Heading for a narrow gap between a kebab shop and an estate agent’s, Mulligan led them down the kind of dingy alley usually reserved for emptying your bladder or dropping your trousers for some other reason. There were a few people about, several already staggering as they approached the queue waiting by the club’s entrance. Two bouncers, one male, one female, were on the door, smiling and chatting as they waved people inside. A group of middle-aged women cackled and nudged each other as three younger blokes joined the queue behind them, the men exchanging awkward grins as they shuffled their feet, embarrassed. Caelan saw one of the women wink at Ewan as they approached the back of the line, and tucked her arm through his possessively.
‘You were right,’ she told Mulligan.
‘Had to happen sooner or later. How do you mean?’
‘This place really is a shithole.’
He pretended to wince. ‘Wait until you get inside.’
Caelan watched a couple wearing jeans and trainers move past the bouncers, who didn’t give them a second glance. ‘They’re not even checking people’s bags.’
‘Not that kind of place,’ Mulligan said.
She could believe it. ‘Asking for trouble.’
They moved a few steps forward. Mulligan’s hands were in his pockets, head up. Back in the game.
‘People come here to relax, maybe do some business,’ he said. ‘No one wants to be searched on their way in.’
‘And the management won’t want to do it anyway. Not in their interests.’ Caelan lowered her voice as another group stumbled up behind them. ‘No doubt you can sell anything in here as long as you hand over a cut of the profits.’
‘No comment.’ Mulligan grinned as he gave a jaunty wave to someone near the front of the queue. ‘And don’t let Reuben hear you say that, or anyone else.’
Caelan smiled back. ‘I’ll be subtle.’
‘Aye, I’m sure.’ He made a sound of disgust.
The club’s entrance was anonymous, black doors with a small silver sign above them. Caelan squinted up at it.
‘Reuben’s? That’s imaginative.’
The male bouncer caught her eye as they passed. ‘Have a good evening,’ he said. She nodded, trying to look as though she couldn’t wait to get inside, but suppressed a sigh as they made their way down a gloomy corridor towards the music. This was going to be a long night. Nightclubs weren’t her favourite places, especially when she was working. There were dark corners where someone might hide or lie in wait, and keeping track of one person was next to impossible. The music made it difficult to talk, and people under the influence of alcohol or drugs weren’t always rational. All in all, she would rather Mulligan had taken them anywhere else than two different nightclubs on consecutive nights, but it was out of her control.
Ewan glanced down at her, his smile questioning, and Caelan gave him a tiny nod. At least on this job she wasn’t alone, as she had been so many times before.
The smell of sweat and cheap aftershave was as overwhelming as the crush of bodies around the bar. There were a few spotlights making lazy circles on the black-painted ceiling, the music loud but nowhere near as crisp as it had been in the Stand the night before. Drugs were changing hands, shots being downed. People were here to enjoy their evening, and who could blame them? In some ways Caelan wished she could march over to the bar, order a double vodka and join them.
Their shoes already sticking to the floor, Mulligan led them to a table in a dark corner. The table was battered, the chairs covered in dark red fabric dotted with stains and spills.
‘Good vantage point, you see?’ he said as he flung himself down. He had perked up since the meeting with Penrith, especially after a few hours’ sleep and another takeaway. ‘I’m getting good at this.’
Caelan took the chair beside Mulligan’s and leant towards him.
‘Who have you seen so far?’
He pursed his lips. ‘Big guy over there? Blue shirt, black jeans?’
She glanced over discreetly. ‘The miserable-looking one?’
‘Aye, that’s him. Nathan Nash, Reuben’s brother. Always looks like he’s at his mam’s funeral.’ Mulligan looked at Ewan as he pulled out a chair. ‘You away to the bar, big man?’
Ewan frowned. ‘Why not.’
Watching him walk away, Mulligan smirked. ‘Don’t think your boyfriend’s happy. You could be a bit more affectionate, you know? I think he’s pining.’
Caelan ignored that. ‘What does Nathan Nash do?’
‘Helps his brother here.’
‘Nothing else?’
‘Like what? Charity work?’
‘Something legit.’
Mulligan wagged a finger. ‘I haven’t said they’re into anything dodgy. They run this place, maybe turn a blind eye to a bit of dealing or thieving.’
‘Then why are we here?’
