Gatecrasher (29 page)

Gresham
walked slowly toward
Campbell
, eyeing him and Sarah both with exaggerated interest as if to highlight their compromised position. He looked from
Campbell
to Slater’s head and back again and raised his eyebrows. He had been waiting for this moment,
Campbell
knew, and he was milking it.

‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?’ said
Gresham
with a wolfish grin.

Campbell
’s cheeks flushed at the implied threat.

Gresham
stared down at Sarah and
Campbell
stared up at him in turn as he did so.

‘Is that the best you can do?’

Gresham
looked more surprised than
Campbell
to hear Sarah speak, and more so at the defiant, almost mocking tone of her voice.

‘You what?’
Gresham
said.

‘You heard her George you fucking bully.’
Campbell
couldn’t stop the words before he’d said them.

In a flash,
Gresham
had him pinned by to the wall, his sweater bunched on his chest in two huge fists.

‘You, my son, have got a big mouth and a small brain.’
Gresham
was right in his face, lips curled in a snarl, eyes narrowed.

‘Stop it.’

Campbell
saw his eyes flicker before he realised that it wasn’t Sarah’s voice.

‘Stop it Dad,’
Angie repeated.

‘You can leave n
ow love,
’
Gresham
said without taking his eyes off
Campbell
.

‘Listen to your daughter George,’
Campbell
said, returning the steady gaze. He had seen and heard the gratitude from Angie as she had spoken to them and to the other men in the car now she had spoken up for him against her father.

Gresham
’s face was burning deep red now and sweat was beading on his brow. He gripped
Campbell
’s sweater tighter in his hands pulled him away from the wall and then slammed him back against it.

‘You fucking owe me one George,’
Campbell
shouted, even as the wind was knocked out of him.
Gresham
paused and his grip eased just a tiny amount. He bent close to
Campbell
’s ear as he bowed his head and tried to get his breath.

‘What?’ he hissed.

Coughing,
Campbell
said, ‘You owe me. You owe me for her.’

Gresham
said nothing for a second and
Campbell
, suddenly enraged, reached up and tore
Gresham
’s hands away from him, shoved the bigger man back from him violently.

‘Come on George. You were fucked! You had no idea where she was or how to get her back,’
Campbell
shouted. ‘Those two were sat outside doing nothing. I got her out of that house George. Ask her what happened. Go on. I went back in there and got her out with me.’

Gresham
stayed silent, part of him amazed at the younger man’s behaviour, part of him thinking reluctantly that perhaps he had a point. He turned and looked at Angie who stayed silent but whose eyes gave
Gresham
the answer that
Campbell
wanted.

‘You guys have no clue what this is about. Nothing. You know why you stole that data? Who it was for?’
Campbell
looked around the room. He saw hard angry eyes looking back at him but no answers. He shook his head. ‘Not a clue.’

‘Who gives a shit?’
Gresham
said suddenly. ‘Who the fuck are you anyway? Who cares why and who for? They’re paying me sunshine. Paying cash which I happen to need.’

Campbell
was shaking his head. ‘Not anymore.’

‘Come again?’ Slater finally broke his silence. ‘George, we’ve heard enough of this haven’t we?’

Campbell
was still shaking his head but he was looking
Gresham
right in the eye again, level, confident. ‘You don’t. You don’t have a debt. This guy, Walker? He’s dead George. I saw some bloke sticking a gun into his chest.’

Gresham
returned the stare, his eyes daring
Campbell
to even consider lying to him.

‘I saw the gun shoved into his ribs as we were running down the hall. They were fighting in the room and I saw the other guy with his gun on top of your man Walker. And I heard the shots. Two.’

‘You see him get shot?’

Campbell
hesitated. ‘It was half a second after I turned my head George, a tenth of a second. He’s dead.’

Gresham
turned his head slowly to look at Slater. Both men stared silently at each other for a long moment. Though they said nothing,
Campbell
sensed that they might actually believe him.

‘So what then? You trying to tell me you’re keeping the memory stick?’
Gresham
said turning back to him.

‘You owe me one for Angie George. You owe me a favour.’

‘My favour will be to not give you a proper belting and stop him from tearing your head off.’
Gresham
said jabbing a finger in Slater’s direction.

‘No George,’ said
Campbell
, staring over
Gresham
’s shoulder. ‘No, you can do me a little job.’

‘Are you fucking mad son?’

He looked back at George Gresham and smiled.

‘Hear me out. Just give me ten minutes.’

‘This better be really good.’

‘She goes home. OK?’
Campbell
pointed at Sarah. ‘She’s got nothing to do with this and you lot have got no gripe with her. Take her home. Just me and you George. Ten minutes and I promise you, it will be worth it. We’ll be all square. Just me and you.’

