The Informant (41 page)

‘Oh, some plan a bunch of them have dreamt up. I don’t really wanna be involved. Mike ran the art class. Mal and some of the others are trying to set up a little exhibition of all
the work we done.’

Joey looked at her for what seemed an age then he gave an approving nod. ‘Sounds like a great idea to me. You wanna be an artist babe, you gotta put yourself out there.’ He held out
the phone to her. ‘You should text him back.’

Kaz frowned. ‘I’ll do it later.’

She reached for the phone, but Joey held on to it.

‘No time like the present.’ His thumbs hovered over the keypad. There was a definite edge in his voice. ‘What we gonna say to Mal eh?’

Bradley clicked his phone on and a text popped up:
yo Mal count me in 4 def. kaz x
. He stared at it, it seemed very odd. But then reduced to text-speak quite a few
people ceased to sound like themselves. It was the name that gave him pause. He’d only ever called her Kaz once, in an attempt to be chummy. And as for the
x
, that made no sense. But
maybe her attitude to him was finally thawing.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Nicci Armstrong. She was beckoning to him. He was standing next to a squad car on the gravel driveway of a tasteful barn conversion on the
outskirts of Danbury in Essex. Cheryl Stoneham and her team had secured the place half an hour earlier and detained three Ukrainian nationals: a couple in their mid-thirties and a younger man.

Bradley joined Nicci and she led him into the house. A pretty, dark-haired woman was perched on the sofa. Her eyes were red-rimmed with crying and she was wringing a soggy tissue in her hands.
She gazed up at him as they passed.

Nicci led him into the back of the house, they paused outside a door to the large workshop area which had been converted into some sort of laboratory. Cheryl Stoneham was conferring with the
forensic photographer and the exhibits officer.

‘I want a full digital and stills recording before we bag up the exhibits.’ She glanced at the photographer. ‘Don’t let the rest of the team hassle you. It takes as long
as it takes. I want the forensics on this watertight, okay?’

The photographer nodded, already booted and suited, he entered the lab. Cheryl turned to greet Bradley. She gave him a broad grin.

‘Well you two have had a score, haven’t you?’

He smiled. ‘We will if we can join up the dots and connect them to Joey Phelps.’

Cheryl nodded thoughtfully. ‘Nic here has got you pegged as a chap with some education. Know anything about the Ukraine?’

‘A bit. Mostly what I’ve read in the papers.’

‘Well, we’ve taken the husband and his oppo down the nick. He’s poker-faced, asking for his lawyer. But the wife . . . she’s our way in I reckon. I’ve been letting
her stew. So . . . how d’you fancy being her new best friend?’

Bradley beamed. ‘I’ll give it a go.’

‘Her name’s Leysa.’

Bradley took a deep breath. ‘Okay . . .’

As he headed off into the main living room Cheryl Stoneham gave Nicci a sceptical look.

‘Why you giving him a leg up? Doubt he’d do the same for you.’

Nicci shrugged. ‘He’s not all bad. He’s good at sniffing out the psychological angle. You saw that in Southend. And he’s such a pretty boy, women get fooled by
that.’

Cheryl gave her a wry glance. ‘Including you Nic?’

Bradley managed to bum a couple of cups of coffee off the SOCOs, who were gathered round their van waiting to go in. He returned to the house with the brimming styrofoam cups,
gave a nod to the WPC who was minding Leysa. ‘Go and get a drink if you want.’

The WPC left, Bradley offered Leysa one of the coffees and sat down beside her.

‘DC Mal Bradley.’

Leysa met his eye, he gave her a warm smile. She responded with a sour look. ‘I don’t know nothing.’

Bradley nodded. ‘Been in England long?’

‘Year maybe.’

‘Your English is good.’

She stared at him with disdain, she wasn’t about to respond to cheap flattery.

He smiled again. ‘How d’you get into all this Leysa? You and your husband, you strike me as smart, well-educated people. Not low-life drug dealers. What happened?’

Leysa pursed her lips. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

Bradley took a sip of his coffee. ‘Try me. I read the papers. Complicated place your country. I read about your ex-prime minister, what’s her name, Yula . . . ?’

‘Yulia Tymoshenko.’

‘Right, now wasn’t she a leader of the Orange Revolution? I’m guessing you had some involvement in all that. But didn’t they jail her for seven years?’

