Skeleton Hill

24

‘Is this a fact?’

The prisoner reacted with a quick nod. He looked alarmed to be unmasked.

‘English? We went to all the trouble and expense of getting an interpreter and it turns out you’re English?’

And now the Englishman Jim Jenkins found his voice. ‘I didn’t say I was a foreigner.’

‘You didn’t say diddley-squat.’ Diamond turned to Andriy. ‘What can you tell us about him?’

Andriy was looking pensive, with some caginess mixed in. ‘Hold on. You hired me to be an interpreter. Two bottles, right? Now you’re asking me to be an informer.’

‘But you haven’t done any interpreting.’

‘For informing, the fee goes up. Four bottles.’

DCI Gledhill gave a twitch and said, ‘What’s this about bottles? I don’t understand.’

‘It’s how he measures his worth,’ Diamond said. ‘All right, Andriy. Four bottles it is.’

Gledhill was outraged. ‘You’ve no right to make him offers of any sort.’

‘I was speaking for you,’ Diamond said.

‘What? I can’t authorise payments off the cuff. There’s a procedure.’

‘The Met pays two million a year to snouts. We’re not going to quibble over two extra bottles.’

‘Bottles of what?’ the beleaguered Gledhill demanded.

‘Never mind. Do you want to talk here, Andriy, or in private?’

‘Better in private, I think.’

At this, Jenkins decided to wade in. ‘That’s out of order. You can’t let him make up stuff about me without telling me what it is. I have some legal rights here.’

‘Shut your face, Jenkins. I’ll tell you every bad thing he says,’ Diamond said. ‘We’ll stop the tape here and adjourn for a bit unless you want to make a full confession. Take him down, sergeant.’

Loudly protesting, Jenkins was removed.

‘Now, Andriy,’ Diamond said. ‘Give us the dirt on that man.’

‘James Jenkins? He is a whoremaster, a pimp. You must know this. He is on your files, right?’

Diamond turned to Gledhill with eyebrows raised, and was told, ‘I don’t personally know every piece of scum in west London. If what you say is true, we probably have him on file, yes.’

‘He runs a whorehouse in Barnes,’ Andriy went on. ‘Before that, for six or seven years, it was managed by a Ukrainian guy called Sergey.’

‘Do you know the address?’

‘Marchant Street. I can’t tell you the number. For myself, I have no need to visit brothels. The madam there is Vikki, former call girl, excellent at her job, never made trouble for Sergey or anyone else. Respected by the girls and the clients. Keeps the house beautiful. Clean bedding and towels, aerosols everywhere, flowers in the rooms.’ As an afterthought, he said, ‘I know all this from friends, not from experience.’

‘Go on.’

‘Some time last year, Vikki started going out with an English guy, this Jenkins. Smart, always wore a suit. Sergey didn’t object, even when Jenkins started visiting Marchant Street, hanging around the house to chat up Vikki. Then last year in July, when all Ukrainians celebrated Ivana Kupala, the midsummer festival, Vikki married Jenkins. Overnight, Sergey was called to a meeting with the godfather who owns the house and many others and was told he had to move to a low-down backstreet knocking shop in Fulham. No warning, no appeal. He had to go, and he went.’

‘And Jenkins was installed there?’

‘Do I have to tell you what the Ukrainians thought about it, an all-Ukrainian house taken over by an Englishman? He is not popular in our community. No one can touch him, because he has the blessing of the high-ups. They don’t want to lose Vikki, get me? So he lives like a good Ukrainian, goes to church on Sundays, eats our food, tries to speak the language. We think he is using Vikki.’

‘That’s a dangerous game if he is. Does he carry a gun?’

‘He’d be a fool if he didn’t.’

‘But you say he’s untouchable.’

Andriy inclined his head slightly to one side, the Ukrainian equivalent of the Gallic shrug.

Diamond had the picture now, or enough of it to put the screws on Jenkins. The information had been well worth four bottles. With Gledhill’s grudging consent, Andriy was driven back to the Crimea on the understanding that the car would call at an off-licence to pick up his payment.

‘Cheap at the price,’ Diamond said and got only a glare for his economy.

Jenkins was brought back and the questioning started over again. The untouchable pimp was plainly worried over what may have been said while he was back in the cell.

‘What am I charged with?’

‘Nothing yet,’ Diamond said. ‘You’re being questioned on sus -picion of discharging a firearm with intent to kill.’

‘That’s wrong.’

‘Yes, it could be if Inspector Halliwell doesn’t get through the night. He’s in a critical condition. You’d better pray that he survives.’

His eyes stretched wide in alarm. ‘I didn’t know the man was a cop.’

‘You live and learn. Give us your version of what happened.’

He drew his arms across his body as if he’d suddenly woken up on a Carpathian mountain with a north wind blowing.

