Hot Seat (30 page)

Nevin said nothing. I reached for the keys and he stamped a foot over them.

‘Don't.'

I straightened. ‘Give me one reason why I shouldn't.'

‘I can't.'

‘You can and you will, because I'm not leaving without an explanation. As I see it, you're a guilty man. Was that guilt the reason you attended Jason's funeral when no one else from Ragged did?'

‘Call her, Aidy,' Dylan said. ‘Throw him to the wolves.'

‘No, don't. Please. Let me explain.'

Nevin ran his hands through his hair. He removed his foot from the keys, picked them up and slipped them into his pocket without wiping the mud off.

‘OK. I stayed in touch with Jason after he left. I liked him. We'd go for a pint from time to time. The last few times he kept asking about the team and the operation. I thought Russell Townsend had put him up to it, but at Earls Court he asked me to help him. He said Rags was up to his neck in something shady and he wanted to check out the car and transporter. I told him I didn't want any part of his bullshit. There's no way Rags would cross that line.'

‘But you had second thoughts?'

Nevin nodded.

‘Because Rags has coloured outside of the lines from time to time, like when he played with loan sharks?'

‘You know about that?'

‘Nothing stays a secret forever.'

‘Yeah, well. In those dark days, when Rags got behind with his payments, the heavies weren't shy about dropping by. That got me wondering if he was in trouble again, but I believe in Rags and I wouldn't go behind his back. I told Jason I wouldn't help him directly, but he could check things out himself, so I slipped him my keys at the end of the day. I said if he found anything, he was to come to me first.'

‘And did he?'

‘I don't know. Someone killed him before he got back to me.'

I opened my mouth to ask another question when I picked up on something Nevin had said. He said that he believed in Rags and wouldn't go behind his back. A frightening conclusion presented itself that left me nauseous.

‘Barry, don't tell me you told Rags.'

Nevin swallowed.

‘Barry?'

‘I had to. I couldn't go behind the man's back. He's my friend. I told him what I'd done. He told me not to worry about it and that he'd take care of it. Christ, do you think he killed Jason?'

I couldn't believe Nevin's naivety. I retreated back to my car.

‘Where are you going?' Nevin asked.

‘Don't let him go and don't let him call anyone,' I told Dylan.

‘No worries. Where you going?'

‘To talk to Rags, of course.'

I
reached the Ragged Racing workshop around lunchtime. Rags' Mercedes was the only car parked out front. I pulled up alongside it and went inside. I found Rags in his office staring at the ceiling. Had he been sitting there since he'd sent everyone home?

I took that as a good sign. He was a desperate man. Desperate men made decisions from a place of weakness.

What wasn't a good sign was that I was possibly meeting with Jason's killer alone. He had every reason and now the opportunity to have killed Jason that night. I was keeping that titbit to myself for the moment. I had to hook Rags with a separate line first.

I leaned in through his door. ‘Got a minute?'

‘Can't it wait, Aidy?'

‘No.'

He sat up in his seat. ‘OK. What do you want?'

‘Assurances.'

‘What assurances?'

I took that as an invite to enter his office. Instead of taking a seat, I stretched out on the sofa against the opposite wall. I was being disrespectful on purpose. I had a part to play. ‘I know you've been talking to Chloe Mercer about replacing me. I'm here to tell you that's not going to happen. What also isn't going to happen is you dumping me at the end of the season.'

‘You've got some nerve.'

For the first time, I saw the spark back in Rags' eyes. Not surprising. He thought he was talking to someone he could dominate. I just grinned, reached into my pocket and tossed him a packet containing a few ounces of cocaine. It landed on his desk. Claudia had gotten me the cocaine from Custom's supply once she'd gotten on board with our plan.

Rags eyed the packet but made no attempt to touch it. ‘What's that?'

‘You should know. I found that in the wheel of my car. Actually, it was a lot more than that, but I just needed a sample.'

Rags picked up the resealable bag and opened it. He wetted his little finger, dabbed it in the powder and tasted it. The colour drained from his face.

