“Go on,” said Dan.
“The tall man. You said his name was Blunt. Said he was foreign sounding – a mix of a London accent and something foreign. That foreign element… it’s German.”
“German? Why German?”
“Because we know a man with a police record who goes by the name of Tyrone Blunt or Ty Blunt. He’s even gone under his initials, TB. And this police record is longer than the Channel Tunnel.”
Dan tutted. “TB? With a name like that, Tyrone Blunt must rate himself as a hardman. Maybe a killer. But how true is it? How many scalps does this guy have?”
“Actually, there’s no credible evidence of any murder. But Tyrone Blunt does have a long history of violence. Tyrone Blunt was born in Portsmouth, but he’s a German citizen, and has lived between London and Berlin for most of his early adult life. Though much more recently Europol records have listed an extensive spate of violent crimes in the Netherlands and France, especially over the last few years.”
Dan’s eyes narrowed and flicked to meet Alma Poulter’s. Dawson’s reports of Blunt’s travels fitted roughly with Alma’s of the last five years – at least to some degree.
“And he’s extremely violent?”
“Yes. Blunt almost killed two men in a Dutch nightclub in twenty fourteen but got away with it because of a lack of witnesses. My guess is the witnesses balked in case they became targets. Then there’s knife crimes, GBH, ABH…”
“What about guns?”
“Nothing in the UK. But Europol have him as a suspect for some gang murders in Rotterdam and three in Paris. There was never enough evidence to get him charged, but Blunt was in the vicinity every time, and there were a couple of descriptions that fitted pretty well.”
“What was the motive for the murders?”
“That one is easy enough. They were pure gangland executions. The Rotterdam killings were about some smaller gang skimming something off the top from a drug trafficking ring. The Paris killings were about clearing some competitors from the market.”
“Anything else I need to be aware of?”
“What about this? The same calibre pistol was used in each case. A point two two. Possibly a Glock because they’re so easy to come by. But that can’t be confirmed.”
“It wasn’t a Glock. I’ve seen it. It’s far too showy. It looked like a metal pistol, silver coloured, with a black handle. If I get another look and live to tell the tale, I’ll let you know.”
“You think this is your guy then?”
“I’m pretty certain from all the locations you’ve mentioned that this is our man. Sounds like if I want to avoid any more unsolved murders, I’ll need to make sure I see this guy coming.”
“These were professional hits, Dan. I bet none of those people saw Blunt coming unless he wanted them to. Tyrone Blunt is a hitman.”
“For hire?”
“Probably… But those locations – it was also noted on the Europol files that the killings were all linked in time to the introduction of certain new drugs into the market…”
“What kind of drugs? Rotterdam suggests heroin to me. Are we talking opioids?”
“Guess again. Both ‘Dams have their share of nightclub culture. The drugs in question are rave drugs.”
“Ecstasy, speed, coke.”
“Close. Think even closer to home and you’ve got it. The more I think about it, it’s starting to make sense that Blunt’s here. Ubers, Dan. Ubers. The killings all seemed related to Uber trafficking as the drug was expanding into new markets. It’s possible that Tyrone Blunt is in town to get rid of any roadblocks to the UK Uber market. If I were you, I’d steer well clear.”
“I can’t do that. And besides, I think the Uber link could be a red herring. Or perhaps a coincidence.”
“It’s no red herring. Europol have it all mapped out. It fits almost perfectly.”
“Still,” said Dan. He looked up at Alma. “This time I can’t help believing he’s here for something else.”
“You mean that missing person woman? Yeah, he could be here for both. Thanks for the tip-off. Soon as the chief hears about this, he’ll have the whole station mobilised. It’ll be panic stations.”
Which meant CID too… Which meant DI Hogarth causing problems on top of everything else. Not a prospect Dan relished. But worse still was the mention of the Uber business – so fresh in mind after the Clancy case, it set his teeth on edge.
“Thanks for the info on Blunt, Dawson.”
