“He’s a smug old git.”
“He was the best in the business.”
“He was. But now he’s old. How long ago was it that you worked with him? He’s well past his best before date. You know what you’re doing, Eva. You don’t need to listen to him. We can work this out ourselves.”
Eva smiled. “It’s never wise to rule out advice. You don’t have to take it, but never rule it out.”
“Well? Are we going to take it?”
Eva was silently amused by the use of the word ‘we’. Jess had promoted herself to become Eva’s partner overnight. It was amusing, and it confirmed what Eva knew of her all along. She was as arrogant as Dan, completely different too – Jess was a kind of anti-fashion, anti-mainstream little punkish post-modern girl. She wasn’t a punk, she wasn’t a feminist, but she was intelligent, cocky and just plain awkward. Which was why Eva liked her. In this business, as well as looking after your clients, you couldn’t afford to suffer any crap. None at all.
“We are going to take it.”
“Eva! Really?” there was a flounce of the shoulders in Jess’s body language. A quarter of a mile ahead of them, the beige and brown triple towers of the Kingsmere Estate burst up from the ground from within a square of spiked black fencing. The Estate’s aura of menace was as strong as ever. Its threat may well have consumed Dan, caused him to be kidnapped and lost to God knows where. Their presence was a reminder that this was urgent, desperate. Eva’s smile waned.
“Really, yes. But here’s the deal. We’ve thrashed through this already. Locally, BG is the main man; Dan is just some little local trouble, just like Parker said. It doesn’t make sense that the Russian would want him punished so long after the incident, so I don’t quite buy that either, unless he really is insane like people say. Nothing makes sense in this mess – not the list, I don’t even know if it really exists – BG’s possible motivation to hurt Dan, or anyone else. Why bother to go that far?”
“Because Dan is more than just trouble from the past. I’m pretty sure he’s trouble in the present too. That’s why. I don’t believe this historic motivation line.”
“Could be. But we can’t ignore the fact that the Russian is a known psychopath with very cruel tastes in hurting those who have hurt him. We can’t rule him out… but I still don’t think he’s the lead suspect on this.”
“You think Parker’s right then?”
“About BG? No. Like I said, it doesn’t make sense. And I am pretty sure he was telling me the truth last night. So where does that leave us, Jess? Think about it.”
Jess bit her lip and looked as if she was processing an answer for a test. Eva watched and waited. They were walking parallel with the Kingsmere tower blocks when she answered. “It has to do with yesterday too, surely. If you discount Dan’s history for a minute and think about the current situation, then you have more questions. He showed up yesterday in a taxi. He was excited, and he had money. I think he wanted to impress you, Eva – he wanted to show you that he had sorted himself out.”
“To impress me?”
“Yeah. He was talking about the money before I had a chance to spell out you’d gone missing. And he threw four grand on the desk in those little bundles, when just the day before he was no better off than those old soaks who sleep in the multi-storey.”
Eva winced, but let Jess continue. She liked Jess’s logic and momentum.
“So, where did the 4K come from? That’s a development. It might be why he’s gone missing, and wants nothing to do with this mysterious list.”
“So what’s the best course of action according to Jess Knows Best Detective Agency?”
“How did he come across the money? That’s a motive for revenge, isn’t it?”
“It could be, yes. Much more likely than a grudge from the past or a devious Traveller clearing up his new patch.”
“You like the idea?”
“It’s logical, yes. It appeals to my inner Spock. But to be honest, Jess, we have to keep all our options open, all the balls in play. This isn’t a slow burn investigation with time on our side. If Parker is right, this is a race against the clock before something happens to Dan. How could I live with myself if I don’t get this right?”
“That’s what’s freaking me out about your old duffer. He’s loaded the dice, Eva. He knows you too well. I think he’s manipulating you and I don’t know why.”
“Oh, I got that part. He thinks he’s manipulating me. But whatever sway he had over me has long since evaporated. He was Dan’s mentor, not mine. All he did for me was ogle.”
“But he knows you still dig Dan, and he’s using that to wind you up like a clockwork toy.”
Eva stopped in her tracks. A tower block loomed over each side of Jess’s straight blonde hair as if they were perching on her shoulders.