‘I told you. Stand is the club to be seen in; Reuben’s is the place to do business. Look around you. Most people are your average punters, here for the cheap booze. But you’ve also got those who aren’t just here to enjoy themselves.’
Caelan waited for five young women to pass their table. ‘Tell me who I should be watching.’
Mulligan laughed. ‘Watching? I’ve already seen you have a good look at a few people – the blonde in the red dress who just went by for one.’
Caelan refused to smile. ‘Is Reuben Nash around?’
His eyes flicked over the crowd. ‘Not yet. He’ll be in his office upstairs; he’ll come down later on. He likes to get a feel for how the evening’s going, or so he says.’
‘What about Stefan Harris?’
Mulligan’s nostrils flared. ‘What about him?’
‘Will he be here?’
‘I’m not his secretary. Look, Reuben Nash hates Harris. Don’t ask me why, because I don’t know. Harris comes here sometimes because he knows it’ll be worth his while. He and Nash are polite, but in that strained way, you know?’ Mulligan raised his eyebrows. ‘As though it wouldn’t take much for them to start punching each other.’
‘Like you and me.’
Mulligan laughed, but his eyes were cold. ‘Aye, you’re not kidding.’
There was a silence. Caelan watched Mulligan fiddle with the buttons on his shirt, run a hand through his hair. He was doing his best to appear calm, confident, but she realised he was anything but. He hadn’t mentioned his sister, and Penrith hadn’t been in touch, so they had no idea what was happening. It seemed unlikely, given the mess in her bedroom and the items she had left behind, that Lucy had gone voluntarily, but Caelan knew better than most that things weren’t always what they seemed. She sat back, hoping she looked relaxed, as though she was enjoying herself.
No chance.
She remembered the faces of the three young people in the photographs Penrith had shown her. She had to focus on them as well as Lucy. Someone knew who they were, why they’d died. Had they seen too much? Asked questions? Protested at being used like pieces of meat? She knew she had to trust Achebe and Somerville to do their jobs, but finding justice for the three unidentified faces was her responsibility too. She needed to talk to Penrith, to ask whether she could have some background details on any of the people she had met through Mulligan so far. In her job, it wasn’t always deemed a good idea to be given a lot of information about a suspect or person of interest. If you had background knowledge, it could lead to you mentioning something or someone the person in question hadn’t told you about. She’d known covers blown by an officer mentioning a place or person they shouldn’t have been aware of. It didn’t happen often, should never happen at all, but she and her fellow officers were human, and where there were humans, there were mistakes.
Ewan appeared, clutching three beer bottles, trailed by Jolene Townsend, the woman Mulligan had introduced them to the night before. Mulligan leapt out of his chair and bounded towards her as Ewan set the beers on the table.
‘You’re slumming it tonight, Mulligan,’ Jolene said, watching him over the rim of her glass.
‘On your own?’ he asked.
She smiled. ‘For now. Non-alcoholic lager?’ She gestured towards his beer bottle. ‘Gone over to the dark side, have you?’
Mulligan’s face froze for a second, but he quickly recovered. ‘Still on the painkillers. Got to avoid the drink for the time being. You know how it is.’ He pulled out a chair for her, guided her into it. He jerked his head towards Caelan and Ewan. ‘Owen’s driving, Vic’s here to work.’
Jolene met Caelan’s eyes, one eyebrow raised. ‘Work?’
‘I’m showing her the ropes.’ Mulligan spoke lightly, but Caelan knew what the words were costing him. Here was the subterfuge, and with it the admission that he might need help. He was being forced to acknowledge that he’d been rattled by his run-in with the police and was worried about the future of his business if they should start sniffing around again.
‘I don’t understand.’ Jolene was talking to Mulligan but still looking at Caelan, her expression guarded. Caelan hesitated, waiting to see what Mulligan would say. He leant towards Jolene, speaking quietly.
‘Vic knows my game inside out, and she’s family. You remember Andri and Erdi?’
‘Your thick-as-pig-shit assistants?’ Jolene scoffed. ‘Hard to forget them. Banged up, aren’t they?’
‘Exactly. And a man can’t run a business empire like mine on his own.’ Mulligan stretched his legs out in front of him and drank some beer. ‘When Vic heard what had happened, that my boys were out of the picture, she volunteered her services.’
Again Jolene’s eyes were on Caelan, the hint of a sneer in her expression. Caelan wondered why.
