HE’D never seen anything like it. This wasn’t boxing. It was carnage. Two men locked in sweaty no-holds combat, six fights in all.
Booze flowed. Money changed hands. Strict antismoking legislation was ignored with flamboyance, a thick fug of cigar smoke sucking out any oxygen in the heat-infested gym. As for the crowd, he thought he’d been transported back to ancient Rome. They wanted ears torn off, noses bitten, hair ripped out. They wanted blood, of which there was plenty. Like modern-day Shylocks, they demanded their pound of flesh. And the women were considerably more vociferous and foul-mouthed than the men. Tallis looked across the table to where Samantha Kennedy was sitting, caught her eye, saw the twinge of embarrassment, or was it something else? She looked quite beautiful, regal almost, a honey-coloured glow to her skin.
They were nine others at the table, the Kennedys, a racing trainer and his wife, and another older couple who Tallis hadn’t caught the names of, Gabriel, the thug in the lift who Tallis had found out was called Justin, and a strange wiry character, Donald Brooker, Kennedy’s solicitor. It was clear from the way they were talking they’d been many times before. Kennedy introduced Tallis to the others as a personal friend. The elevated association worked like a protective charm. Nobody asked him questions. Nobody put him on the spot. Even Gabriel treated him with respect. Tallis was one of them for the night.
While Kennedy ordered more champagne, a drink Tallis wasn’t fond of, Tallis tried to get a feel for the dynamics. Gabriel and Justin were definitely on duty. Neither drank. Neither smiled. Eyes clicking from Kennedy to the other punters, both watched for something out of place, for a spark of trouble. Gabriel’s place as second-in-command in Kennedy’s empire was self-evident. Justin, Tallis reckoned, was next in seniority.
The couples were all over the Kennedys, the men, dressed similarly in dogtooth check jackets particularly nauseating in their admiration. Clearly delighted to be part of the circle, and wanting to impress, each was trying to outdo the other with gags and horseplay. Kennedy smiled politely but Tallis, catching his eye, saw no warmth in his expression. Signalling for Tallis to join him at the makeshift bar, Tallis pushed his chair back, made his excuses as another heavy bounced off the ropes and onto the deck, his opponent descending on him like a hyena on a wounded antelope.
‘God save me,’ Kennedy growled. ‘If I have to listen to another one of those so-called jokers, I swear I’ll throw the pair of them into the ring.’ Something about the venom in his voice persuaded Tallis he wasn’t joking. ‘Now, let’s have a proper drink. I can’t abide all that gassy stuff. Recipe for indigestion.’
‘Why order it, then?’
‘Got an image to maintain.’ Kennedy winked. ‘And,’ he said more seriously, ‘Sam loves it.’
Tallis pulled out his wallet. ‘My round.’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ Kennedy said, staying his hand. ‘Whisky all right?’
Tallis said it was. Hell, was he going to suffer the next morning.
In spite of the bar being three deep, it was like watching the Red Sea part as Kennedy moved through the throng. Nothing was said. Nobody really looked. Kennedy’s presence alone appeared to cause a chemical reaction. Blokes simply glided out of the way. Bartenders vied to serve him. Tallis was beginning to think he could get used to this kind of celebrity treatment.
Then he saw her.
Christ, she was walking straight towards him. Instinctively, he turned away but he’d witnessed enough to know that she was dressed in an indigo-coloured silk trouser suit, the cut of the jacket revealing that she wore nothing beneath it. Bracing himself as she passed within a hair’s breadth of him, he noticed she wore no definable perfume. He thought her skin smelt of warm sand, of heat.
Once they’d got their drinks, Kennedy walked him over to a quiet spot away from the noise and action. Tallis gave a surreptitious glance around the hall. No sign of her. Lavender, the great illusionist, he thought. Not a great believer in coincidences, he wondered whose idea it was to have her follow him.
‘Never got the chance to talk much about you last night.’ Kennedy’s heavy-lidded eyes studied him over the rim of his glass.
‘Nothing much to tell.’ Tallis shrugged.
