He went into the Arndale Centre, which still bore the scars from the massive IRA bomb attack which had devastated it several years before, found an empty, working phone booth and made a quick call, after which he strolled to McDonald’s where he ordered coffee and an Egg McMuffin which tasted of cardboard. He wolfed down a couple more Advil for his pains, then, after buying a newspaper from W.H. Smiths he hobbled up to the Sticky Fingers restaurant off Deansgate. Here he had another coffee, far more expensive and far nicer than the one at McDonald’s.
Ten minutes later he became aware of a figure hovering next to him. He looked up slowly and his sore face cracked into a grin. ‘Thanks for coming. It’s good to see you.’
The man slid into the seat opposite, shook hands across the table. ‘Good to see you, too, Henry — but I have to say, you look like shite.’
Henry guffawed. ‘Thanks a bunch. Let me order more coffee.’ He folded the newspaper and beckoned a waitress. The coffee arrived quickly.
‘ OK, nice coffee,’ the man said after taking a sip and wiping his top lip with his finger and thumb. ‘What’s this all about, H?’
Henry adjusted his backside, winced and glanced shiftily round the cafe. It was almost empty, being so early. ‘Beast of Burden’ played over the sound system, one of Henry’s favourite Stones tracks. ‘I believe you are the deputy SIO on the investigation into the death of Jacky Lee — and before that you were on the enquiry into the death of a guy that Lee himself was supposed to have iced?’
The man nodded.
‘ Were you, or are you, aware that an undercover officer had been assigned to Jacky Lee before he was killed and that the same U/C officer is now assigned to Gary Thompson and Gunk Elphick in the hope of getting evidence of their involvement in Lee’s demise?’
‘ No,’ the man said. His eyebrows knitted together, wondering where this was going.
‘ Well, now you do,’ declared Henry.
A key turned in the lock. The handle revolved and the door opened. Loz stood there looking as grubby and dishevelled as ever. Colin Hodge was sitting on the edge of the bed, not having slept during the night and since his abduction. Loz beckoned to him. ‘Come on.’
He stood up and followed laggardly. His feet were like lumps of lead.
Without speaking, Loz took him down a wide hallway, a sweeping flight of steps to the ground floor, through a set of wide French windows and on to a terracotta terrace beyond which was the garden. A table and chairs were set up on the terrace, protected by a large umbrella. The sun was already hot in the clear sky.
Loz pointed with his bandaged hand to a mobile servery. ‘Help yourself.’
Nervous, but trying to give the impression of confidence, Hodge picked up a plate and examined a selection of breakfast dishes on the hot and cold plates. He chose scrambled eggs and sausage, a large glass of orange and black filtered coffee.
Loz lounged back against the villa wall and watched him, a sneer of contempt quivering on his lips underneath his rather pathetic moustache.
Whilst walking back to the table, Hodge caught sight of two men sitting on the grass by the outer garden wall, a good 100 metres away. They had rifles propped across their knees. Hodge sat down heavily, frightened.
‘ What’s going on? Why am I here?’ Hodge demanded.
Loz shrugged uncaringly. ‘Eat your breakfast. You’ll find out soon enough.’
Hodge poked at his food, pushing it aimlessly around the plate, wishing he was back home, had never thought up this fucking scheme, and was back earning six quid an hour.
He heard voices from inside the villa. Don Smith and Billy Crane appeared from within, looking relaxed and cool.
‘ Colin!’ Smith said loudly. He strode to Hodge and held out his hand to be shaken.
Hodge recoiled. ‘No chance! I want to know what’s going on. I want to know where I am, what I’m doing here and then I want you to take me back to the airport because I’m going home. This whole deal is off. No one treats me like this,’ he snarled, slashing the air with the edge of his hand. ‘No fucker.’
‘ Sit down, Colin,’ Smith said with a patient smile.
‘ Do not screw me around. I want out of here, out of this, now.’
‘ Sit down, Mr Hodge,’ Crane said from behind Smith. ‘Let me explain a few things to you.’
‘ No, you set of twats. Let me explain a few things to you.’ Hodge gestured angrily at them both. ‘This is my show, my deal. I run it, not you couple of wankers. Get me into a car and get me home, because it’s off. Understand? Off!’
‘ No, no, no, no, no, no,’ Crane said patronisingly. ‘You have started a ball rolling. It’s not going to stop until it reaches the bottom of the hill now, Mr Hodge. So sit down and pin your lug-holes back. I have started talking to people, arranging things, promising things — and these people are not like me and my friend here: patient and friendly. They are ruthless and would not hesitate to kill should they be disappointed in you. The fact of the matter is, you are involved now and you cannot pull out. And why would you want to, anyway? All that lovely money…’
It was all lies about the people, but Hodge did not have to know this. He stared from one villain to the other, shaking with rage. Smith nodded reassuringly at him. He was trapped. He sank slowly back into his chair.
‘ Good man,’ Crane said, patting him on the shoulder. ‘I’ll get myself some breakfast, then we’ll have a chat.’
‘ Me too,’ said Smith.
They walked to the servery and began to select food and drink.
‘ Butter him up again,’ Crane whispered to Smith. Then he turned to Loz, still lounging, and said, ‘Get lost.’
Like an unwanted, unloved dog, Loz slunk away.
‘ Now then Colin,’ Smith said smoothly, sitting down, ‘you’ve got to understand a few facts here.’ Crane sat down opposite and began to eat, not saying a word. ‘You’re right, OK, this is still your show. That will not be taken away from you. We have no wish to make it any different. You’re the guy with all the gen and we are relying on you. You call the shots. You are the man. But by the same token, we’re providing all the tools to do the job and because of the nature of who we are and who else is going to be involved — because make no mistake, Colin, this is going to be a big job and a lot of people will be involved — we have to have a degree of protection. That’s what this is about. Protection from outsiders. OK, you know who I am. I accept that, but there is no need to know anything about this man here, other than he is the organiser of all the resources. We have a lot to lose if the cops, for example, get hold of you, and you start blabbing.’ Smith forked some scrambled egg into his mouth. ‘See where I’m coming from? It’s to protect you and us.’
Hodge breathed in deeply. ‘Yeah, but I’ve been treated like shit and I don’t like it.’
‘ That’s very much down to the way you were brought here, and we can only apologise for the manner in which our associate interpreted our instructions to him. He will be reprimanded.’
Hodge began to soften. The rhetoric, coupled with his own greed, was having a calming effect. He gave a minor shrug. ‘You going to tell me where I am?’
‘ At a house somewhere on Gomera. That’s all you need to know.’
‘ And what am I supposed to call you if you won’t tell me your name?’ he asked of Crane.
Crane considered this. ‘You can call me Matt — Matt Brinks.’
He smiled for the first time.
John Connor was a Detective Chief Inspector in the Greater Manchester Police. Henry had known him for many years, having attended a few national detective training courses with him. It could not be said they were great buddies, but they got along.
Connor leaned on the table. ‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Henry.’
Henry said sarcastically, ‘You would say that.’
‘ Say what?’ Connor was very confused. ‘I don’t know what the hell you mean.’
Henry peered into Connor’s eyes. ‘He’s briefed you, hasn’t he? To say nothing to me, hasn’t he?’
