Suddenly, I’m sitting up in my seat, my mind running through the possibilities faster than one of Larson’s computer programs. ‘You get her to me,’ I say, ‘and I’ll make sure she’s safe.’ It’s a promise I’m not sure I can keep, and seeing Shark’s expression, it’s clear he’s not buying it either.

  Nevertheless, he nods. ‘I’ll need to convince her,’ he says. ‘She won’t be safe in a cell – you know that as well as I do, and anybody sees her round your nick, she’ll be at the bottom of the Cut before you’ve had time to piss.’

  ‘And you’re sure you don’t know where she is?’

  ‘Safer for all of us if none of us do,’ he answers. ‘And that goes for your lot too. There are snitches round every corner these days, and we’re all watching our backs. You got to ask yourself, Bird, who knows what you’re doing, and are they reliable?’

  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ I reply. ‘You look after yours, and I’ll take care of mine.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Perrin butts in, ‘that Inspector Crow has matters well in hand in that direction. As have we, Inspector,’ he adds, giving me a look that makes it clear his approach to the problem is something I shouldn’t ask about.

  ‘Fair enough. You’ll have to give me some time to make arrangements – a day should do it. How will I let you know?’

  In response, Shark digs into his pocket and brings out a second burner. ‘It’s got my boy’s number on it,’ he says. ‘Text him when you’ve worked it out, and he’ll find you.’

  I take the phone and put it in my pocket. ‘There are a couple of other questions you might be able to help me with – in the spirit of cooperation?’

  Shark opens his mouth to object, but Perrin silences him with a gesture. ‘If we can, Inspector. Ask away.’

  ‘Kelvin Draper and his wife – they weren’t doing any work for you as far as I know. Kelvin wasn’t a threat to anybody, so who did he piss off, and why?’

  Shark’s eyebrows come together in a thunderous frown. ‘Are you for real?’ he growls, and I see his fists clench, but he manages, with an effort, to keep them on his knees. ‘He was done for the minute you went sniffing around down at the centre – you and that other bitch, the one who got your job. Me and Kelvin, we went way back, grew up together – went our separate paths, y’know, but he was a brother all the same, and we looked out for each other.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, with genuine feeling. ‘Whether you believe it or not, I liked him too, and I wouldn’t knowingly have seen him come to harm, even though I nicked him once or twice.’

  The tension lasts another couple of beats; then Shark lets out a long breath and gives me a nod. ‘Yeah. Just doing your job, right? Maybe they would have shut him up anyway. Kelvin came to see me, a couple of days before the bastards got him. One of them was over at the centre, got him talking, about the animals, said he was a dog lover and had a mate who’d bought a Doberman somewhere round here. He wanted to know where, as he was thinking of getting one himself. You know what Kelvin was like – talk to anyone about anything, stupid prat, so of course he told him. He was worried afterwards, though, and came over to see me. Said that thinking back, something wasn’t quite right; the guy didn’t look like a dog lover, more like he might be connected to the Greeks. Things sounded a bit off to me, so I warned him to keep his mouth shut and got one of my lads to keep an eye, just in case, right?’

  He sighs and shakes his head. Perrin, the picture of sympathy, pours him a generous tot of whisky from a decanter on the desk and pushes it across to him. He takes a slug and goes on. ‘That night, the dogs were stolen, and you turned up on Kelvin’s doorstep hours later, asking about the theft. As soon as you’d gone, Kelvin rang to tell me your lot were sniffing around, and that’s when the other one turned up – Polly the fucking parrot. She probably heard the conversation. A few hours after that, Kelvin and his family were wasted. So you tell me, Bird – somebody squawked, and my money’s on pretty fucking Polly, and either you’re in on it, or she’s tailing you, clocking your every move. You’re the dog guy, right? So maybe she’s worried you might find out things you shouldn’t. Mr Perrin here thinks we can trust you. I’m still making my mind up.’

  ‘You can trust me, Jermaine,’ I assure him. ‘And as for Inspector Sillitoe, you don’t need to worry about her for the moment.’ I don’t add that I’m getting more worried by the minute. ‘So, you think this Alastor character did for Kelvin and his wife?’

