The Stretch (Stephen Leather Thrillers)

by Stephen Leather

  ‘That’s what she told us,’ said Kay, winding up the window.

  ‘Yeah, well, she wasn’t. And Reg Salmon and his team are saying nothing. I’ve got fuck all to pin on her.’

  ‘That’s not my fault,’ said Kay. ‘I told you when and where the stuff was coming ashore, gave you everything you needed.’

  ‘What I needed, you fat fuck, was to catch Samantha Greene in the act.’

  Kay’s mouth fell open and he started to wheeze. He pulled his inhaler out of his coat pocket and took a long pull on it, his chest wheezing. ‘There’s no need to get personal, Mr Welch.’

  Welch shook his head. ‘This is personal, Kay. I’m not going to allow Samantha Greene to take the piss out of me. I want to know what she’s up to. And l want you to tell me.’

  Kay put away his inhaler. ‘That’s not going to be easy, Mr Welch. The cannabis, I was involved from day one. But whatever else she’s up to, I’m not involved.’

  ‘Well, get involved.’

  Kay looked pained. ‘I’ll do what I can, Mr Welch, but Sam’s not stupid. If I press her too hard, she’s going to know I’m up to something.’

  Welch looked at Kay contemptuously. ‘What are you up to, Kay?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘How much did you lose on that cannabis deal? A hundred grand?’

  Kay shrugged but said nothing.

  ‘What I’m paying you isn’t going to make up for that, is it?’

  ‘I’m not doing it for the money, Mr Welch.’

  ‘Oh, civic pride, is it? Do I have “fuckwit” tattooed on my forehead, Kay?’ He patted his jacket pocket. ‘Or are you saying I can keep this?’

  ‘Mr Welch . . .’ whined Kay.

  Welch took the envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Kay.

  ‘How much is there?’ Kay asked, weighing the envelope in his hand.

  ‘What we agreed,’ said Welch. ‘Though you don’t fucking deserve it, not with Sam Greene footloose and fancy free.’

  Kay put the envelope away as if he feared that the detective might change his mind. ‘It wasn’t a hundred grand, anyway,’ said Kay. ‘Nowhere near. Most of the money was put up by Terry and Micky Fox.’

  ‘Still must have put a dent in your pocket, though.’ Welch frowned. ‘You want Terry short of cash, don’t you? Why? So you can take over his team? See yourself as the new West London godfather, is that it? I do hope that’s not your plan, Kay, because if it is, you’ll end up behind bars with Greene. Being my grass doesn’t mean you can act with impunity. Selling duty-free booze and profiting from prostitution is one thing – you pick up Terry Greene’s reins and you’ll be for the high jump.’

  ‘I just want the clubs, Mr Welch. Swear to God, that’s all. It’s not as if I’m not asking for what’s not mine. I’m the one who runs them, Terry just drinks there.’

  ‘Not any more he doesn’t,’ laughed Welch.

  ‘That’s what I mean. With him behind bars, it doesn’t seem fair that I should be shelling out half the profits every month. I just want what I’m entitled to, that’s all.’

  ‘So you fuck Terry over, he’s short of cash, he sells out to you for a song? You’re a devious bastard, Kay.’

  ‘Coming from you, Mr Welch, I’ll take that as a compliment.’

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Terry wasn’t in the prison visiting room when Sam arrived, and she had to wait almost fifteen minutes for him. He kissed her on the cheek and sat down. ‘Sorry, love, they’re still pissing me around.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Strip cell, they call it. Went through everything.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They’re supposed to be looking for contraband. Drugs, booze, telephone cards, stuff like that. But they weren’t looking for anything, they were just turning the cell over out of badness. Ripped a few photos, smashed my mirror, dropped my toothpaste in the toilet.’ He smiled. ‘But what the hell, it’s not supposed to be a holiday camp. How’ve you been?’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me about the booze runs, Terry?’

  ‘What booze runs?’

  ‘What do you mean, “What booze runs”? Don’t play the innocent with me, Terry Greene.’ She told him about the attack on Ryser and Fletcher, and the theft of the van.

  Terry cursed and banged his hand on the table. Heads swivelled in their direction and Terry sat back, his hands up to show that he wasn’t being a problem.

  ‘You know what I hate, Terry?’