‘We’re waiting,’ Diamond said.

A heavy sigh. ‘I’d better explain my difficulty. I’m just a businessman, good at my job, reliable. I work for Ukrainians and with Ukrainians. I’m married to a Ukrainian and Vikki is in the business too. But there’s hostility towards me because I’m not one of them. It’s not just me being paranoid. Vikki notices it, too. I have to watch my back all the time.’

‘Is this why you armed yourself?’

‘You bet I did.’ He paused as if regretting what he’d said and trying to think of a way of qualifying it. ‘By “armed”, I mean being on my guard.’

‘But you own a hand gun?’

‘Er, yes.’

‘Go on.’

‘Today is a bank day. I’m supposed to collect the proceeds from the business, count them, pay the staff and get the surplus to the bank. It’s a responsibility I take seriously. Like a lot of businesses we deal in cash and it can amount to a seriously large sum.’

‘That I believe,’ Gledhill said.

Jenkins rubbed his arms, still apparently feeling the chill. ‘I was in the office with my wife Vikki getting the money sorted when there was a caller. We have an entry-phone system for the front door, and CCTV. You have to be secure in these times. There was something iffy about this guy. How would I know he was one of yours? He didn’t say.’

‘He wouldn’t. He’d never get past the door.’

‘He asked for my wife by name. That was suspicious in itself because she looked at the screen and didn’t recognise him. We have our regular callers and some of them know Vikki’s name, but this guy was a stranger to her. I scooped up the money and my account books and moved into the room next door.’

‘Leaving your wife to deal with him?’

‘She’s experienced. And I would be on hand to help if he caused trouble. As I just told you, we’re constantly on our guard from jealous Ukrainians.’

‘He wasn’t Ukrainian.’

‘Put it this way. He spoke English into the intercom, but you can’t tell unless they have a heavy accent. We let him in. The office is at the top of the stairs.’

‘I know,’ Diamond said. ‘I was there this afternoon, trying to find what happened to him.’

‘He immediately started talking to Vikki about things that happened way back, almost twenty years ago. This was not good. Our clients aren’t interested in the past.’

‘We know what interests your clients.’

‘He talked of some girl who came here – to London, I mean – and went missing. He was questioning Vikki and she was trying to be helpful, telling him things, but it seemed to me she was getting herself – and me – in trouble. Bad things happened in the past, specially in those years after independence when thousand of Ukrainians quit their country. It’s safer not to talk about it.’

‘You were listening to all this?’

‘From the next room, yes, and not liking what I heard. The guy was full of questions about this particular girl whose name he didn’t know, and who was dead now. Vikki, being the helpful soul she is, was doing her best to remember her. Then he let out that the girl had been murdered and buried somewhere in the West Country. Murdered.’ He scraped his hand through his hair and let out a shaky breath, reliving the shock.

‘Didn’t you know about this?’ Diamond asked.

‘Very little. I heard there were some killings back then, but it was way before I got involved in the escort business.’

‘Two pimps and a working girl,’ Diamond said, more for Gledhill’s ears than Jenkins’. ‘I got that from Andriy.’

‘All I can tell you is that it caused one hell of a shake-up. Some girls got so frightened they quit. Nobody knows for sure who carried out the killings, but there are people around today who were minders then. They’ve risen in the ranks and are big wheels now. Stupidly Vikki was rabbiting on about all of this to a total stranger, all the dirty washing. She spooked me out so much I pulled my gun and stepped into the room.’

‘You drew a gun on him?’

‘I didn’t go in there for conversation. Too much talking had been done already. He took one look at the shooter and was out of there.’

‘And you chased him?’

‘Down the stairs and into the garden. I wanted to scare him seriously, put the frighteners on him, so he’d be more in awe of me than the people he was snooping for. He must have been across the garden and over the wall like a steeplechaser. I chased him, but that’s a high wall and I didn’t get over at the first try. When I did get a foothold and drag myself up he wasn’t in sight, but I felt sure he was in that next garden somewhere. It’s overgrown. The grass is really high.’

‘I’ve been there,’ Diamond said.

‘I sat on top of the wall. I could see the whole garden from there. It was cat and mouse because I had the high position and the gun. I waited for him to make a move.’

‘How long?’

‘Fifteen minutes, maybe less. It felt like fifteen. I figured that when he did break from cover I’d take a shot over his head to panic him. Finally I saw the long grass move and I knew exactly where he was lying. Sure enough, he surfaced and started running towards the empty house. I shot over his head and the recoil nearly knocked me off the wall.’

‘You missed?’

