Highbridge (25 page)

The farmhouse had been upgraded and sold off privately, but the social housing came right up to one side of it. The back and other side still sat in a field, but the front looked on to the road, probably widened to allow access to the estate.

‘Good 3G signal,' Matt announced, checking his phone as they cruised past. ‘Very nice property too. Shame about the neighbours.'

‘Probably more customers,' Luke added as he looked in the nearside wing mirror to see Leather Jacket get out of the X5 and head into the house. The X5 then carried on, now following them, until Luke spotted a cul-de-sac sign on his left and indicated to turn in. The X5 drove past. With an exaggerated gesture of having made the mistake of turning into a dead end, just in case anyone was watching, Luke turned the Transit and went off after the X5 once again, just in time to see it pull off into a pub car park.

As they approached they could see that, like the old farmhouse, the pub had been chosen for its prime location. One way in. One way out. And nothing else around but cleared sites where houses used to stand. And nothing but clear sightlines. No one could approach without being seen. No one should be there who wasn't welcome. These were the situations Luke dreaded most. He'd rather run across a moonlit fire zone than walk a hostile urban landscape where the only people watching his back would be the ones getting ready to kill him.

The pub was called the Spotted Greyhound. No one knew why. No one cared. The locals called it the Fast Dog. The two shaved-headed minders were out of the X5 and exchanging fist greetings with two other guys sitting astride quad bikes. All eyes turned to watch the Transit go past and, while being a white van man provided a certain degree of invisibility, Luke and Matt decided this was not the time for surveillance. They would come back later.

‘This happen often?' Joey asked as Natasha got back into the Q7, having retrieved her mother and got her safely home.

‘Not that often. But more and more, recently.'

‘Do you think it's time for a care home?'

‘I think we've got a bit more on our plates at the moment, Joe,' she snapped back and sank into silence as Joey eased the Q7 round her dad's raised flower bed, waving to Grace now standing in the window.

‘What did she say about me being back?'

‘I told her you were the taxi driver.'

‘What? Why?'

‘Because she's losing it. Which I think I am at the moment.'

Joey knew he'd get a more coherent answer later, just as he knew now was the time to leave Natasha to let her work out what was in her head. She turned and watched the countryside go by, still struggling for a real answer. Struggling with the images Joey had planted at the front of her head. She knew she could easily repeat the mantra. Leave it to the police. But she was feeling uncomfortable. No matter how unpalatable it was she knew she was facing another moment when she had to reaffirm both the reality and the strength of her relationship with Joey. As it often did. As it always had.

She had always prided herself on having been the one to get him from the wrong side of the tracks. Back on the rails. Defying everyone. Her parents. Friends. Defending him against everyone. You don't know him. He's changed, she would say. Then, later, what a great dad he was. And all the rest. And when it came to her own lioness moment, seeing her cub under threat, she felt she was capable of doing what many always said should be done but never had the bottle to do themselves. Perhaps when it came to the crunch, she wouldn't actually be capable. But she knew Joey would. Just as she knew that was why she loved him. He made her safe. He had bottle. To defend his own. No matter what the risks. And that was why she wanted to remain strong. Play her own role in their relationship. Protect him from himself.

At home she got out of the car and went straight inside. Joey sat for a moment wondering where she was up to. He knew he had pushed their relationship a few times in the past, but she had always been there. Right behind him. Or dragging him back. But this was different. How would this one go, he wondered, but decided that the only way to find out was to go after her and force the issue. She was starting to clear the table when he reached the kitchen and asked the question.

‘I'm not sure what I'm thinking,' she began. ‘Part of me, I don't know whether it's the maternal thing, whether it's right or wrong, wants to just tell you to get on with whatever you and Luke are up to. Another part is saying I'm losing my mum, so sod it. Who cares about those scum? Another, probably the sensible grown-up part, is with your Sean about trying to sort it out through some form of community action or …'

She saw him react negatively at the mention of this huggy-feely stuff, as he always called it, but she palm-punched his shoulder and hardened her eyes. ‘You are going to listen. Especially if you are home for good,' she continued.

