The Courier's New Bicycle (21 page)

‘How do you know all this?'

‘The phone calls and meetings were held in Michael's den at home. I'm not a snoop, but I heard things — like, for instance, that
you
work for Gail Alvarez's distribution business. You have to understand, Michael will do whatever it takes to protect himself and his position in the party, and he's going to use its full force to go after Doug. It'll end up a massive exposé to make Nation First look good and Michael squeaky clean. Doug and Gail will be set up as collaborating in some greedy scam linked to the products of a hormone farm.' She pauses. ‘Whatever else you do apart from deliver soft toys, I don't care, but I don't want you rounded up like a criminal with the rest. Our family has been through enough.'

I chill. ‘So this is really about saving family face?'

She looks at me. ‘Sometimes I've wished you weren't family — it's been so hard, living with the shame. But this is different. I won't let that psycho hurt you.'

I'm guessing she means Doug.

‘Michael is very fastidious.' Helen starts shredding her soggy tissue. ‘He records all his phone conversations in case he needs to use them against someone. They go on a jump drive in a locked drawer of his desk. When things went wrong and the buy-out of Cute'n'Cuddly stalled, he was going to pull the plug, but Doug wasn't happy about that at all. Whatever he did next, Michael went ballistic about it over the phone.'

My thoughts race. Could ‘things going wrong' have been the poisoned kit, but Doug wouldn't give up his dream of the Smeg Empire?

‘I think I know the reason why Michael went ballistic,' I say to her. ‘Saturday night, Doug abducted Gail.'

Her lips press together. ‘That would do it.' She contemplates me a moment, then produces a key from her pocket. ‘This is to a numbered box at the GPO on Beatitude Street. In it are the phone files that link Michael — and Doug — to Gateway and its activities. I told him Doug came to our house this morning and took the jump drive.'

My breath catches. ‘You'd organise something like that?'

She gets a strange expression. ‘I did it all by myself.'

She's right: I don't know my sister any more.

‘Michael's trying to work out how to get the files back from his ex-collaborator, who doesn't have them.'

‘So it'll be your word against Doug's?'

‘Yes.' She hauls off the couch and hands me the key. ‘Sal, I need this — and you do too, now. If Michael's vendetta against Doug goes ahead, it'll destroy Gail's company, and I'll be seen by SADA's brokers as too high a risk to enter another surrogacy arrangement. But while Michael thinks Doug has the evidence to damn him, he won't go public. Our family will be protected, and the fertility centres won't refuse me another chance.'

She gets a pen from my bookshelf and writes a number on the back of my hand. ‘Nobody deserves to be at the mercy of Doug Smeg. Use the information on the jump drive to negotiate for your boss.'

I gape at her as she turns for the door.

‘I have to get back,' she says.

I'm not sure that's such a good idea. ‘Why not stay somewhere —'

‘I'll be alright.' Her smile is bitter. ‘Michael doesn't think I'm capable of independent thought, let alone subterfuge.'

 

The surveillance two are still outside the gate as promised. Their job here over, I ask if they'll drop Helen at a train station, and then watch as their vehicle turns off down the street, my surprising sister sitting in the back.

I go inside and retrieve my APV jacket from the back of the wardrobe. When Helen mentioned Michael's syndicate, I suddenly thought of the documents I'd taken from the office shredder at Greengate Farm. With everything that happened afterwards, I'd forgotten all about them.

I unfold the wad. The name Gateway Enterprises is familiar because it's written in bold at the top of the front sheet. Beneath is a memo of agreement between Gateway and Greengate to ‘open up new avenues of distribution' for the farm's produce. Safe to assume they're not talking about milk.

I ring Anwar and tell him I know how we can persuade Doug to the speakeasy with Gail.

Darkness from a rolling power outage follows me through the city like a wave. I wheel my bike past Rosie's Harley — still intact — out in Wickerslack Alley and, in a display of trust I only partly feel, allow her to stash it again in the Glory Hole's storeroom for safekeeping. Anwar arrives, and he and I go to set things up with Trin.

Monday night is a muted affair, patrons talking softly in huddles, music low. The evening inches towards the appointed hour. After I'd collected the jump drive from the Beatitude Street GPO, Marlene, watched by the Red Quarter protection duo, had rung Doug with a message from Anwar suggesting a swap: Gail for Michael's incriminating phone files. Now, Anwar is out on Pilgrim Lane in the van and Rosie's in her usual position at the door, and I can't help scanning every walk-in for Inez; but no one's seen her here the last three days.

