Blood Brothers (13 page)

‘I’ll call you later to talk about tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Or maybe a meal tonight?’

Kate slammed the car door without answering. Harry Barnard could be annoying, she thought, but he was not in the same league as this bloody fat man.

It turned out that by the end of the afternoon Harry Barnard did want to talk to Kate again. He tracked her down at the agency just after four and took her out for coffee.

‘I’ve got a meeting tonight with one of the lawyers putting together the prosecution case against Georgie Robertson,’ he said. ‘Strictly off the record. You know I’m out on a limb here. I’m meeting her for a drink in Highgate later. Can you come with me?’

‘Why?’ Kate asked, puzzled.

‘Protection, really,’ Barnard said quietly. ‘If anyone sees us together I can claim it was just a chance social meeting if you’re with me. We popped into the Flask for a drink before going out for a meal. We can do that too if you like. But I need to know what’s going on with the case against Georgie. If it’s really falling apart why aren’t we looking for missing witnesses? In other words, what the hell’s happening?’

Kate hesitated for only a moment. ‘Will she know if Jimmy Earnshaw’s really missing?’ she asked.

‘She should do,’ Barnard said. ‘That’s what the prosecution lawyers are there for. And she sounded a bit worried when I spoke to her on the phone. She was happy enough to have a meeting.’

‘All right,’ Kate agreed. ‘Will you pick me up at the office?’

‘Five thirty,’ Barnard said. ‘You’re a doll.’ He gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

‘No,’ Kate said sharply. ‘I’m not.’

The Flask stood on a corner site in the centre of Highgate village, an old pub with empty tables on its forecourt on a dark and chilly evening but already crowded indoors when Barnard and Kate arrived. There was comfortable fug inside as they peered through the hazy cigarette smoke swirling under the low nicotine stained ceiling looking for Barnard’s contact.

‘There she is,’ he said eventually indicating a pale, anxious-looking young woman in a dark coat, her hair pulled back severely from a face with little make-up, blue eyes shaded by a pair of tortoiseshell glasses. The table in front of her was bare.

He made his way through the crowd of drinkers with Kate close behind.

‘Ruth,’ he said. ‘It was good of you to come. This is my friend Kate O’Donnell who was involved in the Georgie Robertson case. You’ll have seen her witness statement, no doubt. Kate, Ruth Michelmore.’

The two women eyed each other somewhat warily for a moment.

‘Can I get you both a drink?’ Barnard asked and when they had made their choices he went to the bar to order.

Kate sat down opposite the lawyer.

‘You were the one who caught up with Jimmy Earnshaw, weren’t you?’ Ruth asked.

Kate nodded. That was a night which still caused her to wake up from her dreams occasionally soaked in sweat and paralysed with fear.

Barnard came back and put two G and T’s in front of the women and took a sip of the foam on his pint before sitting down.

‘Kate is indirectly responsible for us having a case against Georgie Robertson at all,’ he said.

‘Ah yes,’ Ruth Michelmore said. ‘Of course. I knew I recognized the name.’

‘But my worry is that we’re not keeping Jimmy, and the other witnesses, as safe as we should be,’ Barnard insisted. ‘Have you seen him recently?’

‘I haven’t seen any of them recently,’ Ruth Michelmore said. ‘But then I’m only a junior cog in the machine. But my bosses should have been talking to them and all I’ve picked up from them over the last couple of weeks is a general worry and a few angry phone calls to the Yard. I don’t know what’s going on but I get the impression that it’s something bad.’

‘Would it surprise you to know that we think Jimmy Earnshaw is missing from his safe house? Jimmy and maybe the old tramp Hamish Macdonald?’

‘It wouldn’t surprise me at all,’ Ruth said soberly. ‘It would fit with the worries I’ve been having. Hamish might have gone looking for a drink, of course. He could be out on a bender. But the boy? What is he? Fourteen? Fifteen? Why would he run off? And where would he go if he did?’

‘He came from somewhere up north,’ Kate said.

‘I wonder if they managed to make contact again and they’ve gone off together,’ said Ruth. ‘Jimmy regarded Hamish as his only friend in London. He didn’t trust anyone else, including the police and the lawyers.’

‘If they’ve both gone you’ll have a hard time making the case against Georgie stick, won’t you?’ Barnard asked.

‘Too true,’ the lawyer agreed. ‘So who wants the case to collapse do you think? Georgie’s brother? Is it a family loyalty thing?’