Kennedy looked surprised. ‘Served in the armed forces, worked as a copper, became part of an elite undercover firearms team—nothing much to tell?’
Tallis resisted the strong temptation to ask from whom he’d got his information. ‘Ancient history.’
‘And losing your dad?’
Tallis flinched. He was the one supposed to be exploiting the emotional angle, not the other way round. ‘No big deal.’
Kennedy arched his eyebrows.
‘We didn’t get on.’ An understatement.
Kennedy leant towards him, his voice almost a whisper in Tallis’s ear. ‘You hated him.’
‘I didn’t care enough to hate him.’ Tallis found himself flushing with the lie. To hate, you had to care. Tallis felt wrong-footed by Kennedy’s intuitiveness. It wasn’t what he’d expected. He snatched at his drink. An uncomfortable silence descended between the two men. Finally, Kennedy broke it.
‘You said you were looking for work.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Someone like you might be valuable to my organisation. You have, after all…’ Kennedy paused, his eyes more dark grey than ever ‘…particular skills.’
Tallis nodded slowly, holding the man’s gaze.
‘Because you’re a smart guy, I expect you’re already aware of my criminal history.’ Breathtakingly honest, Tallis thought, immediately suspicious. ‘You also know of my many business interests,’ Kennedy continued, ‘and, as you probably realise, it’s not possible to reach my elevated position without a certain amount of ruthlessness. I’m sure you understand a man in my powerful position has certain enemies.’
‘I understand.’
‘What you must also understand is that I prize loyalty more highly than love. If you betray me or go against me, in any way, I will destroy you.’
What the hell was his game? Tallis thought. Kennedy was an informer, working with Organised Crime Officers. Like Asim had pointed out, he had a role to maintain, but this was stepping well outside his zone. Was Kennedy playing both sides against the middle? Was the lure of criminality stronger than the desire to reform? Was he playing them all for fools? And what had he really been up to in Turkey?
‘I won’t betray you,’ Tallis said. Strangely, he found the prospect of doing so unsettling.
‘Good boy.’ Kennedy took his left hand in both of his, squeezing it warmly. Tallis imagined it was the way a loving father might congratulate an obedient son.
‘He’s taken the bait too easily.’ Tallis was speaking to Asim. He’d been back ten minutes. It was three in the morning and his head was aching with alcohol and nerves.
‘You underestimate the impact you’ve made. Kennedy never really got over the tragedy of his son’s accident.’
I prize loyalty more highly than love. ‘No,’ Tallis insisted. ‘He’s up to something. How’s he going to explain me to his handlers, for a start?’
‘He’ll come up with a reason.’
Tallis wasn’t convinced. The police weren’t stupid. ‘He wants me for his dirty work.’
‘Think he’s kicking with both feet?’
Playing informer while continuing his own nefarious activities.
‘It’s the only explanation that makes sense.’
‘Has he given you a job description yet?’
‘No.’
‘Then don’t worry.’
‘Something else,’ Tallis said.
‘Yes?’
‘Lavender.’
‘What of her?’ Asim’s tone was neutral.
‘She was at the fight.’
‘Did you engage with her?’
‘What do you take me for?’ Tallis snorted.
‘Did she engage with you?’
‘Of course not.’
‘So she was entirely professional?’
‘I thought we’d agreed I go in alone. I don’t understand what she was doing.’
‘Still got your jacket on?’
‘Yes, what—?’
‘Check your right-hand pocket.’
Confounded, Tallis slipped his hand into his jacket. To his amazement, there was a mobile phone inside. He switched it on. There was one message.
‘Play it,’ Asim said.
Tallis did. ‘Hi, Tallis, sorry to sneak up on you like that. Just letting you know I’m here if you need me. Over and out, Charlie.’
‘Told you she was good.’ Asim laughed. In spite of being duped, Tallis couldn’t help but smile in agreement. ‘Now, get stuck in there with Kennedy and see what you can turn up.’
Tallis didn’t have long to wait. He’d been asleep for barely four hours when his doorbell rang. It was Gabriel, looking remarkably chipper.
‘Boss wants to see you.’