‘And what about him?’ Jolene jerked her head towards Ewan.
‘Owen?’ Mulligan said. ‘He’s the muscle, and unlike my Albanians, he can think for himself. Win-win.’
Caelan had to admit, Mulligan sounded convincing. Ewan’s face was set as he drank his beer, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd, playing his part to perfection. Jolene’s gaze flicked from Mulligan to Ewan and back again.
‘So you’re back in the game?’ she said.
Mulligan raised his bottle. ‘Never left it, princess. Let people know, though, won’t you? Don’t want everyone thinking I’ve gone into retirement.’
‘No worries.’ Jolene stood. ‘You got anything to sell?’
Mulligan spread his hands. ‘Not yet, but the night’s young.’
With a glance at Caelan and Ewan, Jolene lowered her voice. ‘Why don’t you speak to Stefan?’
‘Bit of an issue there, unfortunately.’ Mulligan cleared his throat. ‘Fifteen thousand issues, actually.’
‘You owe him money?’ Jolene shook her head. ‘You stupid bastard.’
‘I know, I know.’ Mulligan rubbed his face with both hands. ‘I need a deal, one that’s going to make me enough to pay Harris off and give myself and these two a decent pay packet. Have you heard of anything I might be interested in?’
Jolene was already moving away. ‘No. You know me, I like the quiet life. See you.’
As she disappeared into the shadows, Mulligan scowled. ‘Fuck.’
‘What’s the problem?’ Caelan said. ‘She’ll go and tell everyone she knows that James Mulligan is desperate to make some money.’
‘What, and you think they’ll be queuing up to sell to me?’ Mulligan finished his beer and slammed the bottle onto the table. ‘Not going to happen. I got caught, remember? Anyone I used to trade with won’t want to be associated with me now, not when I’ve had the police at my door.’
‘Then we’re wasting our time. Make up your mind, Mulligan. Either you can get us close to the major players around here or you can’t.’
‘Didn’t know I’d be treated like a fucking leper, did I?’ Mulligan took a couple of deep breaths. ‘You saw how Jolene was just now. She doesn’t want to know me, and neither will anyone else. Good thing you promised to pay Stefan Harris back yourself, because fuck knows how I’d be able to do it.’
‘Jolene didn’t have to come and speak to you if she didn’t want to,’ Ewan said. ‘She was talking to some other bloke at the bar, but when she saw me, she asked if you were here and then followed me over.’
Mulligan frowned. ‘What other bloke?’
Ewan lifted his shoulders. ‘Six foot, dark hair, skinny. Wearing a suit. The bar staff got a shift on when they saw him, so I’m guessing he either manages the place or owns it.’
‘Right the second time.’ Mulligan’s grin looked forced. ‘Reuben Nash. What’s he doing out of his office already?’
‘Maybe he heard you were here,’ Caelan said. ‘Is he a friend of yours?’
Mulligan’s lips tightened. ‘Not exactly.’
She exhaled. ‘How much do you owe him?’
‘Nothing.’
Caelan watched his face. ‘What then? What’s Nash involved in, other than this place?’
‘You’d have to ask him.’
‘No rumours?’
‘He’s a nasty bastard who owns a dodgy nightclub. That’s all I know.’
‘Nasty?’
Mulligan nodded. ‘Though not as nasty as his brother.’ He sat up straight. ‘And right on cue…’
Caelan looked up to see the man Ewan had described striding towards them. He stopped in front of Mulligan, rocking back on his heels.
‘Heard you were back, James. How’s the leg?’
Mulligan stood, held out his hand. Nash glanced at it but kept his own hands by his sides. Mulligan blushed but kept smiling. ‘Good to see you, Reuben.’
‘Who are these two?’ Nash demanded, his eyes skimming Ewan then Caelan. She flashed him a smile.
‘You mean Jolene didn’t tell you?’ she said. Nash showed his teeth, more of a grimace than a smile.
‘She said Mulligan had found some little helpers. I was expecting two brick shithouses, to replace the idiots he had before.’
Caelan felt Mulligan tense beside her, and knew he was worried what her response would be.
‘He decided he wanted people with a brain between them this time,’ she said. ‘People he can trust.’
Nash curled his lip. ‘You can’t be that clever, working with him. He’s a fucking disaster.’
Caelan gave a slow smile, allowing her gaze to linger on Nash’s face. ‘Good job I know exactly what I’m doing then, isn’t it?’
