Fightback (8 page)

Locking himself into a toilet cubicle in Euston station, Kier quickly changed into the clothes Saskia had picked out for him in a charity shop: a pair of jeans two sizes too big, a plastic belt to hold them up, a T-shirt with the words
Allied Carpets
written on the front, a baggy jumper with patches on the elbows and a pair of cheap trainers with torn insoles and frayed laces.

‘Get yourself a clean phone,' she'd told him, ‘and call Jackson when you've changed.' Then she was gone again, melting away into the crowd before he'd had a chance to reply.

He unwrapped the cheap Pay As You Go phone and stuffed the packaging into a carrier bag, along with the wig and school uniform. Anyone trying to trace his calls now would only find the name of Jack Smith on the paperwork. Not very original perhaps, but it would have to do.

Unlocking the door again, he went across to the
basins and ran the taps, cupping his hands beneath them and dumping water on his head. He messed his hair up with his fingers, then knelt beneath the hand-drier, teasing the strands of hair between his fingers until they stuck out in all directions.

‘Oh yeah,' he said to his scarecrow reflection. ‘You've got it going
on
.'

But it was obvious that the ladies in the charity shop took their work seriously; the clothes, although cheap and old, had still been washed and ironed. According to Saskia, the next part of his mission required him to look as if he'd been living rough on the streets for a while. If he wanted to appear convincing, there was still some work to be done.

After scouring the backstreets for ten minutes, he came across a builder's skip and quickly threw in the bag containing the clothes and phone packaging. Checking that no one was watching, he climbed in and stretched out across the piles of chipped plasterboard and broken bricks, rolling around until his clothes were covered in a fine layer of dust. Hooking the arm of his sweater on to a nail, he ripped the sleeve in two places. Then he rubbed his hands on an old bike chain and wiped his fingers across his jeans.

‘Hey!' said a voice. ‘What the hell are you doing?'

Kier looked up to see a builder peering over the side of the skip.

‘I'm taking a dust bath,' he said. ‘You know. Like the birds.'

The builder stared at him.

‘Are you a nutter or something?'

Kier nodded. ‘Yeah. I think I probably am.'

‘Well, go and be a nutter somewhere else,' said the builder, throwing a plank of wood into the end of the skip. ‘Some of us have got work to do.'

‘You and me both,' said Kier.

He climbed out and stared at himself in a window. He now looked like someone who had slept in a skip. Like someone who'd been rolling around in one, in fact.

‘I know I'm an idiot,' said Kier, when Jackson answered the phone. ‘You don't have to tell me.'

‘I don't think you're an idiot,' said Jackson. ‘Impetuous, yes. But that's a very different thing.'

In the background Kier could hear the chirruping of cicadas and imagined Jackson sitting beneath his sunshade, cup of tea in hand.

‘So, I gather the police were rather quick to arrive?'

‘Yeah, less than five minutes.' Kier had detected a note of concern in Jackson's voice. ‘Why, do you think they've got something to do with it?'

‘It's probably nothing. But I think it's best not to
involve them any more than we have to at this stage, hmm?'

‘OK.' Kier reddened, knowing this was Jackson's way of telling him not to mess up again. ‘Sorry about that.'

‘All right. I want you to head south of the river and check out an area near Putney Bridge. It's a stretch of about a kilometre, just west of Wandsworth Park. But listen, it's the same place your dad was working just before he was killed, so you need to be careful. Keep your head down and stay low-profile, OK?'

Kier glanced at his ripped sweater and oil-stained jeans.

‘I don't think that'll be a problem,' he said.

‘When you get there, look out for any drug deals going down. If you can, buy some coke and test it with the swabs we gave you. If it's genuine, find out where they live and then we can tag them 24/7, find out who's supplying them and hopefully who the guy in the photo is.'

‘Is that it?' asked Kier, who had been hoping for something a bit more interesting. ‘Is that all you want me to do?'

‘Patience is a virtue,' said Jackson. ‘Didn't Chiang teach you that?'

