In the Dark (10 page)

‘You going to flush my head down the bog, like at school?'

‘We'll sort it out, man. It'll be a piece of piss. You want this, though, T? You up for this, man, yeah?'

Theo could see the excitement in Easy's face, hear it in his voice, and he was smart enough to figure out why. Close as they were, Theo guessed that there would be a price to pay later on. Maybe Easy would ask a favour or two down the road or want a small cut of whatever extra would be coming Theo's way. That was fine. Theo knew how it worked, friends or no friends, and this was only happening because Easy had put a good word in.

A small price was fine.

He sat there, thinking about how it would be to drive around in something that the kids looked at from the shadows by the garages. To have enough dosh to keep Javine happy and to flash around when he needed to. Enough for himself, and a bit to lay aside for Benjamin, and maybe for Angela too.

Something to piss away and to put away.

And Easy sat there too, looking at Theo and his baby and thinking about where to get the car on the night. What kind of gun to use.

 
The flat was empty when Paul got back and he was halfway through dialling Helen's mobile when he remembered that she was eating round at her sister's. He stuck a pizza in the oven and watched the news while he ate. He slid open the door on to what was laughably called a balcony, sat with his feet against the railing, and lit a cigarette. It was a warm night, and he could smell the mint that Helen was growing in a pot; the jasmine that was stubbornly refusing to climb up a small wooden trellis.

With Frank having let him down, it was a major relief that things looked like working out with Shepherd. Now he could relax a little, afford to spend a bit more time doing what he was officially being paid for. Not that getting in with Shepherd was going to stop him sniffing around elsewhere. There were plenty of businessmen looking to take on consultants; keen to do business with the likes of him.

Coppers with an itch or two to scratch.

One thought lit the fuse of another, fizzing and corrosive, and his mood changed in the time it took to grind out the cigarette.

To. Stub. The. Cunt. Out.

An itch or two
. . .

He'd seen the arsehole who had been giving it to Helen a couple of times. Watched him. He'd looked up his home address and driven round there, sitting outside until the man had come out and climbed into his poxy Ford Fuckmobile. Paul had stared long and hard at that car. He'd thought about driving at him then and there, flattening the twat against the side of it, then pitching his carcass into the back seat, which, all things considered, would have been a very classy touch.

There had been a few darker moments than that, when he'd really gone into things. When he'd coldly considered the ways he might do it; the more thought-out ways. He'd reckoned he could probably get away with it, too, if he was careful, and that even if he didn't, there might be the odd copper who would happily look the other way.

He'd done nothing, of course. Let it fade just a little, and fester. And tortured Helen whenever the chance presented itself.

She came back a little after eleven, and he was watching the door. A couple of glasses of wine had tempered the anger that had flared up, sitting out there with the plant pots, but he could still feel it ticking in him.

‘How was Jenny?'

Helen hadn't taken off her coat. ‘She's good. Sends her love.'

‘Does she hell.'

Her head dropped and she walked straight through to the bedroom. When she came out, she said, ‘I'm tired. I'm really not up for this, Paul.'

He watched her trudging into the kitchen, pushing fingers through her hair, and heard himself say, ‘Sorry.' Heard her saying that it was fine; that they could have it out tomorrow if he still wanted to, and he knew that he really didn't.

She sat down next to him and asked how his day had been. He told her a joke Gary Kelly had been telling everyone and she laughed, and as they sat there watching TV, the silence between them was easier than it had been in a while.

He thought about the morning when she'd told him about the baby, and how it had been afterwards. The way each of them had taken the piss out of the stupid grin the other one was wearing. He turned to her, wanting to remind her, but saw that she'd drifted off, her head back and her mouth open. He put a hand on her belly, leaving it there until his own eyes closed and it slipped down on to the sofa-cushion.

He woke a couple of hours later with the taste of wine and stale fags in his mouth, and gently shook her awake.

TEN

Helen grabbed him on his way to the bathroom. ‘Pinch and a punch, first of the month!'