‘She’s my cousin, Victoria. She had a successful operation running up in Edinburgh,’ Mulligan put in. He was frowning. Nash’s pop at his business prowess had clearly hit home.
‘Yeah, I heard.’ Nash rubbed his jaw. ‘Why’s she in London, if she was doing so well up there?’
‘Split up with my ex, met Owen,’ Caelan nodded at Ewan, ‘and decided it was time for a change of scenery.’ Sometimes you had to think quickly and deviate from the cover story, but she would rather not have had to. Now she’d have to get Penrith to create a convincing former partner for Victoria Smith, one who was known for dealing drugs. Something else for him to moan about.
‘Sure you didn’t come to rescue your cousin here?’ Nash said.
‘Work with, not rescue,’ Caelan told him.
Nash said nothing, scrutinising her face, and Caelan didn’t give in to the temptation to elaborate further. Giving details meant she would have more to remember about the person she was supposed to be. Mulligan, shifting in his seat beside her, started to speak, but Nash talked over him.
‘We should have a coffee, Victoria, talk about how we might be able to help each other.’
Ewan leant forward, his expression belligerent. ‘Hang on, mate. She’s with me.’
Caelan reached out, laying a hand on his arm as though to calm him. ‘I think Mr Nash is talking about a business meeting, not a date.’ She met Nash’s eyes. ‘Aren’t you?’
He stepped back, inclining his head in Ewan’s direction as though offering a challenge. ‘Of course.’ Lifting a hand, he walked away. Mulligan watched him go, then turned to Caelan.
‘Reuben Nash with a twinkle in his eye. Never thought I’d see the day.’
Caelan suppressed a shudder. ‘Might be a good idea for me to meet him, though. You sure this is his only business?’
‘Far as I know.’
‘What does he think I’d want to discuss with him then?’
‘He probably wants to give you permission to peddle drugs in here. And he wants to get into your knickers.’
‘Arrogant bastard. Like a woman couldn’t say no him.’ Ewan drained his beer as Mulligan laughed.
‘You do remember she’s not really your girlfriend, don’t you? You get that?’
Ewan wasn’t going to bite. ‘It was the way he asked, like no woman would dream of turning him down, even if they already had a boyfriend.’
‘Like I said, it might be in our interests for me to meet him, see what he wants to talk about,’ Caelan said.
‘I’ve already told you. Drugs.’ Mulligan spread his hands. ‘This place runs on them.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Watch.’
Caelan followed his gaze, saw the other Nash brother, Nathan, go over to a young man who wore a padded jacket and a pair of pristine trainers. They were one of the most expensive designs on the market, as Caelan knew from the shopping trips she had made when preparing for new assignments. Several of the women she had pretended to be would have killed for those shoes. A badge saying Drug Dealer couldn’t have made him more obvious. Nathan grabbed the man’s shoulder, stooping to speak into his ear. With a nod, the dealer turned away, heading for the shadowy booths at the back of the club.
‘Supply and demand, or whatever they call it.’ Mulligan said. ‘Demand’s high in a place like this, and Reuben Nash only lets certain people trade here, so anyone wanting to buy has to fork out top dollar.’
‘Unless they bring it in with them,’ Caelan pointed out. ‘The security on the door is hardly going to stop them.’
‘You reckon?’ Mulligan shook his head. ‘It’d be like taking your own food into a cafe and then expecting to be allowed to sit at one of their tables while you ate it. Not polite, and not allowed.’
‘How would Reuben Nash know where people bought their drugs? It’s not as though they have a label on them.’
‘He wouldn’t, not for sure, but the threat of Nathan interrogating you about it is enough to put most people off.’
They watched Nathan Nash lean against the wall, arms folded, blank-faced.
‘Look at him, eyeing everyone like Big fucking Brother,’ said Mulligan. ‘Barrel of laughs, isn’t he?’
‘Why do people come here then?’ Caelan asked. ‘The music’s nothing special, they can get their drugs cheaper elsewhere…’
‘And their drinks,’ Ewan put in.
‘…so why bother?’
Mulligan gave a slow smile. ‘Because, like I said, you can meet new contacts here, make a deal. Buy pretty much anything.’
‘Like a gun?’ Caelan said.
Mulligan frowned. ‘Why? Don’t tell me you want one?’
‘No. But you did.’
