Heaven's Door (29 page)

“Yes, yes, okay.”

David relaxed his grip but kept his hand in place under his chin.

“Now, I'll ask again. Who is your usual source?”

“Sammo. Sammo Sampson. I don't know what his real first name is; everybody just calls him Sammo. And he's legit, anyway.”

“So why didn't you want to tell me his name?”

“I don't know – just habit, I guess.”

David released him.

“Let's see those pictures again,” said Laser.

David took them from the envelope and handed them over. Laser shuffled through them, selecting one and showing it to David.

“There,” he said, pointing at the still.

It was the image with Laser face-on to the camera with his hood down. Across the street on the very edge of the frame, a figure facing a shop window was at that moment looking over his shoulder at Jack and Laser.

“That's Sammo?” asked David.

“Yes, that's him.”

“So what was he doing there when you were checking out this new guy? I would have thought Sammo would be well pissed off with somebody selling on his patch.”

Laser thought for a moment. “Yes, it's fucking weird, actually. It was Sammo who put me on to him. I went to him for the usual and he said he'd subbed to this new guy.”

“Subbed?”

“You know, like he'd got himself a partner, and I had to go to him this time – well, from now on, he said. So he took me to this place and we stood around for ages – where he is in the picture, across the street – and waited for him. And this guy – that guy,” he pointed at Jack, “came along. I thought Sammo would take me over and, like, introduce us. But he just said ‘there he is, go see him', or something.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“You're right,” said David. “That
is
fucking weird. Did you ask him why?”

“No, man. I was desperate for the stuff. As long as I got it from somebody. It's only now that I've thought about it – and another thing; I had to wait until the guy had come so far down the street before I approached him. Like there was a special place where he did his trade.”

“So when this guy told you to fuck off, why didn't you tell him Sammo sent you?”

“He said not to. ‘Just go and ask, like it was me', he said.”

“So you left him and went back across to Sammo?”

“I went back to where I'd been waiting with him, but he'd disappeared, slipped away. I guess he must have only just gone because he's in the picture there. I tell you, I was really pissed off. It was early next day before I found him and told him about it.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said he didn't know what had gone wrong. He'd been told everything was cool with this guy. He said perhaps he thought he was being followed, so just played it dumb.”

“But that wouldn't matter if he was legit, would it? And you said same thing happened the second time?”

“Sammo said it had all been sorted for next time, but, yes, same thing – ‘fuck off!' – only he seemed to really mean it this time, so I didn't push it at all.”

“And that was it? Nothing else?”

“I went to see Sammo again and he said something was screwed up big-time, and told me to lie low for a few weeks. He'd get the stuff to me in the meantime and tell me when it was safe to come back out again. That's what I did. It was only last week he told me all clear.”

“If this was all legit stuff, Laser, why all this ducking and weaving in the shadows, going into hiding for weeks? It's all supposed to be out in the open, right?”

Laser raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Now you're shitting
me.
The only thing that's changed is you don't get done for selling the soft stuff. It's still a fucking war zone on the streets between the dealers,
and
the traders. You know that.”

*

Tom arrived at the Holding Centre just after 3.15 pm, in plenty of time to prepare for his meeting with Jack. After five minutes he was all set. He screwed up the small envelope, dropping it onto the floor of the car, and replaced the first aid kit in the glove compartment. Closing the driver's door gently and with great deliberation, he turned and walked towards the reception area.

He stopped briefly on the steps outside before entering, breathing deeply.

*

David removed the keys from the ignition and his mobile from the hands-free console.

“Don't move an inch. Right?”

He got out of the car and sent a text to Jo. ‘Know you're a busy girl. Call when you can. Important.'

He paced up and down for a few minutes, occasionally glancing at Laser, who seemed to be frozen in the one position, eyes looking straight ahead. When it was clear Jo would not be calling right away, he eased himself back behind the wheel,

“Okay, so far so good,” said David. “Just a couple more things, then I'll try and call the boss again. Who's the big guy behind Sammo?”

Laser looked shocked.

“I don't know,” he said.

“Laser, Laser, Laser,” David said, shaking his head. “And just when I thought you were going to make it. What a pity. That nice old lady back there is really going to miss you.”

“Sammo'll fucking kill me.”

“He
might
, I guess. But I'll
definitely
kill you if you hold out on me. So you decide.”

David opened the glove box and took out the replica Gloch 17 pistol. He pretended to dust it down with his hand.

“Long time since I used this,” he said. “It'll make a nice change.”

“I don't know his name,” said Laser. “They call him ‘Duke' or ‘The Duke'. I think he lives in Woking but I'm not sure where. I've never met him, honest. Never even seen him.”

“So how do you know him?”

“Sammo's always threatening me with him. You know, if I complain about the price going up or if some of the stuff's real shit or late or whatever. He says he'll tell the Duke and he'll come and talk to me about it. Sammo's shit scared of him, you can tell.”

“And you've never seen him?”

“No.”

“So you don't know what he looks like?”

“No idea. Don't know anything else. Honestly, mister, and I don't want to.” Laser's voice had changed to a whine. “Please can I go now?”

David picked up the mobile and pressed one of the keys. Laser looked at the phone, wide-eyed, as he heard their voices played back.

“Don't worry, Laser. This is insurance against you choosing to clam up later or change your story. But first, we're going for a little ride.”

He copied the postcode on the back of the CCTV image into the satnav on top of the dashboard, and gave it the habitual tap with his forefinger.

“Fasten your seat belt.”

*

“What's this, sir?”

Emily Parker dangled the locket questioningly in front of him. Her usual friendly expression had been replaced by a hard, accusing glare.

