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Authors: Susan Wilkins

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BOOK: The Informant
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‘Nah, you got it all wrong. Sean’s the psycho – believe me, I know. But what, it ain’t good politics for you to nick him? Even when it’s given you on a plate?
Joey’s a wuss by comparison. He’s a businessman. Money, that’s what he’s about.’

‘He murdered a police officer.’

‘You were there? Saw it, did you?’

Bradley watched the duel between the two women. He’d been reluctant to bring Nicci with him, but Mayhew had insisted. Bradley had taken this as a measure of how little he was trusted to
get the job done. Now, however, he could see the value in it. Nicci was simply telling Karen Phelps what she needed to hear; it sounded authentic because it was true. It may not be enough to
convince her quite yet, but this time she hadn’t gone ballistic and walked out.

He smiled. ‘Who’s paying for the laptop? Joey?’

‘None of your fucking business.’

‘You’re right, it’s not my business. Then again if the money was derived from the proceeds of drug dealing, it is. What did you use, cash or credit card?’

‘I don’t have to tell you that.’

Nicci picked up the baton. ‘That’s true. But we take you down the nick, we search you, we marry up the laptop you’ve bought with a credit card that isn’t yours . . . we
call your probation officer . . . That would be a serious breach of your licence. You know the drill after that.’

Kaz opened her bag, pulled out a receipt. She slapped it on the table in front of Nicci.

‘Cash. You think you can prove it was the proceeds of drug dealing? Go on, have a try. Meanwhile I’ll call my lawyer.’

The two women stared at each other for a long moment. Then Kaz turned to Bradley. ‘I told you why I wanted Sean to go down. I also told you he killed a copper. Now politics or no fucking
politics, why ain’t that enough?’

Bradley sighed, but it was Nicci who answered.

‘Turnbull wants your brother. It’s as simple as that. “Drug baron’s evil empire overthrown”, that’s the headline he wants.’

Kaz exhaled in disbelief. ‘You ever smoke a spliff? Or when you was a kid and went clubbing, you never done a tab of E?’

Nicci shot a glance at Bradley. He took a gulp of beer to avoid the necessity of lying. Kaz watched them both and smiled.

‘You don’t have to answer, ’cause we all know that most people’ve tried it, tried something, crossed the line somewhere. If Joey was selling whisky or fags he’d be
businessman of the year. They’d be giving him awards. He sells people what they want, that’s why it’s profitable. He’s not conning old ladies out their pensions or sending
the country broke. When you lot gonna start going after the real villains?’

Nicci started to laugh softly. ‘Nice speech Karen. And if you’re asking me personally I’d say legalize the lot. So would most coppers.’

Bradley nodded his agreement as she continued.

‘The thing is, it’s not legal. There are no rules to the game. But there’s big bucks to be made, so people fight over territory, over customers. They threaten and maim and
murder to get their slice of the action. Biggest thug wins. And you’re naive if you think your brother isn’t in all that up to his eyeballs. But I don’t think you’re naive,
so maybe you don’t care.’

Nicci leant back in her chair, picked up her glass and took a sip.

Kaz watched her, she realized it wasn’t going to play out. She picked up her shopping bags and stood up. ‘You’re right, I couldn’t give a toss. But I’m a slag in
your eyes, so it’s only to be expected innit?’

She skirted round the back of Nicci’s chair and strode towards the door. In a moment she was gone.

Bradley glanced at his colleague. ‘That went well.’

Nicci sighed. ‘She’s hearing us all right, that’s why she’s so petulant. It’s going to take time. In the end we put her testimony together with her sister’s,
we got a case.’

‘You actually getting anything from the sister?’

‘Not yet. But we’re mates.’

‘Turnbull’s going to go apeshit when he finds out we didn’t threaten her with Sean.’

‘Then don’t tell him.’ Nicci drained her glass. ‘You want to be Turnbull’s kind of copper?’

Bradley shrugged. ‘Not really, no.’

‘Then take my advice, draw your own line and stick to it.’

40

Kaz turned the key in the lock and let herself into her new home. Sunshine was streaming in through the enormous windows. As she started to roll up the plastic sheeting put
down to protect the wooden floors small motes of dust rose up and danced in the light. The deliverymen had already rung to say they’d be there within the half-hour. She sat down, back against
the wall, and opened up the takeaway coffee she’d bought from the deli on the corner. As she sipped she savoured the pleasure of finally being alone behind her own front door. For this was
the first place she could really call home, free of the taint of the past and the shadows of childhood. Okay, Joey had bought it for her, but there were no strings attached. She’d made that
very clear to him, wouldn’t have accepted otherwise. Bradley’s sidekick could accuse her brother as much as she liked, but the fact was she’d offered them real evil and they
weren’t even interested. Sean wouldn’t get them the right headlines, it was all just crap.

