injury during the Panner chase. By half-nine I was drunk and had my arm slung round Rich Jacobs’ shoulders as I told him how much I was going to miss him. As I recall, he gave me a look that suggested the feeling might not have been entirely mutual.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hammered, guv,’ I vaguely remember him saying.
‘Make the most of it,’ I told him. ‘It’s the only time I ever buy the drinks.’
Then, in a moment of madness, I bought him a double Remy.
At quarter to ten, I ate a bowl of chilli at the bar in a vain effort to soak up some of the excess alcohol, but it was way too late for that, and at twenty past I decided to call it a night. Tina and I had hardly spoken all evening, keen as always not to let on that we were lovers, and we’d agreed on our way over that we’d go our separate ways and at different times. I went first, wobbling out the door, leaving her chatting to two young DCs who both looked like they fancied their chances. I felt a pang of jealousy, which was quickly replaced by a need to get home.
In the taxi on the way back to my flat, I remember thinking that, even with all the leads we were picking up, the solution to the case still seemed a long way away.
It never occurred to me that we were already moving rapidly and inexorably towards the endgame.
Part Three
22
Luke woke up at three a.m., and cried for twenty minutes until Stegs shut him up with a bottle of milk. He then slept all the way through until 7.15, which was late for him and, on that day at least, late for Stegs. As soon as he heard the characteristic hungry cries that always ushered in a new morning, Stegs took a look at the spare room’s alarm clock, caught the time, and cursed. He needed to speak to Tino and get the next stage of the plan moving.
In the fog of his newly wakened state, he had a sudden rush of doubt that he was doing the right thing. He could pull out now. It wasn’t too late. Pull out and forget the whole thing. But as the conscious world and all its problems invaded his brain, he knew that that was bullshit. It was far too late. The events about to unfold had a sense of inevitability about them, themselves the result of things that had happened and had been said a long time ago. There was no way round that.
He pulled on some smartish clothes, knowing that he had an appointment with the PCA later that morning where he’d be grilled about his part in Wednesday’s debacle, and hunted round for his mobile, finding it on the shelf above the bed. The missus was calling him. Telling him to go and get some milk on for Luke. ‘I’m on my way,’ he called back, switching on the phone and asking if she wanted a cup of tea. She said she did, and he hurried down the stairs while she went in to coo over her favourite member of the household.
While he prepared the milk, Stegs dialled Tino’s number.
The Dutchman took a long time to answer — so long that Stegs was beginning to get worried — but finally he picked up the phone and spoke, his voice a nervous whisper. ‘
‘Tino,’ said Stegs, switching on the kettle. ‘Where are you?’
‘In the apartment, and there is no need to speak so loudly.’
Stegs smiled to himself, knowing he’d been successful. ‘Is she there?’
‘
‘Is she asleep?’
‘She is.’
‘Did you give her a good dose of the drugs?’
‘Two tablets.’
‘Blimey. What time was that?’
‘About two.’
‘Good, she’ll be out for a few hours yet.’
‘But what am I going to do with her, man? She is going to wake up some time.’
The microwave bleeped, telling him the milk was ready. ‘Don’t worry about that,’ he said, removing the bottle. ‘I’m coming over.’
‘When?’
‘As soon as I can get there. A couple of hours tops.’
‘Well, hurry, man. It is important.’
‘This is London, Tino, world centre of transporting non-excellence. I’ll be as fast as I can, and I’m not coming that far, but don’t expect me in ten minutes with croissants.’
‘What happens if she wakes up before you get here?’
‘With that sort of fucking dose, I’ll be pleased if she wakes up at all.’
‘Oh shit, man. What are you saying?’
‘It’s all right, I’m only joking. If she wakes up, give her another dose, but a small one this time.’
‘How? She will not trust me again.’
‘You’re an actor. Improvise.’ The kettle boiled and Stegs filled the two cups. ‘I’ll be over soon.’
He mashed the tea, then took it up with the milk to where the missus sat in their bedroom, cradling an irritated-looking Luke in her arms. Luke had a hungry eye on the missus’s tits but there was going to be no luck there for the little man. The missus had stopped breastfeeding three months earlier, her nipples ravaged and torn, but for Luke the happy memories lived on.
The missus smiled at him when he came in. ‘Thanks, love,’ she said as he handed her the milk and put the tea down on the bedside table. ‘You look in a good mood.’
He grinned at her. ‘I’ve got a feeling today’s going to be a new beginning,’ he said, and one way or another he knew it was true.
Tino was staying in an apartment he’d rented on a week’s let between Baker Street and Marylebone High Street, just north of Oxford Street and the heart of the West End. He’d told Stegs he’d found it on the internet. It was costing?300 for the week, which Tino didn’t think was too bad a deal. At least he hadn’t thought it a bad deal when he’d first arrived, but then at that time he’d assumed he was soon going to be a few grand richer. Things since then, however, had not turned out quite how he’d expected. And, unbeknownst to Tino, they were about to take a significant turn for the worse.
It was nine o’clock by the time Stegs arrived. Having no desire to pay the congestion charge, he’d driven to High Barnet station and caught the Northern Line followed by the Circle, crammed in with all the commuters, wondering how anyone could ever tolerate battling their way to the office like this every day. His missus wanted him to become like these people, and though he’d felt more sympathetic to her point of view when he’d woken up a couple of hours earlier, by the time he’d got off the train at Baker Street he’d decided that he’d far rather get a divorce than travel like this five days a week. He might have been finished in the police force, but that didn’t mean he had to start life as an office drone. Not if things went according to plan, anyway.
Tino’s high-rise apartment block was just off Paddington Street, and though it looked all right from the outside, Stegs recognized it as being ex-council. Very cheeky. Some scrote had probably bought the place for about ten grand back when old Ma Thatcher was trying to sell off the public housing stock in order to create a property- owning democracy, and now the lucky bastard was renting it out as a city-break holiday home to Continental holidaymakers for three hundred a week. There is no such thing as justice, and anyone who says different is sadly fucking mistaken.
There was no entry phone, so Stegs walked straight in and took the lifts (which at least didn’t smell of piss) up to the third floor and Tino’s urban pied-a-terre. He found the right apartment and knocked quietly on the door. This time there was no hesitation. Tino answered near enough immediately, and fair dragged Stegs inside.
‘All right, all right, what’s the problem?’ Stegs hissed as they came into the lounge. Not exactly spacious, but
