out her instinct that something was wrong with the job. Maybe it was foolish to worry. All she need do now was get herself back on the spot directing things from near by. She would call Pieternel this evening and sleep on her decision about when to leave. Maybe she’d give Pat and Jean Greenhough a day or two more.
‘Hi.’ Annie tossed out a general greeting as she pushed open the door of the Thompsons’ office and was pleased to see Barbara, her coat on and zipped, look up from where she bent over her bag, tucking papers into it. Perfect timing. As soon as Barbara left, Annie would have the full story from Pat.
She said nothing more until she could hear the sound of Barbara’s retreating footsteps down the staircase.
‘There’s nothing to the job,’ she opened, ‘but the Greenhough woman’s going to need some reassurance. Maybe even have someone out there to keep an eye on things. It’s up to you. You could talk her into making a job of it or not, as you want.’
Pat shrugged. ‘Your call. Do you want to do it?’
‘No, I don’t. I need to get back to London.’ She watched Pat for any reaction to this, but saw none. Pat was engrossed in something on her computer screen.
‘I was thinking of going back today. Now.’