After she’d walked out of the pub Bradley had texted her a couple of times. He wanted her to call him back. She’d ignored him. Then he’d started ringing. She’d still
ignored him. Finally, around eleven, as she was about to go to bed, she picked up. He sounded surprised and also drunk.

‘Karen? Listen I’m sorry . . . Nicci can be a bit . . . well y’know . . .’

‘Whad’you want Bradley?’

‘I . . . I don’t . . . we need to talk . . . I need to warn you.’

‘Warn me about what?’

‘Turnbull . . . he’s . . . you need to watch out for yourself.’

‘I been doing that all my life.’

‘It’s just politics this.’

‘Yeah, I got that.’

Kaz heard a deep inhalation of breath on the other end of the line. ‘Fact you’ve talked to us Karen, that can be used against you, y’know.’

‘How d’you mean?’

There was silence, she could hear him swallowing; he needed a drink to answer. Or not to answer.

‘Look I told you, it’s all about deals. Turnbull has to deliver to his boss. And the deal is Joey.’

This was really starting to irritate Kaz. Was the point of this drunken phone call to warn her or threaten her? She couldn’t work out which, but she’d had enough.

‘Bradley, it’s late and I’m tired. So stop ringing me and fuck off.’

She’d hung up and crawled into bed. Her last night at the hostel, she fell into a dreamless sleep and woke shortly after dawn.

By the time she’d finished her coffee, the deliverymen were at the door. They rang the intercom and she buzzed them in. Three large lads who looked as though they lifted
weights when they weren’t lifting furniture. In less than twenty minutes they’d brought in all her purchases, carefully unwrapped the heavy-duty plastic and disappeared with it plus a
generous tip. Having watched her brother splashing the cash, Kaz followed suit; she could see the sense in it and the pleasure. Everyone was happy.

Removing her shoes she lay down on one of the soft cream sofas. She’d got the lads to position it opposite the balcony window. From her reclining position she could see the wharves
opposite, long since converted into luxury apartments, and the glittering surface of the river. The tide was high, the water slapping up the side of the far embankment. She leant over to her bag
and pulled out her sketchbook. She opened it to a fresh page and was gazing intently out of the window when her phone trilled on the kitchen counter. Her first impulse was to leave it, but it was
probably Joey, phoning to check that everything had gone smoothly. She got up, retrieved the phone, glanced at the screen. It was an 07 number, but he changed his SIM cards frequently, never kept
one for any length of time. She pressed to answer.

‘Hello.’

‘Kaz? Kaz, it’s Glynis.’ She sounded breathless and frightened, holding it together – but only just. She and Dave should be at Gatwick by now, ready to board the
lunchtime flight to Ibiza. Joey had made all the arrangements, found them a small apartment in San Antonio.

‘All right Glynis? What’s going on?’

The reply was a muffled scrunch. Either someone had grabbed the phone or it had been dropped.

‘Glynis?’

A couple of gasped breaths, then her quivering voice came back on the line.

‘I gotta talk to you Kaz. You at your new place? Can I come round?’

‘You’ll miss your flight. You should be at the airport.’

‘We can’t risk it. He knows Kaz. He saw the tickets. We given him the slip, but I don’t know where else to go.’

Kaz had a list of questions, but it seemed unlikely that Glynis was in a fit state to answer any of them.

‘Okay, where are you now?’

‘We’re . . . I dunno, up west somewhere. We been driving round in circles.’

‘Dump the car – too easy to follow. Get on the tube, take the DLR to Westferry. I’ll meet you at the station, say three-quarters of an hour.’

‘Aww thanks Kaz.’ The relief in her voice was palpable. ‘Look . . . I’m really sorry . . . I . . .’

‘Don’t be. Just do like I said.’

Kaz clicked the phone off, chucked it on her pristine new sofa in exasperation.

Bloody Sean. What was she going to do about him?

Kaz reached the station five minutes before the appointed time. She’d spent the interim trying to contact Joey. He hadn’t been home the previous evening, at some
girlfriend’s she supposed. He wasn’t answering any of the numbers she had for him, Ashley’s phone was off, the landline at the flat went straight to voicemail. She left messages.
She was frustrated more than irritated. Joey’s habit of going AWOL just when he was needed was beginning to get on her nerves.