“Don’t mention it. This could blow up into a very big problem at any time. Don’t get yourself hurt, Dan. And don’t get caught up in the fallout.”
“Yeah. I’ll see what I can do,” said Dan, sounding non-committal. “Thanks again.”
He ended the call and looked at Alma Poulter.
“So then, Alma? How many of the things you told me were lies? And how much did you conveniently leave out?” He laid his mobile on the desk and looked at Alma’s eyes. They briefly flitted away before a defiant return.
“I told you all you need to know. Nothing more, nothing less. I did you a favour, believe me.”
“Believe you? That’s for me to decide now either way. This problem of yours, I’m starting to see it’s even deeper than I realised. And not just for you. For a whole bunch of other people across Europe. Millions probably. And plenty of them are already dead. So come on, Alma. Confession time is finally here. Your boyfriend deals Ubers. Not any old drug, but Ubers! The deadliest club drug the market has ever seen. Maybe this guy of yours even manufactures them, am I right? Which, by my reckoning would make him a seriously big cheese in a deadly multi-million-pound market… Not to mention a sick scumbag of epic proportions,” said Dan. His dark eyes locked with Alma’s. “So, the question I’m asking myself is, were you a part of it?”
“You mean the Uber ring?”
Dan nodded.
“I told you already,” said Alma. “I was never knowingly part of anything twisted or sick or criminal until I found out that I was already involved in it. I was only ever out for a good time, that was all. Honest.”
“A good time? At everyone else’s expense…”
“No. You don’t get to do that. I told you. I didn’t know what my boyfriend was really doing until it was far too late. He was making a ton of money and we were always at dance events, gigs, raves. The kind of places I loved to be. Him telling me he was an events promoter made a lot of sense to me. I never saw him as anything else until it was too late… and by then, I knew I was going to run.”
“So, what was he then? A cog in the wheel. Just another Uber dealer. Or middle management in the organisation, or what?”
The woman leaned forward in her seat.
“Sorry to break it to you, PI, but Simeon was the kingpin. Ubers were his. His invention. It took me some time, but I worked it out. He invented the damn things, made them, turned the thing industrial scale, and spread it across Europe, and he did it while I was with him on our travels! I think he loved me. And at the time, I thought I loved him. But guess what – you start to see your boyfriend in a different light when you realise he’s killing people with a nasty designer drug. And not just any people. People just like me. Girls and boys dropping those things at house parties and raves. Kids, like I was, who just wanted to be part of the scene. And when you know, the scales drop from your eyes. That’s when I saw our travelling for what it was. I saw his cronies for what they were too. They weren’t good time people like me, they were part of it. Then I understood why sometimes people went missing and I never saw them again. It was because of him, because of what he was doing. For a while, I was terrified. But that passed, then I knew what I had to do. I got out. I had a head full of what he’d done for five years. I’d seen it, been there with him. I knew I was a threat to him – I knew how he’d see me once I was gone. I had to protect myself from him. And maybe, just maybe, if I ever got brave enough to do it, there was a chance I could bring the whole damn thing crashing down around his ears.”
“I know. I read about it like everyone else. But they’ve been here a lot longer than that. They’ve been here for a year, maybe two,” said Alma. “It’s only now they’re taking off in a big way.”
“Even though they’re killing people? Why?”
“Because word of mouth says those pills are bliss like no other. Beyond compare. Some fools are always prepared to gamble their lives for a hit like that. And those who made the gamble and lived swear it’s true. They sell the drug on the stories alone. So the pills are taking off, and some of them kill. Percentage wise, I’d say a lot of them kill. That disgusts me, honestly. The Uber business is a parasite on dance culture, killing the people I care about. People like me.”
“So…” said Dan. “You’re telling me you weren’t wasted on Ubers that night at Maison Sol? You weren’t there pushing Ubers on DJ Toxic’s crowd.”