‘I am,' Joey immediately replied, holding her shoulders, gently. For reassurance.

‘Then perhaps you will have more of an influence on Tanya, like you've been saying. Getting her to be more careful.' She cradled his face in her hands. This time asking for reassurance. But it wasn't coming.

‘And what happens when the boys get older? It's touched us twice. I don't want a third time.' And to emphasise the point he took her hands and intertwined them with his own. ‘It is like some form of cancer, Nat. And someone's got to cut it out.'

There. He'd said it again. The line to be crossed. It was now up to her whether she wanted to take that step. They both stood holding hands. Silent. Natasha still assimilating the journey Joey had just taken her on, while he waited for the decision. Eventually, it came. As she pulled away and went to the table to collect their now congealing dishes. Wanting to start retrieving some sense of normality.

‘You're right. I don't want to know any details. Except one. You are only helping a mate with a bit of cash? That's it? Nothing else?'

Joey nodded. Then put his arms round her as she placed the dishes on the worktop above the dishwasher. ‘It's the only thing I'm allowed to do. Deniability, I think they call it.'

He felt her body relax slightly as she turned to face him, smothering his face with her hair again and mumbling something into his chest. He pulled away and asked her what she had said.

‘We should be careful what we wish for.'

Immediately, Joey thought that if he was still of the faith he'd probably say Amen to that.

‘Thanks for coming back, Joe,' she said.

‘Well,' Joey grinned. ‘I knew you'd never ask.'

Joey grinned as he felt her smile against his chest. Then, as she hugged him more tightly the pheromones flowed and his second thought was about whether he could get away with suggesting something else he often wished for. But he decided against it. He didn't want to lose this moment. The hero's real return.

Matt had taken delivery of a Ford Focus hire car when he had handed over the Transit to be kept out of sight. In a lock-up they had been using for the duration. One that they could just walk away from. No connection. Just as they could from the Ford Focus, hired in the name of Elsie Jordan, a resident of the Pines Care Home who, despite being bedridden, still held a clean driving licence and a Gold credit card. Her son, Terrence, was down as a registered driver so if stopped, Matt would have seven days to produce his documents, while Terrence could prove he was in Amsterdam at the time.

Even before he had slowed to a stop at the traffic lights, Matt could see it coming towards him. The window wash hustle. One window washer. One flower seller. He had pulled up in the outside lane as instructed. The flower seller came to the driver's window to block the view while negotiating, while the window washer stood by the passenger door and covered one side of the windscreen with suds, totally blocking any view from that direction. By the time the window washer had moved round to the driver's side the flower seller had gone, leaving a fairly large bouquet. Matt handed over a £20 note and got a theatrical protest in return, along with two £5 notes. The same trick Fatchops was using. Each note had the not uncommon random numbers scribbled on it. Different colours. Different writing. A legacy of someone's petty-cash counting system.

On one, the writing was in purple ink and circled. 3–24. He glanced down at the bouquet now on the passenger seat to see the top of a set of registration plates at the centre of the bunch. They would be from another Ford Focus matching the one he was driving but, like the Transit, now sitting in a lock-up somewhere, off the road. Out of sight. The cloned plates would pass unchallenged through the number-plate recognition system that was on all major roads. The numbers on the £5 note meant they had it for three days.

Pulling away he marvelled once again at the way Billy and many like him around the world could deliver. On both sides of the line. Operating in the twilight world often referred to as Black Ops by the media, without which many covert things could not be done in the name of democracy. Don't ask: don't tell. But it didn't stop Matt wondering how Billy and his team knew the registration number was safe for three days. Was it stolen to order? In a garage for repair? Sitting in a long-term car park? Or did it come from a black database at the DVLC?