A tight angry expression spread across Leysa’s face, she seemed close to tears. Bradley waited. She wanted to talk, he could feel it.

She wiped her nose with a crumpled tissue. ‘When we lost the election, we knew things would be bad, old Soviet ways would return.’

‘And did they?’

She looked at him, trying to tough it out. She just needed to hang in there. There’d be lawyers, all the help they needed. Joey had promised. Right now though she felt abandoned. He looked
rather innocent for a cop. Maybe he would understand. She sighed.

‘Marko lose his job at the university. They steal his research, we have no money, a rich “businessman” take our apartment.’

Bradley frowned as he tried to get his head round this. ‘Why? Because you supported the opposition?’

Leysa hung her head. ‘It was me, I work for Yulia’s campaign.’ A wistful smile crept over her features. ‘Marko, he only happy in his lab. He don’t do politics. But
they come against him because of me. It’s all my fault.’

‘So you came to England?’

Leysa fixed him with a steady gaze, but her tone was bitter.

‘Yeah England, this great land of freedom and democracy. We ask for political asylum but you say no. Too many Ukrainians like us looking for a way out.’

Bradley nodded sympathetically. ‘That’s really tough. So let me guess, you needed leave to remain. But for that Marko had to find work and that’s when Joey Phelps came along.
How did you meet him?’

Leysa’s gaze didn’t waver, nor did she miss a beat. ‘I don’t know any Joey.’

Bradley tipped out the dregs of his coffee in a plant pot.

‘C’mon Leysa, don’t do this. We were doing really well.’

She flashed an angry look at him. ‘I told you. I don’t know nothing.’

Bradley looked her up and down. She was small with the elfin physique of a marathon runner. Yet she sat slightly hunched, one arm resting protectively across her rounded belly. He watched her
for a second then it dawned on him. She was pregnant. He caught her eye.

‘Okay here’s the reality check. Loads of people come to the UK to get away from whatever at home. We’re inundated with people who’ve suffered. We can’t take
everyone. You got an industrial-scale drugs lab out the back there. Your husband is going down for quite a stretch. But he’s gonna protect you, isn’t he? Say you didn’t really
know what he was up to.’

Leysa stared at him. ‘It’s true. I don’t know nothing. I’m not a chemist.’

Bradley smiled. ‘And we may well decide to accept that . . .’ He paused for effect.

Her dark eyes searched his face for clues. The day had taken her completely by surprise. She’d returned from the supermarket and was unpacking her shopping when armed police burst through
the door. She’d been led to believe that this sort of thing didn’t happen in England. She’d had no chance to exchange even a word with Marko, they’d put him in the back of a
police car and he was gone.

Bradley sighed. ‘The easiest thing for us would be to put you on a plane to Kiev. That’s what my boss is thinking. You could be home this time tomorrow.’

The colour drained from Leysa’s face and Bradley knew he’d hit the target bang on. Whatever she feared most was back in the Ukraine. Jail? Poverty? A life of hardship for her unborn
child? He decided to press the point home.

‘Marko’ll get maybe fifteen years. Then he’ll be deported too on his release. That’ll be when you next see him.’

Her dark eyes swam with tears. Bradley watched the threat sink in. Cruel but necessary he told himself. He wanted to take her hand, reassure her. Instead he adopted a softer tone. ‘You may
think I’m a complete bastard, but I’m not. World we live in today is a terrible place for many people. I know I’m lucky to live where I do. I know you’re not a real
criminal, you’re just a woman who’s trying to survive.’

Leysa’s tears fell in huge droplets into her lap. She tried to mop them with her sodden tissue. Bradley pulled a fresh one from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. She wiped her eyes
and then fixed him with a haunted stare. ‘What do you want?’

Bradley gave a diffident shrug. ‘Well, if you were prepared to give evidence in court, then obviously you’d have to stay here. Case like this could take a year at least to come to
trial.’ He gave her a considered look. ‘By that time the baby’ll have been born. It’ll have citizenship, which could help you.’

At the mention of the baby she shot him a savage look. ‘And you say you not a bastard. But you want me to testify against my own husband.’

Bradley shook his head. ‘Oh no, I want you to help your husband. Help him reduce his sentence.’

He watched her latch on to this, hope then confusion racing across her face. This was what he’d been waiting for.

He tossed her the lifeline. ‘Leysa, we know who set you up here in this place, who’s behind all this. You need to testify against Joey Phelps and you need to persuade Marko to do the
same. Trust me, it’s your best option.’

