‘But why? We could have helped them.’
‘We can and we will. The situation is difficult, and now you, Ion Becali, must raise yourself up and work with me. We are no longer the masters of our destiny, and what happened to Antonescu could happen to us.’
‘We are doomed, you know that.’
‘Our only hope lies in preventing the Russians from taking control, but I don’t know how.’
‘You spoke to the police. They could help.’
‘They cannot stop this. Set up a meeting with the West Indians, let them know that the situation has become more serious.’
‘Briganti’s, did Ivanov admit to it?’
‘Yes. It was a warning to us and to others.’
‘I was hauled into Challis Street,’ Becali said.
‘Why?’
‘One of my women died.’
‘Zablozki?’
‘He was there. They couldn’t hold me, although they were trying to make a case out of it because I was seen outside her place, and then in the street outside Briganti’s.’
‘What is so important about her?’
‘She was in Briganti’s when it was attacked.’
‘Hendry’s woman?’
‘The other one.’
‘Why? You can afford better.’
‘Sometimes, I fancy them that way. Reminds me of the old country when my choice was limited.’
‘Why eat peasant food when you can afford the best?’
‘It may be better in the old country for me now,’ Becali said. A wave of nostalgia flowed over him, even a tinge of remorse that Antonescu was dead. He could not help but feel that Nicolae Cojocaru was not telling him the full story; the man never had in the past, only issuing commands. But now he was talking to him almost as an equal. Regardless, he would set up a meeting with the West Indians, knowing full well that they would be suspicious.
Chapter 15
Larry sat in a café on Portobello Road. It was early in the day and whereas he had often been there for breakfast, now it was for a meeting with Marcus Hearne, one of the four at the house where they had met with Larry, put forward their concerns, even their willingness to open up on what they knew, what was happening. They had been worried then, and now Hearne admitted that they worried more.
‘It’s like this,’ Hearne said. ‘We met with you that day, told you what was going down, and how Cojocaru had taken over.’
‘Not enough to bring the man in for murder,’ Larry said.
‘You’d need witnesses, a body.’
‘And neither of them is likely.’
‘That’s why we brought you to the house.’
‘Almost poisoned me, though.’
‘Medicinal,’ Hearne said, a wry smile on his face, the only sign of ease in the man. Larry couldn’t warm to him in the same way he had to Rasta Joe, the beer-drinking Rastafarian. Larry, out on the street and ferreting around, heard plenty, always without proof. He knew for instance that Marcus Hearne was a murderer and that he had killed a man eight years previously in a vicious gang fight on a vacant block of land not far from Regent’s Canal. It had been a settling of grievances between two rival gangs as to who controlled which part of the area. Larry would have said the police, if asked, but the gangs considered themselves masters of the area, although that had been before Cojocaru.
‘I didn’t feel any better for it,’ Larry said. He ordered a coffee for himself, as well as breakfast. The importance of the meeting with the gang leader had exempted him from Homicide’s early-morning meeting.
‘We’re willing to work with you on this,’ Hearne said.
‘You told me that before, but I don’t remember anyone coming forward with anything worthwhile.’
‘There wasn’t much to tell you. After Briganti’s, it went quiet.’
‘There’s always something happening, and you know it.’
‘I’m not an informer.’
Larry felt no need to comment. Hearne had served time in prison before; he would be back there again, and if he, Detective Inspector Hill, had to be the person to arrest him then so much the better.
‘Cojocaru, is that why we’re here?’
‘You know it is. What happened to Antonescu?’
‘We don’t know,’ Larry admitted, not mentioning that it was known that the missing man had left England with Cojocaru and not returned. The French police were helping, at the request of the Met, and Braxton at Serious and Organised Crime was interfacing with Homicide.
‘He’s dead.’
‘How do you know?’
‘We don’t need proof.’
‘Do you know why?’
‘Don’t go wasting your time on him. He’s not worth it.’
‘It’s still murder.’
‘According to you, and what about Cojocaru wanting to meet with us?’
‘When?’
‘One day’s time, a location of his choosing.’
‘And what do you want me to do? Come to the meeting?’
‘Of course not. But if we don’t return, we want you to know about it, who’ll be there and where.’
‘You suspect a trap?’
‘We do. Cojocaru never consulted with us before. All he did when he took over was to start killing anyone who got in his way. The man has his back to the wall now, and he wants our help.’
‘If you let us know where and when we’ll keep a look out for you. But you’ve got to level with me, no playing me for a sucker.’
‘Not this time. If Cojocaru is going to issue ultimatums, it’s going to get nasty.’
‘And you and the others will be at the meeting unarmed and without backup.’
‘We have no option.’
‘I need something from you.’
‘Name it.’
‘Ion Becali and