‘Not likely,’ Barnard said sharply. ‘Ray Robertson wants Georgie put away even more than we do, believe me. I’ve known the two of them since I was a kid in the East End and there’s never been much love lost there.’

‘Ah, that explains why an alleged mate of his, the trainer at his gym, has been put on to the list of potential witnesses too. I thought it was odd, but maybe I’ve got the brothers’ relationship wrong.’

‘Who is it? Rod Miller? There’s a couple of blokes help out at the gym,’ Barnard said.

‘I think that was the name.’

‘Rod will say whatever Ray tells him to say, but a good defence lawyer might make mincemeat of him in the witness box,’ Barnard said thoughtfully. ‘He’s no substitute for the two who seem to be missing.’

‘Well, if we’ve lost some of the major witnesses we may have to move on the secondary ones. Maybe you too, Miss O’Donnell,’ the lawyer said.

Kate shuddered slightly, knowing that to face Georgie Robertson at the Old Bailey was the last thing she wanted to do.

‘Is Georgie Robertson a queer?’ Ruth asked.

‘I’ve no evidence for that, though he did have some contacts who frequent the queer pub in Soho,’ Barnard said. ‘I always thought it was because there might have been a few blokes there who enjoyed the services he was providing. He’s got no form.’

‘I heard some talk of a man called Vincent Beaufort possibly being useful to the prosecution case. But he’s not on the official list of prosecution witnesses that I’ve seen.’

‘I’m pretty sure Vincent isn’t into boys, but he may have heard something relevant I suppose. That pub’s a hive of gossip. Do you want me to talk to him?’

‘Could be helpful, maybe,’ the lawyer said. She glanced at Barnard warily for a moment. ‘The other thing I wondered is whether Georgie Robertson is a Freemason?’ she asked carefully. ‘Or are you, for that matter? In which case you probably won’t tell me.’

‘I’m not,’ Barnard said, looking angry. ‘And I don’t think Georgie is, as far as I know. But as you must realize, they’re a secretive bunch. Why do you ask?’

‘Just that if you’re a woman in legal circles you soon become aware that an awful lot of lawyers are. And coppers too, I’m told. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s best to know just who is and who isn’t. They talk about being on the square but as far as I can see it’s more like wheels within wheels going round in some very dubious circles. If you’re to survive, you need to know what connections the men have. If Georgie Robertson is a mason, he’ll have a few friends in high places, I guess.’

Barnard nodded. ‘A lot of coppers are involved. People have tried to persuade me to join, told me I’ll never get promotion if I don’t, but I can’t be bothered with secret societies.’

‘Well, if you’re not eligible, like me, maybe you never do get promotion,’ Ruth said bitterly. She laughed. ‘I get that feeling. But you’d not find many women wanting to wear a pinny for fun when they wear them most of the time at home. And a lot of legal men think that’s what we should all be doing, that’s all we’re good for.’

‘I know the feeling,’ Kate said.

‘It’s a lot more than a bit of fun in a pinny and a nice meal after,’ Barnard said, looking gloomy. ‘From what I’m told quite a few dodgy characters join thinking it’s some sort of insurance because there are so many coppers involved. But not the Robertson brothers, as far as I know.’

‘So if his brother doesn’t want him to get off, who else might like to see Georgie Robertson on the loose again?’ Ruth asked. ‘Who else might be trying to interfere with the witnesses?’

‘Apart from his mother, I can’t think of anyone,’ Barnard said.

‘His mother?’ Ruth sounded surprised. ‘Could his mother try to derail the trial, do you think? Surely she must be too old.’

‘Ma Robertson is a little white-haired old lady who looks as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth,’ Barnard said. ‘But she always doted on Georgie, her baby, and when push comes to shove she’s as tough as old boots. So it’s not impossible, I suppose. When her husband was alive she was in there with the best of them but I don’t know how fresh her contacts are in criminal circles now. I think Ray’s got most of the East End gangsters sewn up and he won’t lift a finger to help Georgie. I don’t think his mother could do anything without his say-so. And springing witnesses from police protection takes some serious organization.’

‘You sound as if you’ve already been looking for Jimmy Earnshaw and Hamish,’ Ruth said.

Barnard hesitated for only a moment. ‘I think Hamish might be dead,’ he said quietly.

Ruth Michelmore froze. ‘What makes you think that?’ she asked.

‘We’ve an unidentified body,’ he said. ‘Found on a building site. No one reported anyone missing, but then if it was Hamish, no one would. No one would know he’d gone except his minders at the Yard and they’re not saying a dicky bird, for reasons I don’t understand.’