  He grunts. ‘True enough – but not directly. He ordered it – might have watched, but I doubt it. Not his style. There’s another guy, one of his minders, meaner than the one who’s keeping an eye on the girl. He’s the one who went to see Kelvin. I don’t know his name, but he’s almost as much of a bastard as his boss. I reckon they were going to get rid of anyone who could connect them with the raid.’ He pauses and then adds, ‘Y’know, I think Alastor’s overstepped himself. He’s obsessed with those bloody dogs. It’s my guess this was a private enterprise, and if his bosses get wind, they won’t be too pleased, so he’s trying to make the problem go away.’

  ‘If that’s true,’ I say, ‘he’s made a big mistake. Thank you, Jermaine. I give you my word I’ll do whatever I can to bring the killers of the Drapers to book. If one of ours is to blame, I’ll get them, trust me.’ This time, I really mean it, and it must show, because he relaxes a little and acknowledges it with a nod. At the same time a less reassuring thought hits me. Perhaps, given Shark’s assessment of Alastor’s attitude towards his dogs, being West Hill’s official dog catcher could be a distinct disadvantage.

  ‘You have another question?’ Perrin asks.

  ‘Eddie Hall. What’s his story?’

  Shark laughs out loud. ‘Eddie? He’s a fucking dickhead, that’s his story!’

  ‘I think,’ Perrin puts in, ‘that Inspector Crow is referring to Eddie’s involvement with Medusa.’

  ‘Involvement?’ Shark’s lip curls in a contemptuous smile. ‘Thinks he’s a big man now, the stupid little prick. Reckons he’s untouchable, Alastor’s right-hand man. I’ll tell you what he is – he’s a dead man walking, and the fucking idiot doesn’t even realise it. He’s the fall guy, does all the clearing up, all the risky stuff, and thinks he’s that bastard’s best friend – probably cleans his bathroom and offers to suck him off at night too. He can’t see that he’s only there to take the rap if anything goes tits up. Thing is, he’s a total liability, and the first major cockup, he’ll be in the cage getting his balls ripped off before he knows what’s hit him.’

  ‘I agree, he’s not bright, and he’s unreliable, so why take the chance? If I were Alastor, he wouldn’t be my first choice.’

  ‘That’s easy,’ Perrin says. ‘Two things – money and power. The kid’s a fool, but he’s got one big advantage – that is to say, an advantage to the Greeks – not so much for him, the poor sod. His daddy is very rich, and he’s got political sway. It’s my bet they’ll use little Eddie to gain traction with the Honourable Gerard, financially, politically, however they can. The more dirt they have on Eddie, the more likely it is that Gerard will knuckle under when they come in waving the big stick. Unfortunately, once they’ve got control of the Hall-Warner real estate and contacts, the son and heir will likely have served his purpose.’ He shrugs. ‘If I were them, that’s what I’d do.’

  ‘Except the kid won’t last that long,’ Shark puts in. ‘He’ll mess up, and they’ll be sending him back to the stately home a bit at a time.’

  I can’t deny that their analysis is probably accurate. I suppose it should have occurred to me that an organisation like Medusa would aim to get their people as high up the food chain as possible, be it the resident criminal gangs, the police, or local government. I’m not, I remind myself, dealing with small-time crooks like Johnson and Perrin. This is an outfit that spans continents and probably counts its profits in billions of dollars – and thousands of bodies.

  I get to my feet. ‘Thanks for the information. I’ll be in touch as soon as I’ve arranged something for the girl. In the meantime, if you come across anything I should know …’

  Perrin gets to his feet and holds out a hand. ‘It was good of you to come, Inspector. I hope we can all meet again in happier times.’

  I give him the best smile I can manage in the circumstances. ‘Believe me, Reggie, if we get through this, I sincerely hope the next time we meet will be when I’m giving evidence against you in court. No offence, of course.’

  He grins widely. ‘None taken, Inspector Crow. We all have our own paths to tread, and I wish you good luck in your efforts.’ The grin disappears, and he leans forward, serious now. ‘Listen, Inspector, I meant what I said, about assisting where I can. I can give you my personal guarantee that while this matter is ongoing, my employees will do their best to cause as little disruption as possible.’