“I do not ‘dig’ Dan. Daniel Bradley is a lunatic, and a pest, and he almost ruined my life, not to mention my business. He hasn’t got any sway with me, Jess. Neither has Devon Parker.”
“No offence, Eva. But you say that line like you rehearsed it a thousand times. I’m a girl, remember. I like boys too. And I can tell when a girl likes a boy. No need to be ashamed.”
“This isn’t the time for juvenile talk, Jess. But if it was, I would tell you the same. I walked away from Dan when he tried to ruin both of us. I haven’t been with him for two years and if Parker hadn’t shoehorned him back into my life with another disaster on his hands, I would still be steering well clear. Besides, you know I’m with Richard.”
“Who’s Richard? I haven’t seen or heard you mention that name for almost a fortnight. I thought he was someone I invented in a dream.”
“Being sarcastic and nosey? Great. You’ve been my partner for all of six hours, and you’re already competing with Dan for the inappropriate behaviour award.”
“No. I was always sarcastic and nosey. It runs in my family. You just haven’t been spending enough time with me lately.”
“Richard and I are fine. He’s busy and I’m busy, that’s all.” Eva pushed the thought of their lack of communication out of her mind as the tower blocks loomed above her. She thought about what Jess had said and took a step past Jess; who, in her curiosity, stood to the side and followed her eyes for a moment.
“We have to pursue all the lines we have, Jess. We may be spread a bit thin, but we’ve got to do this as well as we can. Parker could be lying to us, and we don’t know why. I can’t risk it. So we are going after all three lines of enquiry.”
“Three?”
“Yes. Three.” Eva turned and smiled at Jess. If this was a plan, it wasn’t a great one, but it was the only one she had. She had made a decision. “We will go after BG, because Parker may be right.”
“That old pervert just wants to smooch with you over posh lunches.”
“Whatever. Parker is an unknown quantity as of now. If he is playing us, we need to know why, so we’ll play along. BG and Parker are the first line of inquiry.”
Jess nodded and logged line one in her brain. “So line two is a big scary Russian gangster, right?”
“Correct, though I prefer to think of him as ruthless psychotic businessman. It’s just a little more user-friendly.”
“So what’s line three?”
“Line three is the four grand job. And my guess is that came as a result of Dan’s involvement with the brothers M.” Eva nodded her head back towards the tower blocks.
“How d’you work that one out?”
“It just figures. Think of Dan’s involvement with the woman they pimp out on the street. Dan stuck his nose in, didn’t he? He can’t help himself. This is their playground, Jess. This is where they sell badly cut heroin, and pimp women by day and night, this is where they meet up with the Somali gangsters who prey on all the addicts around here and cut people up for fun. And right in the middle of those blocks is The Refuge, the soup kitchen place which Dan has been calling his home for around a year now. If there was something building up to
this, the root cause had to be forty miles away in London. This place is where Dan has been wreaking havoc. Smack bang in the middle of our own back yard.”
Jess’s face broke into a smile. “I like it.”
“Yep. Then that makes one of us. Because as far as I see it, we have our backs to the wall with enemies in all directions and we’re none the wiser about Dan.”
“But we will be. You’re a professional, Eva.”
“I don’t know about that, but I do know that I’ve never backed away from trouble all my life. Never, except from Dan.”
“Yeah, but this is different, Eva. Totally different.”
“Yep. Back then Dan was in it up to his neck. This time I’m in it too and there’s no way out now.”
“Of course there is.”
“Optimism’s good, Jess. All I’m saying is that I’ve got to do whatever it takes to get him out of this. I have to be prepared to take any risk.” Eva looked up at the tower blocks. Up on the edge of the first floor platform, two beanpole African guys in white tracksuits stood against the railings with their backs to Eva. They waited like sentries at their post. Jess looked at Eva with some admiration. And a fair bit of pity too.
“I have to face what Dan has faced if I have any chance of finding him…” Jess followed Eva to the shiny white jackets of the Somali sentries up in the Estate.