Glynis sat on the long low sofa in Joey’s flat staring out of the vast picture window at the cityscape beyond. Ashley had wrapped a duvet round her and an untouched mug
of tea was on the glass table in front of her. In the time she’d been there the sky had clouded over, the sun disappearing behind a wide sheet of cirrostratus. Watching the clouds thicken had
given her something to do while she waited. It would only be a matter of time before Sean came for her. She heard the door open, people coming in, but she didn’t look round, she was too
petrified. Then Kaz sat down on the sofa beside her. She took Glynis’s hand. Glynis turned towards her.

‘Where’s Sean?’

Suddenly Joey was looming over them both. He seemed to fill the window, blocking the vista beyond.

‘He’s done a runner Glynis. Spain we think.’

Glynis glanced from him to Kaz. ‘Spain?’

But Kaz’s eyes were focused on her brother. She got up to face him. ‘Joey, this ain’t fair. She deserves to know the truth.’

He stared right back at her, his pupils wide and glassy. He looked about to erupt. Then he just shrugged his shoulders and sighed. ‘Your fucking funeral babes – you killed him. I was
only trying to help.’

Glynis’s frantic gaze darted from one to the other. ‘Killed? What’s happened?’

Kaz turned to face her. ‘After Tol took you out of my place Sean tried to rape me. I shot him. He’s dead.’

Glynis’s jaw slackened. A low keening sob rose from deep in her chest. She put her face in her hands and began to wail.

Joey watched her with a disgruntled look. He shoved his hands in his pockets and glared at Kaz. ‘Now what fucking good has that done, eh?’

Kaz ignored him. She rested the palm of her hand on Glynis’s back. After a few moments the lament subsided. Glynis lifted her head, carefully wiped the tears from each cheek with her index
fingers, looked at Kaz and slowly nodded. Her voice was barely audible. ‘Thanks.’

Kaz hugged her.

Joey stared at the two women with a look of complete bafflement. He turned round. Ashley was standing in the kitchen area with a phone to his ear. Joey moved towards him, shaking his head in
wonderment.

‘You see that Ash? I don’t get it. Do you get it?’

Ashley ignored the question, his expression was tense. He held out the phone. ‘Neville wants a word. Think we got a problem.’

Joey took the phone with a smile. ‘All right Nev?’

As he listened his face crumpled into an angry scowl then he thundered down the phone. ‘Whad’you mean you can’t go yourself? What the fuck else am I paying you for? . . . No
Neville, you fucking listen to me. You get down there and you get them out!’

Ashley hovered, alert, waiting for instructions. Kaz and Glynis simply watched open-mouthed. Joey didn’t bother to turn the phone off. He smashed it several times into the granite counter
with all the force he could muster.

‘Bastards! Fucking bastards!’

Splinters of shattered phone spun across the worktop and skittered on to the floor. Then he took a deep breath and let the air flow slowly out through his nostrils. ‘Right then . .
.’

His intense stare zeroed in on Kaz and he gave her a thin smile.

‘Got a bit of business to attend to babes. But don’t go running off. I need to know where you are.’

She returned his look with a steady gaze. Somehow he didn’t seem like her little brother any more. During her years inside he’d become someone else. She realized now how stupid
she’d been not to see this before. Sean was right about that. Her fear had always been he’d turn into the old man, an angry, thoughtless brute. But this was something else. Something
far worse.

He continued to stare at her. ‘Okay?’

She nodded obediently.

He smiled. ‘Good girl.’ He patted her arm, grabbed his jacket and headed out with Ashley trotting behind him.

Mike Dawson’s train from Oxford got into Paddington shortly before seven in the evening. Bradley had arranged to meet him in a bar he knew near the station, part of the
redevelopment around Sheldon Square. He had taken the train back into town, leaving Nicci at Chelmsford nick slowly coaxing a statement out of Leysa.

He’d considered cancelling the meeting with Mike. Stoneham’s team were all pretty psyched. It was a major bust and he was at the heart of it. It made him feel like a proper copper
again. The camaraderie, the pats on the back, the belief that this really could lead to a successful prosecution. Bill Mayhew was on his way from London to join in the interrogation of the
Dimitrenkos. But Bradley also felt he owed it to Karen Phelps to deliver on his promise. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if he was getting anything in return. It just felt like the
right thing to do.