  ‘Much appreciated, Reggie,’ I say, and turn to Shark. ‘Does that go for you, too?’

  He nods an acknowledgement. ‘That’s fair.’

  I reach the door and have another thought. ‘There is just one more thing. Your boy, Jermaine – Clive Gingell …’

  ‘What about him?’ Shark’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

  ‘Two things. First, I don’t want to see another mark on him. He runs into any more doors, and I’ll be knocking on yours – with a bloody great ram. You understand me?’

  He shrugs. ‘I can’t be responsible for other people, but I’ll keep an eye. What’s your interest anyway?’

  ‘He’s a bright kid. It’s my guess he could make something of himself if he had the chance. Which brings me to the second thing. He thinks the sun shines out of your arse. That means he’d shove his head in an oven if you told him to, right?’

  I get a nod. ‘So?’

  ‘So, you tell him to get the fuck into school – school, college, university, whatever. Use whatever reason you like. If it comes from you, he’ll listen. This is the deal – I’ll be taking a lot of risks. If they don’t pay off, chances are I won’t be around to check on him, and maybe neither will you. If we get to the other side, and we’re both still standing, you do this for me. Agreed?’

  ‘And me? I do this for you, what do I get out of it?’

  ‘A warm glow. The feeling that for once in your life, you did something good. Didn’t you ever wonder what that was like? And like you said about Kelvin – he was on a different path, but he was still a brother. Young Clive is going to grow up, faster than you think, and he’s either going to be one of your grunts – worthless cannon fodder on the street, or maybe he could be a doctor, a lawyer – hell, anything. But he’ll still be a brother. You understand?’

  There’s a long silence while Shark thinks it over. Then he pushes himself upright.

  ‘If we’re both still standing,’ he says, spits into his palm, and holds it out. I grasp his hand, and the bargain is sealed.

  Outside, Clive is waiting to make sure I’m safely escorted from the premises. ‘Take care of yourself, son,’ I say as I walk out into the alley.

  ‘Fuck you,’ he replies.

  18

  Back out on the street, my first act is to call Grace and tell her to set up a meeting with the chief constable as a matter of urgency. Thankfully, she catches my tone and doesn’t ask any questions.

  ‘Get straight over to headquarters,’ she tells me. ‘I’ll make sure he’s available, even if I have to drag him out of the executive toilet myself.’

  I make for the cab rank at the bus station, and as soon as I’m settled in the back seat, I check in with my son-in-law.

  ‘I’ve stayed on, to give Sergeant Saint a break,’ he explains, when I ask him why the hell he’s still in Weston and not back at home getting on with other things. ‘He was up most of the night, keeping an eye out for any activity, but nothing so far. I went through the recordings, just to be sure, and I’ve got my laptop with me, so I’m not wasting my time.’

  The last point is delivered with some irritation, which I realise is probably justified, at least from his point of view. From mine, having the father of my grandchildren within a mile of a gun-and-dog-toting psychopath is completely unacceptable. I remind myself that despite my misgivings, he is an adult after all, even if he’s a naïve one, and if he were one of my Sinkhole cadets, I wouldn’t have any qualms about giving him experience at the sharp end of policing. He’s also made a good point – George, despite appearances, is dedicated to his job and probably hasn’t slept all night.

  ‘Sorry, son,’ I say, gritting my teeth. ‘Just be very careful, okay? And don’t forget to talk to Rosie. We can meet up at home later and swap notes.’

  I manage to get his agreement to be back in Bristol by evening, and focus my attention on the problem at hand – how the hell we’re going to snatch a ruthless assassin’s dog-sitter from under his nose without unleashing a bloodbath on West Hill.

  When I finally manage to get a word out without descending into the kind of inappropriate language that would normally end in disciplinary proceedings, it is to say, ‘No! Absolutely not – if you think I’ll let this happen, you’ve lost your bloody minds!’

  I’m sitting on the wrong side of the second desk I’ve encountered since lunch, and the person in its driving seat, on this occasion Chief Constable Gosford, simply raises an eyebrow and comments, ‘I would remind you, Inspector Crow, that as the lowest-ranking officer in the room, you are not in a position to allow or disallow any course of action we decide to take.’ He pauses and then carries on in a softer tone. ‘I do understand your concerns, Inspector, and I sympathise with your position, but given our options, I can’t see any alternative. If you have a suggestion, I’m perfectly willing to consider it.’