Two
Parker was so far out of his comfort zone he couldn’t remember where it was. After lunch with Eva and the blonde brat, he travelled back to his office. Just before he arrived, he found time to visit one of his preferred establishments, The Admiral. It was a large traditional pub not far off the beaten track which always had a certain clientele no matter what the time of day or evening. In spite of its traditional name, The Admiral was not the average London pub, though of its kind Parker thought it was among the best. From the outside, apart from the questionable names of the weekend’s night-time entertainment – The Sizzling Bombardiers – “Chocks Away!”- there was little to differentiate this pub from any other old pub with various bars, and dark wooden beamed ceilings. But it was the main difference that drew Parker there. Back at the restaurant with Eva and the brat, as he had soaked his salad and steak with two pints of strong dark ale, he had only thought of his project with Dan Bradley, and the necessity to keep Eva on track. That seemed to be in the bag now – whatever nonsense the brat came out with, Parker couldn’t see Eva going for it. Eva always pushed her own way, which was why he strategically chose to disagree with her, to encourage her down the route of chasing Gillespie. He knew if he pushed her too hard, she would likely do the opposite and abandon Gillespie in favour of catching a different fish. Then all his stage management would be wasted. By his third warm pint, he was finally able to relax and enjoy the sights on show. Back at the restaurant, when he realised they were going to follow his lead, he began to appreciate the finer views across the table. He had studied Eva many years before, mainly when he was sure she wasn’t looking at him. Today he did it again, only when doubly sure the brat couldn’t see. Eva had always been a delight to look at. She had the kind of lengthened figure which accentuated every curve, and he particularly remembered a short flouncy number she once wore to a client’s barbeque party. He had been so unable to take his eyes off her legs that day it was dangerous. She was probably barely twenty one back then. That particular skirt revealed the fine definition of her slim calves and ankles. The girl was unburdened with the type of arrogance which came to so many girls who knew they were good looking. Eva was warm and kind, but also severe and serious at the same time. Like sweet and sour, the contrast in her character against her auburn haired, freckled beauty made her mesmerising back then. Now she was older than thirty, and maturity had emboldened those curves, emphasised her femininity, added just a little flesh to cover her once too-angular face, and with those green jewel eyes, she was now an absolute knock-out. It was enough to stoke some fire in his gut, something he would have to surrender to. Today he felt a solid burning confidence beneath her soft features. The hardness in her soft green eyes felt like a veiled threat. He felt he could read her – she had become stronger in Dan’s absence - and the result was an allure which he had not imagined. He had always hidden his attraction to her; it was easy, because any man would be attracted to her, so he hid in the averages. But now, he found her eyes cutting, her looks beguiling, and they prompted his old fat body to burn with a heat he felt he could barely mask. He hoped she couldn’t see, but that was all. He hoped. And at the same time, he imagined being able to touch the skin of her neck and feel her lips and tongue mingle with his. He knew it would be abhorrent to her, it was a dream. But he couldn’t help it; revelling in this was all he had. And the blonde brat. He hadn’t liked her at first, because she was a brat, pure and simple. But the girl – Jess – had a multiplied quantity of Eva’s severity, and she was bolshie and without charm. Her eyebrows were low and disapproving over her brown eyes, but the girl was still a looker – in her early twenties he guessed, as fresh and soft as Eva had been back in the old days, but just a little plumper. If he couldn’t ever have Eva, he would have settled for teaching this youngster a thing of two, to respect her elders as he removed her polka dot blouse and undid her hair. When he paid the restaurant bill, these thoughts mingled with the drink. As they said goodbye, he lingered by the restaurant window so he could watch the sway of their hips and the shape of the tweed skirt over Eva’s buttocks. It was perverse. He hadn’t always been this way, he had told himself. It was the absence of warm flesh in his bed which had made him a pervert. It was Barbara deserting him and denying him her flabby bag of a body which had caused him to become an ogling fiend. But Barbara had done more to him than just ruin him for women. A lot more. She had ruined him all over the show- his reputation, his happiness, and his finances. And now poor and unhappier than he had ever been in his life, all he had was strong dark ale, food, the solace of work, and devouring looks at women he could never touch. Devon Parker hated