The Informant (30 page)

He must’ve dozed off for a couple of moments because the next thing he knew Alan Turnbull was helping him into a taxi. But he remembered his manners, thanked Linton for the lunch.

As the taxi drove off bearing the sozzled Deputy Mayor, Linton turned to his companion.

‘Let’s hope he remembers what he’s agreed to.’

Turnbull grinned. ‘I suppose I could’ve nicked him for being drunk in charge of a bike and used that against him.’

The two men laughed. Linton shook his head wearily; tall and patrician he had a full head of white hair and the ramrod stance of an ex-army officer.

‘Politicians, they’re a sorry breed at the best of times.’

‘I wouldn’t want to spend my life brown-nosing the great British public, would you?’

Linton gave him a thin-lipped smile but his astute gaze was scanning the younger man. ‘I think Marcus’ll play his part. Massive cuts are being called for across the board,
privatization suits their ideology. So . . . all that’s needed now is the right kind of push. A situation we can use to our advantage. Question is Alan, can you provide us with
that?’

Turnbull returned the look directly. He knew he had to choose his words. Duncan Linton hadn’t been born a City grandee, he’d made his eye-watering fortune through intellect and
balls. It was time to put up or shut up, they’d danced round the possibilities long enough.

‘Honest answer Duncan, I don’t really know. What we’re talking about here involves a hell of a risk for me.’

‘All business involves risk; usually higher risk means bigger profits.’

Turnbull acknowledged this with a nod. ‘Well, it’ll take some doing but I think I’ve got a plan that’ll work.’

Linton smiled, gave him an avuncular pat on the shoulder. ‘You’re our man on the inside. Pull this off and we’re talking shares in the company . . .’

‘A seat on the board?’

‘Certainly. Don’t worry – you’re going to be a very rich man Alan.’

Turnbull beamed, he couldn’t help feeling slightly giddy. ‘Good. It’s about time.’

Helen went out and bought a cheap pair of trackie bottoms from a sportswear shop near Waterloo station. By the time she returned Kaz was stitched, bandaged and ready to be
discharged. They took a silent taxi ride to Limehouse, where Kaz managed to fish the keys to her new flat out of the pocket of her stinking jeans.

‘Think I’ll bin these.’

Helen gave her a thin smile. ‘Good idea.’

The hospital had provided Kaz with a pair of crutches, for which Helen had had to fork out a hefty deposit. Kaz was still very shaken but her years in the prison gym had given her much more
upper body strength than the average woman. She wielded the crutches with comparative ease, propelling herself forward at a fair pace, her knee bent to hold her injured ankle clear of the
floor.

As she opened the door to her flat sunlight flooded out to embrace her. She hopped inside and felt immediately better. Although she’d only just got the place it already felt like a
sanctuary. Helen followed her in, glancing around, taking in the space and the brand-new furniture.

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Very nice. You’re renting presumably?’

Kaz shook her head. ‘Buying.’ She clocked Helen’s critical frown. ‘How? That’s what you’re thinking, innit? How can a slag like me, just out the nick, afford
a place like this? The sort of gaff you and Julia’d go for.’

Helen sighed. ‘Why don’t I make you a cup of tea? You got a kettle?’

‘No, no kettle.’ Kaz stood balancing on the crutches, glaring at her. ‘Got beaten up, so I haven’t got round to that yet.’

‘Would you prefer me to just go?’

‘If that’s what you want.’

Helen pinched the flesh between her brows, she was exasperated and angry in equal measure, but she was also determined not to let Kaz wind her up.

‘What I want is for you to sit down and tell me exactly what happened. For chrissake Karen, I’ve been calling you for days, leaving messages. I even went to the hostel. They told me
you’d moved out, which is not going to make your probation officer happy, is it?’

‘I’ve talked to Jalil. He knows all about this place.’

Helen scanned the room. ‘Well I’d like to know how you explained it to him.’

Kaz hopped over to the sofa and lowered herself into one corner. ‘How d’you explain your place?’

‘What d’you mean, how do I explain it?’ Helen pulled out one of the dining chairs and sat on it. ‘I don’t have to. I’m not an offender released on
licence.’

‘So how did you get the money? It’s a flash part of town. Not exactly your average first-time buy, is it? Even for a lawyer.’

Helen sighed.

Kaz cocked her head to one side. ‘You wanna ask me how I bought this – I’m just asking you the same question.’

‘Okay, I inherited some money from my grandmother. And my parents helped me.’

