Crack Down

Chapter 17

I stopped running and took a couple of seconds to work out exactly where I was. I could feel the prickle of sweat under my helmet as I swivelled my head from side to side. I turned sharp right and started running again. As I rounded the next corner, my heart sank. I’d hesitated too long. The tank was heading straight for me, blocking the entire width of the street. Desperately, I turned back, in time to see the helicopter closing off my retreat by dropping a block of what looked remarkably like granite into the street.

Resigned to defeat, I pulled off my helmet and glove. In the next playing area, Davy was still inside his helmet, one hand on the joystick that controlled the tank, the other punching the air triumphantly. I hate kids. They’re always better at the computer games where hand — eye coordination is vital.

I tapped the top of his helmet and undid the straps. Reluctantly, he let go the joystick and climbed out of the seat. ‘Time up, cybernaut,’ I said. I glanced at my watch. ‘They’ll be closing soon.’ The brand new VIRUS Centre (Virtual Reality UniverSe, I kid you not) had proved to be the best possible way of amusing Davy without doing my head in. It had only opened a month before, and secretly I’d been dying to try out the twenty game scenarios promised in their lavish brochure. I’d been wary about coming on a bank holiday Monday, but it had been surprisingly quiet. I blame the parents. Not that I’m complaining — their absence gave me and Davy a lot more scope for enjoying ourselves.

I suppose I should have felt guilty, indulging myself with swords and sorcery while Richard was still languishing, but he seemed to think that his son’s enjoyment was just as important as my attempts to get him released. Besides, Alexis had had to go into the office anyway to do some last-minute work on the child porn exposé that would launch the Chronicle’s latest campaign. At least I’d pitched her into trying to find out who lived at Hickory Dell.

We headed back to the car via the souvenir shop. ‘Enjoy yourself?’ I asked. Pretty redundant question, really.

‘It was boss. Top wicked.’ I took that to mean approval. ‘It was a lot better than Ice World,’ he said judiciously. ‘Skating gets boring after a while. Your ankles get sore. And the other stuff was pretty boring. You know, all that discovering the South Pole stuff. The models are really naff, and they don’t do anything. ’S not surprising there was hardly anybody there,’ he added, dismissing Alexis’s attempts to entertain him.

‘Wasn’t there?’ I asked, more for something to say than out of interest.

‘There was no queues,’ he said indignantly. ‘Anything worth doing always has queues.’ He looked around the souvenir shop, where we were the only customers. ‘Except this place,’ he qualified.

How bizarre to be part of a generation where queues are a sign of approval. Me, I’d pay money to avoid standing in line. I’m the driver everyone hates, the one who jumps the queue of standing traffic on the motorway and sneaks in just as the three lanes narrow to two. I nearly said something, but Davy was already delving through a box of transfers.

I left him to his browsing and ambled over to the ego board by the door. It displayed five-inch by three-inch colour photographs of the creators and senior staff of the VIRUS Centre, captioned with their names and executive titles. They all looked interchangeable with the mugshots on the board down the local supermarket. I turned back to check on Davy, and suddenly my subconscious swung into action. No queues at Ice World, coupled with the ego board, had finally woken my memory. The answer had been there all the time, only I’d been too dozy to spot it.

• •

When we got back, Alexis was sitting in my conservatory, trying to look like she was engrossed in the evening paper. I knew she was only pretending; Chris gave the game away. ‘You were right,’ she said to Alexis in a surprised voice. ‘It was Kate’s car. Hello, you two. Have a good day?’

That was all the encouragement Davy needed. He launched into a blow-by-blow account of the VIRUS Centre. Like an angel, Chris steered him off towards the kitchen, seducing him with promises of fish fingers and baked beans. I collapsed on the sofa and groaned. ‘Thank God for contraception,’ I muttered.