  ‘Fat men in high heels and suspenders?’ Sam glared at him and he put his hands up in surrender. ‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry. What do you hate?’

  ‘I hate the fact that you’re only giving me little pieces of the picture. A bit at a time. First you tell me about the cannabis, then I get the notebook about the counterfeit money. I only found out about the booze runs because something went wrong.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I thought Russell and Pike had it under control. It was ticking over nicely.’

  ‘That’s not the point, Terry. It’s like you only tell me what I need to know. What you want me to know. Everything else is hidden away. What is it, Terry? Don’t you trust me?’

  Terry reached for her hand but Sam wouldn’t let him touch her. ‘Of course I trust you. God, who else can I trust, hey?’

  Sam put her hands up to her face. ‘I don’t know how much of this I can take,’ she said.

  Terry leaned forward, clearly concerned. ‘Love, it’s going to be okay.’

  She snorted softly. ‘That’s what Jamie said when the jury came back.’

  ‘It is. I promise.’

  ‘You can’t promise something like that, Terry.’ Sam took a couple of deep breaths and composed herself. Terry looked genuinely worried, but Sam shook her head. ‘I’m okay. Really. I’m okay.’

  ‘You sure?’

  Sam nodded.

  ‘This booze thing, we’ve got to get it sorted,’ said Terry. ‘We’ve got to find out who did it and stamp on them, hard.’

  ‘That’d be the royal we, would it?’

  Terry shrugged and showed her the palms of his hands. ‘There’s only so much I can do in here, love. And like I said, you’re the only one I can trust outside. Someone must have grassed us up on the cannabis.’ He grinned. ‘No pun intended. Seriously, love, if we let this go, they’ll see it as weakness and they’ll hit us again and again. I’ll call Russell and get him started, but you’ll have to keep an eye on them. Andy McKinley’ll steer you right.’

  Sam didn’t say anything. She desperately wanted a cigarette, but smoking wasn’t allowed in the visiting room.

  ‘Did Richard and Laurence give you the notebook?’

  Sam nodded.

  ‘Piece of cake, Sam.’

  ‘Yeah, well, you said that about the other thing. Terry, if they’d caught me with Reg and the rest, I’d be going down for ten years.’ She leaned towards him and lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Now you want me to smuggle in counterfeit money. Can’t it wait?’

  ‘Thing is, it’s not just my money tied up in the deal. There’s other investors, too. Micky Fox for one. He’s going to want to recoup some of his losses from that last fiasco.’

  ‘Terry, you don’t seem to understand how bad it is out there. They’re going to repossess the house. Jamie’s tuition fee hasn’t been paid, Oakwood House is threatening to throw your mum out on the street. We need cash now. Not next week or next month. Now. All I’ve got is five grand coming from Warwick Locke.’

  Terry frowned. ‘Five grand? What for?’

  ‘For your share of the modelling business.’

  ‘What? For fuck’s sake, Sam. My fifty per cent of the business is worth more than that.’

  ‘Warwick says not.’

  ‘Well, Warwick’s talking through his arse.’

  ‘I thought he was your friend.’

  ‘Yeah. That makes two of us.’ Terry shook his head. ‘You can’t trust anybody these days.’

  ‘He said the business wasn’t doing tha
t well.’

  ‘It was doing just fine last time I saw the books.’ He put his hands flat on the Formica table. ‘Okay. It’s cash you need. George Kay is sitting on some for me. About ten grand.’

  ‘He didn’t mention it when I saw him.’

  ‘Well, you can mention it now. Tell him you need it. Blackie’s going to need a sweetener as well. Plus there’ll be expenses for the Spanish thing.’

  Sam slumped in her chair. She felt exhausted, as if all the strength had drained from her. ‘This isn’t fair,’ she sighed. ‘I had a life. I was over you.’

  Terry smiled. ‘You were never over me. Not really.’

  Sam laughed harshly.

  Terry bent towards her, his face suddenly serious. ‘I know that my feelings never changed,’ he said. ‘Not deep down.’

  ‘Your screwing around was just superficial, then?’ she said sarcastically. ‘That’s a relief.’ She took a deep breath. ‘All I agreed to do was to give you an alibi for that night. Now you’re dragging me into something that . . .’ She shook her head, trying to organise her thoughts. ‘This is all getting out of hand.’

