The broken cage, p.6
The Broken Cage, page 6
Emma went still. ‘But there is something? Really bad?’
‘Not really. I don’t know. I can’t tell.’
Emma raised an eyebrow and waited.
‘We own a load of betting shops and have shares in many more. And Charlie did a lot of deals for the development of Camberwell. Regeneration projects with council funding.’
‘Well that’s all legal, by the sounds of it.’
‘On the surface, yeah. But to keep hold of lucrative sites and to land deals, it all involves kickbacks and favours. And you don’t want to know about some of the favours.’
Their drinks arrived and Lydia took a fortifying sip of her coffee.
‘Okay. But it used to be worse stuff, right? And you’re only one person. You can’t change everything overnight, it’s going to take time. You’re not doing those deals, so in a few years, the fallout from your uncle will have settled.’
Lydia stared at Emma in surprise. ‘I thought you would be more horrified.’
‘Beckenham isn’t Camberwell, but it’s not another planet. I heard the rumours. And it sounds like you’ve done a brilliant job in cleaning things up. You should cut yourself some slack.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Lydia mumbled, embarrassed.
‘Well I do. You think Charlie was worrying about people gambling when they didn’t have the money? Or intimidating people?’ She stopped. ‘I just realised. That’s probably not your only problem, is it?’
‘Not really.’
The waiter brought the food and put it down.
Lydia picked up her fork, although her appetite had disappeared. She couldn’t look Emma in the eye. She wanted, suddenly, to tell her that Aiden had stabbed a man. A bad man, no doubt, but still. But that would open Emma up to the true darkness of her Family.
Emma was grinding pepper over her eggs. Without warning, she put the grinder down and grabbed Lydia’s hand across the table. ‘I know you feel bad about Maddie.’
Lydia’s eyes were suddenly stinging. She blinked back tears. She didn’t deserve sympathy. She wasn’t a victim or the bereaved. She was a killer.
Emma didn’t let go of her hand and, eventually, Lydia managed to look at her face, dreading what she would find there. Her expression was just the same as it always was when she looked at Lydia. Fond exasperation, a touch of amusement and a world of love.
Lydia swiped her face with her free hand.
‘I don’t know if I thanked you properly,’ Emma said, squeezing her hand a little. ‘You did me and my family and most likely many more people a true service.’
‘I didn’t…’ Lydia hadn’t told Emma exactly what had happened on the roof. Just that Maddie had been intent on sending her over the edge and that they had both gone over in the ensuing struggle.
Emma shook her head gently. ‘You did the right thing and I’m so proud of you.’
Lydia swallowed hard. ‘I didn’t think you were in favour of the death penalty.’
Emma released her hand, shrugging. ‘Funny how you don’t really know what you believe in until your kids are in danger.’
* * *
After brunch with Emma, Lydia took the tube to the hospital. She felt both comforted and raw from her conversation, like the top layer of her skin had been ripped away. It was good not to feel numb anymore, she reasoned. Although, when she got in sight of the hospital building and felt a swooping sickness, she wasn’t entirely convinced it was an improvement.
She walked through the main entrance and then, navigating by memory, found the patch of tarmac beneath the roof where she and Maddie had landed. It was the edge of a carpark, a walkway for pedestrians hurrying from their cars to make appointments; nervous, sad, sick, or all three.
Lydia stood on the pavement and looked up at the hospital roof. It was a long way up. Ghosts often seemed to end up connected to where they died. Not that she was claiming to be an expert, but that had been her experience so far. A man speaking loudly into his mobile, a Pret bag in his other hand, almost walked into her. He took evasive action at the very last moment, but was close enough for Lydia to get a blast of his coffee breath and cologne.
Behind him, an elderly couple were making their way a little slower. Lydia waited for them to pass, stepping out of the way and watching the way the man fussed with his wife’s coat collar, turning it the right way out and taking her hand firmly as they approached the corner, as if she might dart away.