‘I know what you're doing and I want in.'

Rags spat the cocaine out. He resealed the bag and tossed it back on his desk. ‘And what's that?'

‘Do I really have to say it?'

‘Yes.' Rags' voice cracked.

‘You're transporting drugs in your cars. You're hiding them in the tyres of the cars and when we reach the tracks, someone comes and takes the wheels. Genius, really. No one gives these transporters a second look at the border crossing. The Customs people are all dazzled by the big, shiny racecars, so it never occurs to them that it would be a Trojan horse.'

‘Except for you.'

‘Not really. I wouldn't have guessed in a thousand years if I hadn't noticed it leaking from one of my tyres,' I lied. ‘I thought it was chalk dust. Dylan tried to pop the tyre and guess what came tumbling out?'

Rags said nothing.

‘It was so obvious you were up to something. You were spending money on exclusive testing and R&D like it was water, but you didn't have the sponsorship to back it up. I'd bet you're two hundred grand shy of balancing the books every season. Everyone thinks you're up to something, but no one would have guessed you were a drug trafficker.'

I could have kept going, bringing Andrew Gates into the mix, but I'd be overplaying my hand. I was playing the part of the greedy driver in over his head. I wanted Rags to bring me into the fold and take me to Gates.

‘You think you're pretty clever, don't you?'

‘Not really. I'm lucky more than anything, but I'm clever enough to know an opportunity when I see it.'

‘And you see one here?'

‘Yeah.'

Rags shook his head in disappointment. ‘I didn't think you were the type for this sort of thing.'

‘I could say the same about you.'

My answer forced a slight smile from Rags. ‘So you want a longer contract in return for your silence, is that it? What, three years?'

‘To start with.'

‘To start with? What more do you want? A lifetime contract?'

I shook my head. ‘No, a three-year deal will do me very nicely. We can always renegotiate at the end or I can move on. But no, I want a piece of this. I need a pension plan and what you're doing is it. I want five grand a month. That'll guarantee my silence.'

Rags threw back his head and laughed. ‘Christ, you must be a racing driver, because you've got the worst fucking timing off the track. Remember that little roadside incident at Zandvoort? That was the nail in the operation's coffin. It's over.'

Rags picked up the little baggie of coke and tossed it to me. It landed at my feet.

‘You should have taken more because your pension plan is worth precisely as much as you can sell that for. I'll give you your three-year contract. Fuck it, I'll give you ten, but Ragged Racing will be done before the end of the season. You were right. I don't have the money to keep this team afloat. I could have gotten loans, but the problem with them is that you have to pay them back and without a sponsor, loans only delay the inevitable. I needed money without ties and the money I get from trafficking keeps this team afloat. Without it, it sinks fast. You raided the piggy bank after it was emptied.'

Rags laughed again and pushed past me on the way to his office. ‘Now, let's write up that contract.'

I was prepared for this eventuality. I let him reach the door to the offices before I called to him. ‘I still want my five grand a month. I don't care how you come up with it. Just make it happen or I'm going to the cops and you can explain yourself to them.'

‘Tell them. See how far that gets you. They won't find anything and if you do, I'll tell them you're a mean-spirited little prick trying to screw me over because you can't hack it in the big time. Trust me, I can sell that and the cops will buy it. Goodnight, Aidy. See you next week.'

‘Call your boss. I want to speak to him.'

‘No. You're getting out of your league now. These people won't buckle to your threats.'

‘I'm not threatening him. I have an offer for him.'

‘What have you got to offer?'

‘A new pipeline.'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘The cops are on to you, but they're not on to me. Steve is receiving and shipping cars from all over the world. Why can't there be something inside of those cars?'

‘You want to drag your grandfather into this?'

‘He doesn't have to know. I can make it part of his personalized service. Who wouldn't want their restored car delivered to them by up-and-coming racing driver, Aidy Westlake?'

Rags was silent for a moment. I hoped my bait was enticing.

