by Mark Timlin
When Harold was satisfied I was clean he put his face close to mine. So close that I felt his warm breath on my cheek and smelled mint where he’d been chewing gum, when he whispered, ‘Glad you came back, mon, but you won’t be. The boss wants to talk to you big time. You must be crazy coming back here after what you did.’
‘I want to talk to him too,’ I replied. ‘Someone’s taken my daughter.’
‘To a party?’ asked Harold. ‘To a club? Out shopping? What?’
‘Kidnapped her,’ I said, controlling my temper with an effort. I wasn’t in the mood for his wit. Especially if he knew where she was.
‘Couldn’t’ve happened to a nicer guy,’ he said. ‘Come on. Mr B’s waiting. And he ain’t a happy man.’
He took me by the upper arm and walked me fast towards the back of the house and Mr B’s lair. I tried to shake off his hand but he just gripped my biceps harder.
The door to the office was closed and Harold hit it hard, still pushing me in front of him, and when it burst open I saw that Mr B was alone, the lenses of his dark glasses catching the light from the aquaria, making his eyes look as if they were floating underwater.
‘Mr Sharman,’ he said. ‘We meet again, and so soon. Believe me, this is more of a pleasure for me than you’ll ever know.’
64
‘I wish I could say the same,’ I said.
Harold gave me a dig in the back. I was beginning to dislike him intensely. ‘Was he armed?’ Mr B asked him.
‘No.’
‘Wise. And the merchandise?’
‘No.’
‘You have something I want,’ Mr B said to me. ‘Where is it?’
‘I could say the same to you,’ I said.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Mr B, and I saw his brow wrinkle through the gloom.
‘My daughter,’ I said. ‘Her name’s Judith. She’s fifteen, and her mum died just over a week ago.’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you have her?’
‘Why should I?’
‘Someone trashed my flat last night, or early this morning. She was there. They took her. They want the dope in exchange. Whoever called me told me the news was black. Hey, guess what? I put two and two together and immediately thought of you. I’m a detective, remember?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I’d expect you to say that.’
‘Then you’re not disappointed, are you? Mr Sharman, I can assure you I know nothing of the whereabouts of your daughter.’
‘What about the rest of the Pump House Gang? Harold?’
‘No, mon. We never snatched the kid. But hey, maybe she’d like being round the brothers. They’d probably be honoured to show her a good time. Big dicks, get me?’
Everything that had happened over the past week or so boiled up in me then, and I let go with a roundhouse right that connected perfectly with the side of his jaw, and I swear he went cross-eyed as he went down and hit the carpet with a thump. He lay there, breathing hoarsely. I turned to Mr B, shaking my hand where I reckoned I’d busted at least one knuckle, and said, ‘If I’d had a gun I’d’ve shot him.’
‘I believe you would,’ said Mr B, and showed me the gun that he’d kept on his lap. ‘But you’re not going to get another chance to point a pistol at me.’
‘You going to shoot me?’ I asked. ‘I never shot your fish.’
‘And that’s the one reason you’re alive now, and will continue to be until your mouth or your fists come up against someone less forgiving.’
Just then Goldie and Majesty burst into the room toting a matching pair of Browning niners, once again the weapon of choice of the discerning black gangster. Mr B must’ve pressed the panic button. ‘Whoa,’ I said, raising my hands. ‘Don’t shoot. There’s innocent fish in here.’
‘Take him upstairs to cool his heels,’ said Mr B, ‘before I decide what to do with him. And come back and get Harold and wake him up.’
65
‘Listen, I’d love to stay and chat,’ I said. ‘But my daughter’s still missing. And if she’s not here, I’ve got to get out on the street and find her.’
‘Really,’ said Mr B. ‘And you think I’m just going to let you walk out of here, just like that? You still have what belongs to me, remember?’
‘Then you’ll have to kill me, here and now. And then you’ll get nothing.’
He thought about it for a second. ‘That’s how it’s going to have to be then,’ he said.
‘You bastard.’
‘No. I have a birth certificate. My mother and father were married.’
‘Listen. I know you’ve got a down on me, but my daughter’s just fifteen. She’s never hurt anyone in her life.’ I was beginning to get desperate. ‘Give her a chance at least. Whoever’s got her will kill her unless I come across with the dope.’
‘My dope.’
‘Who the fuck cares?’ I shouted. ‘There’s plenty more where that came from, and besides, you’ll never see it again if I don’t walk out of here in one piece.’
He pondered again. ‘So what do you suggest?’ he asked.
I was sweating through my clothes by then. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘Give me one of your men and a fast car, and the other guns that Harold took off me. I’m expecting a call from whoever’s got Judith. I’ve got a partner. He’s out there with a portable phone and the dope. We go and pick him up. Your man stays with me until we can track down who’s got Judith. Then we pretend to negotiate and take the bastards out. They’re as much your enemies as they are mine. My guess is that it’s Tootsie, but I don’t know for certain. It could be anyone, and it’s as much in your interests as it is in mine to find out. They’re taking the piss out of you, Mr B. Dissing you, big time. Listen, I’m begging you. I don’t care about myself. It’s Judith I care about. Have some humanity, man. It’s only money to you. To me it’s my only child.’
