‘Where would he get the money?’
‘Snaffled a rich bitch’s handbag, I expect. They’re thick as pig shit, those women.’ His tone was contemptuous now. ‘They yackety-yack with their friends outside cafes, and they don’t even know their bag’s gone till they come to pay. All you need’s a diversion – a mate pretending to beg – and the bitches all look at him while you do the business behind them.’
‘You’re a real hero, Corporal.’
Chalky shouldered the lieutenant aside. ‘It’s an ugly world, son, and stripes and pips don’t mean a fucking thing outside the army. The sooner you get wise to that the better.’ He took the carrier out of Acland’s hands, retied the handles and shoved it to the back of the boot. ‘There’s nothing in there that’ll do a sick kid any good.’
‘Did he have a duffel bag with him?’
Chalky coughed smoker’s phlegm into his throat and spat it on the ground. ‘Not that I saw.’
‘Are you sure?’
Something in the lieutenant’s tone irritated him. ‘You calling me a liar? Just take the rucksack.’ He closed the lid. ‘I’ll wait in the car till you’re done.’
Acland clicked the remote on the key fob to lock the doors. ‘You’ll wait on the wall,’ he said without hostility. ‘I’d prefer my kitbag to be here when I get back.’
*
It was twenty minutes before Jackson came to find him in the A&E waiting room. He opened the front pocket of the rucksack and showed her the electrical gadgets. ‘How’s he doing?’
‘He’ll live but he’ll have to stay in for a few days.’ She took the chair beside Acland. ‘We’ve found a phone number for the address in Wolverhampton, but no one’s answering. Did you come up with anything else?’
Acland removed the photograph. ‘I think she’s his girlfriend.’ He turned it over to show the address, explaining why he thought it was a friend’s house rather than her own. ‘If it was a commercial poste restante there’d be a PO Box number, so whoever lives there must know her, and probably Ben as well.’
‘I’ll try it. What about the mobiles? Anything on them?’
‘Dead. The BlackBerry, too.’ He paused. ‘There’s a digital camera and four iPods as well. I’d say it’s a good bet they’re all stolen.’
Jackson viewed him with amusement. ‘A dead cert more like. I hope that means you haven’t given Chalky free rein of my car. He’ll have the seats out of it before you can blink . . . not to mention the CD player and the radio.’
‘He’s sitting on a wall. Vodka and him don’t mix. He’s spoiling for a fight.’
‘That’s alcohol for you. I expect he uses it to self-medicate for depression . . . It’s what most of them do. Sometimes it’ll send them to sleep . . . other times it’ll gee them up for a confrontation. Where did he get the vodka from?’
‘Stole it, I should think . . . or got Ben to do it for him. He’s appropriated a bag of booze and fags that the lad brought in with him.’
‘Payment in kind for a secure pitch for the night,’ said Jackson matter-of-factly. ‘It’s a dog-eat-dog world on the streets. How much did he take you for?’
‘Nothing.’
Jackson looked amused. ‘Chalky’s a pro. You’d probably have woken up tomorrow morning to find most of your cash missing.’
She lifted the phones out of the rucksack pocket and selected a Nokia, removing the back and the battery to check if the SIM card was there. ‘I keep a Cellboost in my bag. How’s your conscience when it comes to the Data Protection Act? Shall we give it a whirl?’
‘Won’t it be locked?’
‘We won’t know till we try.’
*
Following in Jackson’s wake, Acland was interested in how many negative reactions she seemed to inspire. He was used to attracting suspicious looks himself, but it was a new experience to see someone else draw the flak. Even in the early hours, St Thomas’s A&E was busy, and he saw the faces people pulled as she passed and the way they turned to watch her retreating back. From behind, her bootleg trousers and black leather jacket, topped by her thick neck and short hair, made her look more masculine than ever, and he wondered how many of the reactions were caused by confusion over her gender. She spoke on her mobile as she walked along, apparently oblivious to the interest she was causing. ‘I’ve another address for you . . . 25 Melbury Gardens, WV6 0AA . . . No name, I’m afraid . . . Not sure, but I doubt it’s a relation . . . Possibly someone who knows his girlfriend . . . That’s right . . . no surname . . . just Hannah. If I leave his rucksack in the PCT office, will you make sure he gets it? Cheers.’ She redialled. ‘Anything new for Dr Jackson? Dr Patel covered it...? Thank him for me. No, I’m still at the hospital . . . almost finished . . . ten minutes max but I can be out of here in two if something comes up. Cheers.’ She stopped outside an office and punched a code into an electronic lock before ushering Acland inside. She passed him a piece of paper and a pen from the desk. ‘Print “Ben Russell” on that in block caps and leave it with the rucksack in the corner,’ she told him, taking her case from behind the door and propping it on her knee to open it. ‘OK, let’s see what we can find.’
Acland watched her unwrap the Cellboost. ‘Why don’t you put the SIM card in your own Nokia and read it that way?’
‘I’m on call.’ She connected the booster to the phone and hoisted a meaty thigh on the edge of the desk while she waited. ‘There’s usually a lull about this time. The busy periods are in the lead-up to midnight and after three o’clock in the morning.’
‘Why?’
‘Human nature and blood-sugar levels. Parents check on children before they go to bed themselves . . . Adults