As she approached the station she saw the slight figure of Glynis standing alone on the pavement clutching her handbag. There was hardly anyone else about so Kaz concluded that the train must
have come in some time earlier. But where was Dave? Glynis turned as soon as she saw Kaz, still she remained rooted to the spot. She didn’t move forward or hurry towards her, which seemed
odd. Kaz was still yards away, but her eyesight was keen enough to see that the whole left side of Glynis’s face was battered and bruised. One eye was completely closed up. Her shoulders were
shaking, she was sobbing. Suddenly she crouched down like a small child and began howling.

‘Sorry Kaz, I’m so sorry! So sorry!’

That was when Kaz saw the blue Mondeo parked kerbside behind her. The back door opened and Sean got out. He had his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and a smug smile on his face.

‘Think you and I need to have a chat little cousin.’

It took Kaz less than two seconds to decide how to respond. The flat wasn’t far, Sean was fit enough, but she was fairly certain she could outrun him. If she could only get home, safe
behind her own front door. She turned tail and ran.

She made it halfway down Limehouse Causeway before the Mondeo caught up with her. She heard the underside of the car whacking a speed bump before it screeched to a halt behind her. A quick
glance over her shoulder told her that Sean was out of the car and coming after her. To her left was a ten-foot chain-link fence, she was up and over it in a trice and found herself in the
playground of a primary school. She scooted round the buildings, scaled another wall at the back and landed in a tiny cobbled side street.

Although she’d walked round the area a couple of times she still didn’t know it. She paused for breath and to get her bearings. It was hardly more than an alley and in one direction
she could see it led to the river: a dead end. Maybe she could find somewhere to hide and wait him out. Then she saw a man appear at the other end of the alley, taller than Sean and much younger.
He seemed to be beckoning. She looked hard and recognized Tolya. Her heart leapt, Joey must’ve picked up one of her messages and come looking for her. She immediately headed up the alley
towards him at a fast trot.

Tolya was grinning. She almost felt like flinging herself into his arms.

‘Why you run?’

‘My bloody cousin, that’s why.’

They turned the corner out of the alley and the Mondeo was parked right there. Sean was leaning against it, arms folded.

Tolya put a firm hand on her shoulder. ‘No run. Only want talk.’

‘Where’s Joey?’

Sean sighed and stepped forward. Kaz found herself trapped between the two men and a brick wall.

‘Thing is Tol works for me now – don’t you Tol? He saw that things was changing, shall we say, in the management structure of the firm. He’s an ambitious lad, he wanted
to improve his prospects.’

Kaz took a deep breath. She was determined to front this out. Although she was scared of Sean, particularly if he had Tolya to back him up, she was determined not to show it.

‘What the fuck you playing at Sean? If you got issues with me and Joey then we should all sit down and talk about it like adults.’

Sean burst out laughing. ‘Oh that’s rich. That’s fucking priceless. He tries to kill me in his own mother’s kitchen. You’re trying to put my slag of a missus on a
plane to Ibiza. I think I’m the innocent party here little cousin. I ain’t laid a finger on no one. And now, to top it all . . . a little bird tells me you been trying to grass me up to
the old bill.’

Kaz’s stomach lurched. Bradley. That’s what the miserable drunken shit was trying to tell her. Deals. The police wouldn’t make a deal with her. Instead they’d made a deal
with Sean. They thought Sean would give them Joey. Now she was seriously in trouble.

She glared at him. ‘Bollocks. Some slag’s telling tales and you believe ’em?’

Sean smiled. ‘Get in the car little cousin, take us all back to your nice new flat and make us a cup of tea. And you and me’ll have a little chat about it. Just like old
times.’

Kaz shook her head vehemently. ‘I know you think all women are stupid, but I’m not a kid any more. You ever try and lay a finger on me again, I’ll kill you Sean. I
swear.’

He laughed. Her attitude seemed to please rather than annoy him. ‘Always the feisty one, weren’t you? And that’s what I admire. Bit of spirit. I come home to my slag of a wife
and it’s like fucking a rag doll. But you, little cousin, you was always much more fun. Much more my cup of tea.’ He licked his lips. He was standing inches from her now. He smelt of an
acrid mixture of booze, nicotine and cologne. ‘Don’t want to take us to your place? Fair enough. I know somewhere else we can go, just you and me, we’ll be nice and
cosy.’

BOOK: The Informant
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ads

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