Crack Down

promised in their lavish brochure. I’d been wary about coming on a bank holiday Monday, but it had been surprisingly quiet. I blame the parents. Not that I’m complaining — their absence gave me and Davy a lot more scope for enjoying ourselves.

I suppose I should have felt guilty, indulging myself with swords and sorcery while Richard was still languishing, but he seemed to think that his son’s enjoyment was just as important as my attempts to get him released. Besides, Alexis had had to go into the office anyway to do some last-minute work on the child porn expose that would launch the Chronicle’s latest campaign. At least I’d pitched her into trying to find out who lived at Hickory Dell.

We headed back to the car via the souvenir shop. ‘Enjoy yourself?’ I asked. Pretty redundant question, really.

‘It was boss. Top wicked.’ I took that to mean approval. ‘It was a lot better than Ice World,’ he said judiciously. ‘Skating gets boring after a while. Your ankles get sore. And the other stuff was pretty boring. You know, all that discovering the South Pole stuff. The models are really naff, and they don’t do anything. ’S not surprising there was hardly anybody there,’ he added, dismissing Alexis’s attempts to entertain him.

‘Wasn’t there?’ I asked, more for something to say than out of interest.

‘There was no queues,’ he said indignantly. ‘Anything worth doing always has queues.’ He looked around the souvenir shop, where we were the only customers. ‘Except this place,’ he qualified.

How bizarre to be part of a generation where queues are a sign of approval. Me, I’d pay money to avoid standing in line. I’m the driver everyone hates, the one who jumps the queue of standing traffic on the motorway and sneaks in just as the three lanes narrow to two. I nearly said something, but Davy was already delving through a box of transfers.

I left him to his browsing and ambled over to the ego board by the door. It displayed five-inch by three-inch colour photographs of the creators and senior staff of the VIRUS Centre, captioned with their names and executive titles. They all looked interchangeable with the mugshots on the board down the local supermarket. I turned back to check on Davy, and suddenly my subconscious swung into action. No queues at Ice World, coupled with the ego board, had finally woken my memory. The answer had been there all the time, only I’d been too dozy to spot it.

 • •

When we got back, Alexis was sitting in my conservatory, trying to look like she was engrossed in the evening paper. I knew she was only pretending; Chris gave the game away. ‘You were right,’ she said to Alexis in a surprised voice. ‘It was Kate’s car. Hello, you two. Have a good day?’

That was all the encouragement Davy needed. He launched into a blow-by-blow account of the VIRUS Centre. Like an angel, Chris steered him off towards the kitchen, seducing him with promises of fish fingers and baked beans. I collapsed on the sofa and groaned. ‘Thank God for contraception,’ I muttered.

‘I don’t know what you’re going on about,’ Alexis said. ‘He’s good as gold. You want to spend a day looking after my nephew. He’s hyperactive and his mother’s the kind of divvy who fills him up with E numbers. Any more complaints from you and I won’t tell you what I’ve found out today.’

I closed my eyes and leaned back. ‘The occupant of Hickory Dell is Eliot James,’ I intoned. ‘Boss man at Tonik Leisure Services. Owners of, among other things, Ice World. Which, if what Davy says is right, must be struggling. If you’re half-empty on a cold bank holiday Sunday morning, you’re not going to weather the recession indefinitely.’ I sneaked an eyelid half-open. Alexis’s expression moved from fury to disappointment to amusement. Luckily for me, it stopped there.

‘Nobody loves a smartass,’ she growled. ‘OK, clever clogs. So what else have you dug up about Jammy James while you’ve supposedly been off entertaining me laddo? I mean, I don’t know why I bother putting myself out when you just bugger off and do it yourself anyway!’

I sat up and tried to look apologetic. ‘I haven’t been doing any digging, I promise you. Like I said this morning, I knew I’d seen him before, I just couldn’t get a handle on it. Then Davy told me Ice World was as lively as Antarctica on a Saturday night, which set me wondering how these theme parks cover their overheads when the punters haven’t got enough money to take the family out on a bank holiday. We were in the souvenir shop, and they’ve got one of those boards with the flattering photos of the top brass that are meant to make you think this is a really user-friendly operation. I was staring at that, and then I remembered that I’d seen the guy I trailed on one of those ego boards. Add that to the personalized number plate on the car…’

‘What personalized plate?’ Alexis protested. ‘You never said anything to me about a personalized plate!’

I gave a guilty smile. ‘I…ah…I forgot to mention that. TON IK. Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.’

Alexis shook her head. ‘I don’t know. It’s worse working for you than for my brain-dead newsdesk. So what else have you remembered?’

‘That’s it,’ I promised. ‘Have you got anything?’

Alexis pulled a face. ‘Bits and pieces. Nothing really. But I’ve arranged to meet one of my contacts in half an hour, and he’s promised me the full SP on Jammy. Oh, and by the way — Ruth’s coming round at nine o’clock for a powwow. And so’s Della.’

‘What?’ I howled.

Alexis shrugged. ‘Della rang up after Ruth had arranged to come round. I thought they might as well come together to save us having to go over everything twice.’

‘Oh God,’ I groaned. ‘I don’t suppose it occurred to you that I might not want them to know the same things?’

Alexis looked amused. ‘Which one were you planning on lying to — the lawyer or the copper?’

I left Davy to Alexis and Chris, and headed for the office to develop the films I’d shot in Carlisle. In the cool silence of the darkroom, I concentrated on the job in hand, forcing myself to switch off from the ins and outs of the case. That way, I hoped, my subconscious would get on with processing the information in peace, and come up with some useful inspirations.

I shoved the finished prints into a folder, and headed downstairs to the Mexican restaurant to fortify myself for another soul-destroying visit to the cells. The place was empty, except for one guy sitting alone at a table towards the rear of the restaurant. He gave me a brief glance as I entered, then returned to the magazine he had propped up beside his bowl of chilli. With a jolt of surprise, I recognized the menacing bouncer from the Lousy Hand. If he was a regular here — and I couldn’t see any other reason for frequenting the place on a bank holiday Monday, since the food isn’t that great — it explained why he’d seemed familiar at the club. Relieved to have cleared that one up, I settled into a window table with my back to his cold eyes and ordered some guacamole and a plate of frijoles. As I ate, I thought about the evening ahead.

Now I’d calmed down, I was pleased Alexis had fixed up the brainstorming session, because I suspected that the dynamic between the four of us might just spark off some fresh ideas. I was desperate for any insight that might take us a step nearer getting Richard out of jail. The hardest thing about being grown up is realizing there are no magic formulas to release the ones we love from pain. Maybe that’s why I enjoy computer games so much; you get to be God.

The girls were ready and waiting when I got back from the nick. Alexis had taken charge in my absence. I found it hard to recognize my living room. A flip chart on an easel had materialized from somewhere, and she’d arranged the chairs so we could all see it. She’d also found my cache of Australian Chardonnay and distributed glasses to the other two. I mumbled that I’d stick with the vodka and disappeared into the kitchen to fix myself a lemon Absolut with freshly squeezed pink grapefruit juice. By the time I got back, Alexis was copying some complicated tree structure from her notebook on to the flip chart. Ruth and Della looked as bemused as I felt.

‘Alexis, I don’t want to be difficult, but…’

‘Chris is putting Davy to bed, so you don’t have to worry about him butting in, if that’s what’s bugging you,’ she said, not even pausing.

‘It wasn’t, actually. I just wondered what you were doing.’

‘I need the diagram to explain about Jammy’s empire,’ Alexis said in the condescending tones I use to small children and she uses to news editors.