  ‘You can handle it,’ said Terry.

  ‘You’d better have told me everything.’

  ‘On my mother’s life.’

  She looked at him coldly. ‘Don’t drag Grace down to your level, Terry.’

  He shrugged apologetically.

  ‘If there’s anything else, any other deals you’re not telling me about, I’ll swing for you, Terry Greene.’

  ‘Haven’t you heard? They did away with capital punishment.’

  ‘Yeah, and aren’t you the lucky one.’

  ‘Hey . . .’

  He gave her a hurt look, but Sam wasn’t mollified. ‘You bastard.’

  ‘I’ll make it up to you when I get out, love,’ said Terry, earnestly. ‘I promise. Straight and narrow.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Sam. ‘We’ll see.’

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Lapland was a sad, seedy place during the day. All the lights were on, revealing how truly shabby it was. The purple velour seats in the booths were faded and torn in places, the tables were scratched and the carpets peppered with cigarette burns. A cleaner was running a Hoover over the carpet and whistling tunelessly while a man in overalls stood on a stepladder, changing one of the spotlight bulbs in the ceiling. Someone had sprayed lemon-scented air freshener around, but it did little to mask the smell of stale smoke.

  George Kay was behind the bar, counting bottles of spirits. He turned as he heard Sam’s footsteps. His face fell when he saw her, but he quickly smiled. ‘Sam, what a lovely surprise.’ He waddled around the bar and kissed her on the left cheek and gave her arm a small squeeze. ‘We didn’t have a meeting arranged, did we?’

  ‘Flying visit, George. How’s things?’

  ‘Fine.’ He nodded at the spirits behind the bar. ‘If I didn’t count every bottle, they’d steal me blind.’

  ‘Yeah, you can’t trust anybody these days, can you?’

  Kay’s smile hardened a little. ‘So what can I do for you? Social call?’

  ‘Terry says you’re holding some cash for him.’

  Kay’s eyes narrowed. ‘Did he now?’

  ‘Yes, he did. And frankly I’m a little disappointed that you didn’t mention it last time I came to see you, George.’

  Kay took his asthma inhaler out of his pocket and took a long pull on it. He patted his chest and put the inhaler away. ‘Come on through to the office.’

  Sam followed Kay to the office. His chest wheezed with every step and the material of his trousers whispered as his thighs rubbed together. He held the office door open for her and she squeezed past him, so close that she could smell his body odour.

  Sam sat on the sofa and lit a cigarette as Kay went behind his desk. As he lowered himself into his executive chair he saw the cigarette in her hand. He frowned but didn’t say anything.

  ‘Terry said you had ten thousand pounds of his,’ said Sam.

  ‘Working capital, Sam. It’s for the business.’

  ‘That’s not how Terry tells it. He says he left it with you for a rainy day. And believe me, George, it’s pissing down outside.’

  Kay put a hand up to his cheek, his brow furrowed. ‘Sam, I’m sorry, but I don’t have it. Not right now.’

  ‘Where is it, George?’

  ‘It’s . . .’ He struggled to find the words. ‘It’s in the business. The ebb and flow of capital. There’s wages to be shelled out, suppliers to be paid.’

  ‘George, how many thousands do you take each night? Last time I was here they were lining up outside.’

  ‘Overheads, Sam.’

  ‘Bollocks, George.’

  ‘I don’t want to fight with you, Sam. Please.’

  ‘This isn’t fighting, George,’ said Sam coldly. ‘This is conversation. Fighting is what Terry’s going to be doing if you don’t give me his money.’

  Kay stiffened. ‘That sounds like a threat, Sam.’

  ‘You know Terry as well as I do.’

  ‘Yeah, but Terry’s not here, is he?’

  ‘Very observant of you, George. But he’s got friends on the outside.’

  ‘Like McKinley. I hear he’s working for you now.’

  Sam didn’t reply. She blew smoke up at the ceiling and kept looking at him.

  Kay tapped his fingers on the desk. His face was glistening with sweat. Sam’s eyes bored into his and eventually he looked away. ‘I can let you have a few grand today,’ he said, ‘but the rest of the money is tied up in the business,’ he said.

  ‘Well, untie it. PDQ.’