He smiled, understanding. ‘The one I shot Adam Waits with? Andri got it for me. I never asked where from.’
‘How convenient.’
‘What you don’t know, you can’t get put away for.’ Pushing back his chair, Mulligan got to his feet and bellowed, ‘Leyton!’
A head turned in the crowd, a hand was raised.
‘Leyton Grey – you met him last night?’ Mulligan said as he sat back down. ‘Doesn’t look like he’s coming over. He’s with a different girl tonight – little shit’s like a dog on heat.’
‘What’s his story?’ Caelan asked.
Mulligan pulled a confused face. ‘Story? I told you, he’s a barber. Cuts the hair of footballers, TV stars, you name it.’
‘And yours.’
He pretended to preen. ‘Aye, and mine.’
‘If he’s just a barber, why did you introduce us to him?’
‘I’m not following.’
‘What does he do on the side?’
Mulligan looked shocked. ‘Nothing. Why would he? His shop’s a gold mine. If you remember, he came to speak to me last night. I didn’t even see him. He’s my barber, and a pal. That’s it.’
‘Hmm.’ Caelan wasn’t convinced. She didn’t believe Mulligan would be friends with anyone if there wasn’t something in it for him. ‘I want to talk to Jolene Townsend again, and Nathan Nash.’
‘Not tonight.’
‘Why?’
‘Too obvious. Anyway, talking to Nathan is like trying to have a conversation with a wall. He’s not exactly chatty.’
‘We’ll see. Anyone else?’
Mulligan leant back in his chair. ‘See the laddie over there, grey hair, baggy jeans, looks like someone’s grandad?’ He held up a finger. ‘Is someone’s grandad.’
Caelan looked. ‘Yeah?’
‘Pimp. Runs a load of girls out of a house in Perivale.’
She blinked. ‘What’s his name?’
But Mulligan shook his head. ‘Woman dancing over there with her back to us? Bleached hair, terrible frock? Loan shark. Employs her two sons to beat the shit out of people who don’t pay.’
‘Tell me—’
‘Wait, there’s plenty more. Young fella in the black T-shirt, double sleeve tattoos?’ Mulligan paused. ‘Go on, guess.’
Caelan set her jaw. ‘Unless you’re going to give me some names, I’m not playing.’
‘Go on.’ He bounced in his seat. ‘Pretty-boy looks, Gucci loafers?’
She looked at the man, scrolling on his phone. ‘No idea.’
‘Con artist. He cosies up to lonely middle-aged women – and men – and they buy him anything he wants, take him on holiday, you name it. Then when he’s bled them dry or he’s had enough, he changes his mobile number and fucks off into the sunset.’ Mulligan looked gleeful.
‘You sound as though you approve,’ Caelan said.
‘I admire his…’ He paused, searching for the right word. ‘His guile. His initiative. Anyone who can fool people like that—’
‘Yeah, very impressive.’ Caelan got to her feet.
‘You should go into that line yourself,’ Mulligan told her. ‘Jolene’s an expert—’ He caught himself and closed his mouth. Caelan smiled.
‘Interesting. Maybe I’ll have a chat to her about it. Where did you say Reuben Nash’s office was?’
He stared at her. ‘I didn’t, and I wouldn’t advise you to go looking for it.’
‘He offered me a coffee, didn’t he?’
Ewan was frowning, but again he didn’t protest.
Caelan walked away, conscious of their eyes on her back.
Lucy Mulligan lay in darkness. Her head thumped, her elbow throbbing where she’d smacked it on the door of the van they’d bundled her into. She had no idea where she was, or what would happen next. Rolling onto her side, she reached for one of the bottles of water she’d found in the room and drank. She felt sick, worry and fear combining, meaning her stomach was causing her as much discomfort as her head.
Restless, she put down the bottle and stood, pacing over to the door. It was locked – she’d checked several times. She had no idea who might be out there, who could be waiting for her, and she knew that trying to leave this place was impossible. She was alone here, unable to contact her friends, or her brother.
Turning from the door, she clenched her fists. James. James and his schemes. She had promised herself – and her mother when she’d been well enough to take an interest – that she would never set foot in her brother’s world. Now, though, it seemed she had been dragged into it against her will.
A door slammed, and she heard voices in the room next door. Male voices. She froze, pressing her back against the wall. Who were they?
And more importantly, why were they here?