Hearts of Stone (10 page)

23

B
y that time the staff in the place were giving us
very
weird looks and starting to whisper to each other.

‘I think we'd better go,' I said.

‘You reckon?'

‘Unless you want to get involved with the local Old Bill.'

‘I'd rather eat lunch.'

‘Let's go, then.'

‘OK.'

We drank up and left. I felt every eye in the room on us as we went. ‘Where to?' I asked when we got outside. To tell you the truth, I just fancied getting off the street quick. I really didn't care where we went. The whole business was beginning to get to me.

‘Chinese?' asked Brady.

‘That'll do.'

We walked up to the corner. On the next street, out of sight of the bar, was a Pekinese restaurant. It looked OK from the outside. We walked in and I sighed with relief. The main man came perambulating over and showed us to a table in the corner, behind an overgrown cheeseplant. It was quiet inside, so we got one meant for four. I can't stand eating at little tables. The waiter came over with the menus and we ordered up a pair of G&Ts and a couple of rounds of prawn crackers to be going on with.

I scanned the menu and knew exactly what I wanted. I'm a sucker for sweetcorn and crab-meat soup. I can't resist it. After that I fancied prawns in chilli sauce, soft noodles in a soup, and stir-fried vegetables. Brady wanted butterfly prawns and spring-rolls, then he wanted to ponce around with the crispy duck, so I said I'd have a bit – but I always eat too many of the pancakes and spoil the rest of the meal. Then he chose crispy fried beef, Szechuan-style sweet and sour pork and egg fried rice. No one was going to go hungry at our table, that was for sure. The waiter came over and we ordered. Plus Brady asked for a bottle of house white. The waiter left us to our gins and scurried off to the kitchen with our order.

‘You were getting very friendly with Seeley yesterday,' I said.

‘Prat. I'd like to wring his scrawny little neck. You were getting pretty friendly with
Jools
. His wife, indeed.'

‘So what's all that about?'

‘Christ knows. She's just some old slapper he pulled out of a whorehouse somewhere. That's his game.'

‘Maybe it's love,' I said.

‘Don't ask me,' he said. ‘I never could understand heterosexuals. Anyway, whatever she is, don't be getting
too
pally. I hear he's a jealous man.'

‘Don't worry,' I said. ‘I won't. She's not my type.' Which was a lie. ‘She asked me if I was gay like you.'

‘She sussed me out, did she?'

‘In a minute.'

He shrugged.

‘What do you reckon to Hughes?' I asked, changing the subject.

‘A real charmer. I wouldn't trust him with a stick of gum. He's the one to watch. He's carrying, too.'

‘Is that right?'

‘Yeah. Didn't you notice?'

‘Out of practice,' I said. ‘Do you think it was him that killed your two men?'

‘We don't know. If we had evidence, don't you think we'd move on him without all this play-acting?'

‘Well, do you think it was one of his firm?'

‘I keep telling you, we don't know. They're not the only targets that the squad are chasing. It could be any of them. Or none of them. Now, don't keep asking stupid questions.'

‘OK,' I said. ‘Keep your shirt on. Tell me what happened yesterday.'

‘I tested the stuff they had with them. Good gear. Top of the range. But, like I said, you'd expect that. I ordered a kilo.'

‘How much?'

‘Thirty-five thousand quid.'

‘Good deal.'

‘A bargain. They think we could be doing a lot of business. Normally it would be cut by about a third and split into quarter-kilos and sold on at fifty a gram. But then you know all about that, don't you?'

‘I know,' I said. ‘Do you think it'll be the same quality as the sample?'

‘You're talking like a real drug-dealer, Nick. You'll have to watch that. It really doesn't matter, does it? It's not going to be sold on. It'll be destroyed.'

‘Sorry, I forgot. But playing along. How much are you going to buy in the really big deal.'

‘10K.'

‘At?'

‘Depends on how I hustle it. Between twenty-five and thirty a gram. Anything up to three hundred thousand.'

I whistled. ‘That's a lot of money.'