Gresham
stared at him for a long time, intent and thoughtful. He waved away a protest from Slater and then turned to
Warren
. ‘Do it. Take her home.’

Sarah looked frightened and turned to
Campbell
but he shook his head and looked her in the eye. ‘It’s alright. I’ll be fine. They won’t do anything. Not while we still have the stick.’

Warren
stood and opened the door for Sarah who walked nervously through. Angie stood as well. ‘I’ll come along too if it makes you feel better. Jules i
s a pussycat anyway but still…’
Sarah seemed to appreciate the presence of the other woman and they all left the room.

‘Keano. Go home. It's late. Keith, you stay.’
Gresham
said, his gaze still on
Campbell
.

Keane made to protest but
Gresham
turned and silenced him with a look. Keane trudged dejectedly out the door.
Gresham
turned back to
Campbell
. ‘Keith stays. You convince us both.’

So
Campbell
explained it all to them; how they were being used, why and by whom. He told them what he had learned since Cooper had landed bleeding on his kitchen floor and they listened intently, surprised and enthralled at
Campbell
’s tale. He told them how they would get paid twice over. How Drennan, or whoever else it was they had contact with, would pay them their money, that they could make much more for themselves on top of this, and exactly how they would do it.

Campbell
told them all that he knew exactly what he was going to do next, exactly how this would all end.

Tuesday
.
12pm
.

The first thing to do,
Gresham
knew, would be to call
Walker
. They would have to find out for sure if what
Campbell
was saying were true.

Had George not been so anxious himself, he might have noticed the sweat on
Campbell
’s brow as he dialled the Gangster’s number. It would not be unusual of course to get one of
Walker
’s men on the line instead given the late hour and the fact that as one of the capital’s foremost violent criminals, he might be attending to some other important business. Even so, Gresham was no more reassured by the fact that no-one answered Walker’s phone, despite what that signified and despite the fact that after what had gone on earlier that night at Walker’s safe house, Gresham was probably the first person that Walker would have called on.

They had no more joy when they instead tried to call Drennan.

Soon
Gresham
concluded that if
Campbell
was wrong and
Walker
was still alive then they would know soon enough when he got in touch again. The hour was not so much late now as it was early. It would be starting to grow light soon and
Gresham
was, like all of them, exhausted.

Campbell would sleep here it was decided, in Gresham’s spare room and Slater would be on the floor next to him, just to discourage any further thoughts of escape, which was far from his mind as it was.

Given the conversations they'd had, the things that
Campbell
had told them and the danger they all faced,
Campbell
felt almost safer here with these men, hard and cruel though they were, than had he headed off alone into the night once again. He was asleep as soon as he had phoned Sarah to check that she was OK;
Warren
had taken her to her sister’s place where she was safe and happy. The moment that he lay on the bed he was sleeping and Slater followed him into tired oblivion soon after.

The morning came sooner than anybody wanted but
Gresham
finally heard the news that they all wanted. Not from
Walker
though, whose phone still went unanswered, nor from Drennan, whose phone was evidently now switched off.

Warren
it was who called them. He had gone home himself to get sleep after dropping Sarah off and on awaking the next morning it was one of the first things that he heard. Everyone was talking about it on the street, what had happened last night. A bust by the police gone wrong, or a turf hit by one of his gangland rivals. One idea even had it that an Eastern European group, who were expanding from people trafficking and prostitution into drugs and racketeering was responsible. Whatever the speculation was, they all agreed on one thing. Frankie Walker was dead.

With that phone call
Campbell
had his freedom but accepted it almost reluctantly. Here, beneath the umbrella of protection provided by Gresham and his men,
Campbell
had felt momentarily secure. This most unlikely of alliances gave him a group of ruthless and hardened bodyguards with a vested interest in his safety.

Even so, if they were to put
Campbell
’s plan into effect, he and Sarah needed to return to their homes and their lives and the fear and uncertainty that was part of the deal.

Gresham
instructed
Warren
to watch them. He would take
Campbell
home and remain contactable at all times, on protection and surveillance detail. In this way Campbell and Sarah felt a little safer and more confident and
Gresham
got to make sure that they did what they said they would. On past experience he had little reason to trust
Campbell
but the things he said about his accidental involvement and his wish to be free of the danger and threat that dogged him Gresham knew to be true. The deal that he had proposed was good enough to take a chance.
Warren
was insurance and that kept everyone happy.

By midday,
Campbell
was heading across
London
again, to his home in the west of the city. Slater, Gresham and Keane sat down and began to make plans. They would have to move, quickly and carefully. It would have to be tonight and this time, there could be no mistakes.

Tuesday
.
5pm
.

Once or twice at University and occasionally at work
Campbell
had found himself giving presentations. He didn’t enjoy it. He didn’t like to be the centre of attention too much and his nerves and obvious discomfort had often let him down when faced with a crowd of expectant people.