Mr B thought some more. ‘I must be crazy,’ he said. ‘But I’ll do it. But you have to take Harold.’
Oh shit, I thought. He was coming round by then, sitting in a chair that Majesty had helped him to. ‘He doesn’t like me,’ I said.
‘I don’t care about that,’ said Mr B. ‘I just want my merchandise back. You take Harold and your guns and the BMW and find out who is working against me. It’s time there was a showdown. There are too many warring gangs round here for my liking. The whole set-up is beginning to vex me. I have to show people who’s top dog. Maybe you were sent to settle the matter once and for all. But don’t try and make a fool of me or you’ll regret it. Maybe I’m getting soft in my old age, but things need to be sorted. Now get out of my sight. I have to feed my fish.’
66
‘I ain’t going nowhere with that piece of shit,’ said Harold.
‘You’ll do as you’re told,’ said Mr B. ‘Who the hell do you think you are?’
‘Fucker cold-cocked me.’
‘It served you right. You should have been more aware.’
‘Motherfucker.’
Mr B said, ‘Majesty, take Mr Sharman out the back. Goldie. You go with them. Harold. You stay here. We’ve got things to talk about.’
I was kicking my heels in the kitchen when Harold came in carrying a small sports bag. There was a bruise on his jaw and the skin was swollen and tender-looking. ‘Hello, Harold,’ I said. ‘Nasty hickey you’ve got there.’
‘It’ll all even out,’ he replied. ‘In the fullness of time.’ And he touched one hand to the sore spot. ‘You could’ve broken my jaw.’
‘It wasn’t for the want of trying. Any more cracks about my daughter and next time I will.’
‘In your dreams, Sharman.’
‘You coming with us?’
Harold nodded.
‘Mr B made you see sense, huh? No point in arguing with the boss.’
‘Bollocks.’
‘You got something for me?’ I asked.
He dropped the bag on the table with a thud and gestured for me to open it. Inside were Lopez’s .45 auto and Latimer’s Colt revolver. They were both loaded and I stashed them away out of sight. ‘What you got?’ I asked. ‘This could get ugly.’
Harold was wearing the same mac as the night I’d met him at Victoria and he pulled it open to show the Mini-Uzi hanging from his shoulder by a leather strap, the thirty-shot magazine jutted obscenely from the butt. ‘Good job,’ I said. ‘Just remember whose side you’re on.’
‘My side and Mr B’s,’ he said back. ‘Now come on, let’s go.’
So we went.
We took the black Beemer and drove round to where the Morris Traveller was still parked, a puff of smoke coming from the exhaust where Robber had left the engine running. On the way I checked to see that we weren’t being followed. Harold stopped the car and we got out and walked over. I saw Robber’s face, white through the windscreen, and I held up my hands placatingly. He wound down the window and I saw the Smith in his hand. ‘We come in peace,’ I said. ‘This is Harold, I told you about him.’
‘Harold Amidon,’ said Robber. ‘Hello, Harold. I didn’t realize it was you. How are you keeping?’
‘I thought you’d gone away,’ said Harold.
‘I came back.’
‘You two know each other?’ I asked.
‘’Course we do,’ said Robber. ‘How long was it, Harold? Eighteen months’ youth custody? I see you haven’t mended your ways. Still mixing with bad company.’
‘This is going from bad to worse,’ said Harold.
‘What happened to your face?’ said Robber. ‘Walk into a door?’
‘Long story,’ said Harold.
‘Has your phone rung?’ I asked Robber, interrupting any more reminiscences and idle chit-chat.
Robber shook his head, and then, as if on cue, the phone started to trill musically on the passenger seat next to him.
67
It was the same male voice as before. ‘Hi, Sharman,’ he said. ‘How they hangin’?’
‘Where’s my daughter?’
‘She cool man. Don’t worry.’
‘Let me talk to her.’
‘Maybe later.’
‘Maybe now. Or I take what I’ve got that you want and drop it in the Thames.’
‘You wouldn’t be that foolish.’
‘Try me, blood.’
‘Then she’d die.’
‘And you’d be a dead man walking. But for all I know she’s dead now. Or maybe you don’t have her at all.’
‘We do.’
‘Then let me speak to her.’
‘OK, man.’
There was a pause, then I recognized Judith’s voice and relief went through me like a river. ‘Daddy,’ she said, ‘come and get me please.’
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes. But they’re horrible.’
‘Where are…?’
But the phone was snatched away from her and the voice said, ‘You ready to deal?’
‘I am.’
‘Good. I’ll call you later, man. This is something best done when the sun has gone down. Stay by the phone. Bye now.’
And he was gone.
68
Harold and I climbed into the Morris and I told him and Robber what had transpired on the dog. Harold sneered at the inside of the old motor, but his eyes lit up when he saw the case full of dope. ‘Still no idea who it was?’ said Robber.