‘And where did Granny get her dosh?’

Helen huffed, this was getting ridiculous. ‘She married my grandfather.’

Kaz gave her a dismissive look. Helen was hanging on to her temper by a thread. She’d been through guilt, regret, anxiety, when she realized Karen had left the hostel. She’d been
evasive and off-hand with Julia. She’d just taken a mad, fear-drenched cab-ride across town, when she got the call from the A & E at St Thomas’s. But she was determined to remain in
control of her feelings and the situation. She took a deep breath.

‘She was also quite independently wealthy. Her father owned a tea plantation in Ceylon.’

Kaz gave a low whistle. ‘Tea plantation, eh? Seriously posh family then.’

‘He worked bloody hard, died of a heart attack at fifty.’

‘Having gone to someone else’s country and made a fucking mint working the natives into the ground.’

Helen laughed out loud. ‘Oh come on! It was a different time.’

‘So you can buy a flat with dirty money, but I can’t.’

Helen got up, strode over to the window. The tide was high, the river fast-flowing and mercurial. She stared out at it for a few moments while she reined in her temper. Then she turned back into
the room.

‘Where exactly are we going with this? A lecture on the evils of British colonialism? I did that course at uni, read all the books. What do you want me to say? You can live off your drug
dealer brother because my family were a bunch of villains too? But that was three generations ago. And anyway it’s irrelevant, because I don’t have to justify my actions to the
probation service.’

Kaz smiled, her eyes were burning bright. Helen couldn’t tell if it was anger or a touch of fever, but the sarcasm was unmistakable.

‘Jalil’s obviously got more faith in me than you have. I told him I’d come into some family money. He was all in favour of me getting my own place. He wants to see the papers
when they’re signed, to confirm it’s in my name. Apart from that he’s got no problem.’

The two women glared at each other. Neither wanted to be the first to break eye contact. But Kaz had the edge, her look remained hard and glassy. Finally Helen looked away, ran her fingers
through her hair, one of her habitual gestures, then she laughed.

‘You are a total bloody pain in the arse Karen Phelps.’

Kaz gave her a lopsided smile. She felt like shit. The painkillers the hospital dispensed had left her with a dull ache all over. Yet being with Helen was a shot in the arm, the hit she’d
been craving. She wanted to hate her, but couldn’t.

She let her own eyes soften. ‘Yeah but I’m still more interesting than Julia, aren’t I?’

‘What do you want from me? I could’ve lied, I could’ve led you up the garden path, but I tried to be honest.’

‘I don’t care about honest. What I want is you to dump your fucking girlfriend and be with me.’

Helen walked over to the sink, rinsed out Kaz’s old takeaway coffee cup and filled it with water from the tap. She took several large gulps and placed it on the counter.

‘You and me? How on earth do you suppose that would work? I’ve got a career, a life, things I want to do. You’ve got a criminal brother you think you can somehow save, your
cousin’s just beaten you unconscious – and you won’t even go to the police.’

Kaz wrinkled her nose. ‘You forgot to mention I’m an ex-con and I probably don’t even know which knife and fork to use.’

‘I don’t care about those things. It’s not who you’ve been, it’s what you’re doing now.’

Kaz huffed, more in amusement than anger. ‘That’s a fucking lie for starters.’

Helen was about to argue with this, but instead held out her hands in submission and walked over to the other window. Kaz watched her. All she wanted was for Helen to come and sit beside her on
the sofa, put her arms around her and stroke her hair. But she knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Helen stood, arms folded, staring out of the window. She didn’t turn. ‘So . . . you going to tell me what happened?’

‘Sean punched me in the mouth, knocked me out cold, chucked me in the boot of his car, where I shat myself.’

Helen swivelled round, a look of horror on her face. ‘I’m sorry Karen, but we have to go to the police with this.’

‘And it’ll be my word against his. He’ll have been in some pub or club at the time with ten fucking witnesses. Get real Helen. I know how my family operates.’

Helen came towards her, perched on the opposite end of the sofa, then reached out her hand. Kaz took it.

Helen gave her a sheepish smile. ‘Don’t hate me. I’m still . . . I care about you, I want to be your friend.’

Kaz clutched her hand, she didn’t want to release it, but she made herself let go. She didn’t want to appear needy; there was pride involved.

‘Yeah I know.’

‘Why the hell was Sean after you? I don’t get it.’

Kaz sighed. ‘Well, he didn’t appreciate the fact that I was helping his wife get away from him. Me and Joey tried to arrange for her and her boyfriend to leg it to Ibiza. He found
out.’

