Broken Faith (18 page)

He looked at his watch; he had been on the road almost three-quarters of an hour. Soon he would be in Leicester, but by now Rosa would have contacted London. He thought about his plan, the one he'd worked out on the way back from Tate and Wiston. It wasn't a good plan but if it worked he'd get what he wanted and maybe get out alive. No, it definitely wasn't a good plan but there was no other and there was no point in running. Running wasn't a plan, it was just running.  He knew, he'd tried it. Everything depended on who it was in London that was behind the racket. He hoped it really was somebody with a few brains and not some bloody hooligan. Someone with brains might see what he was up to, someone like George. But if George was linked into it he'd be on the edges somewhere, that was always where George felt comfortable, picking up tasty bits of the action but never getting caught in the frame.

The cab passed some signs for the M1 going north and south, and then came to a big roundabout. The driver passed the slip-road for the M1, went under the motorway and came out the other side on the outskirts of Leicester. Not long now, soon he'd be at the station and he could make his call. Then he'd be on his way to London. He thought about Rosa. She'd be on her way to London as well by now. He'd liked Rosa, he didn't think he would, but he did. She was sharp and clever and good at her job. She had something about her. If she'd been serious about that freebie maybe he'd have taken it.

Jimmy's mind ran on. Funny really, sex had never mattered that much between him and Bernie, just something they did when he felt like it. It had been different with Suarez, not just something they did because he felt like it. Different. What was happening to him in his old age? Never looked at another woman for all his married life and now what? Hop into bed with any young thing that fancies him? Why was it different now, and why didn't he think of it as a sin? But sex and sin took a back seat when Jimmy saw a direction sign for the station. He leaned forward.

‘Make it the station.'

The driver nodded and they went on. He needed to get ready to make his call. A lot depended on that call, not least his life.

Chapter Twenty-six

‘Hello, George.'

George tried to keep the surprise out of his voice but failed.

‘Hello, Jimmy, where are you?'

‘Oh, round and about.'

‘In London?'

‘Maybe. I'm somewhere, it doesn't matter where. Tell me, George, how much did you get?'

George didn't bother to pretend, he knew well enough what Jimmy was talking about.

‘Nothing. On my life, Jimmy, nothing. The word was out that if you showed they wanted to be told. You showed so I told them. What else could I do?' There was a pause. ‘Listen, you're dead if you come back here. Run, Jimmy, run somewhere far away from London and far away from Spain. Go and see your daughter and her kids in Australia. You've disappeared before, do it again. It's not like the old days, it isn't like it was with Denny. This lot aren't just violent, they've got themselves tied into everything. Come back to London and you'll be fucked inside two days maximum. And the law will be part of it so don't think of running to them.'

‘Don't tell me there's bent coppers on their books.' Jimmy laid on the artificial shock with a trowel. ‘I won't believe there's coppers on the take in the Met.'

‘Very funny. I mean it, I can't help you, no one can. You can't fight these blokes. They don't sit in some pub of an evening or in some club getting pissed. They have offices in places like Canary Wharf. They go to the fucking opera and ballet for God's sake. They're respectable now, they're in the finance business. They make their money work. They'll get you and –'

‘I've got a deal.'

There was a pause at the other end.

‘A deal?'

‘Yeah, a deal.'

‘What sort of deal?'

‘Never mind what sort of deal. I want to talk to someone.'

‘And say what?'

‘Harry's got to go down. I don't mind if it's just Harry who falls, but he's got to go down and he's got to go down hard, all the fucking way.'

‘Harry?'

‘Harry. I want to talk to someone,' a thought came, ‘make it Rosa.'

‘Rosa? The reporter I got for you?'

‘That's right, George, Rosa the reporter.'

‘Why her?'

‘I know her by sight and I think she's got brains. If she'll listen maybe I'll get my message across. I don't want to talk to someone who thinks with his fists and can't pass on a message that isn't a punch in your face or a boot in the bollocks.'

There was another pause. Jimmy knew what the pause meant, it was George thinking if there was anything in this for him. Jimmy could hear the wheels turning.

‘I'll talk to somebody and see what I can do, but I can't promise.'