  I look across at Grace, who gives me a helpless shrug. ‘I’m sorry, Al. I can’t see how else this is going to work.’

  ‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ is my automatic response, and I immediately hold up a hand to Gosford. ‘Sorry, sir. But he’s a civilian, not a frontline officer. He hasn’t got a clue what the risks are, and if the wheels come off, he could end up getting shot or worse. What am I supposed to say to my daughter if that happens? She’s about to have a baby, for God’s sake!’

  ‘It’s our job to make sure it doesn’t happen,’ Gosford says, trotting out the well-worn phrase as if he’s discussing which club to use on the fairway of Long Ashton golf course. ‘If we can get a message to this woman and time it right, both she and Larson will be safely tucked away before anyone realises she’s gone.’

  ‘And when they do, and all hell breaks loose?’ I’m seriously starting to question the wisdom of my arrangement with Perrin and Shark Johnson. ‘If they get spooked now, they could swap location, disappear overnight, and we’ll lose our chance to put the whole lot of them away. Then we’ll all end up looking over our shoulders for the foreseeable future. If I read that psychopath right, he’s not the type to shrug his shoulders and let things go.’

  ‘If things go according to plan, they won’t connect her disappearance to us,’ Grace says. ‘Hopefully, right now, they don’t know we’re aware that one of our officers is working for them. We can put out a story and let whoever it is take the message back that we aren’t involved. If we’re lucky and keep our eyes open, we might catch them at it, and that will solve another problem.’

  Grace’s analysis has thrown up two of my least favourite phrases when it comes to police work – ‘according to plan’, and ‘if we’re lucky’. I scrabble for an alternative proposition, but come up empty-handed. ‘Bloody sod it!’ is the most helpful comment I can think of. There’s a tense silence, during which I think of one final objection. ‘Like I said, he’s a civilian. That means you can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do. It will be his decision.’ I meet the chief constable’s eye and add, ‘It also means that you make him aware of all the risks – his decision has to be an informed one. I don’t want my son-in-law walking blindly into a situation that might end up with him getting his head blown off.’

  Gosford gives me a tight grin. ‘A fair point, Inspector. I think I’m quite confident Mr Larson will be given all the information he needs. After all, Inspector Crow, you will be the one giving it.’ He gets up and straightens his jacket. ‘I must go – interview about knife crime with Western Eye in half an hour, and it’s going out live, so I ought to get their make-up girl to give me the once-over. Oh, by the way, Inspector,’ he adds, with what seems to me a perverse satisfaction, ‘I’m sure DCI Helston has explained the importance of cooperating with the new mental health initiatives that are currently being trialled in all inner-city stations. According to my record, your last meeting with your clinical therapist was just over six months ago. I am very aware of your reluctance to engage with psychological services, but I remind you that it is a condition of your return to work, and that as a senior officer, it is your duty to set an example. Therefore I expect the situation to be rectified within the next fourteen days.’ With that, he sweeps out, leaving me and Grace staring at each other in exasperation.

  ‘Make-up girl?’ I shake my head. ‘For fuck’s sake! What bloody universe is he living in?’

  Grace’s mouth twitches into a smile. ‘He’ll have a bit of a shock when he gets down there. The “make-up girl” is most definitely male – ex-army with some very impressive tattoos. Last time I went over to do a Crimeline appeal, he asked me out to dinner.’

  ‘Did you go?’ I ask.

  Her smile widens. ‘None of your business, Inspector.’

  It’s just after five by the time Grace drops me back home on her way to West Hill, with a promise to return later in the evening to help me break the news to Larson of our plans for his immediate future and, assuming he agrees, fill out the details. I make myself busy in the kitchen, mulling over all the things that could possibly go wrong, and how I would ever be able to look Rosie and Chrissie in the eye again if any of them did. When Larson finally gets back an hour and a half later, my brain is about as stewed as the casserole I’ve reheated in the oven.

 

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