Beautiful Death (4 page)

4.

Kate was thrilled to hear his voice. She didn’t flatter herself that he was calling for any social reason, although they’d stayed in touch — even if in the last year it had been via infrequent one-liner emails.

‘Jack! Much too long since we’ve spoken,’ she gushed into her mobile.

‘Where are you working, Kate?’ His tone was businesslike.

‘Operation Minstead for almost a year, based at Lewisham.’

‘Ah, the ghetto for all hot young DIs.’ Did she detect a glimmer of warmth?

‘You’re kidding, aren’t you?’

‘I’m not actually. I’m convinced it’s a rite of passage these days, but I’m sure you’re lending the perfect female touch. How are you getting on?’

She paused. ‘Why? Are you about to make me an offer I can’t refuse?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Then the answer’s yes!’

‘You don’t want to know what it is?’ She could hear the amusement in his voice and berated herself for still being so vulnerable and, yes, so obvious where DCI Hawksworth was concerned.

‘I presume it’s a job and we work well together, Jack,’ she said, trying hard to sound detached, professional. ‘And I know for you to be offering a job, means you’re heading up a case and that leads me to think it’s likely to be a juicy one, perhaps even a high-profile one. Yeah, I want in.’

‘Then welcome to the team. I’ve already asked your boss and he says you’ve done a fine job for Minstead but that I can second you to Operation Panther from today.’

‘Panther, eh? Finished with rivers, we’re onto the big cats.’

‘It’s a big operation, I think.’

‘What are we working on?’

She heard him sigh. ‘A series of deaths. Grisly. I’ll tell you all when the team gathers tomorrow bright and early over at Victoria Street. Top floor again.’

‘Excellent. Thanks, Jack, I needed this.’

‘Bored again?’

Her expression clouded. She confronted what sat between them. ‘Why haven’t we caught up?’

He hesitated. ‘I thought you needed space. Dan —’

‘It’s over between me and Dan.’ She was deliberately blunt, peeved that he hadn’t sensed that she and her former fiancé had no future together.

Now his pause felt awkward. It took everything she had not to leap in and fill the gap but she waited until he responded. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. I thought you were trying.’

‘We did for a while, but there was no magic.’

‘There was for Dan,’ he said quietly. ‘Did you know we met?’

‘Met? After the operation was over, do you mean?’

‘Yes, after I returned from Australia. Early in 2004.’

‘Why?’ Her fury ignited.

She could almost see Jack Hawksworth’s smoky grey eyes darkening. She knew he was shrugging when he answered. ‘I felt I owed it to him when he rang and asked if we could meet.’

‘What did he want?’ she demanded, although she already knew the answer.

‘Just to talk, nothing sinister. He admitted how much he loved you and couldn’t bear to lose you.’

‘But I didn’t hear a word from you?’ she asked.

‘It didn’t seem right for a while with all that he was trying to come to terms with. I knew that you were trying to make a go of it.’

‘Dan and I barely lasted a few months, Jack,’ she said, disgusted now. ‘I can’t believe this.’

‘Look, that’s your business, Kate. I met Dan because he asked me. It was a one-off to help out a guy who sounded low. I’ve been working with DPS for the last few months. I haven’t seen anyone. Geoff’s in the same building and I haven’t caught up with him for a beer in so long he must be wondering if I’ve dropped off the planet.’

‘Where are you based?’

‘I’ve been working in Ipswich mainly.’

‘I thought you’d never work for the Ghosts,’ she said, a fresh tone of accusation in her voice.

‘I needed to get back in the saddle somewhere after Operation Danube. Sharpe thought the Directorate of Professional Standards would be a
good place to start. Geoff agreed. To be honest I’ve enjoyed it.’

‘But now Sharpe wants you back in his camp,’ she said.

‘It’s a major operation. Are you sure you want in?’

‘You know I do.’

‘Then stop being such a bloody hardarse.’

He was right. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just . . . ’

‘No need to explain. Just arrive tomorrow knowing it’s going to be a hard slog. We’ve got absolutely nothing to go on but the pressure’s on from the top to get this done before it turns into a circus.’

She nodded, more contrite now. ‘Who else is on the team?’

‘I’m calling in Cam and Sarah and a few of the younger guys, like Dermot, who did a good job on Danube. A few others, probably someone with an Indian background would be helpful.’

‘I guess I’ll learn why soon enough.’

‘See you tomorrow, Kate. By the way, have you ever used anyone from NRPSI?’