The protection duo turn up next with Marlene for her shift, and Gabe is sent happily home. Savannah's threatened austerity measures shelved for now, Marlene is dressed to the nines, more paste and sparkle than a Miss Universe entrant. Back in her cloakroom domain, she sounds like her old self, a string of cutting remarks aimed squarely at her minders seated each side of her.

Downstairs, the speakeasy's two resident tough guys are arms folded and stance wide outside the closed curtain of their boss's alcove, signalling she's in. Clearly Meg has decided to wait it out with us — after all, she has a proprietor's interest and a ringside seat. Her minders ignore me. It doesn't exactly break my heart, although I'd like to ask them for my jacket back sometime.

Eleven o'clock gone and twelve approaching, there's still no sign of Doug. The stress is cycling through me. What if he doesn't show?

My mobile beeps once. The signal from Anwar.

A commotion starts at the door. Our guest is here, but with the wrong company. Rosie shouts a warning down the stairs as Doug enters brandishing his Neighbourly Watch badge, five puff-jacketed Neighbourhood Values brigaders in tow.

Mr Smeg has pulled a swifty. What a surprise.

I cross the dance floor, intercepting him at the bottom of the stairs. He plants his bulk in front of me, his NW-issue taser holstered, his belt slung low like a cowboy's.

‘Well, Salisbury, we meet in the unfriendly hours again.'

I feel like I've been thrust into the OK Corral. ‘Where's Gail?' I demand.

He slaps a hand to his forehead. ‘I knew I'd forgotten something. Show me what you have that's worth my visit, and I'll go see if I can find her.'

‘I don't remember the posse being part of the deal.'

‘Don't worry about them. They're here for a fun night out. Oblige me with the incriminating evidence and my people will stop bothering yours.'

The Neighbourhood Values Brigades are famous for their bothering. ‘Are they in on your scheme?' I ask him.

‘That lot?' He harrumphs derisively. ‘Led by the nose on the sniff of coinage.'

Marlene's nook is being searched: I can hear her indignant squawks. The protection duo must be gritting their teeth, trying to look ineffectual.

‘This is harassment of law-abiding citizens,' I say.

He glances casually around. ‘“Law-abiding” is a bit of a stretch, don't you think?'

I follow his gaze. Under Nation First's expanded anti-transgression laws, all of us here are offenders. Those from the couches and the bar area have been herded onto the dance floor, while Trin, an expression of distaste on his face, is both hands on the counter, being stood over. I admire his forbearance. If he wanted to, he'd have the guy on the floor screaming for mercy.

Two brigaders are whipping back the curtains to the alcoves, their search nearly at where Sandy and Merlyn
stolidly maintain position. Last minute, Meg's minders step aside and the brocade is flung open — to an empty booth.

Meg knows better than anybody the escape routes built into the speakeasy's architecture. The wheelchair cubicle in the allsex toilets has an exit onto Sailors Walk, a passageway that doglegs to the river. With just enough space to walk — or wheel — between buildings, it's a quick getaway that I've used myself on occasion.

Doug returns his gaze to me, feigning disappointment. ‘I'm beginning to suspect you've nothing to parley with.'

My peripheral vision registers Sandy and Merlyn moving closer.

I look at him and shrug, my hands open in mock regret. ‘Not without Gail.'

‘Like that, is it?' He tsks and taps his wristwatch. ‘Oh, dear: just gone midnight. My people won't be happy, what with the place being open after curfew.' A half-dressed couple are ousted from an alcove. ‘Not to mention lasciviousness in a public place, contravening Nation First's code of moral conduct.'

Those on the dance floor are being patted down for contraband, but unless anyone's ignored Trin's advice circulated earlier about suspending all transactions for tonight, Doug's lackeys will find zip.

‘Your turn next,' Doug informs me.

I don't want any of those clumsy hands on me: who knows where they've been. Besides, I have the jump drive tucked under my chest wrap. I shift my weight to ease the
tension building in my body, and measure the distance to the door while Doug surveys the room, pleased with what he sees.

‘This venue isn't currently an NW-listed hotspot,' he says, ‘but I could fix that. On the other hand, we could conveniently forget the address if you'll 'fess up that you're fibbing.' He gives me a pitying, supercilious look. ‘I saw your mate in his van. Does he think I'll be so convenient as to lead him to his boss? You can tell him from me he'll be out of a job soon.'

‘Not if Michael Bannister, can help it,' I reply. ‘I heard the recording of what he said when you told him you'd taken Gail. Speaking of “your funeral”, what was with the death-by-OD scenario at her house?'

‘A moment of inspiration falling from above,' he replies mildly.

‘You bastard.' I want to slug him one for telling cruel untruths. Instead I say, ‘What
fell
was Marlene.'