himself, but there were others who hated him more. Some knew of his private lusts; those who didn’t would hate him further still if they knew. So he came to The Admiral to bury himself in his sweet shame with all the other sweaty fiends. The camaraderie was unspoken but it was there. Devon Parker stood within a loose troop of blokes in suits and work attire all with loosened shirt collars, Devon as the newest member of the congregation. Across the way was a man with a red bald scalp in a shiny black bomber jacket. Devon recognised him and his friend from a similar establishment near the Elephant and Castle. They never said hello, but he saw recognition in the other man’s eyes. They stood, in silent leers nursing half pints and hiding semi-erections. And then the music started, and a girl with too much make up painted on, hair roughly tied high up on her head, with a sparkling silver G string and big bare breasts sprang out from a door by the bar and scampered onto the cheap table-stage. The group stared. A few cheered. And for five minutes Parker forgot about his fears, debts and obligations as he absorbed as much of the girl’s flesh as he could impose on his retina. Just before she finished her act, he noticed her face. Beneath the makeup, he saw a girl younger than Eva’s brat. He put the thought out of his head and left the pub after putting a fiver in the passing money pot. She was worth less, but he was a generous man. Now there was work to be done, and plenty of it. The sun hurt his eyes, and his chest thudded at the thought of his problems, and worries over Dan. Barbara had it easy. She had married him, fucked him, and sucked his life dry of any wealth and peace he had worked for. Now he was empty and felt no more than a decade from the grave. No matter what she had done, Parker was keenly determined Barbara could not succeed in making his last years on this earth unbearable. Parker was going out with a bang, and a bloody big one at that, women included. Whatever spanner Barbara had thrown in the works with her gambling junkie son, and her selfish divorce, Parker was going to reclaim whatever joy he could. Who gave a toss if a couple of bitches who hated him got in the way?
With a t
hermos of coffee and a cheap bag of supermarket doughnuts he sat in his old Vauxhall Calibra, the air growing cold outside, the evening darkness closing in. He was far from Shoreditch now, far away in the noisy Brownfield area of Essex bordering Gillespie’s Roe Park. His old car was down a lane not far from Fenbrook Manor, parked beside some oversized conifers with enough of a gap between the branches to afford him a view with binoculars. He sipped and peered at the house, and thought of the woman dancing at The Admiral. The sight of a woman with long wavy black hair, taller than Gillespie, thinner, and strong looking snapped him out of it. She looked good, but awesomely mean with it. He had seen Maggie Gillespie before in similar circumstances, and enjoyed the view from a safe distance. Parker was a good judge of character from his years of working with people. Maggie Gillespie looked fine yet deadly to the touch. She was too far out of sight to worry about that, so he peered through the lens and scanned for more of her. Before he could find her cleavage there was a blur of darkness in front of his lens, disturbing his vision. He dropped the lenses, and looked out, then lifted them again. Two cars had pulled onto the gravel driveway. One was a grotesque sports car with a spoiler which looked twenty years out of date, and the other was a BMW in a shade of green he could not imagine the manufacturer ever permitting. He watched and waited. Car doors opened and let out two distinct sets of people. The green car contained two men, one in a navy blue blazer and the other a grey one, both with pale chino trousers on. Each of the men was thin but muscular, one was taller than the other and both wore bad haircuts, so bad it had to be a fashion statement. But what did he know? Parker admitted he was an old fart. Maybe Waddle and Hoddle Mullets were all the rage again after all. He had never seen them before, but he knew who they were. They were the Mitkin brothers, confirmed by the presence of the African men in white satin-look tracksuits. The African men sported rap star cornrow hairstyles or puff ball Afros which seemed to blur into the air like candy floss. Parker pulled out an old Dictaphone from his pocket, the type with a micro-cassette tape. He flicked the side button and said into the mic, “Seven-nineteen. The Mitkin brothers arrive with a car containing some African men. Probably the Somali gang.” He clicked it off. He could only watch. He had no means of hearing, no way to bug them without the risk of being traced. And whether it was for the chance of rescuing Dan, or a few extra pounds to buy Barbara out of his life, he wasn’t prepared to take those kinds of risks. He had ten years left to live with his big gut, high cholesterol, and worries, but ten years was better than ten minutes. So he watched and took notes on the Dictaphone.
Never Back Down Page 2