It was dark when Kier joined the queue outside the soup kitchen. He'd been walking up and down for several hours and the nearest he'd come to a crime was some old guy spitting on the pavement. It was hardly Crime Central.

‘Ain't seen you round here before,' said a voice.

Kier turned to see a man in a shabby coat and wellington boots standing behind him. He had the squashed nose and cauliflower ears of a man who has been in plenty of fights and lost most of them.

‘I'm new,' said Kier.

The man nodded.

‘We were all new once. But you'd best not let on. There are people here who'll take advantage.'

‘What kind of people?'

The man shrugged.

‘All kinds. Just watch your back.'

‘Thanks. I'll do that.'

As the queue shuffled forward, Kier noticed two men step out from the shadows beneath the bridge. As he watched, a third man stopped and thrust his hand forward as if he was handing something over. It looked promising but Kier didn't want to appear too interested, so he turned his attention back to the lights of the van.

‘What's your name son?' asked the guy with the squashed nose.

‘Jack,' said Kier, remembering the form in the phone shop.

‘What's yours?'

‘Nuggy.'

‘Well, Nuggy …' Kier held out his hand. ‘It's good to meet you, I guess.'

Nuggy gripped his hand and Kier felt the firm, angry remains of years spent going nowhere.

‘Take my advice, Jack. Stay away from those people.'

‘What people?'

‘I saw the way you were looking at 'em. They'll make you believe heaven's waiting right around the corner, but take my word for it, kid – hell's the only place they're heading. And they'll take you with 'em, easy as blinking.'

‘How do you know?' asked Kier.

‘Because,' said Nuggy, ‘I've been there.'

And it was only then, as he looked into Nuggy's eyes, that Kier caught a brief glimpse of the man he might have been, a man who didn't want Kier to tread the path he had taken.

When they reached the van, Nuggy pushed Kier in front of him and pointed at a cup of soup on the counter.

‘There you go, kid. Put some meat on your bones.'

‘Thanks.' Kier passed a cup back to Nuggy and then took one for himself.

‘You know what I dreamed last night?' asked Nuggy. ‘I dreamed I turned up here and they were serving pizza. With extra anchovies.'

‘Dream on,' said the thin, bearded man behind the counter. He turned to Kier. ‘This your first night?'

‘First of many, I guess,' said Kier.

He took a sip from the cup and tasted watery vegetable soup.

‘Where are you staying?'

Kier shrugged. ‘I haven't figured that one out yet.'

‘Under the bridge is best,' said a pale man with dirt under his nails. ‘Reckon we can make room for a littl'un.'

‘What about them?' asked Kier, nodding towards the figures beneath the bridge.

‘They won't stay long,' said Nuggy. ‘They'll do their business and then they'll be gone.'

‘Business?' asked Kier. ‘What kind of business?'

The pale man chuckled. ‘Bit wet behind the ears this one, ain't he? They're dealers, kid. If your money's good, they'll get you anything you want. So it's kind of lucky you ain't got no money. Cos that's all those scumbags are interested in. If you ain't got money, they'll leave you alone.'

Kier thought of the roll of banknotes concealed in his sock and decided to play this one carefully.

‘Hang on,' he said. ‘I just need the toilet. I'll be back in a minute.'

Walking up the steps to the main street, he took two twenties from his sock and folded them into his sleeve before cutting along the top of the embankment and past the bridge. When he reached the far side, he climbed down again and approached the bridge from the opposite direction. The two men were already talking to someone else and Kier waited while they exchanged something with him. As he disappeared into the night, Kier walked beneath the bridge and stopped in the shadows. He saw that both men were wearing sweatshirts with the hoods pulled over their heads.

‘Hi,' he said. ‘Nice evening.'

‘Just keep walking, street boy,' said the larger man, ‘if you know what's good for you.'

‘I
do
know what's good for me as a matter of fact,' said Kier, moving closer. ‘How about you sell me some?'

The second man curled his lip into a vicious sneer.

‘You think you can afford what we're selling?'

‘Maybe,' said Kier. ‘Maybe I got lucky.'

