Back then, sixty-four thousand dollars was a lot of money.’
‘You don’t seem particularly upset about what happened. They tried to kill you, right?’
‘What do you want me to do, Jenny? Lock myself in the bathroom? Hide under the bed? I was in an armed response unit when I was with the Met, remember? I’m used to facing bad guys with guns.’
‘Sure, but when you were a cop you’d have been wearing a bulletproof vest and not a raincoat. And you’ve have had an MP3 to fire back with.’
Nightingale laughed. ‘I bloody hope not,’ he said. ‘An MP3’s a music player. You mean a Heckler amp; Koch MP5.’
‘Whatever I mean, you’d have had a gun and protection. Why are you being so bloody calm about this?’
‘Because it’s over and I’m alive and all’s well that ends well,’ he said.
‘Except for the teenager who got caught in the crossfire.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You’re avoiding my question, aren’t you?’
‘What question?’
‘I asked you about Proserpine and you did that clever thing you do of making a joke to get out of answering. Jack, could she be behind this? She said she’d send three people to kill you. Two have already tried, right? Maybe this is the third attempt.’
Nightingale finished his coffee, put down his mug and reached for his cigarettes.
‘Jack, talk to me. Is it possible that Proserpine sent them?’
‘I’m not being evasive, kid. I just don’t know. I suppose it’s possible.’ He didn’t want to tell her that he’d seen Proserpine just before the shooting. Or that she’d said they were coming for him. Maybe Jenny was right, though. Maybe they had been working for her and maybe she had been there to watch.
‘Suppose isn’t really good enough, is it? Not when your life’s on the line.’
‘What do you think I should have done? Interrogated them as the lead was flying?’
‘You make a joke of everything, don’t you? Look, you did a deal with a devil. She gave you the information you needed to find your sister and help get her out of prison. But for every question of yours that she answered she said she’d send someone to kill you.’
‘To try to kill me,’ corrected Nightingale. ‘She hasn’t had much luck so far.’
‘Yes, well, maybe she’s saving the best until last. Men with guns shooting at you in broad daylight? That sounds like she’s getting desperate. Like she’s annoyed that the first two failed and this time she wanted to make sure.’
‘But doesn’t the fact that they made such a mess of it show that it wasn’t her behind it?’
‘I don’t know, Jack. That’s why I’m asking you. You’re the one who summons her, not me.’
‘I don’t know, kid, I really don’t know. I can’t help thinking that Proserpine’s minions would be more creative. This just seemed like a gang thing.’
‘So it’s connected with the drug dealer you’re supposed to have shot?’
Nightingale slid a cigarette out and slipped it between his lips. ‘That seems more likely,’ he said as he took his lighter from his pocket.
‘You need to find out for sure,’ said Jenny.
‘I will,’ said Nightingale. He lit his cigarette. ‘And I know just the person to ask.’
‘Please don’t tell me you’re going to start summoning up devils again,’ said Jenny. ‘You know that always ends in tears.’
‘I was thinking of someone closer at hand, actually,’ said Nightingale. He handed her his empty coffee mug. ‘Couldn’t have a refill, could I?’
12
Nightingale pushed open the door to the pub, stepped inside and looked around. Evans was standing at the corner of the bar from where he could watch the door and the flatscreen television that was showing a Chelsea- Liverpool game. Evans nodded when he saw Nightingale, then raised his glass to his lips as he watched the football. It was stiflingly hot in the pub and Nightingale took off his raincoat and slipped it over his arm on his way to the bar.
‘If Chalmers finds out that I’m drinking with you, he’ll blow a fuse,’ said Evans as Nightingale joined him.
‘That ship has already sailed, I think.’ He waved over at the barmaid, a redhead with shoulder-length hair and a sprinkling of freckles across her upturned nose. ‘What are you on, lager?’ he asked.
Evans nodded and Nightingale ordered a pint of Fosters and a bottle of Corona.
‘So what do you want, Jack?’ asked Evans, putting down his glass. ‘I’m assuming you’re not going to confess to shooting Dwayne Robinson.’
‘You know full well that what happened to Dwayne Robinson has got nothing to do with me. Chalmers is clutching at straws.’
‘He’s got you in his sights, that’s for sure,’ said Evans. ‘He’s trying to get funding to put together a full Tango team and really put you under the microscope.’
‘Great,’ said Nightingale. The drinks arrived and Nightingale paid for them. There was a group of Chelsea fans within earshot so Nightingale nodded at the fruit machine and the two of them went over to stand by it. ‘I need a favour,’ said Nightingale.
Evans chuckled. ‘And in the whole of the Metropolitan Police I’m the only cop you can ask? You really don’t have any friends, do you?’ He sipped his lager.
‘You’re the only one that can help me, Dan.’
‘You mean everyone else has told you to go screw yourself?? I’m your last resort?’
‘It’s more complicated than that,’ said Nightingale. ‘Did you hear about a shooting in Bayswater this morning?’
‘Sure. Trident are on the case. Black on black. Black teenager took a bullet in the shoulder but it’s not life- threatening. Looks like a turf war.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s not what happened.’
‘Says who?’
‘Says the guy they were shooting at.’ He raised his bottle in salute. ‘Here’s to dodging bullets,’ he said.
‘Please don’t tell me that you’re withholding information,’ scowled the detective. ‘A teenager got shot.’
‘I’m talking to you now, aren’t I? And let’s look on the bright side, shall we? At least it wasn’t coppers doing the shooting.’
Evans sipped his lager and then his eyes widened as a Chelsea player took a shot at goal that was tipped over the crossbar by the keeper.
‘You a Chelsea fan, Dan?’
‘Liverpool,’ said Evans. ‘My grandfather worked on the docks and my dad was a cop.’
‘So how did you end up in London?’
‘We’re never going to be bosom buddies, Jack, so you don’t need my family history.’ He took another drink and then looked at Nightingale like an undertaker measuring him up for a coffin. ‘Look, what you did to the father of that little girl — you know, a lot of guys in the job think you did the right thing. She killed herself, you threw him out of his office window, and there’re plenty out there would have done the same. But that was two years ago. Water under the bridge. Now you’re a civilian, and a civilian who seems to be the catalyst for a hell of a lot of corpses.’
‘It’s been an unlucky few weeks, that’s certainly true.’
‘Unlucky? It’s like you’ve got the plague, Jack. Everyone you talk to turns up dead.’
‘That’s a bit of an exaggeration and you know it.’
‘Yeah? Well, a month ago you were a former cop scraping a living as a private eye and you weren’t even on our radar. Now every time a body turns up Chalmers wants to know where you were.’
‘Chalmers has always had the hots for me,’ said Nightingale.
‘I don’t understand why you keep making a joke about it.’
‘What do you want me to do, Dan? Confess?’