‘That's all right, I don't want a promise. I want a meet, at Birmingham New Street Station, half-past ten. If Rosa doesn't show I'll do the other thing.'

‘And the other thing is?'

‘I walk into the nearest cop-shop and turn myself in. Rosa said the Spanish police want to talk to me. If my only other choice is running I'd rather hand myself over to the Birmingham law and take my chances. Whoever you talk to, George, make them understand, I've nearly got enough to get Harry and I know where to look for the rest.' Jimmy let it sink in. ‘Do you think your friends would want me to talk to the Spanish police?'

George knew the answer to that one.

‘Whereabouts in Birmingham Station?'

‘Let's keep it simple. She stands in front of the departure board where I can see her. And it has to be just her, nobody else. I've got a mobile number for her and when I'm satisfied she's on her own I'll phone her and tell her where to go.'

‘You in Birmingham now?'

‘What do you think? I had to wait until she got fed up of waiting then I caught the first train out. I'm all set at this end, ready and waiting. Pass on the message to your friends and tell them to get Rosa on the move.'

Jimmy put his phone away. He had his ticket so he set off for the platform where in ten minutes he would catch a direct train from Leicester to London St Pancras International.

It was just after eleven when George came out of the back of the Hind pub. The open door threw a light across the small, dark yard where he parked his car, a silver Jag. When the door closed the yard returned to darkness. George didn't need any light to get to his car, he knew exactly where it was. He walked towards it and put his hand in the pocket of his overcoat to get the key.

It was easy, Jimmy had no problem taking him from behind. With his left hand he pushed George hard forward and George, surprised, staggered and fell against the car. With his right hand Jimmy slammed George's face onto the roof of the car. George almost bounced off the car and Jimmy stood back, his fist raised, as George turned. He'd been waiting in the dark long enough for his eyes to adjust to what little light there was, George would still be blind. He could see that George was trying to get his right hand inside his jacket. Jimmy took what he could get. He hit George hard in his throat. George made a choking sound, put his hands to his throat and something clattered to the floor. Jimmy took aim, he had time now, and kicked George hard just below his left knee. George was struggling for breath through his damaged wind-pipe but the kick got all his attention. The cry of pain got all tangled up in his damaged throat and came out as a rasping croak as his leg folded and he went down into a crumpled crouch against the side of the car. Jimmy bent down and picked up what had fallen, a small revolver. He stood back and looked at George who was on the floor trying hard to get his breath and hold his damaged knee at the same time. He wasn't doing very well at either.

Jimmy squatted down beside him and peered at his face. There was blood over it, coming mostly from his nose. He moved slightly back and waited. After a few minutes George managed to look at him.

‘Don't worry, George, you'll live.' He held the gun where George could see it. ‘A cannon at your age? I thought you were brains, not violence.' He dropped the gun into his jacket pocket, leaned forward, hauled George up, got his foot behind each leg, pulled them out and sat him gently as he could on the ground with his back against the Jag. George grunted in pain but settled. Jimmy looked closely at him, he needed him to function and he was worried he'd overdone it. George's nose was still bleeding both from the nostrils and from a cut across the bridge of the nose. Jimmy could also see there was a cut over his right eye. There was a little blood coming from his mouth, probably have a split lip inside. He would look a real mess in the morning. If they both made it to the morning.

‘Breathe slowly, George, small breaths at first.' George's eyes focussed on Jimmy's face and he tried. It wasn't easy but as he tried it began working. Jimmy waited until George's breathing became steady enough for him to talk. After a couple of minutes George finally seemed to pull himself together and looked as if he could pay attention. ‘Hello, George. I see you don't stay on till closing time and count the takings. Become trusting in your old age haven't you?'

George tried a smile but gave up. It hurt his lip.

‘Hello, Jimmy, I thought you said you were in Birmingham.'

His voice was a husky whisper.

I should pack this sort of thing in, thought Jimmy, any harder and I could have done him some permanent damage.

‘I am, George, I'm in Birmingham meeting Rosa Sikora who's going to agree to everything I say while she puts me on the spot for the team that'll be with her.'

George managed the smile this time, it hurt, but he managed a small one.

‘Nice one. But where does it get you?'

‘How you feeling now?'

‘How do you think? Fucking awful.'