‘I don’t know what you’re going on about,’ Alexis said. ‘He’s good as gold. You want to spend a day looking after my nephew. He’s hyperactive and his mother’s the kind of divvy who fills him up with E numbers. Any more complaints from you and I won’t tell you what I’ve found out today.’

I closed my eyes and leaned back. ‘The occupant of Hickory Dell is Eliot James,’ I intoned. ‘Boss man at Tonik Leisure Services. Owners of, among other things, Ice World. Which, if what Davy says is right, must be struggling. If you’re half-empty on a cold bank holiday Sunday morning, you’re not going to weather the recession indefinitely.’ I sneaked an eyelid half-open. Alexis’s expression moved from fury to disappointment to amusement. Luckily for me, it stopped there.

‘Nobody loves a smartass,’ she growled. ‘OK, clever clogs. So what else have you dug up about Jammy James while you’ve supposedly been off entertaining me laddo? I mean, I don’t know why I bother putting myself out when you just bugger off and do it yourself anyway!’

I sat up and tried to look apologetic. ‘I haven’t been doing any digging, I promise you. Like I said this morning, I knew I’d seen him before, I just couldn’t get a handle on it. Then Davy told me Ice World was as lively as Antarctica on a Saturday night, which set me wondering how these theme parks cover their overheads when the punters haven’t got enough money to take the family out on a bank holiday. We were in the souvenir shop, and they’ve got one of those boards with the flattering photos of the top brass that are meant to make you think this is a really user-friendly operation. I was staring at that, and then I remembered that I’d seen the guy I trailed on one of those ego boards. Add that to the personalized number plate on the car…’

‘What personalized plate?’ Alexis protested. ‘You never said anything to me about a personalized plate!’

I gave a guilty smile. ‘I…ah…I forgot to mention that. TON IK. Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.’

Alexis shook her head. ‘I don’t know. It’s worse working for you than for my brain-dead newsdesk. So what else have you remembered?’

‘That’s it,’ I promised. ‘Have you got anything?’

Alexis pulled a face. ‘Bits and pieces. Nothing really. But I’ve arranged to meet one of my contacts in half an hour, and he’s promised me the full SP on Jammy. Oh, and by the way — Ruth’s coming round at nine o’clock for a powwow. And so’s Della.’

‘What?’ I howled.

Alexis shrugged. ‘Della rang up after Ruth had arranged to come round. I thought they might as well come together to save us having to go over everything twice.’

‘Oh God,’ I groaned. ‘I don’t suppose it occurred to you that I might not want them to know the same things?’

Alexis looked amused. ‘Which one were you planning on lying to — the lawyer or the copper?’

I left Davy to Alexis and Chris, and headed for the office to develop the films I’d shot in Carlisle. In the cool silence of the darkroom, I concentrated on the job in hand, forcing myself to switch off from the ins and outs of the case. That way, I hoped, my subconscious would get on with processing the information in peace, and come up with some useful inspirations.

I shoved the finished prints into a folder, and headed downstairs to the Mexican restaurant to fortify myself for another soul-destroying visit to the cells. The place was empty, except for one guy sitting alone at a table towards the rear of the restaurant. He gave me a brief glance as I entered, then returned to the magazine he had propped up beside his bowl of chilli. With a jolt of surprise, I recognized the menacing bouncer from the Lousy Hand. If he was a regular here — and I couldn’t see any other reason for frequenting the place on a bank holiday Monday, since the food isn’t that great — it explained why he’d seemed familiar at the club. Relieved to have cleared that one up, I settled into a window table with my back to his cold eyes and ordered some guacamole and a plate of frijoles. As I ate, I thought about the evening ahead.

Now I’d calmed down, I was pleased Alexis had fixed up the brainstorming session, because I suspected that the dynamic between the four of us might just spark off some fresh ideas. I was desperate for any insight that might take us a step nearer getting Richard out of jail. The hardest thing about being grown up is realizing there are no magic formulas to release the ones we love from pain. Maybe that’s why I enjoy computer games so much; you get to be God.