‘I don’t like this one bit,’ Ruth said. ‘I’ll ask my boss if I can talk to both the witnesses again. I’ll have to go through him. I can’t ask the Yard direct. But if I get a dusty answer I’ll let you know. Let’s keep in touch, Sergeant Barnard. I’m getting a very bad feeling about all this.’ She pulled on her thick coat, wound a wool scarf round her neck and got up. ‘You’ll keep an eye open for the boy as well?’ she asked.

‘You bet,’ Barnard said. ‘Call me at home if you need to, not at the nick. I’m not sure who I can trust there.’ He gave her his number and when she had gone he and Kate finished their drinks in silence.

‘Come back to my place,’ Barnard said. ‘I need to change, then we’ll go out for a meal.’

Kate sighed and nodded. She felt unsettled and uneasy now about her own situation as well as Jimmy Earnshaw’s. She had not dreamed she might have to give evidence and hated the idea with a passion. ‘Do you think anyone would try to stop me giving evidence?’ she asked as they got back into Harry’s car for the short drive down Highgate Hill.

‘I don’t think so, do you? What you know isn’t exactly crucial, just circumstantial. Without Jimmy and Hamish the case will fall apart.’

When they got back to the flat Barnard made no amorous advances. He shut himself in his bedroom to change while Kate flipped through his record collection and spun round aimlessly in his revolving chair.

When he came back he put his arm round her. ‘Stop worrying,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you’re in any danger.’ Before she could reply, the phone rang and she watched him tense as he listened to whoever was at the other end. ‘Thanks,’ he said briefly. ‘I’ll see if we can find him.’

‘Who was that?’ Kate asked.

‘It was the vicar at St Peter’s. You remember him? David Hamilton who runs the refuge for kids on the street? He says one of the boys he’s looking after at the moment saw Jimmy Earnshaw, actually saw him and spoke to him. He said Jimmy was very frightened and told him he was getting out of London as soon as he had the train fare. I don’t like that, Kate, I really don’t. The first place anyone looking for him would go would be to the stations. They know he came from the north. They might guess he’d go back there. Though what he imagines he’s going back to I can’t imagine. From what he told us about his previous background he’d be jumping from the frying pan back into the fire, I should think.’

‘Doncaster, wasn’t it?’ Kate asked.

‘I’ll call social services there in the morning,’ Barnard said. ‘See if they’ve seen him. And take a swing round King’s Cross. There are places in the back streets round that old dump you could hide an army.’

‘Why isn’t there an army of coppers out looking for him anyway?’ Kate asked angrily. ‘What the devil’s going on, Harry?’

‘I wish I knew,’ Barnard said. ‘But believe me, I intend to find out. Come on. Let’s put all this out of our heads and enjoy ourselves for this evening at least.’

But Kate thought that in the circumstance that might prove quite hard.

W
hen Sergeant Harry Barnard got to the nick the next morning he found Vic Copeland sitting at his desk with a self-satisfied look on his face.

‘I thought you should know,’ Copeland said.

‘Know what?’ Barnard snapped back.

‘I’ve just got the OK from Jackson to bring Ray Robertson in for a formal chat,’ Copeland said, leaning back in his chair with a grin. ‘That beggar is running rings round this manor as far as I can see.’

‘Are you going to do the same with Reg Smith? Or the Maltese?’ Barnard asked.

‘Nah, waste of time. It’s a Robertson on trial and I reckon a Robertson trying to get him off. No question.’

‘I take it I won’t be invited to join the party,’ Barnard said.

‘Dead right, mate.’ Copeland got up and pulled on his coat. ‘See you later though,’ he said. ‘Promise you that.’

Barnard swallowed hard and followed Vic Copeland out but while Copeland headed for the front office, no doubt to assemble some uniformed troops to go with him to bring Robertson in, Barnard headed to the DCI’s office and knocked on the door. Summoned inside he met a distinctly unfriendly stare from the opposite side of Keith Jackson’s immaculate desk.

‘Yes?’ Jackson snapped.

Barnard affected to look as innocent as possible. ‘I thought you might want to fill me in on what Copeland’s planning to question Ray Robertson about, guv,’ he said. ‘I do know him quite well. I thought I might be able to help.’

‘You know him far too well,’ Jackson said. ‘You are part of the problem that AC Amis has identified. Not that he really needed to. I’ve been aware of it ever since I walked through the door of this nick. You’re not the only one, or even the worst, perhaps. We’ll see in the fullness of time. But the AC wants to see some action and Ray Robertson is as good a place for Copeland to start as any.’