Crucified

Chapter 9

Jack parked up a street away from the old school, waiting to see if the Mercedes drove out. After fifteen minutes it passed him. He couldn’t get a clear view of the driver, a man wearing dark glasses, but he used his mobile to take a picture of the licence plate.

Driving back to the school, the barrier pole was up, so he was able to drive straight into the empty forecourt, parking beneath the lean-to shelter by the jeep. He looked around for the exit he had used previously, then began walking further around the building and paused by a broken-down bicycle shelter. He moved cautiously around until he could see Adam Border, wearing torn jeans and a T-shirt, hurling broken wooden frames onto a fire.

‘Bit early for Bonfire Night, isn’t it?’ Jack said, moving closer.

Adam turned towards him, showing no surprise at his appearance.

‘I was going to collect some of the stuff I’d bought in the market,’ Jack lied, then shrugged, smiling. ‘They were closed, so it was a wasted journey. Then I remembered you hanging out here.’

Adam nodded and continued stoking the fire. Jack moved closer, watching as wooden frame after frame was set alight.

‘Why are you burning all the frames?’

‘Not good enough for my use. I only want the authentic period frames. You can give me a hand if you want but mind you don’t get splinters.’

Jack picked up some of the broken frames and tossed them onto the fire. Adam was sweating, his blond hair clinging to his face, and Jack removed his jacket as the fire burnt more fiercely. Adam used an old dirty rag to wipe his face and hands then kicked down the corrugated iron roof to lie on top of the dying fire, placing a large jam jar on the top.

‘I’ll need some of the ashes when they’ve cooled down.’

‘What do you do with them?’

‘Grind them into the canvases to age them. Fancy a cold beer?’

Jack picked up his jacket. ‘Sounds good.’ He followed Adam to the rear entrance and along the corridor, until he opened one of the double doors onto the drill hall. Jack glanced towards the boarded-up window he’d been looking through when he overheard the argument. He stared around the hall.

‘Are they pulling this place down because of that old cement that’s been on the news?’

Adam nodded. ‘That, along with the asbestos, will see the whole place flattened. Two school rooms have collapsed ceilings, and I don’t know how long the drill hall will be safe, to be honest.’

‘Built in the fifties, was it?’

Adam turned and looked at him. ‘What’s with all the questions? Who gives a shit when it was built.’

‘Just making conversation.’

Adam walked into the little office room he used beside the kitchen area as Jack stood looking around the large drill hall. He saw the painting Adam had been stamping on earlier and realised it was his own work.

Adam returned with two ice-cold bottles of beer and handed one to Jack. Jack turned to look over the long trestle table, gesturing to a white cardboard box that had a large stone inside cushioned in tissue paper.

‘What do you do with that?’

‘Lapis Lazuli. Very valuable. In the 13th and 14th centuries it was used to make ultramarine, an intense blue pigment. Titian was famous for using it to show off his wealth, since it was so expensive.’ Beside the box was a big stack of used fifty-pound notes, held together with elastic bands. A mobile rang with a strange musical ringtone. Adam casually tossed a rag over the money as he searched for his phone. Eventually he found it hidden buy a stack of old books, snatched it up and took it into the kitchen.

Moments later, Jack heard him laugh. ‘Great. That’s terrific news.’ He came back out, smiling, and gestured to three framed canvases draped with a white sheet.

‘I have to get them ready to be shipped out as soon as possible. We’ve got buyers in China and the U.S. Do you want to see them?’

Jack nodded. ‘What’s your ringtone, Adam? It sorts of sticks in your head.’

‘Ah yes, it’s the Harry Lime theme from The Third Man. Orson Welles’ brilliant movie set in Vienna. Now stand back while I line these up for you.’

Jack watched as Adam carefully removed the old sheet and stood the three paintings against the wall.

‘These are Modiglianis. Most of his portraits are kind of flat, very simple in style, making him a favourite among forgers.’

Jack stood in front of the three seemingly identical paintings depicting a woman with slanting eyes.