‘No. But I think we can strike Mr B off the list,’ I replied.
‘Well, that’s something. And what’s young Harold doing here?’ Robber again.
‘He’s our minder. Or rather the merchandise’s minder. Mr B wasn’t too keen on letting me out of his sight, but I convinced him that he’d never see it again if he didn’t let me go.’
‘How true,’ said Robber. ‘Well, Harold, whoever would’ve thought it? You taking care of me, instead of me taking care of you.’
‘Just one of life’s little ironies,’ replied the black man.
‘So, what next?’ Robber asked me.
‘Darkman. Though I think it’s Tootsie who’s at the bottom of this. I’m just not too keen on trying to get inside his place. He’ll be waiting after what happened yesterday. And loaded for bear.’
‘Darkman it is, then,’ said Robber.
‘We’ll take the BMW,’ I said. ‘Leave your car here.’
‘Good job,’ said Harold. ‘I don’t want to be seen driving in this heap.’
‘It’s a good car,’ said Robber defensively. ‘My sister’s had it since new.’
‘Should be in a museum,’ said Harold.
‘I’d like to see that Krautmobile of yours still going after a hundred thousand miles.’
‘Can we save the road test till later?’ I asked. ‘Remember what’s at stake here.’
‘Sorry,’ said Robber and we got out of the Traveller and went over to the BMW and climbed aboard. We put the case in the boot. I sat in the back, out of the way. I was still amongst Britain’s most wanted and I didn’t want to be recognized by some passing copper. Especially with what we were carrying in the motor.
We shot over to Deptford fast, with Harold playing his jungle through the car’s big speakers and Robber constantly turning the volume down. It was mid-morning by then and the mist had cleared slightly, but it was still cold and miserable, and people were mostly staying close to home.
We left the car on the edge of the Lion Estate and walked through to Darkman’s block and climbed the stairs. We took the case with us. It would be just my luck for some chancer to nick the car whilst we were gone.
I hammered on the metal door of Darkman’s flat, but there was no answer.
‘You want we should go in?’ said Harold.
‘Metal doors,’ I said. ‘Metal grilles on the windows.’
‘Check this,’ he said, and brought out a wicked-looking, short crowbar from under his coat.
‘You came prepared,’ I said.
‘That’s my job.’
‘What do you reckon, Jack?’ I said.
‘Seems a shame to go without paying our respects,’ he replied.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Do it.’
Harold looked up and down the balcony, but all was serene. And even if it hadn’t been, the occupants of the Lion had seen worse. He forced the edge of the crowbar between the door and the jamb and leaned his weight on it. There was a terrible squeal of metal on metal when the door began to give, and with an exhalation of breath, Harold pushed harder and the door popped.
‘Well done,’ I said.
‘He got a dog?’ asked Harold.
‘I don’t think so,’ I replied.
But even so, Harold whistled and called out ‘Here, boy,’ before he led the way in.
It was dark inside and he fumbled for a light switch and ignited the weak bulb in the ceiling socket.
The flat was in the same state as it had been a few days before, but this time it was empty. ‘Shit,’ I said when we’d been through the place, guns drawn. ‘I wonder where the hell the little bastard’s got to?’
69
‘Fuck this,’ I said when we’d finished turning the place over. ‘This is getting us nowhere. My daughter’s being held by some crazy spades, Christ knows where, and Christ knows what they’re doing to her. And all we’re doing is poncing around London like three spare pricks at a wedding.’ I could feel the tension in my every nerve-ending. If something didn’t happen soon, I was going to burst.
‘I’ve never been no spare prick, even at a wedding,’ declared Harold. ‘And less of the “crazy spades”.’
‘Be quiet, Harold,’ I said. ‘Or I’ll hit you again.’
‘You�
��d better not try, brother, or I’ll hose you down with this,’ and he tapped the barrel of the Uzi.
‘And I’ll hose you down with this,’ said Robber, brandishing the S&W .44 magnum. ‘You want to make my day, punk?’ Carrying that gun, I knew Robber would have to spout that line sooner or later.
Harold turned the Uzi on Robber. ‘In your dreams.’
Robber cocked the Smith. Things were going from bad to worse, and I didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire.
‘Play nicely, boys,’ I said. ‘We’re supposed to be on the same side, remember?’
‘Just temporarily,’ said Harold to me after a moment, and he lowered the machine pistol. ‘When we ain’t, you and me gonna talk.’
‘I’ll look forward to it,’ I said. ‘Robber.’
Robber scowled, but let down the hammer of his gun carefully, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
‘So what the fuck do we do now?’ I asked no one in particular.
‘Wait for the phone to ring,’ said Robber.
And of course it did.
70
Christmas Eve afternoon
And of course it was Robber’s sister checking up to see how he was. ‘I’m all right doll,’ he said. ‘Sound as a pound. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Tomorrow, probably. Now can you get off the line? I’m waiting for an important call.’
‘No. Not more important than yours.’ He reddened as he listened. ‘Come on, doll, have a heart… no. No, I’ll call you. Yes. Soon.’ And he cut her off.