‘It's a lot of drugs,' he said. ‘And a lot of porridge for the people who sell them. So I hope they do a lot of talking about who they're working for.'

‘And I'll be in a lot of trouble,' I said.

He didn't reply.

‘They'll want me dead, you know that,' I went on.

He shrugged and pulled a face. ‘Not necessarily. Getting a pull is part of their job description. They're never going to know who blew the whistle. I'm not sticking around. I'll be gone to pastures new. They'll probably finger me as a grass. We just make sure you get bail and they don't.'

‘They'll still be looking for me.'

‘Too bad.'

‘For
me
.'

‘You'll survive, Nick. If you don't like the deal, we can always bring out the gun with your prints all over it.'

‘I could always do a runner,' I said.

‘You could always try.'

Just then the food arrived. We got stuck in. I took the pragmatic view of the whole thing. Hell, you've got to eat. And it was good, even if the company was a bit under the arm.

I pressed Brady for more details of the actual transaction, but he wouldn't play. ‘We work on a need-to-know basis,' he said, touching the side of his nose. ‘And right now you don't. You'll be told all in good time.'

We finished the meal and Brady paid from a wad of notes
that
thick, and he drove me back through town to my place. ‘Got a date tonight?' he asked as he drew up in front of the house.

‘That's right.'

‘Your sex life is improving. See, things aren't
all
bad working for the Met.'

‘I think I'd rather be celibate,' I said.

‘Don't kid yourself.'

‘I wouldn't dream of it.'

‘Course you wouldn't. Listen, I'll be in touch soon. This thing'll be going down in the next few days. Keep yourself available. All right?'

‘For you, always,' I said.

He grinned ‘That's what I like to hear. Have fun tonight. Don't do anything I wouldn't.'

‘Just the opposite,' I said, as I got out of the car.

24

T
hat evening I drove up to town, parked in the NCP at Lexington Street and walked round to the pub where I was due to meet Kylie. It was a chilly evening with a hint of rain in the air, so I took a light mackintosh with me to wear over my suit.

The Sun And Seven Cantons is a big old boozer on the corner of Beak and Great Pulteney Street. I arrived there maybe ten minutes early, got in a bottle of Bud, and took a seat at a table where I could watch both doors.

Kylie arrived at five past. Her thick blonde hair was swept back, her make-up was a masterpiece of understatement, and in the tan Burberry she was wearing with the Hermès scarf tied round her throat she looked about as much like a whore as my granny. She peered round, clocked me, smiled and came over. A couple of the male customers watched her as she crossed the carpet. I didn't blame them. I would have done the same myself in their shoes.

‘Hello,' she said when she got close.

‘You're looking good,' I said, and stood up. A proper gentleman. Mum would have been proud of me.

‘Thanks.' She touched my hand briefly, then sat down.

I remained standing. ‘Drink?' I asked.

‘Sure.'

‘Champagne?'

She smiled. ‘I was a bit over the top the other night, wasn't I?'

‘You might say that.'

‘Was I bad?'

‘The worst.'

‘Did you mind?' she asked, and raised her eyebrows coquettishly. Some woman can play that game. Some can't. She could.

‘Not at all. So, what are you drinking?'

‘Vodka and tonic, please.'

I went to the bar and ordered her drink, and another beer for me. When I was back and seated opposite her, she said, ‘I hope I wasn't late.'

‘No.'

‘Have you been here long?'

I tapped the first Budweiser bottle. ‘That long,' I said.

‘So you didn't mind waiting?'

‘No.'

‘So what are we going to do tonight?' she asked.

‘Eat, drink and be merry, I suppose.'

‘Sounds good to me.'

‘Where shall we eat?' I asked.

‘I don't care.'

‘What do you like?'

‘Anything.'

‘In particular?'

‘I'm not fussy. You choose,' she said.

‘Italian?' I asked.

‘I could go a pasta. Good for my figure.'

‘I don't think you've got a lot to worry about on that score.'

‘Thank you,' she said, and her eyes softened.