‘A few times, why?’

‘We need someone really good, really reliable who’s fluent in Urdu and possibly Gujarati.’

‘I’ll ask around.’

‘Okay, let me know. Talk later.’

For a moment she stared wistfully at the phone, then snapped herself out of her thoughts. It was time to pack up her desk and see her boss, make sure it was all in order for her to depart Lewisham for Westminster and the opportunity to work alongside the man she was infatuated with. She also made some enquiries about interpreters, and came up with someone she felt would suit Jack’s needs. Rather
than call him, she texted him the details. This operation, she promised herself, she would be utterly professional.

Namzul stood in the shadows opposite facing Stamford Hill station. About 100 metres away he saw Gluck lean towards a young woman and whisper something to her. They both laughed, then entered a nearby shop. Prostitution had been a major problem in this area for a decade, but the Amhurst Park Action Group, made up of local residents, had made some inroads into cleaning up this part of Hackney, especially as it was a main conduit into and out of the more fashionable Hertfordshire. Namzul knew the clean-up didn’t mean the girls had gone away; they simply became more cunning, their pimps less obtrusive. These days the girls were mainly Eastern European; probably most of them were slaves, kept working on a diet of fear and drugs.

This was the second time he’d met Gluck at Amhurst Park and it was now obvious to him that Moshe made use of the prostitutes who prowled the area, even though he was sure Moshe would claim he ran a legitimate office above the shops on Amhurst Parade. The realisation came as a surprise, but now that he considered it, he didn’t know why it should. Moshe liked to act all pious and be seen as the dedicated family man, but he clearly had needs that were not being met at home.

Namzul waited and soon enough the girl emerged from the store, a small paper bag in her hand, and strolled on long pencil-thin legs back towards the station. She was pretty in a hollow-cheeked, haunted way; dark, not overly made up and dressed in jeans tucked into stiletto boots and a
cropped leather jacket that accentuated her lean body and height. Her hazelnut-coloured hair curled and moved gently in the breeze around the thick scarf she had wrapped around her neck. She looked cold but he was convinced she would not be fazed by a British winter, unlike him. He still craved the warmth of a Bangladeshi spring, despite it being fifteen years since he last experienced the sultry heat of his homeland. Namzul eased further back into the shadows as the girl looked towards him. She didn’t see him but she was certainly looking in his direction, no doubt scanning for someone she could fit in before Moshe, perhaps. He tried to sneer, but knew deep down he was envious. He struggled to find the courage to approach a woman like this and yet — it was so strange — he was capable of befriending women, making them laugh and sharing conversations with them they’d normally reserve for their girlfriends. That was part of the problem. No one ever saw Namzul as a potential lover. He hated that someone like Moshe not only had a dutiful wife but cheated with the sluts he could afford to pay and make all his dreams a reality.

He watched the girl arrive at the station, laugh at something one of her mates said, shove her paper bag into her jacket as if to say it was all hers and then disappear down the station steps to the warm platform.

Namzul hunched deeper into his parka and walked to the kosher café — Milo’s — that was open round the clock and where they’d arranged to meet. Moshe was already tucking into one of the famous cream cheese and smoked salmon bagels.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ Namzul said, although he didn’t mean it.

‘You missed out. You’ll have to get your own,’ Moshe said, barely looking up from the Hebrew newspaper he was reading.

Namzul didn’t show his disgust but politely put down his things and went to the counter to order a salt beef sandwich, equally renowned as a delicacy in this café that baked all of its own bread and bagels.

When he returned balancing his food and a small pot of tea, Moshe finally looked at him.

‘I hear you delivered.’

Namzul nodded but said nothing, simply busied himself pouring his tea. It was far too weak, he hadn’t let it draw properly, but he didn’t care. He was here purely for the salt beef and for his money.

‘Schlimey said she was perfect,’ Moshe continued between mouthfuls. ‘Not that I care if she doesn’t match. The orders are so broad anyway, I presume they use only the parts they want.’

‘I did my best,’ Namzul replied noncomittally.

‘It seems you did, which is why we’ve been asked to source another.’

He shook his head now. ‘No, Moshe. No more like this.’ He leaned closer, but still whispered. ‘I’ll find kidney donors but Lily was —’

‘Lily?’ Moshe’s eyebrow arched before he made a tutting sound. ‘I told you long ago, Namzul, don’t trade with people you know.’

