Billy Rags (31 page)

I drove back to the Dormobile. The phone call had made me feel better. We'd got a place to go to again. Four walls.

“Can I speak to Ronnie, please?”

“Who's calling?”

“Billy.”

There was a silence.

“You want something, do you?”

“No, I don't want something, Doreen,” I said. “I just want a word with Ronnie.”

“Last time you had a word . . .”

“I know what happened last time,” I said. “I'm sorry.”

“You know what they did to him, don't you?”

“I can imagine.”

“And you're sorry?”

There was no way of replying to that.

“Is he there?” I said.

Doreen went off the line. I could hear voices in the background. Then the phone rattled at the other end and Ronnie said:

“Hello, me old son.”

“Ronnie,” I said. “I was just phoning to see how you were getting on.”

“Not too bad,” he said. “Can't complain. I'll be back in action in a fortnight or so.” There was a pause. “About what happened . . .”

“Don't worry about it. I know what Walter's boys are like.”

“If I hadn't told them . . .”

“How'd they get on to you?”

“Somebody grassed.”

“Who? I mean nobody knew anything about me and you. Except the two boys that fetched me down.”

“It wasn't either of them, Billy. You know that. No, somebody's been watching me closer than I thought. They couldn't know anything, but they could guess.”

“Yeah. Maybe Pettit filtered something to Tobin.”

“Maybe.”

“Look, Ronnie,” I said. “I wouldn't have put you in it if I'd known Walter was going to turn it on.”

“You couldn't know that, Billy, so stop worrying.”

“Yeah, I know, but . . .”

“Forget it. Water under the bridge. I'll get my compensation when I find out who the grass is.”

“I'd like to be there.”

“Listen, Billy, about the shooters. There's a job on day after tomorrow. I'd better have your new address so I'll be able to pick them up.”

“When do you want to come?”

“I shan't be able to come myself. I'll have to send somebody.”

“Look, Ronnie,” I said. “I know you wouldn't send anybody you couldn't trust, but I'd rather you came yourself.”

“I can't, can I, Billy? I'll still be on my back. Otherwise I would, wouldn't I?”

There was nothing I could do about it, the way I owed Ronnie. He'd given me to Walter, but that didn't change anything. That couldn't be helped. I still owed him.

“Yeah, all right,” I said. “When?”

“Wednesday morning. Half nine.”

“Billy, I don't like it,” Sheila said. “I don't like anyone knowing where you are. Not even a mate of Ronnie's.”

“So what's the alternative? I've got to let Ronnie have his shooters.”

“I don't know. You'll have to hide.”

“Where, in the bathroom?”

“Where else is there?”

“Oh, Christ,” I said. “I'm sick of this. I'm not fucking about hiding in bathrooms any more. If I'm going to be out of the way I'm going outside.”

“Out of the house?”

“Yes, out of the fucking house. I walked about in Epping without being collared. So why shouldn't I walk about round here?”

“Billy, that was different. This is London.”

I took hold of her shoulders.

“Look, love, there's a little cut a couple of houses down over the road. Leads to some waste ground at the back where the kids play. I could go there. It'll only be for half an hour. And I could take Timmy. I've never taken Timmy out to play in my life. It'd be great. The only risk would be in getting from here to the cut. I'd have to be bloody unlucky to be picked up between here and there.”

“You've been unlucky all your life, Billy.”

“Not this time I won't be,” I said. “Not with little Timmy with me.”

I looked at my watch and put my jacket on. Sheila zipped up Timmy's anorak.

“Going out, Mummy,” Timmy said. “Going out.”

Sheila looked at me. There was an odd expression on her face.

“What's the matter?” I said.

She shook her head.

“Come on. What is it?”

“Just a feeling. I don't know what it is.”

“About what?”

She shook her head again.

“Look,” she said, “just in case . . . just in case anything happens . . .”

“What happens?”

“If something's wrong when you come, I'll leave the bathroom window open. Wide. You can see it from over the road.”

“And what sort of thing do you think's going to happen?”