‘Don't mention it. So, come on, then, it's your manor. Have you got a favourite Italian restaurant round here?'

‘There's a good one in Wardour Street.'

‘That's it, then.'

We finished our drinks and left the pub and walked through Soho. The streets were crowded and Kylie took my arm, but kept stopping and dragging me back to look in shop windows. I didn't mind in the least. Eventually we got into Wardour Street and found the restaurant. The maître d' looked and sounded like Pavarotti, and welcomed Kylie like a long-lost relative. He tugged the rest of the staff out to show them who'd arrived, then slid us into a corner by the window at a table covered with a red-checkered tablecloth and brought bread sticks, butter and a bottle of Chianti without being asked.

‘You
have
been here before,' I said.

‘Often.'

‘What do you recommend?'

‘The steak in red wine sauce is always good.'

‘That'll do me. What about you?'

‘Pasta in pesto sauce.'

I caught Pavarotti's eye and he loomed over the table and we ordered. He approved of our choice, and recommended the minestrone to start. We both concurred. The food was as good as she'd said and, after the first bottle of wine had vanished and a junior waiter had brought a second, we were chatting away like old friends. During the meal there was no mention of where we'd met or what we'd done. I finished up with an alcoholic zabaglione, and Kylie had Kiwi fruit flavoured ice-cream. By the time the coffee and brandies arrived, everything was copacetic. I looked at my watch: nine-thirty. ‘Am I keeping you?' she asked.

‘Course not. I was just thinking how time flies when you're having fun.'

‘Liar.'

‘It's true,' I insisted.

‘Then I'm flattered.'

‘So you should be. What do you want to do now?'

‘I don't mind. What are the
option
s?'

‘It's the wrong time for a film. Too early for a club. How about a drink?'

‘Good idea, but the pubs'll be packed and I hate that. How about my place? It's just round the corner and I've got a bottle of very good brandy and a coffee machine, and a pound of cap colombie.'

‘Sounds perfect. As long as you think I'm house-trained enough to be trusted there.'

‘Of course I do. It's just that I don't usually mix business and pleasure.'

‘And which am I?'

‘Both. That's why I made an exception in your case.'

‘Now I'm flattered.'

‘And so you should be.'

I called for the bill and paid with plastic, and we left to effusive farewells from Pavarotti and his chorus, and many promises to return soonest. Her flat was only a few minutes' walk away, back past the garage where I'd left the car, by a men's shop in Brewer Street. The entrance was at the back, and we reached it through a dark and smelly little entry.

‘This isn't too clever,' I said.

‘I know. I'm always stepping over drunks sleeping it off.'

‘Doesn't that worry you?'

‘I can look after myself.'

‘I hope so.'

‘I'm here, aren't I?'

She used three keys to get through the solid-looking black-painted door at the back of the building. Once inside, with the door double-locked behind us, we were standing in a tiny, dimly-lit passage with a flight of narrow stairs at the far end. Our footsteps clattered on the uncarpeted wood as we climbed the first flight, then a second which brought us to another door. Two more keys opened it and we went into a short hall with two doors off it: one to the left, one straight ahead. She pointed to the one on the side. ‘That's the loo,' she said, then opened the other, which led into the sitting room, with an open-plan kitchen on the left. Opposite was another door that I assumed led into the bedroom. This was confirmed when she took off her coat, then collected mine from me and took them both through. I saw a dressing table in front of a curtained window and the foot of a double bed. She dropped the coats on it and came back.

‘Sit down,' she invited.

I chose the flower-patterned sofa that looked like it pulled out into a bed. She went into the kitchen and plugged in the coffee machine and filled the jug with water, and a filter paper with dark roast ground coffee. When it started to gurgle nicely, she took two small balloon glasses and an unopened bottle of brandy out of a cupboard above her head. She opened the bottle. ‘Ice?' she asked.

‘As it is,' I said.

‘Me too.' She poured two generous measures into the glasses and brought them through. She kicked off her shoes and sat on the armchair opposite me. ‘Got a cigarette?' she asked.