He didn’t want to know the answer but still the question forced its way through his lips. ‘Is she dead?’

‘I have no idea. Probably. I don’t care but you obviously do because you knew her, and that’s a mistake,’ Moshe said, seemingly unaware of the cream cheese in his beard.

‘The deadline was unreasonable,’ Namzul complained. ‘I had no choice.’

Gluck made a sound of admonishment. ‘She could lead the police to you.’

‘I doubt it. Where’s my money?’ he said, sipping the tea, but realising talking about Lily had turned it sour in his mouth. He hadn’t slept since Schlimey had collected her. Beautiful, graceful Lily.

‘I have half of it, Namzul.’

‘Why only half?’ he asked, stirring sugar into his tea, working to keep his voice even and not show Moshe any of the emotion churning inside him. His salt beef sandwich sat untouched beside the teapot. His appetite had fled.

‘We want to keep you interested, that’s why. You’re too good. The order is for a white girl this time. She needs to have that really pale skin, rather than a honey colour. You know, it usually comes with red hair or that really whitish blonde. Know what I mean?’

He shook his head deliberately. ‘I said no.’

‘They will pay for her twice over. I can pay you for kidneys as well. Everything if you agree to this one.’

Namzul looked up. Together it would add up to a deposit on a flat of his own. He could disappear . . . if only Gluck would leave him alone. His private argument raged only briefly. His fury made him reckless. ‘I want it all up front today.’

Gluck’s expression was one of surprise. ‘That’s a lot of cash. What do you plan to do with it, Namzul?’

‘That’s my business. Do you have it on you?’ he asked, knowing full well Gluck probably carried more on a daily basis.

Gluck reached inside his black overcoat and pulled out another Hebrew newspaper. Within its folds Namzul could see a manila envelope. ‘It’s all
there,’ he said, his eyes showing just a hint of glee in their otherwise malign darkness.

Was he that predictable? Gluck had known he would say yes; was that it? He’d stopped breathing, he realised, and tried to let the air out silently, slowly, so the Jew could not know that his heart was hammering in tandem with his impotent rage. Nevertheless he took the newspaper and with it a deal was agreed.

‘A white European woman, with a smooth, unblemished, pale complexion in her mid to late twenties. Nothing much else matters, I’m assured. Same arrangement, although you’ll need to let Schlimey know where the pick-up is. She is required by Friday week.’ Gluck stood.

‘I don’t want any more of these jobs, Moshe.’

Gluck looked unimpressed. ‘What are you going to do? Chase real work?’

‘Why not? I’ve been ignoring it of late. I turn down more than you can guess at. I won’t be saying no again to real employment. The first job offered me I’m taking. After this I won’t spot any more donors.’

‘Until you need money again. By the way, rent’s due.’

Namzul stared at him in shock.

Gluck seemed not to notice. ‘You can afford it now. Give it to Schlimey.’ He finally wiped his mouth, though some food still clung to his straggly beard.

Namzul swallowed. This is how Moshe kept him beholden, controlled; it’s why he needed his own place and why this needed to stop after this job. ‘How much?’

Gluck stood. ‘Three hundred. A steal.’

His mouth opened in shock. ‘Three —’ and he stopped because his voice squeaked. How could he afford that for rent?

Gluck began moving away. ‘Utilities are extra by the way.’ He contrived a sad smile and was out of the café, no doubt already imagining himself being pleasured by the leggy Eastern European.

It had been a long day but everything was now in place to kick off Operation Panther the next morning. Sharpe was speaking on the phone and sounded pleased with Jack’s team.

‘Angela Karim is a great choice. And although I don’t know him I hear only good things about Malik Khan.’

Jack nodded. ‘I’ve worked with him, he’s good, although I imagine there’ll be some banging of fists on chests with Brodie.’

Sharpe gave a grunt of agreement.

‘Well, I just wanted to let you know we’re ready, sir. I hope you enjoyed the book club.’

Sharpe rang off, still spluttering.

Jack sighed. He might as well ring Lily now while he could. He’d planned to take an evening run around the Royal Park but the light had faded dramatically — it already looked cold and gloomy out there.
Beware the ides of March
, he heard in the back of his mind, dredging it up from school days. He knew it related to the assassination of Julius Caesar but had never quite grasped how the English related it to the weather. He had to presume it meant that until the middle of March it remained freeze-your-balls-off weather. Today it was the ninth. Almost another two weeks before spring could be declared!