‘What do you think?’

‘They all look the same.’

‘If I were to tell you one of them is authentic, which one would you say it was?’

Jack bent down to look closer, moving from one to the other. ‘Is it this one?’ He gestured to the painting in the middle.

‘Excellent, Jack. You’ve got a very good eye. Now I’ve got work to do, crating them up.’

‘Do you want a hand?’

‘Why not. The crates are stacked in the room off the corridor.’ Together they carried back the wooden crates, just an inch larger in all measurements than the paintings themselves. They were laid out flat on the floor as Adam went over to the table and opened a box full of labels, all different sizes. He picked out several, placing them to one side, close to a bowl of brown liquid. ‘Cold tea,’ he said. ‘I use it to age them.’ There was also a large drawing pad, next to a bottle of ink and a handful of quill pens. Jack turned a page on the pad. It was covered in signatures. Hundreds of them.

‘That’s my homework; I do fifty to a hundred every night. Recognise any of them?’

‘Not sure. Yeah, this is Leonardo da Vinci.’

‘You are learning fast, Jack. Turn to an empty page, go on, keep going.’

Jack found the empty page as Adam picked up a black sleeping mask. He slipped it on as far as his forehead and drew up a stool. Adam chose a quill and dipped it in a pot of ink, then pulled the sleeping mask down over his eyes.

Fascinated, Jack watched as Adam, after a moment’s thought, fluently made a signature, then quickly two more, before removing the mask.

‘Pretty good huh? Forgeries are often caught out because they copy letter by letter, so it doesn’t flow. I’ve done this since I was a kid.’

‘I’m impressed.’

Adam grinned. ‘That’s nothing. Take a look at this.’ He drew Jack over to an easel and pulled off the sheet. Underneath it was a half-finished canvas depicting an exotic-looking dark-haired woman, shimmering with inlaid gold sections. Adam then went over to the table and gestured for Jack to look over a stack of clippings. All referred to a painting by Gustav Klimt which had been found on his easel when he died and eventually sold for eighty-three million pounds. Jack recognised the woman’s face from the painting he had just seen.

‘What are you going to do with it when it’s finished?’ Jack asked.

‘Wait a bit, then switch them,’ Adam laughed.

‘What about your own paintings?’ Jack asked.

It was as if he’d flicked a switch. Adam’s whole personality suddenly changed as his body tensed. He strode across the floor, picked up the painting Jack had seen through the crack in the window and hurled it across the room with such force it crashed against a wall. Not satisfied, Adam went over and kicked what was left of the frame.

‘Let me tell you, it’s just a question of time before I prove what I am capable of. No matter the cost.’

‘What do you...?’

Adam pulled himself together, clearly realising he had almost revealed too much. ‘You should go and let me get on.’ He started sorting through labels as if Jack wasn’t there.

‘Thanks for the beer,’ Jack said, turning to go.

Adam didn’t reply.

Jack arrived home to an irate Maggie. But before she could let rip, the doorbell rang and Penny hurried down the stairs to let Marius in. Jack had a brief respite while Maggie gave Marius the receipts for the furniture they’d bought and the addresses of the shops to collect it from.

‘Jack will go with you,’ she added.

‘Not a problem,’ Marius said, putting the receipts in his pocket.

‘Sit down and have a coffee,’ Penny said, as Maggie hustled Jack out of the kitchen and upstairs to his office.

‘You are one selfish bastard, you know that, Jack?’ Maggie seethed when they were alone. ‘Imagine this. I go out for a small shop in the afternoon, and by 7 p.m. I’m not home. I’ve not texted. My mobile is off. 8 p.m. I’m not home. 9 p.m. I’m not home...’

‘All right, I get it. Something cropped up.’

‘Which is fine. But, fucking hell, all it takes is one text message, Jack. I’ve been worried sick.’

‘I’m not a kid who has to give you a rundown of everything I am doing,’ he frowned.