‘Come on, George, we've got to be on our way.'

Jimmy helped George to get up and gave him a minute to get himself together. Then he went to the back of the car and picked up a small holdall. George watched him. Then George's phone went off.

‘Switch it off, you're not taking calls tonight. You're otherwise engaged.'

George got out his phone, switched it off and put it away.

‘We going somewhere?'

‘Yes, you're driving me down to Ebbsfleet.'

‘Ebbsfleet? Why the fuck are we going to Ebbsfleet?'

‘It's where the Eurostar stops.'

‘And what would you want with the Eurostar?'

‘I'm a trainspotter, always have been, remember? Get in and don't forget that I'm the one with the gun now so behave yourself.' George began to limp slowly round the car. Jimmy watched him. George fumbled out his keys and opened the door. ‘I hope this motor of yours is an automatic. I made sure you had a good right leg but it's going to hurt like shit if you have to change gears.' George didn't respond but he also was glad that it was an automatic, because pressing the clutch would have hurt like shit too. They got into the Jag and George started the engine.

‘OK, Jimmy, you're the pilot on this one. How do I get us to this fucking Ebbsfleet place?'

‘Don't you know where it is?'

‘Heard of it, that's all.'

‘Use one of those gadgets then, one of those place finder things.'

‘A sat-nav?'

‘That's right.'

‘I haven't got one, I don't need one in London, do I?'

Jimmy smiled at him.

‘George, we're going to Ebbsfleet and you can piss about all you like but we're still going. You know the way all right and if you don't then find some signs or I'll get out that little cannon of yours and blow your fucking brains all over your fancy fucking car. I haven't got much to lose have I? You told me that yourself.'

George gave him a glance and decided he did, after all, have an idea of the way. The car pulled out of the yard into an alley and then out on to Kilburn High Road.

 ‘I get out of London occasionally these days, maybe I can find it for you.'

‘See, George, you can still work things out, you're still the one with the brains. Just get me there.'

‘I'll get you there, Jimmy, though God knows what it'll cost me if anyone finds out.'

‘Well don't let anyone find out.'

George gave a grunt; he wasn't up to a sarcastic laugh yet.

‘OK, we point south-east and keep going, and if we fall into the Channel we'll have missed our turning.'

Jimmy grinned. Still the same old George.

‘Take it easy, we're not in any hurry and you don't want us picked up for speeding.'

‘No, God forbid I get a speeding ticket. That would be real trouble.'

They drove in silence through the bright lights and busy streets and on, through central London heading for the M25. Once on the motorway it was easy going, the traffic very light. From the M25 they turned onto the M2 and headed for Dartford.

George felt recovered enough to talk.

‘Why did you come back? I told you, London's not a healthy spot for you at the moment.'

‘Whoever's after me will have a team up in Birmingham covering Rosa. Your mates might be big-time, have fancy offices and front as respectable these days, but they're still just villains. If they want me they still have to send out a heavy mob to get me, that hasn't changed. And if the best blokes they could rustle up at short notice are all in Birmingham I figured I could get in and out and on my way without any trouble.'

‘But why? Why not just go to an airport and take a plane to somewhere?'

‘Because Rosa told me the Spanish police want to talk to me and have a request out for me to be detained, so I figure airports aren't such a good bet. To be on the safe side I figured I'd give St Pancras International a miss. She said it's all being done very softly-softly at the moment so I reckoned if I got going in a hurry and got a good start I'd be OK, which meant I needed a lift. Naturally I thought of you. Somehow I felt you owed me something.'

George could understand how Jimmy might see it that way.

‘Does that mean we're square now and no hard feelings?'

‘No hard feelings, there never was. You did what you had to do so I did what I had to do. You were due a smacking so you got one.'

‘You risked your life coming back to London just to give me a smacking?'

‘No, there was something else.'

‘What?'

‘I told you, I needed a lift.'

‘Why not just hire a car and drive yourself?'

‘I couldn't do that.'

‘Why?'

‘I don't have a driving licence any more.'

‘Good God almighty.' And George started a laugh which quickly deteriorated into a cough which hurt almost as much. When he had got his throat under control he smiled. ‘Still the same old Jimmy, still just the same.'