Once they turned the corner out of sight, there was the sound of a car door slamming shut and she knew she wouldn’t have long to be alone in this place. She closed her eyes and took a slow breath, reaching out her senses. She called to Maddie silently, and, once, speaking out loud. Lydia wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear an answering voice, but she kept trying, pushing with everything she had and straining to hear. She gripped her coin in one hand and ignored the gathering crows, searching the empty air for a trace of Maddie. But there was nothing. Not a whisper. Not a faint outline. Not a shimmer in the air. It was over.
Chapter Eight
Lydia had her eyes shut and her face tilted up to the sky. The sun was warm on her skin and there were kids playing with a football nearby. She could hear them laughing, the thud of the ball against the path, and smell something sweet in the air. The scent was overtaken by one of warm earth and fur as she felt the Fox arrive. He hesitated before sitting on the bench to her left and she saw flashing red, disappearing into dark undergrowth. She followed the image in her mind’s eye, willing her heart to slow to normal.
He didn’t speak and Lydia opened her eyes, expecting to see the unsettling gaze of Paul Fox. Instead, it was one of his brothers. She didn’t know his name.
‘I’ve got a message for you,’ the Fox said.
‘From Paul?’ Lydia hated that she was worried for Paul, but she was. She clamped her lips together to stop herself from asking after him.
‘He said to tell you that he’s busy.’
‘Right…’ Lydia raised an eyebrow, waiting for more.
‘That’s it. He’s busy. Very fucking busy.’
Lydia tilted her head, considering. The Fox was smiling a little. Enjoying himself. Enjoying the delivery of the message. Which meant she was still deeply unpopular with the Fox clan. That was no surprise and no worry. What was new, was Paul washing his hands of her. Or appearing to. Sending a message that things had changed between them, that maybe she couldn’t count him among her friends.
‘I am the head of the Crow Family and I demand respect,’ Lydia said, fixing the Fox with a long stare. ‘I had something for him, but he can find out all on his own. You tell him that,’ Lydia stood up. ‘When you can walk again, that is.’
She opened her fist, revealing her coin lying in her palm. She turned her flat hand upside down and the coin remained stuck fast, ignoring the laws of gravity.
The Fox didn’t look particularly impressed and certainly not alarmed. That would come in a few seconds when he tried to get up from the bench. Lydia walked away.
* * *
Back in Camberwell, Lydia checked in with each of the betting shops run by the Family. Aiden had said it would be good to smooth some feathers. Charlie had taught her that nothing was better than the personal touch. No matter how busy or important he got, he always made time to visit the smallest businesses, checking in and making sure he was seen doing so. Lydia had put it down to a personal power trip, but now she could see the sense of it. Besides, you picked up information in the most unlikely places, and information was everything.
The shops ranged from clean and bright, radiating a good-time vibe, rich with promise, to the dingy rooms she had imagined. Shabby, depressing rooms with nicotine-stained walls and hollow-eyed punters staring at screens. The air thick with desperation. Lydia wondered if you could trace a gambling addict’s descent from one type of emporium to the other, a metaphorical journey illustrated in bricks and mortar. More likely, of course, all types of gamblers, both addicted and recreational, chose where they went purely on location and habit. If Lydia scratched the surface of the shiny-happy betting shop, she would find the same spectrum of despair.
She could feel a depressing weight pushing down when she contemplated it, so she locked the thoughts up and shook hands with the proprietors and tried to look interested at the repeated complaints about internet gambling, illegal bookies, and back-room poker games. She distracted herself by asking every Crow whether they knew Mikhail the Jekyll, but drew a blank. The members of the Crow Family who had chosen to run legal gambling establishments were the most law-abiding of her beloved flock, and genuinely not connected to the shadier side. Which said something about the Crow Family and its history, but not something Lydia particularly wanted to dwell upon.
* * *
Back at The Fork, Lydia checked in with Angel. ‘Any news about Nat?’
The cook shook her head, turning away to pour Lydia a coffee without being asked.
