'Get off my back.'
The words were clear in Keeper's memory. There was room for discretion when there had not been an order. But there had been an order. 'You do not, repeat not, pull in Tango One.'
Bill had not said, 'You do not, repeat not, put your fist in the target's grin.' He climbed out of the car. He felt awkward, stiff, from sleeping in the back seat, and out with him came an empty soft drink can that clattered into the gutter beside him.
'Get the hell off my car, Eshraq.'
'Didn't you hear me, April Five? Get off my back.'
'I'm going to stay on your back until they close the door on you.'
'I don't think so, April Five.'
'I'll put you off my car.'
' T r y. '
'Don't think, Eshraq, that Furniss can protect you.'
And Charlie Eshraq laughed at him, the flash of wide white teeth.
'Out of your depth, April Five. Heh, April Five, can you swim?'
And he was left. He stood beside the car, and he had to put his hand on the roof of the car to steady himself, and it was not the tiredness that had weakened his legs. He was trembling with rage.
They went through the routine. They watched the target in his seat throughout the journey, as if they hadn't shown out, as if he hadn't sat on the bonnet of the Case Officer's car, as if they knew what they were doing, as if it hadn't been the biggest foul-up any of them could remember.
No one actually asked Keeper what had been said at the green Sierra saloon, because none of them dared. The April team went back to London and half a dozen rows in front of them Charlie Eshraq slept.
Keeper went forward, matching the motion of the train.
He caught at the seat heads to balance himself.
His hand brushed the ear of Charlie Eshraq when he went past that seat, and he saw the annoyance curl on the man's face. Didn't give a damn. He was whistling, cheerful.
He went to the buffet. Twelve cans of Newcastle Brown, four whisky minatures, eight packets of crisps, eight packets of roasted peanuts.
He spilled them down on to the table. Harlech looked like he couldn't remember when Keeper had last volunteered his shout, Corinthian looked like it was Christmas morning, Token was grinning.
He sang. Big voice, might have had a trace of baritone, but he didn't know about such things…
Eshraq has only got one ball,
His Dad had two but they were very small, Khomeini has something similar,
But the Shah had no balls at all…
Heads turned. Business men dropping their pocket calculators and their financial reports, and Eshraq twisting his head to look back at them. 'One more time,' Keeper shouted.
Charlie has only got one ball,
His Dad had two but they were very small, Khomeini has something similar,
But the Shah had no balls at all…
And into the decibel joke competition. Loudest laughter wins.
Token's was filthy, Harlech's was rugby, Corinthian's was subtle, which meant he couldn't win, Keeper's was Irish.
Filth rules. A miniature emptied into Token's second can.
They were all laughing, all rating it a hell of a good morning, and Token had her arm looped up and over David's shoulder and she tousled the hair at the back of his neck.
'Well done, big boy.'
He looked forward to what he could see of the shoulder six rows in front of him. He looked past the dark suits and the starched shirts and the disapproval.
'Just to let him know that I'll take his legs off at the knees.'
'Go home, David.'
'I will go home when I know what is happening.'
'What makes you think that I know what's happening?'
'That's not an answer, Bill, and you know it.'
'It's the answer you'll have to make do with.'
'We could have knocked him and you blocked it.'
'I told you, David, it was up the mountain from me.'
The frustration showed. Park thwacked his right fist into the palm of his left hand. Parrish didn't look as though he were impressed. It was the first time that Park had ever shouted at Bill Parrish, because Parrish was a cuddly old sponge, and shouting at him was blowing bubbles out of the window. Too nice a man to shout at.
'For fuck's sake, Bill, we are talking about a heroin trafficker. We are talking about a heroin distributor. We are talking about a joker who is walking away from major dealing.
Since when did that sort of track get a block on it?'
'The instructions to me, the instructions that I passed on to you, were that Eshraq should not be lifted.'
'It's criminal, Bill, and you know it.'
'Me, I know nothing, and I do what I am told. You should do what you're told and go home.'
David Park went to the door. He turned, he spat, 'And I thought this was supposed to be a serious outfit, not a comic strip… '
'Don't give me that shit, Keeper.'
'And I'd have thought you'd have honoured your promise.'
'Listen… don't pull the old holy number with me… listen. The ACIO went to see the Home Secretary last night, said we were ready for a lift. The Home Secretary called him in his beauty sleep. I shouldn't be telling you, but the Home Secretary gave the instruction, that's how high it came from.
You want to know what's happening, I want to know what's happening. What I know is that on the top floor the ACIO and the CIO are not available to me. I will be told what is happening when they are ready to tell me, and you will be told when I am ready to tell you… So do me that favour and bugger off home.
… Did you ring your missus?'
'He's just a filthy little trafficker… '
'I hear he saw you off.'
'What the hell…?'
'Merely making an observation… Did you ring your missus?'
'He's a cocky little swine.'
'And you showed out to him – so go home and take your missus out and buy her a pretty dancing frock.'
'Are you going to let them walk right over you?'
'That's a slogan, and that's not worthy of you… just go home.'
A few minutes later, from his window, Bill Parrish saw David Park on the street below, walking through the traffic like it wasn't there. He thought that he might have destroyed one of his best young men, and he hadn't known how to stem the rot. He called up on the radio. He was told that Tango One was back at his flat. He had two of the April team on the flat, but the soul had gone out of the surveillance and the investigation, and the bugger of it was that no one had felt it necessary to tell Parrish why the block had gone down. Why take it seriously… it was only heroin, it was only kids' lives being chucked on the garbage heap, it was only evil bastards getting rich off misery. Why worry? Only bloody fools would worry. Bloody old fools like Parrish, and bloody young fools like Park. He knew that Park hadn't taken any leave for two years, and he hadn't put in for holiday time for the coming summer. He might just book a couple of weeks for the two of them on the Algarve, and handcuff Keeper to his Ann and kick him on to the plane. Could be sentimental, Bill Parrish, when he wanted to be. It was a crying shame, that couple was.
Another day… of course, there would be another day.
One step at a time, sweet Jesus. It was the favourite hymn of Bill Parrish who was a rare Christian once a year, late at night and Christmas Eve. One step at a time, sweet Jesus, the hymn that he liked to hear on the radio
