DEATHLOOP (29 page)

“So what’s up?” she said, “you look terrible.”

Zack felt terrible, he felt like the rug had been pulled out from beneath him, but he couldn’t admit it. “Cheer me up Tracy, for God’s sake.”

“They’ve interviewed the taxi driver.”

“How did they find him?” asked Zack, brightening for a moment.

“Not that many to choose from I suppose.”

“Oh that one,” he said, deflated.

“He confirmed everything. He said he dropped you by the gate in the storm and you set off down towards the river.”

“What about the people from the church?”

“They’ve taken a couple of statements, which said much the same as you, so all that is good, in fact all that is very good.”

“They’ll drop it then, will they?”

“Well not yet, they have to be seen to be doing their job, a man did lose his life after all.”

Zack slumped back in his chair and glanced round Tracy’s office, as cluttered as her flat he noted, and just as claustrophobic.

“How the hell do you know what all this stuff is?”

“It’s a secret,” she said, leaning forward and giving him a wink. “But you asked to see me, was that for any…
specific reason
?” said Tracy, hoping that it wasn’t, hoping that it was just a social call.

“Well yes, there’s a kid… he’s pretty messed up to be honest, a little chav… Rat Boy in the making, I’m sure you know the type.”

“Preconceived notions we can do without…” said Tracy, briskly.

“
Oh for God’s sake, it’s short hand, okay?
” yelled Zack, right back at her, “
you don’t have time and neither do I, so don’t expect me to fill you in with the subtlety of Proust!”

Tracy blinked back at him in shock, speechless at the sudden flash of anger. “Okay,” she said, calmly, once she’d found her voice, “point taken.”

There was a pause, then Zack, a little embarrassed now at his quick temper, continued: “He wants me to defend him on a drugs charge.”

“Why you?”

“God knows. He must have got my name from some old lag somewhere who talked me up – me and my supernatural powers. That’s the only thing I can come up with.”

Tracy frowned, smiled, then burst out laughing.

“I thought that might amuse you. Anyway, he’s in hot water, I wondered if I could bring him in to see you, that’s all.”

“You’re recommending me, is that it?”

“Well yes, obviously…”

“Can’t he contact me himself?”

“He doesn’t like women.”

“Why ever not?” she said with mock outrage.

“Well clearly he’s been misinformed if present company is anything to go by…”

“Ha ha…”

“But I just thought if I could introduce you and he could see you for the good egg you are… but he
is
hard work this kid. He needs someone tough, a no-nonsense sort of person and so of course immediately I thought of you,” said Zack, wondering if Tracy was remotely flattered by his recommendation.

“Well, we can give it a go, but I sense he might be more than hard work, I sense he might be well-nigh impossible this young man, am I right?”

Zack did his best to look as though he was considering the question, but it didn’t fool Tracy and he knew he hadn’t. “You’ll find out soon enough, but he desperately needs someone, he’s just adrift, poor kid.”

It wasn’t until Zack had left Tracy’s office that he realised something that had been lodged at the back of his mind all along. He didn’t call Westline Mini Cabs with his own phone but with Sid’s, in fact he was so out of it that in the end Sid made the call for him.

Traffic was at a standstill in just about every direction, but doubling back through a couple of side streets Zack managed to escape the worst of it, and within half an hour he was bombing down the Harrow Road towards Westbourne Grove. He parked up opposite the cab office and crossed towards it, but just as he was about to go in, he saw his driver leaning up against a car reading The Financial Times.

“All right, mate?”

“The guy behind me, he’s first.”

“I don’t need a ride, but I do need information.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You picked me up a few weeks ago and drove me to Holborn I don’t suppose you remember do you?”

“Er… yeah, actually I do…”

“Can you remember what time you dropped me off?”

“I couldn’t even tell you the day.”

Zack persuaded the driver to come into the office so they could piece things together with Charlie.

Charlie listened to Zack patiently enough, although his face said he could have done without the aggravation, but eventually, with a resigned sigh he lumbered off to see what he could find. Two minutes later he returned clutching a scrap of paper.

“I know this number,” said Charlie, “big guy, gold teeth.”

“Yes, that’s right, Sid Johnson, a friend of mine.”