She took it and wondered what she could say that would sound comforting, coming up with nothing. ‘She’ll be back’ was only good if it was true and what right did Lydia have to make pronouncements on Angel’s marriage?
Her phone rang and she walked outside the cafe, into the street to answer it. She had been expecting Paul Fox’s voice and she wasn’t disappointed.
‘Jasper is very unhappy with you.’
‘How long did it take him to get home?’
‘He was paralysed for three and a half hours. He’s not amused.’
‘But you are.’
‘No,’ Paul said. ‘Well, yes. Okay, a bit. But that wasn’t very polite.’
‘Neither was sending your little brother to meet me.’
There was a silence. One which Lydia let run. She was standing outside The Fork and could see Angel through the window. She was staring into space with a blank expression.
Eventually, Paul spoke. ‘Things have been… Tricky recently. There are people, things, that I’ve been dealing with. I didn’t meet you personally because I was busy. It was not meant to hurt your feelings.’
‘You didn’t hurt my feelings,’ Lydia snapped. ‘It’s protocol. Respect.’
‘I know that’s important to you.’
Lydia smiled at his careful diplomacy. ‘It’s not, really. But it’s the look of it. You know the game. You know the position I’m in these days.’
‘I do,’ Paul said. ‘But you have to understand… It’s not all about you. Not all about the Crows.’
‘You have a problem?’ Lydia turned away from the window and began pacing up and down the pavement. She wanted to say ‘maybe I can help’, but wasn’t sure she could truly follow up on that kind of promise. Her plate was full and in danger of tipping over.
Paul side-stepped her question with one of his own. ‘What were you going to tell me?’
‘I got a message, thought I should let you know.’ She took a fortifying breath before speaking the words out loud. ‘In case it’s connected to the Pearl court.’
‘The ones you buried under Highgate Woods?’
‘It’s a pendant with a pearl in it. I’m getting a faint Pearl Family read from it, nothing strong, but it was brought to me by a jackdaw.’
A moment of silence, and then Paul’s voice, sounding amused. ‘Little Bird, that’s not a very scary henchman for a crime boss.’
‘I’m not a crime boss,’ Lydia said. She stopped pacing. ‘And I just wanted to let you know. In case it meant something.’
‘I think you just wanted to see me,’ Paul said, sounding altogether too happy. ‘I think you were missing me and wanted an excuse.’
‘That’s not…’
‘A necklace from a bird? Come on. Trouble in paradise? All not well with your shiny copper?’
Lydia started. She hadn’t told Paul about Fleet’s gleam. ‘Shiny?’
‘Good as gold,’ Paul clarified. ‘On the side of the angels. Or the law, anyway.’ He paused for effect. ‘Unlike us.’
‘I was just telling you as a friend,’ Lydia said. ‘As allies. That’s all.’
‘Well, isn’t that nice,’ Paul said. ‘Keep your friendship, Little Bird. Call me when you’re ready for a real alliance. But don’t wait too long.’
* * *
Upstairs, she found Fleet waiting. He was lounging on the sofa with his phone and Jason was sitting at Lydia’s desk, scowling at him. She wondered whether Fleet could see Jason or sense his presence. He had caught glimpses in the past, but seemed to have settled on wilful blindness when it came to her ghostly flatmate.
‘He’s in my spot,’ Jason said.
‘And you’re in mine,’ Lydia said.
‘What?’ Fleet had put his phone down to greet her and was now frowning in confusion. ‘Oh. Is he here?’
‘Yes. He’s waving at you.’ That was the politest way to interpret the gesture that Jason was making.
She raised her eyebrows in a question and Jason shrugged. ‘Just amusing myself. It’s been a slow day.’
While Lydia had been taking it easy over the last few weeks she hadn’t appreciated that Jason had had less to do, as well. And she hadn’t realised how much he had come to rely on the distraction and sense of purpose that working for Crow Investigations provided. ‘We’ll have some cases that require your hacking skills soon,’ Lydia spoke without thinking.
Fleet had straightened and was looking from Lydia to the empty air in front of the desk.