‘Have you any idea how ill you have been? Anything might have happened to you,’ Maggie insisted. ‘It’s not just selfish, it’s reckless. Last night you slept like a log with no nightmares by the way — but I was wide awake because all I could think of was you meeting up with... what’s his name... Adam Border. The murdering drug baron.’

Jack had been prepared to apologise for not texting, but now Maggie was going too far. ‘He’s neither of those things,’ he said angrily.

‘Is he still wanted?’

‘No, the case is over... closed a couple of years ago.’

‘So why did you go back to the market then?’

‘Curiosity. He was... is... a fascinating character and a very good artist in his own right.’

‘So, what happened?’

‘We got talking. And he invited me to go round to this old school where he’s living until it gets demolished.’

‘Why is he showing you around his studio? Don’t you think that he might have an ulterior motive? You’re a police officer for God’s sake.’

Before he could answer Penny tapped on the door.

‘I’m off to bed. Charlie’s had a feed, but he’s a bit ratty, and Hannah is fast asleep.’

‘Thanks, Penny.’

She hesitated before leaving. ‘Everything all right, is it?’

‘Yes, Mum, thanks. We’ll be down in a minute.’

Maggie kissed Penny at the door and turned back to Jack. ‘I’ll just go and check Charlie, then fix something for dinner.’ Her anger seemed to have cooled. ‘Maybe you can open a bottle of wine. And then we can talk some more about your new friend.’

Josh had taken more medication and was resting on Janet’s bed, waiting for her to return home from her all-day shift at the prison. He dozed for a while as the morphine kicked in but woke up when he heard voices from the street below. From the bedroom window, he could only see the back of the terraced house, so he went into the kitchen, looking out to see Janet with a bag of groceries at the garden gate. She was talking to an elderly woman and it sounded like she was giving her safety advice about credit cards.

‘You must be careful when you use them, love. People can use a scanner now and get your card numbers when you pay for something or withdraw money at a cashpoint. You need to get one of them special credit card holders.’

‘I’ll ask my son. He’s a security guard at the Co-op.’

‘You do that, love. Stay safe now.’

Josh listened to her heavy footfall on the stairs, thinking it ironic that such a good neighbour to some poor old dear across the street could also be a major drug dealer.

Janet opened her flat door and kicked it closed before easing off her heavy shoes. She took off her coat and walked into the lounge with her groceries. When she saw Josh sitting on the sofa she didn’t flinch.

‘I know I locked my front door, so you are breaking and fucking entering. You’ve got two minutes to get out, or I am calling the police.’

‘Sit down, Janet. I don’t have long so we need to cut to the chase. I am going to make a deal with you...’

‘I am not sitting down, sunshine, and you had better shift your arse or you’re going to be arrested.’ She opened her handbag and took out her mobile phone.

‘I wouldn’t make that call, Janet. I’ve enough on you to put you away for years.’

Janet hardly even blinked. ‘I don’t know what you are bloody talking about, just get the fuck out.’

Josh shook his head, smiling. ‘Damn, you’re good, Janet. But I have your passport, plane tickets and that nice stack of cash you had squirrelled away. Without them, you won’t see your daughter or granddaughter any time soon... now put the phone down like a good girl and sit.’

She slowly sat down opposite him, her mouth drawn in a thin, hard line.

‘I know you are dealing drugs to the Bellview inmates and did the same at Holloway. From what I’ve seen, it’s been going on in plain sight for years.’

She folded her arms tightly across her chest. She looked strong, but her eyes betrayed her, and he could hear her grinding her teeth.

‘Here’s the deal. If you agree to help me, I keep your secret. Then when the job’s done, if it’s all gone my way, you get your passport and clear out, never to be seen again. If you don’t agree, I hand your little notebook to the police.’

Now Janet was certain Josh did actually know everything. For the first time she sounded afraid.

‘I wouldn’t last two minutes if I gave up my dealers. These are gang lads, street thugs even the cops don’t mess with.’