Paul smiled, but only momentarily. He had overslept and should have left for work ten minutes before.

‘I've made you some tea,' Helen said. ‘And your cereal's on the table, so don't panic.'

She had already been up an hour; had showered, dressed and cleared away the remains of the previous evening's takeaway. They'd had a curry delivered and stayed up late putting the world to rights. Paul had moaned about the job, the hours and the aggravation, and had asked Helen whether she thought he should take the inspector's exams in three months' time. He'd seemed equally happy to talk about moving and nurseries, and after a few drinks he'd dug his guitar out from the back of the wardrobe. He'd played ‘Wonderwall' and ‘Champagne Supernova', and when someone in the flat upstairs had banged on the ceiling, he'd shouted, ‘How do you like it?'

Helen guessed that, despite the moaning, he was having a better time at work than had been the case in recent weeks. Maybe the job had been affecting his mood more than she'd thought. More than
she
was, even.

When Paul came into the living room and sat down, Helen brought his tea. She leaned against the table and they watched a few minutes of breakfast TV: a preview of the new football season, less than a fortnight away; travel updates; a decent-sounding long-term weather forecast.

‘I'm going over to Katie and Graham's tonight,' Helen said. ‘They asked if you were coming.' Paul looked up. ‘Calm down, I'm kidding. I told them you were at your leaving do. Bet that's a relief, isn't it?'

Paul grinned, his mouth full of cereal. Helen knew that he would rate another evening with Graham somewhere between a seminar on community policing strategy and sticking red-hot needles in his eyes, and she couldn't blame him. She had only accepted the invitation herself because she'd known Paul would be out and didn't fancy a night in on her own. She wondered if that was the reason why Katie had invited her over in the first place. She'd mentioned that Paul was going out before her friend had asked her.

She walked into the kitchen. ‘I'll probably be dead to the world by the time you get back.' She was not planning to stay out particularly late, but Katie lived up in Seven Sisters and it would take a while to drive back from that far north.

‘I'm staying over at Gary's,' Paul shouted through.

‘Oh, OK. I'll see you in the morning, then.'

‘Afternoon more likely. Gary's missus is away and I think he's got a bit of a lads' Saturday planned.'

‘I don't think I want to know.'

‘I'll call you.'

‘It's fine. Have fun.'

‘You too.'

‘Try not to enjoy yourself too much, though, Hopwood . . .'

Helen didn't hear Paul walk out into the hall to get his jacket; hadn't realised that he'd been saying goodbye. When she came out of the kitchen, she was surprised that he wasn't there, and she jumped when the door slammed shut.

 
For the last couple of days, Theo had been exchanging lookout duties with Ollie, a nice enough white kid with dreads and a convincing line in patois. He was working a corner on Lewisham High Street, near the clock-tower, watching for trouble while Ollie ran ten quid back to the estate and waiting for him to return with the rock. The street market that ran up to St Saviour's Church was busy, which was normally good for business, and it occupied a few more of the boys in blue, which was never a bad thing. The police station itself, one of the largest in the city, was right opposite him, and, while Theo waited, he stared across at the illuminated hoarding on the bus stop a few feet away. Two cheery-looking coppers - a fat bloke and a good-looking woman - talking into a radio, and a big, bold message printed underneath: VISIBLY SAFER.

A hundred yards away, in the doorway of an electrical shop, a teenager was staring at the televisions, even keener for Ollie to return than Theo was.

It would only take a few minutes. ‘Quicker than fucking Argos,' Easy liked to tell his customers.

Theo kept one eye on his punter, though he wouldn't be going anywhere. He danced from foot to foot same as always, wringing his hands; cheeks hollowed out from sucking on the pipe more often than he remembered to eat. Six months ago, Theo might have felt sorry for him, but not any more. Now he just needed a few more sad sorts like this one passing his phone number round; queuing up to buy and boosting his commission.

He was still waiting to see the deal get done when the Audi pulled up on a side street opposite.