“Nothing. I'm just saying. Just in case.”

A warm breeze whipped the dead wasteland grass from side to side. Cloud shadows raced across the earth. Timmy clutched my hand and struggled happily through the tall grass.

Halfway across the wasteland I sat down on an old brown drainage pipe and watched Timmy rush about and fetch the ball I'd thrown for him. I lit a cigarette and looked up at the sky and watched the clouds rush across the face of the sun. There was sun all the time in South Africa. But there was no way we could go, not yet. Buying the car had made a hole in the money. It would be another six months before I'd be able to move. Unconsciously I put my hand to my stomach and felt the money belt. Another six months of living like this. But the warm breeze on my face and Timmy's cries made me feel better about things. I'd been lucky so far. Six months wasn't so bad. It would be worth waiting for.

I looked towards the opposite edge of the waste ground. There'd once been a row of houses there but at some time they'd been bull-dozed down. I could see the gleaming sunlit road and on the other side of the road a row of shops. The shops were only about a hundred yards from where I was sitting. I stood up.

“Come on, Timmy,” I said. “Let's go and get some sweets.”

“Sweets, Daddy!”

I took his hand and we walked over to the edge of the waste ground. The traffic was thin and there weren't many people walking up and down in front of the parade of shops. We crossed over the road and went into the tobacconist's.

The shop was empty except for the man behind the counter. I asked Timmy what he'd like and he pointed to the Smarties. I took a bottle of lemonade from its rack and bought Timmy a lollipop as well as the Smarties and paid the man and Timmy and I left the shop and crossed the road.

When we got back to the drainpipe again I sat down and uncorked the lemonade and took a great swig. It tasted beautiful, and it reminded me how lucky I was.

When we got back to the end of the cut I looked across the road to the house where the flat was. The glance was automatic, without thought, instinctive. I expected to see nothing unusual or startling. Just a glance at the house I lived in, nothing more.

So it took a minute or two for the fact that the bathroom window was open to register on my brain.

When it dawned on me I went cold as ice. The bathroom window. Open. Sheila had said the bathroom window. Eventually I became aware of Timmy pulling on my arm, not realising why I'd stopped in my tracks.

I knelt down and said:

“Timmy, love, just stay here a minute will you? Daddy wants to have a look round the corner.”

“Why, Daddy?”

“I just want to have a look. Now you stay here. All right? Here, here's your lollipop. Have a go at this.”

I unwrapped the lollipop and gave it to him. Then I walked the few steps to tie end of the cut and looked round the corner.

The front of the house was clear. Nothing. But down the road, on the same side as the cutting, about fifty yards down, there was a white Zephyr parked by the curb. There was nothing on it that said it was a police car. But I knew. And because the van was plain I knew it must be Tobin. And Ronnie had given me to him. Tobin was in the flat now, with Sheila, waiting for me.

I turned away from the end of the cut and knelt down and said to Timmy: “Listen, mate, I want you to do something for me. I want you to cross over the road and go into the house on your own like a big boy. Will you do that?”

“Why, Daddy?”

“Because Daddy's forgotten to get something at the shop and he's got to hurry before they close.”

Timmy didn't say anything.

“Daddy won't be long.”

He put his lollipop in his mouth and sucked.

“Can you do that?”

Timmy nodded.

“All right then, son,” I said. “I'll see you shortly.”

He nodded again and walked across the road. I watched him for a moment then I turned and ran back down the cut.

I looked at the clock on the pub wall. A quarter to one. I'd been there since eleven thirty. After I'd crossed the wasteland I'd hailed a cruising taxi and had the driver bring me here, to a pub in Clapham, behind the common.

Ronnie had put Tobin on to me. And Walter had put the pressure on Ronnie. It was no use getting hard with Ronnie. He'd done all he could. Knowing Walter he'd have used Ronnie's wife and kids as stakes. And Ronnie loved his wife and kids, like I did mine. So it was no use getting hard. And in any case, I hadn't the time. Sheila and Timmy had been taken. Sheila was in line for three years if they decided to stick it on her. I had to think. I had to clear my head and think. They'd taken Sheila.