Whatever it was he never dwelt on it, just accepted that it was what they did. He always wondered more about when someone would finally wake up and recognise two things. One was that the bad guys didn't play by the rules. So things like ID cards and number-plate recognition systems only worked if no one cheated. The other was that formal education had no link to intelligence. If entrepreneurship thrived on opportunity, then opportunity wasn't restricted to purely legal activities. At one time getaway cars and drivers commanded a premium. Just as safecrackers were like gold dust. Now it was all cyberwarfare. All about computer hackers and cloning.

For the next three days Elsie's car would not be tracked. Everything would be logged against the one sitting out of sight somewhere, and provided they didn't go through any speed cameras no one would be the wiser. With that in mind, Matt headed back to Highbridge. With their new 72-hour cloak of invisibility.

‘So, what do you reckon? Got time before the school run?' Joey asked, hopefully as he held her round the waist and nuzzled her neck.

‘Oh yeah. Let's decide to bankroll a bunch of mercenaries to run amok round the town and then jump into bed. Great turn-on, that is.'

‘Power's supposed to be an aphrodisiac, isn't it?'

‘Power is. Losing your mind isn't. Ask my mother.'

Joey relaxed his grip and arched back to examine her eyes. Anxiety. Second thoughts? She saw his concern. ‘I'm OK. Really. But I meant it. All we are doing is helping a friend with some cash. Nothing more. Clear?'

He nodded.

‘Say it, Joe.'

‘I'm clear. Nothing more. No details.'

She then sank back into his chest, giving him just enough time to find a breath hole.

‘Promise?' she asked again.

‘Promise,' he reaffirmed.

‘And I can feel where your mind is going,' Natasha said, as she pressed her groin against his, then pulled away. ‘But I do have to go, as I want to look in on Mum before picking the kids up. So calm down.'

‘What about tonight, then?'

‘You'll be out.'

‘What? Where? I'm not supposed to be here.'

‘But you are. And now you're here, you can do the taxi run tonight.'

‘Where to?'

‘Oh, Tanya's off on one because I've said we won't let her go on holiday with this new boyfriend of hers.'

All thoughts of a romantic night evaporated. ‘What new boyfriend?'

‘Exactly.'

‘But …'

She started gathering her handbag, phone and car keys. ‘The compromise is that she can go to the student night at some new club they've been badgering me about for ages. Provided that I – well, you now – can drop her off and pick her up. And that she stays with the girls.'

She gave him a quick kiss as she headed for the door.

‘Hang on. Why's she going out on a school night? And where is this club?'

She finally smiled. ‘Warrington.'

‘What? That's an hour each way. And how were you going to do this if I wasn't here?'

‘Er … Alex is fourteen.'

‘You leave them on their own?'

‘Joyce pops in from next door. Welcome to the world of shared parenting, Joe.'

With that she left, leaving Joey realising how much she had kept from him while he was away. What else did they all get up to when he was trying to stay awake listening to Benno's stories? But then his phone vibrated on the worktop
ALWAYS 2MORO. GET SLEEP. I'LL WARN KIDS YOU HOME. LXXT
Joey grinned. Tanya's going to love me being here to hound her, he thought, but his mind soon went back to his main concern. Who is this boyfriend?

‘Oh My God, you're trending,' Megan announced to Noah, scrolling through the Twitter feeds as they walked in from school.

Sandra had insisted Noah came straight home. And stayed home.

Noah instantly snatched Megan's phone to look. Which she instantly snatched back. And then had it instantly snatched by Sandra.

‘Mum!'

Sandra then handed the phone back. It wasn't her daughter she was getting angry about. ‘Look. The pair of you.' But she focused on Noah. ‘Today was not your Mandela moment. No matter what your father said about peaceful protest. OK?'

‘So how many dead kids does it take, Mum? Someone's got to do something,' Noah shot back, obviously liking the Mandela reference no matter how pejoratively Sandra meant it.

‘But not you, Noah. It's bad enough having your father banging on, without you getting yourself arrested for fighting with the police.'

‘I wasn't arrested …' Noah countered. ‘We were just protesting. Remember?'