Charlie did a double take and just stared. “Is he indeed? Well… it takes all sorts I suppose. Right then, Abdul here picked you up from Soweto Towers, at 10.45 pm. What time he dropped you off is another matter, but it don’t take that long to Holborn - if the wind’s in the right direction that is.”

“I’ve just done roughly the same route in 40 minutes or so, and that was in traffic.”

“Well there we are,” said Charlie, “half an hour at that time, top whack.”

“Can you write that down for me on headed paper, Charlie?”

“Headed paper? What d’you think this is, pal, The Bank of England?” Charlie turned to the controllers, jerked a thumb at Zack and laughed. The controllers didn’t find this remotely funny but dutifully joined in.

“What about a stamp or something?”

Charlie shuffled a few papers in a tray. “I can attach a card if you want, staple it together with the old moniker but that’s about as official as it gets in here.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate this.”

“Saved your life then have we?”

“You know what Charlie, I think you have.”

For no reason that he could think of, Zack drove to Brunswick Street. He had not been back there since the girl jumped from the roof and he was curious suddenly to see the apartment block again. The street was quiet as usual, and although light had only just begun to fade, the street was gloomy already and street lights were switched on. He parked up opposite Jericho Mansions and gazed towards it.

The door opened and an Asian family skipped down the steps, a man a woman and two children. The man saw Zack looking over at them and it seemed to unsettled him, he turned away to walk towards the square but looked back almost straight away and stopped. Zack fumbled with his car keys, turned the engine over and drove off.

Zack had not answered Veronica’s calls all day because she only had to tell him that it was over and Zack knew that he was in danger of total melt down. Consequently, he was scared to go home and even contemplated booking into a hotel. Zack parked up close to Compton Leisure Centre, grabbed the pack of Marlboro that was on the passenger seat calling out to him, and lit one up, snatching at the Evening Standard he started to scan the front page.

In the distance, from the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a group of young men leaving a basketball court. Three of the men were mixed race, one was black, and the one in the lead who was bouncing a ball in rhythm to his stride was white. Looking up, Zack caught sight of them properly as they trailed over the road a hundred yards or so in front of him. Convinced now his eyes weren’t deceiving him, his breathing up in his throat, he threw open the car door and jumped out.

“I’m sorry!” he yelled, not knowing quite what else to say as he dashed after them, frantic to catch them up. The group slowed, then turned back to find the voice, vaguely curious. “But I was there,” said Zack, breathless, “I saw what happened with your wife or… your girlfriend was it? I’m so sorry.”

“You talking to me?” said the white man.

“It must have been a terrible shock.”

The others frowned at each other, and gathered round. “What was a shock?”

“The… accident… outside Jericho Mansions, I was there.”

“Where’s Jericho Mansions?”

“I was there, remember?”

“You’ve got me mixed up with someone else, mate.”

“What?”

“It’s not me, whoever you think I am, it’s not me.”

“Okay, please… just humour me for a moment…” said Zack, standing in front of them and barring their way, “are you saying that you
didn’t
come running out of Jericho Mansions after a girl jumped from the roof and killed herself, is that what you’re saying to me?”

“You definitely got the wrong guy…”

“Anyway he don’t have a girlfriend…” said the black man, laughing, “no one will have him.”

The group streamed past Zack, animated now, enjoying the joke, pushing each other around, leaving Zack standing absolutely still for ten whole minutes his mind in overload, then he got back into the Mercedes and drove off.

In the office at The Mango Tree, the owner, Rufus, trying to make sense of a sheaf of energy bills, stared at Zack, bewildered.

“The police raid you mean?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Someone died here, some old boy, is that right? A heart attack or something…”

“
No
, some kid it was, some little smackhead, and now they won’t leave us alone.”

“Right,” said Zack, his mind racing, unable to keep the excitement from his voice, “thanks for that, Rufus.”

“Who’s this other geezer then?”

“Someone’s got it wrong, rumours, that’s all…”

“Hey, tell me about it!” said Rufus, with feeling.

When Charlie saw Zack in the cab office again striding up to the counter, he let out a heartfelt groan. “You can’t keep away from us, can you, pal? Now what?”