Easy got out and called him over. ‘We need to get together later,' he said.

Theo glanced back over his shoulder, watching out for Ollie. ‘Yeah, whatever.'

‘We're on, you
get
me? Wave wants to do this tonight.'

‘Shit, I thought it would be a while. You know?'

‘It's tonight, man, so gee yourself up, yeah? T . . .?'

‘I'm ready, man,' Theo said. ‘No danger.'

Easy grinned and smacked his hand against the roof of the car. Not wanting his friend to see anything in his eyes that should not be there, Theo looked over his shoulder again, as though he were just on the lookout, still going about his business.

Suddenly, Easy spotted something pinned to a tree on the pavement opposite and crossed over. Theo followed; watched his friend study the photocopied flyer and take out his phone.

Theo looked at what was written: a phone number and description; a picture of a missing dog, staring up at the camera, its eyes whitened by the flash. He'd had a dog himself as a kid, a ratty-looking mongrel far less cute than this one.

‘You lost a dog, yeah?' Easy said, looking at Theo as he spoke into the phone. ‘Well, I think I've got it.' He nodded, said, ‘Shut up, yeah? You can have it back for five grand, or I'll kill the fucker.' He listened then made a face; stabbed at the off button. ‘They found it already.'

‘Does that ever work?' Theo asked.

‘Once, but the miserable bitch knocked me down to five hundred.' He shook his head in disgust. ‘This is supposed to be a nation of animal lovers, man.'

 
‘We going to have to listen to speeches later?'

‘Yeah, usual deal I reckon,' Kelly said. ‘Bob'll call us all wankers and moan about the crappy watch or engraved hip flask or whatever the hell we're presenting him with.'

‘It's something to look forward to,' Paul said. He pushed his fork through an almost edible cottage pie and thought about heading home from Kelly's place the next morning earlier than he'd told Helen; doing something with their free Saturday. It would be nice to make a day of it, get out of London, maybe. They had driven to Brighton on a few occasions, got the train down from Victoria once, and always had a good time.

He felt the phone vibrate in his jacket pocket.

Then again, you had to beat the traffic to get a full day in, and chances were he'd be in no fit state to make an early start.

He brought the phone out and down onto his lap, clocked the display, then walked away from the table to take the call.

‘Just checking to see how things are going,' Shepherd said.

‘Things are fine.'

‘We've not spoken for a day or two, so I wanted to make sure.'

Paul pushed out through the glass doors into the lobby; studied the posters on the noticeboards as he listened. Shepherd sounded agitated. He seemed keen to know that their arrangement still stood, that Paul had kept certain things to himself. Paul told him that he had nothing to worry about, but that it was difficult to talk. Said that he'd call the next day and fix up a time for another meeting.

Shepherd laughed. ‘I worry, that's all,' he said. ‘You understand.'

Paul wandered back into the canteen, thinking that the day he understood the likes of Kevin Shepherd would be the day to chuck it in and make his own retirement speech. He caught Kelly's eye and signalled, then walked across to the counter to get them both coffee.

 
A proper car park, multi-storey or whatever, was out of the question, Easy decided. Too many cameras. Too many everywhere, he reckoned, with him and everyone else being CCTV'd up the arse twenty-four hours a day. It was one of the first things they taught the new blood: how to pass the merchandise so nothing was ever seen, even if the whole damn thing was caught on camera. It was just a question of keeping your hood up, or angling your body in the right way and finding the blind spot. Got to be second nature after a while, like they were just taking the piss.

They caught the overground across to Catford, found a side street behind the disused greyhound stadium with no CCTV that any of them could see. Easy and SnapZ took one side of the street and Mikey the other.

They didn't have to wait more than ten minutes.

The kid came bouncing along with a sports bag, like he'd been at the gym or something. As soon as he'd popped the central locking on his car and moved around to drop his bag in the boot, SnapZ was in front of him asking the time. Mikey was behind with the knife and Easy did the talking.