As he watched them move closer, Kier measured
the distance between them in his mind. They were hard men, no doubt about it, although their heavy bulk meant it would be easy enough to catch them off balance if required. But, the last thing he wanted to do was blow his cover. He would definitely have to play this one carefully.

The first man grabbed Kier's jumper and shoved him back against the brickwork.

‘Are you wasting my time?' he hissed, his face so close that Kier could smell the stale smoke and alcohol. ‘Is that what you're doing?'

‘No,' said Kier, resisting the urge to break the man's grip and show him how these things should really be done.

‘Well, that's what it feels like,' said the man, pulling his fist back. ‘And we hate people wasting our time, don't we, Ryan?'

Whoever Ryan was, he nodded and grinned.

‘We sure do, Maggot.'

Ryan and Maggot
, thought Kier.
Sounds like some third-rate cop show
.

‘I've got money,' said Kier, pulling the two twenties from his sleeve. ‘I just wanted to buy some stuff, that's all.'

‘Oh yeah?' Maggot's eyes flashed nastily as he snatched the money from Kier's hand. ‘What kind of stuff?'

‘What have you got?'

Maggot grinned so that Kier could see the gaps between his teeth.

‘Nothing for you,' he said, tucking the money into the pocket of his jeans. ‘In fact the only thing you're buying is the chance to walk away from here without a broken nose.'

‘All right,' said Kier, trying one last shot, ‘but you gotta help me. I don't want to live like this no more. I see you guys in your smart clothes and trainers and I want to be a dealer like you. Please. Just tell me how to get started.'

Kier was so caught up with the acting that when Maggot's fist slammed into his stomach he was completely unprepared and doubled over as if he'd been shot. Then Ryan stepped forward and Kier went down in a flurry of punches, curling himself up into a ball while he thought about what he should do next. Although he didn't want to blow his cover, he really didn't want his head used for football practice either.

He decided to cut his losses and go for their knees when suddenly the kicking stopped and Maggot pulled him to his feet again.

‘Now get this straight,' he said. ‘This is our patch and no one moves in on it.
No one
. Understand?'

‘Yeah,' said Kier, wiping blood from his mouth. ‘I got that.'

As the punches began again, he decided enough was enough. He was just getting ready to knock the pair of them into the river when he heard the sound of voices and looked up to see Nuggy and a few of the other guys heading towards them.

‘You boys want trouble?' Nuggy was shouting. ‘I'll give you trouble.'

He began rolling up his sleeves and Kier could see the faded blue tattoos swirling across his forearms.

The two men stopped what they were doing and turned to face Nuggy.

‘Stay away, old man,' said Maggot. ‘This ain't none of your business.'

‘Well, maybe I want to make it my business,' said Nuggy, still walking.

‘Your choice,' said Maggot.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at Nuggy's head. As Nuggy stopped, Maggot smiled a thin nasty smile.

‘What's the matter, old man? Changed your mind?'

‘Leave the kid alone,' said Nuggy. ‘Just let him go.'

‘Here's an idea. Why don't you come over here and make me?'

Kier saw the madness glittering in Maggot's eyes and knew he wasn't bluffing. But Nuggy continued to stand his ground.

‘You want to shoot me? Then go right ahead. But remember, the police don't bother too much with us down here at the moment.'

‘What's that s'posed to mean?'

‘It means that if they find an old man with a bullet in his head, it's gonna make them look bad. So then they'll come around kicking a few dustbins until they find someone to blame. And while that's happening, all your customers are going to vanish into thin air.'

‘He could be right,' said Ryan.

‘Shut up,' said Maggot. ‘Just shut up.'

‘Leave it,' said Ryan. ‘It's not worth it.'

Maggot thought for a moment. Then he turned and pointed the gun at Kier.

‘You,' he said. ‘Get up.'

Kier saw Maggot's finger twitch on the trigger and wasn't about to argue.

‘Don't do anything stupid,' Kier said, putting his hands in the air.

‘Like what?' asked Maggot. ‘Like letting you live, you mean?'

‘No, you can do that,' said Kier. ‘That'd be absolutely fine.'