‘I'll cut you in. You'll keep Ragged Racing on the track.'

How could Rags turn down an offer like that? The chance to recover a hopeless situation had to be irresistible.

‘Do you really want to follow through on this?'

‘Yeah.'

Rags was silent. He was thinking about it. It was there on his face. He was looking into the future and he saw himself there.

‘Come into the office.'

I followed him in. He punched a number into his mobile, but no one picked up. I didn't think anyone would. He didn't have anything to offer, until now. His call went to voicemail.

‘Hey, it's me. Aidy Westlake knows everything, but he wants to make us an offer. He has an alternative to what we're doing. I think you should listen to him.'

Rags hung up and tossed the phone on his desk. We didn't say anything to each other. There was nothing to say.

It was an hour before his mobile burst into song.

Rags answered. He was cool, calm and collected with his explanation. He wasn't the same Rags I'd witnessed at the factory, coming apart one piece at a time when his calls went unanswered. He was back in the game.

He listened to his boss for several minutes before hanging up.

‘Be back here at ten tomorrow night. Make sure you have all your facts straight. You won't get a second shot at this.'

S
ince my meeting with Rags wasn't until tonight, I had the day to kill, so it was time to kill Jenni Oglesby's blackmailing scheme stone dead. I had Rags to deal with. I didn't need Jenni's scam distracting me. I called her over a late breakfast.

‘You got the money?' Jenni Oglesby asked.

It was just a phone call, but my heart was banging away in my chest. I glanced at Steve and Dylan sitting across my desk at Archway for some comfort. They looked just as wound up as I did. So much for a problem shared is a problem halved.

I tapped the envelope with the fifteen grand in it. ‘Yeah, it's here in front of me.'

‘Good. Meet me at the Englefield Green Town football ground. Do you know where that is?'

‘No.'

I wrote down the directions she gave me.

‘I'll be waiting,' she said and hung up.

‘You ready for this?' Steve asked me.

‘As ready as I'll ever be.'

‘He's got nothing to worry about. He'll have me there backing him up,' Dylan said. ‘Jenni's had the upper hand until now. Her taking a payoff changes everything. The second she takes the money, it's over. She's a blackmailer and Aidy is the victim. Done and dusted.'

Steve took the pad with the directions written on it from me. ‘She wants to meet at a football field?'

I nodded. ‘On the centre spot.'

‘A big, open space. That makes it hard for you to get close,' he said to Dylan.

‘Don't worry. I'll get it all recorded,' he said.

‘Let's go then. She wants to meet now.'

Dylan rode with me. I didn't see the need for two cars. It was going to be a straightforward exchange.

As I drove, Dylan downloaded an app called Dictaphone to my mobile. It effectively turned my phone into a digital recorder. He checked and double-checked the function. With the phone in my jacket pocket, the recording app captured my voice with little loss of quality. The beauty of turning my phone into a recording device was that no one would think twice about me having my phone with me.

Englefield Green was a short drive from Windsor. The football pitch's stand came into view, sticking up over the neighbouring houses. I pulled over at the side of the road.

‘Do you think she's got anyone watching?' I asked.

‘Out here? If someone's put her up to this, I'd expect her to have friends with her.'

Outnumbered and outgunned, I thought.

‘OK, game time,' Dylan said. ‘Give me a couple of minutes to get into position then do your thing.'

I nodded.

He jumped out of the car and jogged ahead.

A few minutes later, Dylan called me. ‘OK, I've got a good spot with a clear view of the pitch. Jenni's waiting for you. And she's alone. I like how this is shaping up. Go get her.'

I hung up on Dylan, turned on the Dictaphone app and pocketed the phone. At the stadium, I stopped next to Jenni's Ford Fiesta. It was the only other car in the car park. To call the Englefield Green Town's ground a stadium was an exaggeration. It was home to a non-league club several tiers down from anything close to a professional club. There was only one covered stand, running the length of the field. The other three sides were exposed to the elements and had no seating. I got out of my car and walked through the main gate on to the pitch.