I brought out my Silk Cut and she took one and I lit it for her. ‘Nice place,' I said.

‘It suits me.'

‘Rented?'

‘Yes. I like to move around.'

‘Where were you before?'

She didn't reply to this, just stabbed out her cigarette in the ashtray on the table next to her chair, then said, ‘The coffee'll be ready.' She got up and went back to the kitchen, where she poured two cups and brought them through on a tray with sugar and cream. ‘Just like home,' she said.

‘Better,' I said. ‘I don't get treatment like this at home.'

‘Aren't you married?'

I nearly choked on my coffee. ‘Do I look married?'

‘I don't know what married looks like.'

‘Not like me, that's for sure.'

‘You might be lying.'

‘I might be, but I'm not. I
was
married, but not anymore. She's in Scotland now with hubby number two.'

‘Was that your idea? A divorce, I mean.'

‘No. My fault, but not my idea.'

‘You don't sound too happy about it.'

‘It's got nothing to do with happiness or anything else. It's unfinished business. Something that's never been sorted. After a bit people stop listening when you say you're sorry. They get apology fatigue, I suppose. So even when it's true they don't care.'

She nodded. ‘Any children?'

‘One. Judith. She's with her mother.'

‘How old?'

‘Twelve.'

‘Do you see her?'

I shook my head. ‘I haven't seen her since last year. It's my fault. But I think it's probably better that I don't. For her, I mean.'

‘Do you miss her a lot?'

‘Yes.'

‘That's a shame.'

I nodded.

‘Don't you have a girlfriend?'

I shook my head.

‘A loner, eh?'

‘I suppose so. Not exactly by choice. More circumstance. How about you?'

She looked round. ‘There's no one here.'

‘Is there anyone anywhere?' I asked.

‘No.'

‘Another loner.'

‘That's right.'

‘Two loners in Soho.'

‘Sounds like a song,' she said.

‘A pretty sad one.'

‘Talking of songs, shall I put on some music?'

‘What have you got?'

‘Not much. I don't have much of anything. It weighs me down.' She got up and went over to the stereo system and started going through the pile of tapes. ‘Genesis?' she asked.

‘I could live without them.'

‘Dire Straits?'

‘No.'

‘Elton John, The Police, Madonna, The Beatles?'

‘Give me a break. Let's take a look.'

I put down my cup and went and joined her. I could smell her perfume again, and she rested her hip against mine. It felt solid and warm. I looked through the cassettes and found a Motown compilation and the latest Neville Brothers album. The stereo had twin tape decks and I put in the two cassettes and pushed both play buttons. The first track was
Tears Of A Clown
by The Miracles which I think I've only heard about a million times, but it still beat Phil Collins and Sting every way up. Kylie set the volume control and we went back and sat down again.

‘Why did you ask me out?' she said.

‘Who knows? We just seemed to hit it off.'

‘Literally,' she said, and laughed.

‘That's a strange place.'

‘What, Sonny's?'

‘That's right.'

‘Very.'

‘Have you worked there long?'

‘No. Just a few months.'

I almost asked her if she liked it. What a dumb question. Next only to what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like that? I think she was half expecting me to. When I didn't say anything, she added, ‘I've got to pay the rent.'

‘Don't we all.'

‘Is that why you work in a bar?'

‘Partly. There's not that many jobs open to an ex-copper caught with his fingers in the till.'

‘I can imagine.'

‘I think you gave Pat Hughes a fright when you told him.'

‘I know. I'm sorry about that. It just slipped out. I thought he knew.'

‘I told you I'd just met them.'

‘I
know.
I could have kicked myself. Too much champagne.'

‘No harm done. It's no secret.'

‘Have you seen him?'

‘Both of them. Yesterday.'

‘Business?'

‘Yes.'

‘I suppose I shouldn't ask what kind?'

‘Definitely.'

‘Don't get into trouble.'

‘Would you care if I did?'

She nodded.

‘Why?'

‘I like you.'

‘And I like you too, Kylie.'