I went to the bar and bought another drink but that didn't help. There wasn't a thing I could do to help Sheila. All I could do was to concentrate on not getting myself caught. Because there was just a chance, just the one chance: Tobin might not press charges. He might let her go. So that she'd lead them to me. That was the only chance we had. But if Tobin pressed it—three years. She could get three years.

I ordered another drink and went to the phone and phoned the flat. There was no reply. That meant they hadn't got anyone staking it on the inside. They'd all be out in the street and the neighbouring houses, just waiting for me to show up.

I put the phone down and went back to the bar and drank some of my drink. I swore to myself. This was it. If they let Sheila go, then we'd be off. Out of it. Whatever it cost. But to pay for it I had to take a risk. There was no other way. I had to put myself on show.

I kept the Mini garaged in a lock-up a mile away from the flat. When the pub shut I took a taxi to the garage and went in and sat in the Mini and waited for the night. Then, at about seven thirty, I drove the Mini out of the garage and made for Richmond, stopping on the way to buy an evening paper. I found a nice quiet little pub and bought a drink and phoned Sheila's mother. She told me that she'd got Timmy and he was all right, and that my lawyer had been in touch but as yet he didn't have any news. Before she could get into her diatribe I cut in and I'd told her I'd phone again tomorrow. And I told her to kiss Timmy for me.

Then I sat down and looked through the flats in the evening paper. There were about a half a dozen likely-sounding numbers. All pricey, all flash, none of them the kind of place the law would be looking for Billy Cracken.

I made the phone calls and arranged to go and see the four that hadn't already gone. Twickenham, Barons Court, Fulham and Parsons Green.

Three hours later I'd secured two of them. Barons Court and Fulham. The one in Fulham had a fire escape.

Then I drove back to the garage and spent the night in the Mini.

I phoned Sheila's mother at six o'clock the next evening. But it was Sheila who answered the phone.

“Billy! Are you all right?”

“They let you go! The bleeders let you go!”

“It was Tobin. He thinks I'll bring him straight to you.”

“I can't . . . Are you all right? How was it?”

“Not bad. I let Tobin think I was all folded up. Which is what he wanted to think. There's a man outside me mum's right now.”

“Christ,” I said. “I was sick. I thought . . .”

“I know. So did I until Tobin started. He's barmy, Billy. He really wants you and he doesn't care how he gets you. One of the other coppers wanted to do it legal, commit me for trial with a recommendation for a suspended sentence but Tobin said he couldn't wait that long and as far as he was concerned I hadn't even been brought in.”

“Listen,” I said, “we've got to get out of this lot. We can't last much longer if we don't.”

“But how, Billy? We haven't the money. Especially now, now Tobin's started up again. It'll cost twice as much.”

“Don't worry about the money,” I said. “I'll see to that.”

“Billy . . .”

“Listen, love, I've got to take a chance. If I don't then Tobin's going to get us. Sooner or later he'll have us. Do you understand that?”

“Yes. Yes I do. But . . .”

“So I've got to take a chance. I've got to get us out of it.”

There was a silence.

“What are you going to do?” she said at last.

“I don't know yet. I'll have to fix something up. It might take time. But I'll tell you what I want you to do. I want you to stay put until I tell you. I'll phone you at the weekend. And don't worry. I'll be all right. You'll hear from me at the weekend.”

“For God's sake be careful, Billy.”

“I'll be careful, love,” I said. “Don't you worry, I'll be careful.”

After I'd phoned Sheila I went and had another drink. This time I actually enjoyed it. Sheila was safe. With Timmy. But I had to get us all out of it if we were to have any chance of ever living properly together again.

I downed my drink and went back to the phone. I dialled a number and waited. At the other end a receiver was picked up and a voice said:

“Yes.”

“Could I speak to Jimmy?” I said.

“Who wants to know?”

“A mate of his.”