He frowns at that. ‘Miss Tell-it-all. She has a thing for people in positions of power — but I'm sure you know that. The night I first spied her at the Neighbourly Arms, it was packed with NW and Nation First heavyweights. She could have hooked onto any of them with that arsenal of charms, but I got in first and so it was me she poured out her troubles to.'

All roads lead to Marlene. How easy her betrayal of Gail was.

‘She must have been desperate choosing you.'

That cuts. He smiles. ‘I pumped her for information — forgive the crude pun — and she told me what Ms Alvarez puts inside her fluffy animals. She told me about
you
as well. Mainly how she doesn't like you. I convinced her I could be a helping hand, and she bought it.'

‘Not just your hand helping,' I retort.

‘If you have the goods, and the equipment to deliver them … Imagine: Douglas Smeg Junior!'

‘Why can't I picture you as the fatherly type?'

He leans in confidingly. ‘Because I'm not. But the head of a hormone distribution company, now that really rings my bell. There could even be a place for you in the new arrangement if you play your cards right.'

I can't hide my disgust. ‘So Plan A was to wreck EHg's credibility then buy C&C at a knockdown price so you could start it up again as Doug Smeg Enterprises. Did it include poisoning the clientele?'

He looks momentarily dangerous. ‘That cock-up was none of my doing. My flaky accomplice threatened to spit the dummy over it, and consequently Plan A was ditched for Plan B.'

The brigaders are nearly on me. I pull the jump drive from my wrap and wave it at Doug.

He makes a grab for it, but he's slow and heavy and I'm not. I sidestep and catch Trin's eye.

Trin executes a lightning twist and hammers down once on his guard. The guy drops, screaming, and the room erupts, the compliant crowd now an angry mob. It helps
that a number of them are Red Quarter protection team plants, supplied compliments of Savannah. Doug's lackeys suddenly find themselves surrounded by those they've just rudely searched.

Sandy and Merlyn swing into action. Their display of menace temporarily distracts Doug — and for good reason: it's aimed at him. He tries to draw his taser, but Sandy has him wrapped in her big meaty arms. I power up the stairs as Merlyn stands eyeball to eyeball with him, casually unbuckling his gun belt.

Doug twists in Sandy's embrace, seeking me out, then redoubles his efforts when he spies the incriminating evidence about to leave the building.

My mobile vibrates in my pocket. Not Anwar. I press it to my ear. It's Skinny.

‘Got something you might wanna know, Andy Pandy. Macca's squeeze told Lola she saw an ambulance parked in a factory yard a couple of nights ago.'

I stop. ‘What factory?'

‘End of Pleasance. Place with a brick chimney. I took a squiz up there half an hour ago on my way to the meet, and saw someone leaving in a brown eco-lite — one of those enviro-friendly shitheaps some people call a ride. Could be your guy.'

I say a speedy thanks and ring off. A brown eco-lite drove into C&C last Monday when I was with Gail on her warehouse roof. Monday was also the day Anwar said Doug turned up with the buy-out offer.

I press Anwar's number. ‘I think he's got Gail at Ferguson's.'

‘See you there,' says Anwar.

Rosie is raining blows on the NVB hack pulled from Marlene's coat-check nook. I wonder if he thinks the after-hours entertainment is worth the promised pocket money now. I dodge them, making for the storeroom and my bike, shouting at Marlene's minders to leave her — after all, she chose hormones over protection.

‘Sal, wait!' Marlene calls, and I pause.

‘You'll need this,' she says in a breathy rush. She produces a key from her cleavage, that pillowy wonder barely contained in its shiny scoop top. ‘It's the office spare.'

For a beat I don't know what she means, then it dawns on me. The new lock on the paint factory's upstairs room. So this is what she was holding back from us at the Shangri-La. She's known all along where Doug's been hiding Gail.

Deceitful bitch.

As I try to take the key from her, she snatches back her hand. ‘I come with it,' she says determinedly.

I have no time to deliberate. ‘Grab her and go!' I cry to her keepers. ‘She can show you where.'

I'm already sprinting past them with the bike. Anwar and the protection team will be slowed by traffic cameras and construction sites. Not me. My way is much faster: no cameras, no detours, no road rules.

I glance back down the stairs to Doug at the epicentre of a mêlée, and suppress the impulse to laugh. He'd planned
on a bit of NVB monstering to take what he came for, but now he's been detained by two experts in the threat department. Meg must have told Sandy and Merlyn to get in his way if things got messy. It's the first time I've ever had reason to thank the Glory Hole's unsympathetic proprietor for her help.