‘And I use hacking in the non-illegal sense of the word,’ she added. ‘Not hacking. Typing. That’s what I meant.’
‘I didn’t hear anything.’ Fleet stood and crossed the room to kiss Lydia. ‘Hello, you.’
After a minute or two of Fleet’s finest work, she felt a draft of cold air pass over her back and shivered slightly. He increased his efforts, probably mistaking Jason walking behind her for uncontrolled passion.
Lydia opened her eyes and found Fleet’s own gaze wandering.
She broke the clinch and looked around. ‘He’s gone.’
‘Good.’
Fleet’s smile was borderline smug and Lydia wondered if he could possibly be feeling jealous of a ghost. Surely not.
* * *
Later, as Lydia watched Fleet searching vainly for something to eat in the small kitchen that wasn’t toast, she had an unusual thought. Maybe they should leave London together. Get away from her family, his job, everything. Just start over somewhere entirely new, where they could be normal people with a normal relationship and normal lives. As soon as the thought came, she felt the impossibility of it and the weight settled back over her shoulders. She had killed the night raven, the contender for the crown, and that meant she couldn’t abandon the Family. She had taken the power, so now she was saddled with the responsibility.
Besides, as Fleet turned to hold up an extremely expired unopened packet of bacon and give her a look of mock-exasperation, she caught a blast of his signature gleam. It wasn’t just a glimpse of sunshine coming out from behind a cloud, it was like standing close to a burning star and feeling heat that could melt an entire world. She realised that she had been damping down her own senses to make it bearable, instinctively turning them down like she was adjusting the volume control on her phone. She opened her mouth to ask Fleet if he had noticed the change, but he started speaking at the same time. ‘You go first.’
‘I’ve been wondering something,’ Fleet began.
He looked uncertain and that set alarm bells off in Lydia’s mind. ‘What?’
‘It’s something that Sinclair said.’
‘I don’t want to talk about your new friend.’
‘It’s about your uncle.’
Lydia forced herself to keep looking at Fleet. ‘What about him?’
‘Is he still being detained? I mean, now that Smith is no longer running his department.’
‘That’s a question for your friend. How would I know?’
‘You’re not curious?’
Was she curious? Lydia dug her fingernails into her palm to stop herself from shouting. Hell Hawk.
‘We’ve got to assume that someone else has picked up where Smith left off. Sinclair says not, but that doesn’t mean anything. She might be out of the loop.’
‘Or she might be lying to your face.’ Lydia was trying not to think about Fleet and Sinclair having cosy little chats about her Family. She knew that Fleet was on her side, but she still felt a sting of betrayal. She had been raised not to speak about her Family to outsiders and Sinclair was most definitely in that category.
Fleet nodded ‘Or that, yes,’
‘I told you not to have anything to do with her. Learn from my mistakes.’
‘I could ask her about Charlie. If you want?’
‘I don’t,’ Lydia said.
‘But why?’
‘Because I assume he’s dead,’ Lydia said. ‘And I like that assumption. I don’t want to learn otherwise.’
‘Wouldn’t it be better to be warned? If he’s alive and there’s a chance he will get free. Or a chance that he’s already free.’
‘I would rather not know,’ Lydia said, hoping the repetition would be an end of the conversation.
No such luck.
‘That makes no sense. Why wouldn’t you want warning? You love knowledge. You want to know everything about what everyone is doing. What they need, what they like, their strengths, their weaknesses, their family histories. Everything. Why don’t you want to know about Charlie?’
Lydia allowed herself a sigh. ‘Because it won’t help.’
* * *
The next day was supposed to be a day off for Fleet. While Lydia had been recuperating, they had made all kinds of grand plans about regular time off, days out of Camberwell, and maybe even a holiday out of the country. Truth to tell, Lydia wasn’t all that bothered, but it made Fleet happy to talk about being normal. Even if she knew that in his bones it wasn’t for him. A Fleet on a sun lounger in Spain would be a very bored Fleet indeed.