‘Of course I bloody missed. I meant to miss, but then the stupid sod stopped and turned towards me. I pulled the trigger a second time out of pure tension. I saw a hand go out and he dropped and I realised I’d hit him. I jumped down and went over to look and I could see he was in a bad way. I was still trying to think what to do when the police came over the wall. The rest you know.’

‘You ran off.’

‘I panicked, didn’t I?’

‘What happened to the gun?’

‘I dropped it somewhere in that long grass.’

‘You’re saying you didn’t intend to hit him? We’re supposed to believe that? What do you take us for?’

‘I’ve got no experience using guns. You can look at my record. I’ve got form for other stuff, but nothing to do with firearms.’

‘Come on, Jenkins, it’s your gun. You admitted that just now.’

‘For self-defence. I’m in a dangerous job, for Christ’s sake.’

‘You had plenty of time to think if you were going to use it. Cat and mouse, your words. You cold-bloodedly waited for DI Halliwell to show himself and then you loosed off two shots.’

‘That’s wrong. I want a brief.’

‘You’re going to need one. And you’d better get praying as well.’

The hospital told them Keith’s condition remained critical. He was in intensive care and unable to speak. His wife had arrived and was spending the night at the hospital, but even she was being kept away from the patient.

‘Doesn’t sound good,’ he said to Louis. ‘He lost pints of blood. I know that. Do you think I should be with his wife?’

Louis shook his head. ‘Right now she’ll be blaming you for what happened. It’s not personal, it’s inevitable.’

‘I gave the poor old lad what I thought was the easy option, visiting this gentle couple in Barnes who go to church on Sundays. Olena was really wide of the mark over them.’

‘Didn’t you say one of the family drove Mrs Halliwell to London?’ ‘Her brother.’

‘They don’t need you, then. Come back with me. I’ve got a spare bedroom.’

‘What time is it?’

‘Nearly ten. You look bushed.’

In the morning he heard that Keith had responded to treatment and was out of intensive care. A short visit would be permitted. Elated, he took a taxi there.

In the corridor leading to the ward, his heart sank at the sight of Sheila Halliwell and her brother walking towards him. Situations like this always defeated him. He stopped and turned up his palms in apology.

Sheila stepped forward and offered her face for a token kiss, which he supplied, wishing he’d shaved before starting out. She said, ‘He’s going to be all right, they say. I’m sorry I was so sharp when you phoned yesterday. It must have been the shock.’

‘You’ve seen him?’

‘Yes, and he told me neither of you could have had any idea he was going to have a gun pulled on him.’

‘Is he well enough for me to go in?’

‘He’ll be upset if you don’t. He keeps saying there’s something he must tell you.’

The patient was in a side ward, tubed up for a transfusion. He appeared to be sleeping. He had more colour than Diamond expected, but creases of strain showed in his face, even in repose.

‘We can postpone the funeral by the look of you.’

The eyelids flickered and opened.

‘Me, being unfunny, as usual.’

‘Good to see you, guv.’ Keith’s voice was not much more than a whisper. ‘I messed up big time.’

‘You didn’t. You’re a hero. Are you sore?’

‘Full of morphine. Hard to keep my eyes open.’

‘Sheila said you want to tell me something.’

‘Yes?’ Unfortunately he was starting to drift off. The eyes closed again.

‘Was it about yesterday?’

‘Yesterday, yes.’

‘You got to the house and spoke to Vikki. I know that much.’

‘Vikki?’

‘The madam, at sixteen Marchant Street.’

He opened his eyes briefly again. ‘She knows, guv. Vikki knows. You’ve got to see her.’ Then he was gone again.

A hand on Keith’s free arm, a gentle squeeze, and he left.

This would not be easy considering he had Vikki’s husband in custody and 16 Marchant Street was a crime scene. Police cars would be standing outside and the house would have emptied of girls and clients. Vikki had lost her husband and her livelihood. Even if he caught up with the lady she wouldn’t be in a frame of mind to tell all.

He called at the Crimea as soon as it opened and looked for Andriy, thinking he might know where Vikki lived.

No Andriy.

‘I don’t understand,’ the barmaid said. ‘Always he is here when I open. I hope he is not ill.’

He guessed what was amiss. ‘He took some bottles home last night. Probably sleeping it off.’

His only other contact was Olena. He had to try.

He went first to the church and found her removing used candles from in front of an icon. ‘There is nothing I can tell you about Viktorya,’ she said, and contradicted herself by adding, ‘She is upset. Distress.’

‘You’ve seen her, then?’

‘I cannot speak of this in front of St Volodymyr.’

‘Shall we go outside?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Viktorya is distressed because her husband is at the police station. Did she tell you?’

Excluding him, she opened a new box of candles and set them out neatly in front of the shrine.

