He paused, looking across at the DCI from the driver's seat of their car. 'No, it's the drugs side of it that gives you job satisfaction in D 'n V. Every time you break a supply chain, that's good. And it gets better the higher up the chain you go. The guys at the top are clever, and they've got a hell of a lot of firepower, but every so often one of them'll get careless, or someone becomes more scared of us than of him. Then we get a real result… there's no better sight than a big dealer going away for fifteen years.'
In that case,' said Donaldson, 'how come everyone I spoke to was so worried when Tony Manson got the chop?'
Mcllhenney shook his head. Ach, come on, nobody was worried about Manson. The thing was, he was the devil we knew. He was the only drug dealer I ever heard of with anything that passed for principles. He didn't sell to kids, and he only dealt in pure stuff, not crap.
When he went, all sorts of cowboys moved in. That girl who stabbed the boss worked for one of them, I'm sure.'
`Yes, I know,' Donaldson interrupted. 'He was nicked early this morning, right in his factory. A bloke called Divers. Alison told me when I called her.'
`Vic Divers? The Squad's been after him for a while. How did we get him?'
The DCI chuckled. 'Somebody grassed him.'
`You're kidding!'
'No. Apparently, on Monday, after the Big Man was attacked, our Andy came down on the city like a ton of bricks. Anybody with even the faintest suspicion of illegality about them was turned over. He was pulling people in for farting in the street, more or less! At the same time he put the word out that things would stay that way until we had arrested the guy behind the operation that the boss ran into. Yesterday he had an anonymous phone call putting Divers in the frame and telling him where to find him.'
`Great stuff,' said Mcllhenney. 'I know that Divers. He'll be so pissed off about being shopped that he'll tell us tales about everyone he knows. I tell you, man, the jails will be full and running over by the weekend.' He laughed. 'Aye, you'll like D 'n V all right, sir.'
Donaldson's eyes widened so that the whites showed, even in the dim light of the Putney street-lamps. 'What d'you mean?'
Mcllhenney smiled inwardly, knowing that he had scored a hit. 'Call it an educated guess.
There are only two serious candidates for Andy Martin's old job. The way big Bob's played it in the past, the Head of D 'n V's always a DCI promoted into the post. Of all the runners, it'll lie between you and Brian Mackie, and Brian's too tied into Special Branch to be moved.'
`You're dreaming, Mcllhenney. No one's said a thing to me.'
`Hah! You'll be the last to know!'
`You serious about this?'
Aye. Only one thing can stop it, as I see it.'
`What's that?'
If it turns out that Ariadne and her soldier boyfriend booby-trapped wee Maurice's lunchbox right enough, you and I'll be doing nothing for the next six months but working on the trial.'
The big Sergeant paused, considering the implications for his own career. 'After that, you'll be a Superintendent and I'll be a Inspector, and we'll both be in uniform. Our faces'll be too well known to be useful in CID for a while.'
`Bugger that,' said Donaldson vehemently. 'Let's get out of here then. When's the Met guy due on shift to relieve us?'
Mcllhenney peered at his watch in the dim light, and looked back along the one-way street towards Ariadne Tucker's house. `Five minutes ago,' he said. 'In fact, I think he's there now. More than that, Garen Price is heading in this direction.'
He had hardly finished speaking before the back door of their Peugeot, a step up from the undistinguished Vauxhall, opened and the Welsh Detective Sergeant slid in behind them.
`Hello, boyo,' said Mcllhenney. 'What brings you here? Did you remember that it was your turn to buy the beer?'
Price's smile gleamed in the silver night. 'You lads will be in the chair when you hear what I've got here.' He produced a tape cassette from his jacket pocket and handed it to Donaldson. `Drive on down the road, well away from here, then shove it in the player.'
Mcllhenney switched on the engine and moved smoothly and quietly away from their observation point. 'What is it, then?' he asked, over his shoulder. Price leaned back in his seat, still smiling, but said nothing.
He made a sharp left turn, then a right. He drove for just under a minute until another right turn took them out on just Clapham Common, where he drew to a halt at the kerbside.
`Come on, Garen,' he said in exasperation to the wide-grinning Welshman. 'What the fuck is it?'
`We picked it up tonight off the telephone tap. I thought I’d share it with you right away.. and then let you buy me that beer.'
'Let's see how many pints it's worth, then,' said Donaldson. He pushed the cassette into the player. A hiss came from the speakers as the tape started to run.
The white noise continued for a few seconds, until it was broken by the sound of a phone.
It was answered on the fifth ring. 'Six-seven-eight-two,' said a soft, well-spoken male voice.
`Stephen!' At once Ariadne Tucker's voice sounded slightly petulant. 'Why didn't you show up in court today? I put off a consultation this afternoon and stayed there, listening to boring old Ormrod's summation, all because I was expecting you.'
I'm sorry, darling. It's all hell down here. We've had a no-notice inspection team in from MOD. Everyone's stuck on base until it's over. I was going to call you, but later, when I was sure you'd be home.'
Ariadne sighed softly. 'Oh! Poor darling. Imagine, being stuck in bloody Aldershot!'
Aye, imagine,' echoed Mcllhenney grimly.
Her tone changed yet again, taking on a sudden urgency. 'Are we still all right for the weekend?'
`Yes, of course, even if it means resorting to Plan B.' He paused. 'Listen, Ariadne darling, are you really sure that this is kosher, and all that, so soon after Maurice dying? Before the funeral?'
`Stephen, my poor little Galahad, if I didn't feel any guilt when Maurice was alive, why the hell should it bother me now that he's gone? As for the funeral, it looks as if he's been cremated already, in mid-air. I'll hold a memorial service at an appropriate time, in a couple of weeks perhaps. In the meantime, a woman's needs are many fold, as they say.'
She laughed, suddenly, out loud. The sound rang round the car, startling at least two of the three detectives.
`How's this for a joke? I had the police round last night, wondering if I might be having an affair with Colin Davey.' seems that one line of enquiry is that Maurice thought I was, and might have been driven to kill him, and take himself out in the process. They've got the affair part right — too bad they're wrong about the name, eh? And about Maurice's murderous intentions.'
Her laugh deepened, becoming a chuckle. 'Imagine, me and Colin Davey. Every time I met the man he made my flesh creep! Oh no,' she said with a flourish. 'My tastes are much more agreeable than that.'
Ohh!' Stephen Richards moaned in the dark. 'Well, my darling. You'll have the opportunity to indulge them at the weekend.'
`Yes, sweetheart. And you will have the object of your heart's desire. Sleep tight.' She blew a kiss into the phone and hung up.
White noise hissed around the car once more. The three men sat silent, until finally, Donaldson ejected the tape.
`She's a cold-hearted piece of stuff, is she not,' he said quietly, to himself as much as anyone.
`Not half,' said Mcllhenney. 'I'll be extra nice to my Olive from now on.' He switched on the engine and drove off steadily into the night.
`So where does that put us, sir?' he asked, swinging away from the Common and heading off in the general direction of Chelsea Bridge.
‘For a start,' said the DCI, 'although it doesn't rule out the possibility that the paranoid Noble might have believed that his wife was having it off with Davey, she seems pretty definite that he didn't kill him… Why is that, I