‘I don’t want your dealers.’

‘So, what the fuck do you want? I can’t give you my stash, they’ll kill me.’

‘Other way round, sweetheart. I’m going to give you my stash.’

Janet looked confused. Josh opened his folder, took out Rodney Middleton’s photograph and put it down in front of her. He then prodded it with his finger forcing Janet to look.

‘Yes, I know who he is,’ she said, ‘but he’s not after anything from me, except his legit medication: OxyContin and anti-depressants. He got beaten up, see, and they damaged his shoulder. He doesn’t mix with the junkies ’cause they’d punch him out for his tabs.’

Josh took a deep breath. ‘We have a week, at a stretch, two.’ Janet sat in stunned silence as she watched him pull on a pair of surgical gloves and take several numbered sachets from the folder. ‘Give him sachet number one first. It’s fentanyl. Not enough to kill him, but enough to scare whoever finds him. Give him naloxone to bring him round. I want everyone to think he’s using. Next, give him sachet two. This is fentanyl with a tiny amount of xylazine. Again, not enough to kill him. He’ll find it harder to remember what happened this time. Use the naloxone again. Next, sachet three. Then four. Then five. You get the idea. None of these should kill him but, by now, he’ll be starting to bleed and ulcerate because each sachet contains a slightly higher dose of xylazine. He’ll be asking you for more pain relief, so dosing him can happen in plain sight... just like it always does. You be on shift, Janet. You be the one to check on him. You be the one to ignore the zombification if it happens. You be the one to treat his ulcers, keeping them covered, making out they’re fine. Sachet number eight is the final one.’

Janet remained impressively calm in the midst of this litany of horrors.

‘I know you can do this. He’s a piece of shit.’

She leaned forward. ‘How do I know I can trust you?’

‘You have no alternative but to trust me. Do what I say... and you get to go to New Zealand.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Who was the fucker that tipped you off about me?’

‘No one tipped me off, I’m just a fucking great detective. You oversee the inmates’ medication. You got empty capsules and pill crushers hidden in your home. You use Dr Zardari to write legitimate prescriptions, mainly painkillers or sleepers I guess, making sure they’re capsules. Then all you gotta do is empty the capsules out and refill them with whatever it is you’re selling. Then you’ve got a legit bottle of prescription medication containing pills filled with your street drugs. No one would ever guess. It’s so simple, it’s genius.’

She laughed, shaking her head. ‘I thought it might be that young Eric you were having such a pleasant chat with, sugar and spice and all things nice... evil little prick carved up his siblings you know. Anyway, look, I only have two weeks till I retire. It’s impossible.’

‘Nothing’s impossible.’

‘No, no,’ Janet panicked. ‘You’ll fuck off and leave me in the shit.’

Josh paused to think for a second. ‘Janet, all I want is for Rodney Middleton to get what he deserves. That’s all I care about. I don’t give a damn about what you’ve been doing.’

Janet put her hands flat on her knees to stop her foot from jiggling. Josh could tell she was thinking, weighing up how much he was guessing and how much he could actually prove. But without her passport and cash, none of that mattered. Josh took out a burner phone and put it in her hand.

‘No one else gets involved; it’s just you and me.’

She wrapped her fingers around the phone and shut her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again she seemed to have made a decision. ‘Then I guess we have work to do. Turning your drugs into capsules. It’ll take a while. We can have a microwave dinner while we work.’ Janet stood up. ‘I suppose a fuck’s out of the question?’

Josh howled with laughter as Janet headed into the kitchen. She was definitely a piece of work. Which was good in one way: she’d be more than capable of giving Middleton the send-off Josh wanted. But she’d also be capable of double-crossing him if she could.

‘Hey Janet,’ he called out, ‘don’t go poisoning my ready meal. I’ve scanned your notebook to my phone and sent it to a friend of mine. He’ll only send it to the cops if I don’t call him every day for the next two weeks.’

It was a lie, but it wasn’t a bad idea.