“The thing that I think is really preventing this city progressing as quickly as it could, is that there is still so much inequality.”
Michael nods. His cheeks are stuffed with baked beans.
“And particularly when it comes to housing,” she continues, “as recent events have made apparent.”
Michael nods again, still with a mouthful of fry-up, but this time his expression is appropriately graver, in response to the grisly event to which she’s alluding.
“It’s atrocious, really,” she says. She pauses, allowing him to chew and swallow his food. She doesn’t want to hector. The ideas she’s trying to elicit will be much more effective if he thinks they are his own.
“The situation is shocking. We see it on the ground all the time. We in the police force, I mean.”
“I’m sure.”
“You know, there’s less integration between communities now than when I joined up. We used to talk about ghettoization as if it were a totally American phenomenon, but we’re seeing it here now as well.”
“That’s terrible.”
“It is.”
Michael returns to his breakfast. Agatha wants to make sure the conversation remains on this topic rather than deviating, so while he cuts up his sausage, she says: “Even I’ve noticed it. I am, of course, a person of great privilege, but first and foremost I’m a Londoner. That’s how I see myself. And I have certainly noticed that there is huge variation between neighborhoods. It can’t be healthy.”
“Well, exactly.”
He’s being frustratingly monosyllabic, so Agatha continues on her own. Perhaps she should have suggested a meeting place that didn’t involve food. “You know, it’s something I’ve actually been thinking about more and more. And about what I as a developer can do about it. Some of the properties that my father owned are so run down, and since I’ve taken control of the business I’ve been doing what I can to renovate them. But it can be difficult, you know.”
“It’s interesting to hear you say that. A lot of property owners aren’t so concerned by these issues, if you can believe that. Tell me, from your perspective. I mean from the perspective of a developer—”
“And a Londoner,” she interrupts.
“And a Londoner,” he adds. “From your perspective, what can be done? What’s the number one issue?”
“Well, I’m not sure about what the solution is. I suppose that’s for other people to decide. But I know what I see as the number one issue. Safety. Safety is a big issue. It’s important that people can feel as safe in one part of the city as they do in any other. Particularly women. A woman should be able to feel as comfortable walking down the street in Croydon as she does in Highgate. Or in Soho,” she adds casually. “But, well, Soho is a whole other issue. There you find all sorts of dangers, as a woman.”
“Oh really?”
“Oh yes,” she says. “A large amount of my property is in that area and we—my colleagues and employees and I—encounter all sorts of unsavory scenarios. Of course, traditionally, it’s the seat of the London sex trade, some of which is, naturally, legal. But there is also the intersection between what is legal and what is not. Sometimes we see situations or set-ups in the properties we run that we question. But, obviously, there’s little we can do about it. More often than not, the tenants in these properties have extraordinarily long leases. And we can’t evict them, of course, for no reason, as is right. But nor, it seems, can we evict them when we have serious concerns about what manner of activity is occurring within those properties.”
“What kind of activity?”
“Well, we wonder about drug taking. And more particularly, from my perspective, as a woman concerned about the safety of other women, I wonder about trafficking. Sex trafficking.”
Michael Warbeck sits up in his chair and, having finished eating, places his knife and fork together on his empty plate, pulls the white linen napkin from his lap and uses it to dab the corners of his mouth.
“Sex trafficking is really big right now,” he says. He places the crumpled napkin on the table next to his plate. “I mean, sex trafficking is currently a major concern in the UK.”
“As it should be,” says Agatha.
“It’s something that is still woefully under-resourced. And it’s a ticking time-bomb. We half-know about activity all over the place, but we’re not doing anything because we don’t have the resources to discover any specifics. Communities don’t talk to us anymore because there aren’t enough officers on the beat.”
“That’s dreadful.”
“It is dreadful,” he agrees. He runs his fingers through his cropped hair, then says, “You know, if someone were to run for Mayor who really cared about these issues, a huge amount could be achieved.”
“I’m sure it could.”
He starts to fiddle with his napkin. “And, in general, I think it’s important for any policing to be informed by the community, by particular individuals who have certain experiences or insights to offer. Citizens-in-the-know, as I like to call them. People like you. You have experience of business, and of property development, and your experience in those areas means that you see situations as they are on the ground. You really understand what’s going on at street level.”
“Absolutely.”
“Without people like you, how can we as police officers operate? This uniform can create a real barrier between us and the community, you know. The police are more detached from real life than you might think.”
Michael Warbeck has ordered another cappuccino. When it arrives, he takes hold of the silver spoon that rests on the saucer and stirs the frothed milk into the dark coffee. He then picks up the cup and sips, and makes a face that suggests the liquid is either too hot or