“It's a locket, what does it look like?”

“Okay, let me put it another way. Why is it still in your jacket when Phoebe asked you to empty your pockets … sir?”

“Look, it's just an old memento of his great grandmother's,” Tom said. “Something Jack asked me to bring for him to take away. What harm can it possibly do? He's not going to bloody hang himself with it, for Christ's sake. Look how thin the chain is!”

“That's not the point, is it? If you wanted to take this to Jack, then why not ask?”

“Well, I …”

“And where does it stop, sir. The rule is –
nothing
goes in. Not
my
rule, sir
, your
rule – indirectly, anyway.”

Phoebe and Jools watched anxiously as the tension mounted.

“If we let
you
do it, Home Secretary …” Emily continued, opening the locket and checking the photographs inside.

“Look,” said Tom, “Emily, isn't it? Well, Emily, I'm going to pull rank here,” he forced a smile. “I'm taking this in for my son. You'll have to wrestle me to the ground to prevent that, and whereas under different circumstances such action would be more than acceptable, I beg you not to try it today. And I promise, I will take full responsibility for this deviation from procedure.”

Emily bristled.

“Actually, Home Secretary, you
may
take it in to Jack. But not because you've pulled rank, as you put it, but because
I
have decided you can. Now, could you turn out your pockets again, please, so we can be sure you're not hiding anything else?”

Tom pulled his trouser pockets inside-out while Emily searched his jacket again.

“Thank you, Home Secretary,” she said, handing it back to him along with the locket. Jools scanned Tom again with the metal detector as he put his jacket back on, placing the chain in his right hand pocket.

“Jack's waiting,” said Emily.

Tom's heart was pounding as Jools reached over, punched in the four-digit code and opened the door. Emily took out her mobile as he entered the room.

Jack rose from his chair as his father entered. The central glass screen was raised and Tom stepped forward to embrace him. Both men were shaking, a fact not lost on the three POs watching from outside. Clicking heels sounded in the corridor as Alison Anders walked up to join them, taking a chair at the table in front of the screen.

“They seem really agitated today,” said Emily. “Little wonder, I suppose. Getting so close …”

*

“Everything okay, then?” asked Jack. They sat down.

“Yes.” Tom's voice was faint enough to prompt Jools to turn up the volume on the wall-mounted microphones.

“You've got it?”

“I've got it.”

*

“Anything on Heaven's door yet?” Emily asked.

“Might get lucky,” whispered Alison, without taking her eyes off the screen. “Judy's tracked down one of the Home Secretary's old Special Forces buddies. They're a nightmare to find; they never release their real names to the public, you know, even when they're getting a medal or something, or after they leave. Anyway, some guy called McNaughton, regular member of his unit, I believe. She's left a message and asked him to get back to her as soon…”

Jools interrupted. “Sssshhh… please, ma'am.”

“Sorry.”

*

Tom took out the locket, holding it in front of him and slightly to the side. He appeared to be opening and shutting it, and cleaning it with his fingers. Jack looked intently across at it.

“This is what you asked for,” said Tom, his voice wavering. “For if there are really bad times; it might help.”

Jack looked momentarily confused. Tom handed it over to him.

*

“Now I think about it, do you ever remember him asking for a locket?” Jools said.

“What do you mean?” asked Phoebe.

“Well, when you found the locket he said that Jack had asked for it. I don't remember him asking for anything, do you?”

“Well, no, but we've not been here for every visit.”

“No but we've heard the recordings, seen the transcripts. Nothing comes to mind. Here, let's see.”

He turned to the PC on the table and brought up the file containing the verbatim transcripts of all Jack's meetings with his family. He clicked on Edit, then Find, typed in ‘locket', and clicked on Find Next.

“‘Search item not found',” he read from the screen. “No mention of a locket.”

“Try … pendant,” said Phoebe.

Jools went through it again.

“No.”

“Chain?”

“No.”

Alison was looking at the PC screen now.

“What did he call it – a ‘memento'?” said Jools, typing it in. “No, not that either. I don't think he's asked for anything like that.”

“Then what …?”

*

Jack opened the locket slowly with a sharp intake of breath. He remained silent for a full minute, staring at it, eyes wide and moist. Tom had slumped back in his chair. He rallied, sitting upright and speaking firmly to his son.

“At least it will always be there, Jack. Hopefully you won't need it, but … nice to have a reminder of the …the …times … good times …” His voice was breaking; he couldn't continue and slumped back again.

*

Alison's phone rang. She checked the caller on the display.

“It's Judy,” she said. “She'll leave a message.”

*

“The thing is” – Jack was speaking now, slowly and calmly – “this will never get back to my room. They'll take it off me as soon as you leave.” He paused, still staring at the locket. “I do really appreciate what you've done, Dad. It must have been just about the worst thing I could have asked of you … But you did it and, as I say, I'm very grateful.” He looked up at his father. “And I want you to know that I do love you, more than I can say. I've always been so proud of you.” He paused and shook his head slowly. “You know, I can't stop thinking about those two guys on the wire. Judge's nephew, one of them, wasn't he; most likely singled out for what his uncle stood for. So imagine – the Home Secretary's son. Shit, what will they do to me?”

*

“Answer it,
please!”
Judy pressed the speed-call number again. She got up from her desk and left the office, heading for the holding area. Still no answer. She started to run, kicking off her high heels and racing along the corridor as she tried again.

Third time lucky.

*

“
What!
”

Alison, was still half-listening to the conversation in the visiting room as Judy breathlessly gave her the information she had just received from ex-Major Anthony McNaughton. She leapt to her feet.