  Kay heaved himself up from behind his desk and went over to a framed poster of two blondes entwined around each other. He swung the poster to the side, revealing a wall safe. He flicked the combination lock and pulled open the door, then took out a bundle of twenty-pound notes. ‘You know, I was thinking about what you said. About me buying out Terry’s stake in the clubs.’

  Sam held out her hand for the money and Kay took it over to her. She ran her finger along the edge of the bundle. ‘How much is here, George?’

  ‘Two thousand.’

  ‘You said a few. Two isn’t a few. Two’s a couple. Two’s two. Terry said ten.’

  ‘I’ll get you the other eight, Sam. As soon as I can. I’m down a bundle on that cannabis deal, remember.’

  ‘You and me both.’ She put the money in her handbag.

  ‘I was thinking, maybe I could do a deal with Terry. Buy him out. That’d help your cashflow problem, right? I mean, I couldn’t pay top dollar, not after what I lost on the cannabis thing, but I’m sure we could come to some arrangement.’

  ‘I’ll run it by Terry when I see him.’

  ‘Do you know if he’s got anything else planned?’

  Sam narrowed her eyes. ‘What do you mean, George?’

  ‘You know. Any other . . . money-making opportunities. Recoup my losses.’

  ‘You’d have to talk to Terry about that. You should go visit. I’m sure he’d love to see you.’

  Kay nodded. He went back to the safe and locked it, then swung the poster back into place. ‘I know it’s a rough time for you just now, Sam. You’ve a lot on your plate.’

  ‘Thanks for your empathy, George.’

  Kay went behind his desk and dropped down into his chair. He took out his inhaler and toyed with it as he smiled ingratiatingly at Sam. ‘It’s from the heart, Sam. I’ve always had a soft spot for you. You know that. If you need someone to talk to . . .’

  Sam crossed her legs and saw Kay’s eyes follow the movement. Sam tried to contain her annoyance: she’d come to the club for Terry’s money, not to be hit on by someone who was supposed to be Terry’s friend. ‘The only thing I want to talk about at the moment is the whereabouts of Terry’s money.’

  ‘There’s more to life than money, Sam.’ Kay took another long pull on his inhaler. ‘You should come to the club one evening. Have a spot of bubbly. Some dinner. Let you
r hair down. Socialise, like you used to do. Woman like you, you shouldn’t be on your own.’

  Sam stood up. She felt suddenly dirty and didn’t want to spend a minute longer in George Kay’s presence. He was even seedier than the club. ‘Call me when you’ve got the rest of Terry’s money, yeah?’ she said as she walked out of the door. Behind her, she heard Kay using the inhaler again.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Sam climbed into the car and sighed.

  ‘How did it go, Mrs Greene?’ asked McKinley.

  ‘It was okay, I guess.’ She closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the seat. ‘What’s your take on George Kay, Andy?’ she asked. When McKinley didn’t answer, Sam opened her eyes. ‘What is it, bodyguard’s code of silence? Don’t want to tell tales out of school? Come on, I’m running out of cliches here.’

  She saw him smile in the rear-view mirror. ‘Let me put it this way, Mrs Greene. Did you shake hands with him?’

  Sam shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘That’s okay, then, you don’t have to count your fingers.’ He started the car. ‘Where to?’ he asked.

  Sam looked at her watch. It was just before noon. ‘I want to go and see Blackie.’

  ‘He’ll be well pleased about you paying him a visit.’

  ‘That’s as may be, but I need to get Terry out, and Blackie’s the only one who can help me.’

  McKinley dropped her around the corner from the police station where Blackie was based, and she called the detective superintendent on her mobile as she walked towards the entrance. ‘Blackie,’ she said, ‘it’s Sam Greene.’

  ‘What the hell are you doing calling me at the office?’ he hissed.

  ‘If you’d prefer it, I could get Terry to call you from prison, but wouldn’t that be a bit awkward for you?’

  ‘This isn’t funny, Sam.’

  ‘And I’m not laughing. I’m outside, Blackie. And if you’re not here in five minutes, I’m going to be asking for you at the front desk.’ She cut the connection and lit a cigarette. She’d only smoked half of it by the time Blackie stormed out of the front doors of the station, putting on his coat.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ he spat.

  ‘If Mohammed won’t go to the mountain . . .’