‘Sarge?’ said Berrin as we walked along.
I yawned. It was half two in the morning, a long way past my bedtime. ‘Yes, Dave?’
‘Have you got a problem with me?’
I stopped and looked at him, and realized how difficult I’d made things for him lately. ‘Of course I haven’t. I’m sorry about the last few days. I’ve been trying to follow up on a couple of theories I’ve got, and I suppose I didn’t want to share them until they’d come to something.’
‘But we’re working together on this. I need to know what’s happening otherwise I’m not going to be of any use to you at all.’
‘No, I understand that.’
‘So what was it you were talking to the SO7 bloke about?’
I sighed. ‘A theory I’m working on, but a real vague one.’ And it was vague, too, but I was sure there was something in it.
Berrin lit a cigarette. ‘Well, let’s hear it then. You never know, I might even be able to help.’
So I told him. By the time I’d finished talking, it had started to rain again. ‘What do you think?’ I asked, wondering if I was really any good at man management.
Berrin finished his cigarette and chucked it in the gutter. ‘I think I hope it isn’t right because if it is then it’s a gruesome chain of events. But it wouldn’t totally surprise me, you know. I reckon it’s got the ring of truth about it.’
‘So do I,’ I said. ‘So do I.’
Thursday, three days ago
Iversson
It was just after nine a.m. and raining hard when I stepped into a phone box on Seven Sisters Road. I dialled the number of a restaurant owned by Stefan Holtz. A foreign-sounding gentleman answered on about the tenth ring. ‘L’Espagnol,’ he grunted miserably, which I thought was a bit cheeky. I might have been a punter looking to book a table, and that sort of tone would have put me right off.
‘Tell Stefan Holtz that the man from Heavenly Girls wants to get hold of him. He’s got a message from Krys. I’m going to call this number back in fifteen minutes and I want to speak to him then.’
The guy on the other end didn’t speak and I hung up, getting out of the phone box and walking along the street in the direction of Camden Road. Fifteen minutes later, I entered another phone box on York Road and dialled the L’Espagnol number again. This time it was answered on the first ring by the same guy as before. ‘I’ve got a number to ring,’ he told me hurriedly. I wrote it down and rang off without further comment, then dialled it.
Four rings later and Stefan Holtz was on the line. ‘Where the fuck’s my son?’ were his first words, delivered in a rough north London rasp that made me think I’d been daft to start smoking again.
‘He’s unhurt. If you want to see him again it’ll cost you half a million quid in cash, used fifties. You’ve got twenty-four hours to come up with the money otherwise we’ll chop his head off, and use his quiff as a bog brush.’
‘If you fucking touch him, I’ll rip you limb from limb.’
‘I’m going to call back tomorrow morning at this time with further instructions.’
‘I need more fucking time,’ said Holtz, the first signs of desperation in his voice. For all his money and influence, he was powerless in the current situation, and he knew it.
I put the phone down, confident that he’d follow the instructions he’d been set. The two bodies left behind the previous night should have been proof enough of that. I was pissed off that we’d had to kill two men to get what we wanted, particularly since the whole thing had almost gone completely to plan, but it was too late to worry about it now.
I hailed a cab and fifteen minutes later I was back at Elaine’s apartment. I used the key she’d given me to let myself in and went up to the bedroom. The curtains were still closed and she was lying in bed, looking good. She opened her eyes and smiled when she saw me.
I grinned back at her. ‘We did it.’ And then,coming forward towards the bed, ‘We fucking did it!’ She sat up and we clutched each other tightly. I pushed my face into her neck, revelling in her smell. And do you know what? I almost said I love you, but stopped myself just in time. It wasn’t the moment for that yet.
‘It’s not over yet, hon.’
‘No, but the worst part’s sorted.’
‘I saw on the news that two people got shot,’ she said, easing herself away from my grasp. ‘What happened?’
‘They were Krys’s associates. They tried to stop us, we had no choice.’
‘Did you know that they’ve shown your mug on
‘How did I look?’
‘Fucking ugly, so better than usual. I hope your passport photo looks a lot different.’
‘Don’t worry. It’ll look beautiful.’
‘That’ll take some work.’
‘You know, Miss Toms, you’re getting a little bit too disrespectful for my liking.’ I removed my shirt and flung it on the floor.
‘You need a suntan.’
‘You need to be taught a lesson.’
‘How’s little Krysy doing?’
‘Blindfolded and shackled in a cellar, on a diet of bread and water.’
‘Good. Kick that bastard for me, will you?’ She pulled me towards her.
‘I already have,’ I said, tugging at my belt.
As I entered her, she asked me if I’d been the one who’d pulled the trigger in Heavenly Girls. I told her I had been.
The sex was fantastic.
Gallan
Knox looked at Berrin and me with a mixture of annoyance and confusion. We were in his office in the Matthews incident room, the last three people on the case, and it was eleven a.m.
‘Explain this to me again,’ he said, rubbing his eyes. ‘We’ve all had a late night and I know I’m not quite with it this morning, but I’m sure you’ve just told me that your possible suspect in this inquiry is now tied in with the Jones murder.’
‘That’s right,’ I said, feeling that at this point I had nothing to lose. ‘I wouldn’t say I’m sure of it, but I’ve got enough suspicions to warrant a full search of the house, and I believe I can get the owner’s permission.’
‘How many murders are you trying to solve here?’
‘As many as I can.’
Knox sat up in his seat and took a large gulp of coffee. ‘If we send SOCO round, what do you think they’re going to find?’
‘Maybe nothing, but it’s got to be worth a shot. The Jones case has ground to a halt, everyone knows that. Even the Essex police found nothing when they reviewed it. So, if we can be seen to be doing something it certainly won’t do us any harm.’
‘I don’t want to raise the hopes of the family. They’re good people.’
‘I know they are, but look at it like this. Robert Jones disappeared from that street one morning without anyone ever seeing him get taken. Now, that road’s quite busy at that time, as we all know, so that was unusual in itself.’
‘Not that unusual.’
‘If you’ll let me finish, sir.’ Knox motioned for me to go on. ‘I checked the pathologist’s notes again yesterday. Robert’s clothing had been interfered with but there were no other signs of sexual assault. It was also noted that
