Severed

30

I'm on a quiet street in Kilburn roughly a mile or so from where I grabbed a lift on the train, and a few hundred yards from where I jumped off it. As I walk along it, Lucas's torn shirt flapping in the breeze, I review my options.

Time is not on my side. It's twenty to nine. Lucas dropped me at Holloway Road tube more than two hours ago. He will have spoken to the police by now, and after what I'm sure he's said, they're going to be looking for me with some urgency. So I really am going to need to make Eddie Cosick's acquaintance soon. In other words, tonight. The address book I discovered at Ferrie's place is still in the pocket of my jeans, thank God, and it seems that Ferrie knew about Cosick too, because when I look the name up I get an address in W8, which tallies with Alannah's description of it as being in Notting Hill.

But as I walk, I consider for the first time the possibility of handing myself in and actually telling the police the truth, the rationale being that they're going to catch me eventually so it would be better to pre-empt them. But I swiftly discount this. I'm too heavily implicated in the events of today: the shootings at Ferrie's place and the chaos at the brothel. As well as this, there's still the possibility that there are copies of the DVD out there linking me to Leah's murder.

At the moment, visiting Cosick is my only option. It's extremely risky, but there's nothing I can do about that. I do, however, have a real stumbling block. I'm unarmed. Which means I'm going to have to speak to Lucas. I genuinely don't want to drag him back into this, but I can't see how I can avoid it.

I use the mobile he supplied me with to make the call. He answers on the first ring, as if he's been sitting there waiting for me.

'The police have only just gone,' he informs me. 'I was going to phone you. I'm sorry, Tyler, I had to tell them that we were doing the job today on your behalf.' He sounds genuinely gutted.

'Don't worry,' I tell him, 'I know you had no choice. How much information did you give them?'

'I tried to keep it to a minimum. I said you approached us out of the blue this afternoon about a job. You wanted a track on a briefcase. You didn't tell me what was in it, and I didn't ask, because I trust you. I gave Snowy the task of following the case, and told him to keep me posted with progress calls every fifteen minutes. We got two, then they stopped. Me and you parted company, and I got on with some other work, namely a job in Islington, assuming that Snowy would phone me back. I was getting worried but obviously didn't think it would be anything too serious, so didn't bother reporting it, and then, bang, the next thing I know, the police are on the phone announcing that he's dead.'

'Won't they know you were talking to him on your mobile shortly before he died?'

'Sure, but when they triangulate my location, they'll see that I was in Islington just like I said, a good two miles away from where they discovered Snowy.'

'So you're in the clear, right?'

'The only possible concern is if someone saw me pick you up after the brothel fire, and can place me at the scene, but I'm hoping I'll be all right. There are no public CCTV cameras on that street. I checked.'

'Did they ask you anything about the fire?'

'No, I think they believed my story. There was no reason not to. But obviously they want to speak to you. They said that if you made contact with me, I was to call them straight away.'

'Thanks, Lucas.'

'No problem, but we must be getting near quits by now.'

'Yeah, about that…'

'Shit. Now what?'

'I've got the name of another man. The big boss. I've got an address, too. I hate to do this, Lucas, but I need one of those guns you were talking about.'

'You're not going to pay him a visit?'

'At the moment I can't see any other way.'

He sighs. 'Which means I'm going to have to come with you, doesn't it?'

'Of course it doesn't. I've already told you, you've done your bit.'

'I can't let you go there alone. If anything happened to you, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself.'

I try to protest, but he tells me not to bother.

'I'm coming, and that's it. Where are you now?'

'I'm in Kilburn. A place called Heaver Street.'

'I'll come straight over. I should be there in about half an hour.'

'Before you do, can you run a background check on this guy? His name's Eddie Cosick. I need to know what we're up against.'

'Sure. So make it forty-five.'

'Fine. And one other thing. Can you bring me over another shirt? I had a little accident with the other one.'

'I'll be sending you a bill for this,' he tells me with just a hint of exasperation, then hangs up.

There's an old-fashioned street-corner pub opposite me. The door's open, and I can hear the buzz of conversation from inside. A notice-board out the front says that they do good food. They're hardly likely to say any different, of course, but all the activity of the past few hours has given me something of an appetite.

I step inside, figuring I've earned a break.