The girls were ready and waiting when I got back from the nick. Alexis had taken charge in my absence. I found it hard to recognize my living room. A flip chart on an easel had materialized from somewhere, and she’d arranged the chairs so we could all see it. She’d also found my cache of Australian Chardonnay and distributed glasses to the other two. I mumbled that I’d stick with the vodka and disappeared into the kitchen to fix myself a lemon Absolut with freshly squeezed pink grapefruit juice. By the time I got back, Alexis was copying some complicated tree structure from her notebook on to the flip chart. Ruth and Della looked as bemused as I felt.

‘Alexis, I don’t want to be difficult, but…’

‘Chris is putting Davy to bed, so you don’t have to worry about him butting in, if that’s what’s bugging you,’ she said, not even pausing.

‘It wasn’t, actually. I just wondered what you were doing.’

‘I need the diagram to explain about Jammy’s empire,’ Alexis said in the condescending tones I use to small children and she uses to news editors.

‘Maybe Kate could bring us up to date,’ Ruth said. ‘Then perhaps we’d all have a clue what you’re up to, Alexis.’ Ever the diplomat.

It took a disturbingly short time to fill everyone in on my weekend activities. ‘I waited till James went into the house, then I came home,’ I finished up. ‘Oh, and I’ve developed and printed up the films I shot in Carlisle.’

There was a slight pause. I could see Alexis gathering herself together to leap into the breach when Ruth said, ‘I’m impressed, Kate. When you told me how little we had to go on, I thought we had as much chance of establishing the identity of the real criminals as I have of becoming Lord Chief Justice.’

‘You’re right, Kate’s done an impressive job, but the Drugs Squad are going to have mixed feelings about it,’ Della said ruefully. ‘They’ve been chasing this crack epidemic for some time now, and while there are senior officers who are going to be bloody glad to get a solid handle on it, a lot of people are going to be very pissed off at being shown up by a private eye. And a woman private eye at that.’

‘Tell me about it,’ I sighed.

‘And then there’s the question of the accused,’ Della went on. ‘I’ve only been in Manchester a matter of months, but that’s long enough to know that Eliot James is a name that means money, power and influence.’

Alexis finally managed to get a word in. She jumped to her feet. ‘And that’s where I come in,’ she announced. ‘I’ve been doing some digging into Mr Eliot James.’ She picked up her marker pen and attacked the flip chart. For a full fifteen minutes she blinded us with science, taking us on a whirlwind tour of Jammy James’s leisure and property empire, his constant efforts to muscle in on the Olympic bid consortium, the parlous state of his marriage and the debts, loans and mortgages that, added together, put him in what building societies euphemistically call a negative equity situation.

‘It’s like Maxwell,’ she concluded with a flourish. ‘On the surface, it looks like everything’s hunky-dory. But underneath, there’s this huge iceberg of debt ready to smash into Jammy’s hull and turn Tonik into the Titanic.’

‘She’s got a way with words, that girl,’ I said. ‘Ever thought of becoming a writer, Alexis?’

Della was shaking her head in amazement. ‘I think I’ll just go and shoot myself now,’ she said. ‘This has been a bad evening for the police. First, Kate does the Drugs Squad’s job. And now you do my job. From what you’ve said, it looks very like our Mr James is trading while insolvent, so we’re looking at one criminal offence at least. I think when the boys from the DS have finished with him, I’ll be wanting a word.’

Ruth, who had been unusually quiet, said, ‘It certainly explains why he needs the kind of cash injection that the drugs trade can bring. It does, however, give me a slight problem.’

‘You’re not his brief, are you?’ I asked, the cold hand of panic squeezing my chest.

‘Thankfully, no,’ Ruth said. ‘But he does play golf with Peter. My husband,’ she added for Della’s benefit. Peter hadn’t been at Mortensen and Branningan’s Christmas party, where the two women had first met. ‘And he’s supposed to be coming to dinner on Saturday.’