He said, ‘Would you light one for my friend, Keith Halliwell, who was shot yesterday? I think St Volodymyr will be sympathetic.’ She sighed and walked with him to the main door. On the steps, she said,

‘She is at my house. I don’t know what happen. You are good man, I think. Be gentle, yes?’

He walked the short distance to Meon Road. Vikki came to the door, opened it a fraction, saw him and slammed it shut. He bent down and talked through the letterbox. ‘Vikki, I’ve come from Olena. Do I have to go back and ask her to leave the church and unlock her own front door?’

After some hesitation, she opened it and glared. No bread and salt welcome this time. The blonde hair was in need of combing and the eyes were red-lidded. She turned her back on him and stepped into the front room where the photos stood on the mantelpiece, including the one of Vikki, or Viktorya, as she was known here. They sat facing each other on the two chairs, overlooked by the crucifix.

‘Olena doesn’t know what goes on in Marchant Street, does she?’ he said.

‘She thinks the best of everyone,’ Vikki said. ‘She is like a mother to me. You don’t tell your mother things that will trouble her.’

‘But she knows your husband is being held for shooting a policeman?’

‘She doesn’t know it all.’

‘Keith is going to pull through, I think. I saw him this morning. He told me you gave him information. In view of what happened I’m going to have to ask you to repeat it.’

She shrugged and looked away.

Softly, softly wasn’t going to work with Vikki. ‘We’re holding your husband on a minor rap at present. We have to decide what to charge him with. Could be evading arrest, illegal possession of a firearm, shooting with intent to kill. He’s lucky it isn’t murder. The courts take a hard line on cop killers.’

‘He never meant to kill.’

‘That’s his story. He claims he wasn’t aiming the gun, that he’s inexperienced at using it.’

‘I’ve never known him to fire it. We’ve both been under a lot of pressure.’

‘Since he took over from Sergey?’

Her eyes widened at how much he knew. She gave a nod.

He judged that she was as ready to co-operate at this moment as she ever would be. ‘I expect Keith asked you about the Ukrainian woman we found buried in Bath?’

She gave a nervous, angry sigh, registering that she’d been manoeuvred into this. ‘He thought I might know her.’

‘From so far back?’

‘I was around then. I can tell you what I told him, if you’ll leave me alone. We talked about two girls I remember who were trafficked a couple of years after independence.’

‘Which was when?’

‘Independence was 1991. This must have been 1993.’

‘What age would they have been?’

‘Late teens. No older.’

‘Did they work for you?’

‘For me?’ She shook her head. ‘I was nobody then, just a prossie. We were all trapped in the game, but we knew each other and there was a kind of team thing. I mentioned these two because they got away. It was a scary time. High summer, which is always the worst. The mob were at war for control of this part of London. Pimps were murdered and at least one girl was shot. These two seized their chance and fled. One of them got back to the Ukraine and years later I had a card from her. I don’t know how she got my address.’

‘News can travel both ways. You’re well known, I gather. And so is your address.’

‘Maybe. This girl Tatiana was asking if I knew what happened to Nadia, the other one who escaped. They split up because Nadia didn’t want to return to the Ukraine. She had no family to go back to. She’d been raised in an orphanage and left at fifteen and immediately was forced into sex work. That’s not unusual. The traffickers take the good-looking girls straight from the orphanages. They leave with just the clothes they’re wearing.’

‘Did you know Nadia personally?’

‘Not well. By sight, I would say. After they made a run for it, her plan was to get out of London. She took a train from Paddington. That’s the last anyone saw of her.’

‘Paddington? She headed west. She could have made it to Bath or Bristol. Would they have followed her there and killed her?’

‘The mob? I doubt it. They were too busy with their battles here.’

‘Later, then?’

She shook her head. ‘She wasn’t worth the trouble. Girls are just goods, like fruit machines. They get replaced.’

Callous words. He could see that in her terms they were accurate. ‘You say you knew her by sight. Can you describe her for me?’

‘About my height – average. Blue eyes widely spaced. Straight nose. Even teeth. Good legs, very good.’

He thought of the femur he’d held in his hand.

‘Hair colour?’

She smiled faintly. ‘We all changed our hair often, to reinvent ourselves. It made us feel better. She could have been any colour. It was straight and long. I know she was an orphan but I always thought she was from Cossack stock. She liked watching the racing on TV, not to bet, just to see the horses. They adore their horses, the Cossacks. And she was confident, believed in herself. If she didn’t survive, I’m surprised.’

‘Do you know her surname?’

‘I didn’t at the time. In the trade we use first names and some of them are false, but Tatiana mentioned it in her card. She was Nadia Berezan.’

‘Thanks.’ He made a note.

Nadia Berezan, call girl.

She was still a long shot, but she was Ukrainian and she’d travelled to the West Country at about the right time. And from what he had learned about her origins, no one would have reported her as a missing person.