‘What, now?’
Gabriel glanced at his watch. ‘You’ve got twenty minutes.’
Tallis let out a grim sigh. He felt like shit. ‘All right,’ he said, making to close the door.
‘Boss said I’m to wait inside.’
Tallis let out another sigh.
‘I’ll make myself useful.’ Gabriel’s mouth fell into a rare transforming smile.
Relenting, Tallis let him in. ‘Mine’s black with two sugars,’ he called over his shoulder, heading straight for the bathroom.
As Tallis shaved and showered, he could hear Gabriel busying in the kitchen. True to his word, four minutes later, a mug of instant appeared. Tallis consumed coffee as he dressed. Amazed at his capacity to bounce back after a heavy night, he gave himself a quick scan in the mirror, checked the shine on his shoes and told Gabriel he was ready.
They went to Lye. Seemed strange to be entering the unit in an official capacity, Tallis thought, glancing briefly up at the church tower, his nerves jagging. Bending down, he made out he was retying a loose shoelace and glanced back up. Spotted the camera lens. Was this Charlie behaving carelessly, or someone else?
‘You coming?’ Gabriel said tersely.
‘Sorry.’ Tallis straightened up, followed him into the office where the same three men and two women he’d spotted during his earlier surveillance were seated at computer terminals. He heard one of the men assure a customer that the sand ordered was of the same type delivered. Obviously some hitch, he was doing his best to explain and smooth things over in best customer-relations fashion. The older chap, the one who had the keys to the building, was sitting staring into his terminal as if he’d lost everything on the horses.
Kennedy appeared from a doorway. ‘Tallis,’ he said, voice booming across the room, ‘come and meet the team.’ Swift introductions with job titles followed. The morose-looking man was Jim Repton, office manager. Even though he didn’t know the bloke, something definitely seemed up, Tallis thought as he was shown upstairs to the second storey and Kennedy’s private suite. There he was given a brief rundown of the history of the business, number of customers, the extent and range of building materials supplied. During this, Kennedy’s many phones never seemed to stop ringing. Sometimes he offered to call the person back. Other times, he picked up, the conversation brief, to the point and definitely criminal. Didn’t he realise that his calls could be traced? Tallis listened, mesmerised. Then, cool as you like, he quizzed Kennedy about distribution, quantities, marketing and advertising. It took him some time to work out that they were not talking in code, that the business was legitimate, that it wasn’t fronting for something else.
‘So basically you’re middle men for the building trade,’ Tallis said.
‘Yes.’
‘Is that how business is traditionally done? I thought builders preferred to visit merchants in person, see the material, touch it, and negotiate the best deal. Are they really going to be persuaded to use an agent via the Internet?’
‘It demands a change of attitude, granted, but think of the time saving. All the customer has to do is press a few buttons, his order is dispatched immediately and, within twenty-four hours, he has the supplies. It’s reliable, simple and cost-effective.’
Tallis wasn’t convinced. He had mates in the building trade. They liked nothing better than to bomb down to the latest trading estate and jaw. ‘Does the business necessitate travel abroad?’
‘You mean do we sell internationally?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not yet.’
‘But you envisage a time when you will?’
‘Who knows?’ Kennedy smiled. ‘Now, my other business over in Walsall, that’s a different kettle of fish altogether.’
‘Yeah?’
‘We make and supply incinerators for animal waste.’
‘Big market?’
‘Growing by the day thanks to new EU regulations. Had a trade fair recently at the National Exhibition Centre and took a lot of orders from abroad.’
‘Any countries in particular?’
‘Very popular in Saudi for some reason. Other than that, Iraq, Iran, Romania, Turkey.’
‘Turkey? Nice place for a holiday.’
‘Too bloody hot. Visited not long ago. A few days later and I’d have been caught up in that earthquake.’
‘Lucky.’ Tallis smiled, examining Kennedy’s face for signs of guilt and seeing none. A knock on the door concluded the conversation.
‘Come in,’ Kennedy said.
It was Jim Repton. ‘Wondered if I could have a word in private.’