“No way. I risked my backside to be there for the music. I hadn’t been out in months. I was only there because of the titchy venue, and I’d been living like a prisoner for months. And Toxic is good, really good. You just don’t get it, do you? I live to dance, man. I have to. That’s the only reason why I was there. Dance music is my drug, dancing is my high. And that’s how they found me. Even so, I don’t know exactly how it happened.”
Dan nodded. “Didn’t you see the journalist and photographer there that night?”
“I was dancing, lost in the music. But yeah. I saw someone snapping. Thought it was some idiot snapping for their blog or Instagram feed. I thought I’d avoided them. Guess I didn’t.”
“What about the journalist?” said Dan.
“No. Not really. I saw some little blonde with the snapper. She kept throwing herself at Toxic, sticking out her tits at him like ice creams at a kiosk.”
A thin smile settled on Dan’s face. He nodded. “Yeah. That sounds like her.”
“That one had no style at all. But I think Toxic still went off with her. He might be a great DJ but ultimately he’s still just a man. Now I wish I’d swerved the whole event.”
“That’s how it all started,” said Dan, happy to let Alice Perry wear the blame for a change. “You were seen by the journalist, you ended up in a newspaper pic, and then the fake Poulter landed on our doorstep. It started that night, two months back.”
“And now Blunt is here too, chasing me down. An unhappy coincidence.”
“I’d say it’s not so much of a coincidence,” said Dan.
“You think they’re linked?” said Poulter.
“No. But you stuck your neck above the parapet and your face was published on the web. It was only a matter of time until someone found you. What’s galling is that somehow, we were used to reel you in. I can’t figure out how that happened, but I’d really like to get my hands on the scum who set that ball in motion.”
Alma nodded. “It’d be nice to say thanks, wouldn’t it?”
Dan blew out a long breath. “My police contact told me Blunt works as a hitman for the Uber ring.”
Alma paused before she nodded. “Years back, I just thought Blunt was a weirdo among the set. He wasn’t always with us, but he used to appear along the way. He had a good sense of humour, but I could tell he was a cold, unfeeling type of guy. He gave me the chills, but I told myself not to judge. But when I found out about Simeon’s real business… and I saw what Blunt’s function was in the group I’d become a part of… I knew then my time would come unless I jumped. So I jumped… I was hoping to survive longer than this.”
Dan felt she was telling the truth. But between her and Dawson’s phone call, he saw the case wasn’t getting any easier.
“You still haven’t told me everything though, have you?”
“Everything you need to know.”
“Why would your ex send a professional hitman after you? I presume your ex sent him. I can’t see any other reason. You said Blunt is a cold creep. So I doubt he’s a jealous ex-lover. Which means he’s here on a mission – to wipe you out. So what are you to Blunt? Are you his main mission here, or are you a second order hit? A two birds with one stone and all that.”
“What does that mean?” said Alma.
“I mean – are you the one Blunt has been sent to kill or is there a bigger, business-related target?”
Alma Poulter met his gaze evenly. “No. I’m the target. I am the business-related mission. I don’t know any other reason why he’d be here.”
Dan paused to scent a lie, but he couldn’t. “Fine, then. You’re his target. But business-related. So what’s in that book, Alma? Is that what all of this is about? The names and numbers in that creased up little book of yours under the bed.
“I don’t need a book. I am the book,” she tapped her head. “It’s all up here.”
“Then why the book?”
“I don’t know. Vengeance. Maybe I could drop it off with the police and run. Or maybe it will show up if I got killed by Blunt. But no one should have known about the book. Only me and Cripps. It was my secret.”
“But it’s not a secret, is it? Someone found out. You sprang a leak.”
“That’s the thing… I don’t know how.”
“However it happened, this guy Robert knew about the book. He knew about your presence at the Toxic gig too. The book is what he wants. What’s in it?”