Helen nodded, waiting for Kaz to continue.

‘There were a couple of other things, too . . .’ Kaz hesitated. ‘Mainly old family stuff.’

Helen painted on an optimistic smile. ‘It’s possible we could find grounds for some kind of injunction.’

Kaz gazed at her. Helen’s irritation had evaporated. Her eyes were soft, slightly moist. She was out of her depth, Kaz could see that. But she desperately wanted to help. Kaz wondered
about her and Julia, what they did in their safe, respectable life together, cushioned by professional jobs and money and parents who loved them.

Kaz smiled. ‘You wanna help, you could get me a kettle. Maybe some mugs and plates – a few basics until I can get out myself. I can order food online.’

Helen nodded and beamed. ‘No problem.’

She picked up Kaz’s hand, gave the back of it a brisk kiss. There were tears in her eyes. ‘Seeing you like this . . . is so . . . painful.’

Kaz gave a dry laugh. ‘Tell me about it.’

Helen smiled and drew her into a gentle hug. Kaz felt a surge of relief, at last they were connecting. Then she felt something on the arm of the sofa beside her. Her mobile was on silent, but it
started to vibrate. She wanted to ignore it, hang on to this precious moment with Helen, but she glanced at the caller ID: Joey. As usual his timing was impeccable. She stared at it for a full
moment, it seemed vaguely unreal. Then she answered.

‘Where are you?’

Joey’s tone was light and jovial.

‘We’re at Schiphol. On our way back. We had a blast – you should’ve come.’

‘You’re where?’

‘The airport. Amsterdam.’

‘Amsterdam? Last time I saw you, you said you was going clubbing.’

‘Yeah. In Amsterdam. Couple of bits of business over here, so I said to Ash why not? I told you babe.’

‘You never told me.’

There was a pause on the end of the line and muffled voices.

‘Ash reckons I told you, but you was all busy on the Net, looking at stuff for the flat.’

‘Whatever. Did you know Tolya’s working for Sean now?’

‘No.’

‘Well he bloody well is.’

The lightness in Joey’s tone was replaced by concern. ‘Babe has something happened?’

Kaz realized from the crack in her voice that she was close to tears. She was also aware of Helen watching her. She swallowed hard. ‘Yeah, you could say that. Me and Sean have had a
run-in.’

‘A run-in? What kind of run-in? You okay?’

‘Bit battered. Helen just brought me home from the hospital.’

For about thirty seconds the line was silent then Joey erupted. Kaz had to hold the phone away from her ear.

‘That fucker! He’s a dead man! He’s a fucking dead man! I’ll rip his fucking heart out I swear.’

Kaz and Helen exchanged looks; Kaz put her face in her hands and started to cry. Her life was spiralling out of control and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

Nicci Armstrong sat at her desk reading over the witness statement. After Karen Phelps had walked out of the pub on Charlotte Street she’d called Mayhew, who’d
agreed to follow her hunch. He’d sent her a couple more DCs and between them they’d walked the length of Tottenham Court Road, showing Karen Phelps’s mugshot in every shop. At
first they’d concentrated on the electronics outlets. It hadn’t taken Nicci long to figure that Karen had practised a simple sleight of hand on them. The receipt she showed them was
some random printout she pulled from her bag, it didn’t relate to the laptop she’d bought. But a stream of shop assistants in all the stores they visited simply shrugged their shoulders
or shook their heads. Had they sold a laptop to this woman? They couldn’t remember – or didn’t want to.

Working their way up the street they’d got as far as Heal’s. Having drawn a blank and with Bradley whingeing on about how he should’ve said this or that to Phelps, Nicci called
a break. While Bradley and the DCs crossed the road to the nearest coffee shop, Nicci took a stroll round Heal’s. Most of the furniture was way beyond her price range, but she mooched round
the kitchen department for a bit, wandered into lighting and saw a table lamp that she really fancied. Even when she and Tim were still married they’d had little spare cash for such luxuries.
Now, as a single parent, every penny she earned plus the small amount of maintenance he paid, went on rent, childcare and bills. She survived on her credit cards and the odd handout from her
parents. The lamp was tempting, but she was already close to her overdraft limit and it was a few days before her monthly pay cheque went in, so she turned resolutely away. To distract herself she
decided to focus on the job in hand. She pulled out her warrant card and started to show Karen’s mugshot around. The third shop assistant she approached was Damien Brown.