Kennedy glanced at Tallis. ‘We’re all friends here.’
Repton looked decidedly uncomfortable. ‘It’s OK,’ Tallis said, making a move to get up. ‘I can make myself scarce.’
‘Stay.’ Wasn’t an invitation. From Kennedy, it was an order. Tallis obediently remained where he was. ‘Well, Jim, what’s up?’ Kennedy began in a convivial manner.
Repton glanced down at the floor. ‘It’s my son.’
‘Darren?’
Repton nodded. ‘He was jumped last night, got beaten up bad, really bad.’
‘Know his attacker?’
‘Two boys he goes to school with. They’ve been bullying him for months.’
‘Speak to the school?’
‘Got nowhere.’
‘Police?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s not that simple.’
Kennedy flexed his fingers, making the knuckles crack. Tallis was reminded of a scene from The Godfather.
Repton swallowed, acutely uncomfortable. Next came a rambling account of everyday urban anti-social behaviour. ‘One of the boy’s fathers, he’s a nasty piece of work, lives round the corner from us. Got this dog, see, a Doberman. Walks round the neighbourhood with the thing as though he owns the estate. It’s always scaring the life out of people. My wife, she doesn’t like dogs, frightened of them. Got bitten by an Alsatian when she was a nipper. So she’s out walking to the shops and this thing, the Doberman, comes at her, no lead, no muzzle. Fortunately, a neighbour pulled her into his garden and closed the gate on it, but she was really shaken.
‘Mad as hell, I went round to see the bloke, told him…’ He broke off, cleared his throat, Adam’s apple squeezing up and down like it had a life of its own. ‘Anyway, he smacked me one, threatened he’d set the dog on me and my wife and kids. If I went to the police, he said he’d kill me.’
‘And you believe him?’ Kennedy said, voice low.
‘I do. My son…’ He faltered, tears filling his eyes. ‘Doctors say he may lose the sight in one eye.’
It’s a police matter, Tallis thought, and any medic worth his salt would report something as serious as that to the authorities in any case. The problem probably lay with the lad. Tallis would bet he was suffering from a bad case of victim amnesia.
‘What do you want from me?’ Kennedy said.
Repton swallowed hard. ‘I want you to make it stop.’
Kennedy nodded, took out a pen. He asked Repton for names, addresses, descriptions of the man and the boys. He asked what the thug in question did for a living.
‘Mechanic.’ This seemed to delight Kennedy. He then asked for the name of the garage.
‘Go and grab yourself a cup of coffee and go home to your wife and son. Tell them not to worry. Tell them everything will be fine. And here,’ Kennedy said, scribbling down a note and handing it to Repton. ‘This is the name of my private doctor. Give him a ring and tell him I sent you. He’s the best man to look after your son. Ask him to send the bill to me.’
Tallis looked on. He’d witnessed the most extraordinary demonstration of power, seen Kennedy as he really was: a fixer, an avenger, nemesis. When Repton left in a flurry of thanks and gratitude, Kennedy picked up his phone, spoke to Justin, gave him the low-down and asked him to wait twenty-four hours so that the intended victim was lulled into a false sense of security, then sort it. Tallis had visions of the dog being buried alive with its master.
‘Right, where were we?’ Kennedy said, as if he’d just asked his secretary to pop out and buy an anniversary card for his wife.
‘Turkey,’ Tallis said.
‘Home of heroin barons.’
‘Thought the Turkish government had cleaned up.’
‘They have, which is why the kingpins have relocated here. Heroin is still being shipped direct.’
‘That the real reason for your last visit?’
Kennedy broke into a big, beaming smile. So that’s what Garry had been trying to tell him. Drugs, pure and simple. Nothing to do with terrorism at all. He wondered if Napier knew about Kennedy’s extra-curricular activity. It was one thing to play along, another to actively solicit for business. Perhaps that’s why he’d paid a visit to Shakenbrook, Johnny’s palatial home, to put Kennedy back into his box. But sitting there, in front of the man, it didn’t take him long to alter his view. Napier was no match for Kennedy. Not many people were.