‘Who with?’ Alexis demanded cheekily. ‘The wife or the mistress? Both, incidentally, called Sue. I suppose that way he doesn’t run the risk of using the wrong name in bed.’

‘Ignore her; it’s gone to her head, getting something right for once,’ I said.

‘Yo, wait till I break this little gem in tomorrow’s paper!’ Alexis exclaimed.

‘No way!’ Ruth shouted.

‘Don’t you dare!’ Della thundered in unison. ‘We want Jammy James nailed down watertight, not leaping up and down about trial by media.’

‘Never mind that,’ I butted in. ‘Personally, I don’t give a toss about nailing Jammy James. This is about getting Richard out of jail. And you printing daft stories in the Chronicle is not the way to do that, so forget it, Alexis, OK? What comes next, Ruth?’

Ruth spoke slowly, measuring what she said as she spoke. ‘Kate’s right, Alexis. I know this must be burning a hole in your notebook, but I think it would be disastrous for Richard if you wrote a story about this.’

Alexis pulled a face. ‘All right,’ she sighed. ‘But when I can write about it, I want all of you to talk to me on the record.’

We all nodded wearily. ‘Ruth?’ I asked.

‘Kate, you’re going to have to talk to the police. You’re also going to have to persuade them to move quickly; the sooner the better from Richard’s point of view.’

Della interrupted. ‘On that point, they’ll already be anxious about how current your information is. These days, most drug dealers alter their distribution patterns every few weeks. Eliot James’s team might not be doing that, but as far as the Drugs Squad is concerned, stress that this is up-to-the-minute info and the situation could change any day. There is one significant gap in your evidence, however, which might make them cautious.’

‘What’s that? Something I’ve got time to fix?’ I asked anxiously. I’d been right to decide I needed other people’s eyes on this case.

Della pulled a face. ‘It’s not exactly a matter of time. It’s a matter of legality. We don’t know what’s inside this shed out at the airport. If it’s just an empty shell, it’s not going to be easy to establish a direct connection between James and Fitzgerald. A good brief would argue that James had gone there for reasons entirely unconnected with the drug trade; he could even postulate a hypothetical third party that they were both there to meet.’

I nodded, grateful for the advice. ‘Supposing I had that information, how quickly is quickly, in Drugs Squad terms?’

Della shrugged. ‘I don’t know this lot well, but given your info they should be able to plug straight into the surveillance. If this team is as busy as your material suggests, they could have the bare bones of their evidence within twenty-four to forty-eight hours.’

‘Which means what, in terms of Richard’s imprisonment?’ I asked Ruth.

She bought time by lighting a cigarette. ‘Best case, you talk to the Drugs Squad first thing and they stand up in court and support my bail application. Chances of that: almost nil. Worse case, they use your information, make a bundle of arrests and refuse to accept Richard was an innocent bystander. Chances of that: probably low. Most likely scenario, if you get to the Drugs Squad tomorrow, when I argue for bail on Wednesday, it will be refused but the magistrates will agree to a short remand, say till Thursday or Friday; to give the police the chance to evaluate the fresh evidence.’

My disappointment must have been obvious, for Alexis hugged me and Ruth shrugged apologetically. ‘Well, we’d better get you fixed up with an appointment to see the Drugs Squad, hadn’t we?’ Della said briskly. ‘Where’s the phone?’

I pointed it out, and she wandered into the conservatory to make her call. I watched her through the patio doors. Her face was animated, her free hand expressive. Whatever she was saying, she wasn’t pleading. As she ended the call, I remembered something else I wanted to talk to the Drugs Squad about. I turned to Alexis. ‘Do you know if Cherie Roberts has been around today? Or if she’s left me a note?’

Alexis shook her head. ‘Not that I know of. Chris didn’t say anything.’

Typical, I thought. Just as well I wasn’t relying on Cherie to help get Richard out of jail.