“I don’t know this guy’s motive. I only know Blunt. And what I know about him is enough – Blunt won’t stop until he’s finished me off. I either have to disappear or he’ll kill me, it’s as simple as that.”
“The book? Does he know about it too?”
Alma shook her head. “Simeon might have guessed I’d do something like that. But to them, I’m the risk. I know everything.”
“A killer freak and a kidnapping creep. Useful to know, I suppose. But we still need to know a lot more about this Robert guy. How did he get the info… who is he working for?”
Dan stood up from his desk.
“Where are you going now?”
“Upstairs. I need to make a couple of calls. It’ll only take a minute.”
“Can’t you make your calls down here?”
“With your big ears flapping, no way. Sit tight and keep away from the windows and you’ll be fine. I’ll be back down in two minutes flat.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my ears,” said the woman, shaking her hair so a few dark locks covered them.
“Wait up, I’ll be back in sec.”
Alma grunted. Once Dan had vacated his seat and vanished upstairs through the door to the apartment, Alma stood up and dropped herself into his seat. She slid the chair close to the wall and positioned herself behind Dan’s laptop. She pressed as close as she could, until the cold plaster was pressed tight against her bicep. Now she was hidden from the street window but could still see everything coming their way. She counted time in her head, thought about Cripps, then tried not to think at all. Barely a minute had passed before the dark shadows started heading towards the window. One figure followed by another. A surge of panic hit Alma hard. Her eyes darted around the room for a weapon. She yanked Dan’s desk drawer and her fingers dove deep into the mess inside. Before she found anything beyond torn chewing gum wrappers and an old black and white boxing flyer, a key turned in the lock, and the door shuddered open. The young blonde girl with the smart dress and the probing eyes stepped inside. Behind was the sweaty teen with the sheepish face. This time his eyes were probing too. Alma didn’t like it.
“You two… What do you want?”
“We work here,” said Mark, his words defensive and sharp
“We want to help,” said Joanne, quickly.
Alma pursed her lips, her expression thoughtful.
“She’s your girlfriend?” she said finally.
Mark didn’t answer. A sparkle of mischief lighted the woman’s dark eyes.
“Did you tell her I spent twenty minutes boun
cing around on your lap?” she added, with mischief in her eyes.
“He told me,” said Joanne.
Alma laughed at her own joke. “And you don’t look too jealous,” said Alma. “No maybe you’re not. Maybe you’d be happy to get rid of him, eh?”
“Hey!” said Joanne. “That’s not a very nice thing to say. And it’s not true.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” said Alma, looking suddenly bored with the whole thing. “But life’s not nice.” She sighed, reading the girl’s eyes. “If you want Bradley, he’s upstairs.”
“And Eva?” said Joanne. “His partner, Eva Roberts?”
The woman shook her head. “No. She’s not back. And Bradley’s worried about her. I can tell.”
Joanne and Mark looked at one another, wondering what could go wrong next. Eva and Dan were stretched, and nobody was safe.
***
“I wouldn’t normally call you,” said Dan, “but some things are happening which are going to get your attention sooner or later.”
The woman at the other end of the line sounded jaded and tired. It had clearly been a long day for her, and Bradley was only adding to it.
“You’re not asking to speak to DI Hogarth,” she said.
“I would, if I wanted five minutes of frustration and argument. But as it is, I think it’s only a matter of time until you get sucked into this thing.”
Dan heard the leather of Detective Sergeant Sue Palmer’s office chair creak as she either leaned forward with interest or leaned back in despair. It was impossible to tell which.
“What are we going to get sucked into, exactly?”
“Ubers. The Uber situation hasn’t gone away. It’s just getting worse.”
“What?” said Palmer. “If you want me to help then please don’t talk in riddles, Mr Bradley.”
“Look,” said Dan. “A couple of weeks back it was Tommy Pink and Co. But they were a very local kind of dealing outfit, right? Pink and Grace were just the local distributors. Just the tail on the dog’s backside.”
Cuts Both Ways Page 21
