‘Who or what could scare a man like that?’ Isaac asked.
‘A crime syndicate probably, but do we have any that vicious in London?’
‘We’ve got everything here. We need to dig deeper, find someone who understands the dark underbelly of the city.’
The two men drank coffee from the machine in the hallway; it tasted awful, but there was no time to go out for anything better. A police officer had taken in drinks for Vicenzo Pinto and his lawyer. Katrina Hatcher had asked for a ten-minute extension. Isaac took the opportunity to phone DCS Goddard with an update, and to call his sergeant, Wendy Gladstone.
Goddard, as expected, was full of praise, looking for an early wrap-up on the murder case. Wendy, more circumspect, was anxious for a clear direction.
‘According to Pinto, the dead man’s name was Dave.’
‘Did he give you a surname?’ Wendy asked.
‘He said he didn’t know.’
‘Do you believe him?’
‘Not sure. The man is frightened to tell us more.’
‘Bridget has been checking prison records, but a spider’s web tattoo is nothing special. I don’t think Dave will help her much,’ Wendy said.
‘Just keep trying.’
***
Thirty minutes passed before the interview recommenced. Isaac could see that Vince Pinto was calmer.
‘My client wishes to make a statement,’ Katrina Hatcher said.
‘Dave and I became involved with a crime syndicate. I only knew him for six months, but we were friends. He came from Liverpool; that’s all I ever knew, and I never knew his real name. He sometimes called himself Dave Simmonds, other times it was Doug Fairweather. He did not talk about himself, and I had no idea if he had been married or had children.
‘We’d just done a run, decided to cream some off the top for ourselves. There was plenty, and we thought no one would notice. However, we didn’t count on a snotty-nosed accountant they employed. They picked us up as we were enjoying a quiet drink at a pub. Although with Dave it was never quiet.’
‘Why do you say it was never quiet?’ Isaac asked.
‘Dave was not a drinker, no more than a couple of pints, but he was sociable and loud.’
‘The pub?’
‘It varied, but most times it was the Pride of Paddington, down on Craven Road.’
‘I know it,’ Larry said.
‘You have no criminal record. Why were you involved with a crime syndicate?’ Isaac asked.
‘You’ll find out soon enough. I’m a gambler, not very good either. It’s an addiction. I’ve been to Gamblers’ Anonymous, but it makes no difference.’
‘What type of gambling?’ Larry asked.
‘Horses, greyhounds, cards, poker machines. Most of the time it’s under control, but occasionally…’
‘A lot of money?’ Isaac asked.
‘More than I could hope to cover.’
‘Were you set up?’
‘Probably. That’s how they get people to work for them.’
‘Do they have a name?’
‘Those in charge remain hidden. The only people I ever saw were the underlings. Whoever is behind this is very secretive, possibly very powerful and influential.’
‘What happened?’
‘I’m down nearly one hundred thousand pounds and no way to cover my debt.’
‘Where was this?’
‘Down near Camden, a seedy gambling joint. I was playing poker and badly. Anyway, there I am, and there’s no way I’m leaving, at least walking.’
‘They would have killed you?’
‘A dead man can’t be bled for money, but they would have smashed my knees.’
‘You’re still walking,’ Larry said.
‘The club sold my debt. I was there for two hours with two heavies breathing over me, threatening to pummel me, roughing me up. I even peed in my trousers; I was that frightened.’
‘Why are you telling us this now?’
‘I’m dead whatever happens. If I leave here, they’ll know I’ve spoken. At least in prison my death won’t be the same as Dave’s.’
‘Did you see him die?’
‘Yes.’
‘And when he was cut up?’
‘I was there, but I didn’t take part. There were two of them who went at him with a chainsaw.’
‘Why the dismemberment?’
‘A warning to those who disobeyed or cheated on them, and also to anyone who talks to the police.’
‘Coming back to the club,’ Isaac said. The lawyer said nothing.
‘After two hours, a man comes in. He’s dressed in a dark blue suit, or at least I think it was, as he remained partially hidden. He spoke with an educated accent.’
‘And then what?’
‘He made me an offer. If I came and worked for the organisation that he represented, my debt would be absolved.’
‘You accepted?’
‘What could I do? I knew I was not leaving there in one piece if I refused.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘He pushed some documents across the table, and I signed the last page, initialled the others.’
‘What did it say?’
‘Are you kidding? I just signed, that’s all.’
‘After that were you free to go?’
‘They kept a watch on me. There’ll be someone outside this station.’
‘Do you have a name for the man in the suit?’
‘He kept his face hidden, and no, he did not give a name.’
‘Would you recognise him again if you saw him?’
‘The voice maybe.’
‘Describe him?’
‘Average height, well dressed, spoke with an educated accent, and his nails were manicured. That’s all I can tell you.’
‘Do you know his position in the crime syndicate?’
‘No. I assume he was someone paid to deal with people like me. As I told you, the big men remain hidden behind a veil of invisibility. Catch them, and you’ve caught some big fish, but they’ll be able to wriggle out of it.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘That’s what the suit said, and he wasn’t a man to mince words.’
‘What kind of criminal activity are we talking about here?’
‘Drugs, more drugs than you can imagine.’
‘Dave was a gambler?’ Isaac asked.
‘He was just a