“A boy died in the alleyway behind here last month, he’d been stabbed…”

“Who said?”

“A young black guy…”

“Don’t matter what colour he was it didn’t happen, believe me, sunshine, I’d know,” said Charlie, now beginning to wonder if this guy was all there.

“Would you?” asked Zack, hopefully.

“Course I would. We’ve been here thirty years and we’ve had the odd spot of bother out there, but no murders.”

“You’re sure?”

“Come through,” said Charlie resigned, but keen to put an end to this once and for all, “let me show you.”

Zack was led from the control room through a narrow passageway, into a store room which opened into a small kitchen, and from the kitchen, an open door led out into a yard. As they stepped outside Kylie shot towards them, tail wagging.

“Look,” said Charlie, “we’re in and out of here all the time. Kylie has the run of the place, the yard, the kitchen and the office. People could drop a pin out there and she’d come to tell me.”

Charlie opened the door to the back alley to show him, Zack realising now that the boy had died right outside, but there were no blood stains that he could see, no bunches of flowers to mark the spot where he fell.

“You’re absolutely sure, Charlie?”

“I’d put my last fiver on it, and that’s saying something because I’m not a gambling man.”

“Thanks, mate, I appreciate this.”

“So is that it now?” said Charlie with a heavy sigh, leading Zack back into the office, Kylie swirling round excitedly at his heels.

“Yes, that’s it.”

“Well, I’ll sleep better tonight in that knowledge,” said Charlie with a weary grin.

“Yes, Charlie,” said Zack, “and so will I.”

When the impatient buzzing of the intercom invaded the flat, both Clarissa and Sam knew immediately who it was.

“
Bloody hell!
” said Sam.

“We’ll have to let him in,” said Clarissa.

“We’ll do no such thing,” said Sam, turning over and plumping up his pillows indignantly.

“He’s in trouble, I can tell.”

“More reason to keep the bastard out.”

The buzzing continued and with it a sense of urgency that neither could ignore.

“
For fuck’s sake!
” said Sam, springing up out of bed and stomping into the hall. He grabbed the handset and yelled down it. “Bugger off mate, okay, we don’t want to know!”

But Clarissa was there now, tugging the handset from him. “Zack, are you okay?”

Zack’s voice was drowned out by the thundering of a night bus, so Clarissa just hit the button to release the front door.

“Okay, you deal with him,” said Sam, “take him into the living room and soothe his troubled brow, but don’t let me anywhere near him because I’ll kill him, got that Clarissa? I’ll stab him in the chest with sharp knives.”

Sam flounced back into the bedroom and slammed the door. Seconds later, in the lobby, Clarissa saw Zack’s shadow through the glass and opened up.

Zack entered the flat in an animated swirl, “Clarissa, you’ll never guess, the weirdest thing,” he said immediately, as he dived down the hall into the living room, Clarissa hurrying to keep up. “The first death, the suicide, you know, the girl, remember… I saw her boyfriend today. At least the guy who ran from the flats, I saw him in the street, and of course I said I was sorry and he didn’t know what I was talking about!”

Clarissa gazed at Zack, his words tumbling out excitedly, like a child.

“Sorry Zack, say that again.”

“Okay, when the girl jumped, a bloke ran from the flats and held her in his arms, but I saw him today. He doesn’t live there and he had no knowledge of a suicide, or the block of flats either for that matter. Then I went to The Mango Tree and it was a young kid that died of an overdose apparently, not some old boy, neither did anyone die behind the cab office in Westbourne Grove. Where’s Sam? I’ve got to tell him”

“No, Zack, I don’t think that’s wise!” said Clarissa, lunging forward and trying to stop him, but Zack had gone, and in a few paces was shoving open their bedroom door.

“What the hell!
Get out of here, you bastard!
” said Sam.

“Listen, Sam, listen, great news.
They didn’t happen
!”

“What didn’t happen?” said Sam, as Clarissa joined them.

“The deaths, they didn’t happen, I saw the bloke today who I thought was the girl’s boyfriend, I told you, he ran from the flats, but he didn’t. There was no suicide. No heart attack at The Mango Tree either and no boy in the back alley…”