The Murder Exchange (26 page)

237
round my lips. It was all very civilized.

Riggs was a powerfully built individual with
very muscular, tattooed arms. He had a thick
moustache and a vaguely rural Home Counties
accent, and there was no mistaking the fact that
he looked like a soldier. Not necessarily an officer,
which I knew he'd been, because there were no
obvious airs and graces, but definitely a soldier. I
suppose women would have found him quite
attractive in a rugged sort of way. He looked
the outdoor type. He also looked a fairly upfront
bloke although, as a copper, I knew that didn't
necessarily mean anything.

'So, how can I help you this time?'

'It's about your partner, Mr Iversson.'

'Have you found him yet?'

'I presume that means you haven't heard from
him?' put in Berrin.

'You presume right. And I've got no idea where
he is either, before you ask. I haven't seen him since
last Thursday. He was meant to come in on Friday
and he didn't. He called in to say he was feeling
under the weather and that was the last I heard from him.'

'You supply security, don't you?' I said.
'Bodyguards for celebrities and business people.'

That's right, as I mentioned to you when we met
on Monday.'

'Do you ever supply doormen?'

He shook his head. 'No.'

'Why not? I'd have thought it was quite a
lucrative trade. There are plenty of bars and nightclubs
out there, and plenty of trouble.'

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'There are specialist companies who do that sort
of thing.'

I nodded. 'I've heard.'

'Look, no offence, Mr Gallan, but I'm a busy man.
Particularly now that Max has gone AWOL. So, if
you could let me know what all this is about, I'd
appreciate it.'

'Do you know a Shaun Matthews?' asked Berrin.

He shook his head. 'Never heard of him.'

'How about a Roy Fowler?' I asked, and I
thought I caught a tiny glimmer of recognition in
his eyes, though I couldn't be a hundred per cent
sure.

'No, no-one of that name either.' He sat back and
folded his arms. 'I think I'm entitled to know what
;1;.L is all about, don't you?'

'We found a bloodstain belonging to Mr Fowler
in the back of Mr Iversson's car. That's why.'

'Really? Are you sure?' I gave him a look that
said of course I'm sure, I'm not sitting here making
it up as I go along. 'It's just I've never heard of this
bloke, and it doesn't sound at all like Max. I mean,
he's a tough guy, I won't deny that, but he's no
murderer.'

'How do you know Mr Fowler's been
murdered?'

He fixed me with a moderately annoyed
expression, the first time in both my meetings with
him that he hadn't looked like he was trying to
help. The don't,' he said firmly. T'm guessing. But a
substantial bloodstain in the back of a car ... It
doesn't sound promising, does it?'

'But you still don't think Mr Iversson's capable

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of murder?' said Berrin, looking up from his
notebook.

'If s certainly not in character/ he said wearily.
'But then again, it's not in character for him to lash
out at police officers either.'

'Has he been acting at all strangely recently?' I
asked.

'In what way?'

'In a way that suggested that something might
have been bothering him.'

'We're business partners but we don't tend to
socialize much outside work these days, and we
certainly don't talk like we used to. I'd say that at
one time we were good friends, but ironically
enough, since we've been in business, we've drifted
apart. I haven't noticed him acting particularly out
of the ordinary lately but I'm not sure I'd have
noticed if there had been something bothering him.
He's always been quite a cool customer. Someone
who's good at keeping his emotions to himself.'

We talked for another ten minutes, Berrin and I
trying to squeeze out of him any possible motives
Iversson might have had for killing Fowler, but he
couldn't, or wouldn't, provide us with any further
information. According to Riggs, Iversson was as
normal as normal could be, totally above board, not
one to get involved in anything dodgy. Or, even
worse, to talk about it.

'Have you heard anything from Eric Home?' I
asked eventually.

'Nothing,' he said. 'Not a dickie bird.'

'You don't think he's connected with all this,
then?' asked Berrin.

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'With all what?' said Riggs. 'I haven't seen Eric in
two weeks, maybe even longer. Long before Max
went missing. I'm sorry, but I can't help you any
more than that.'

I got to my feet and Berrin followed suit. 'Well,
thank you for your time, Mr Riggs. If Max Iversson
does make contact with you then I'd strongly
suggest you advise him to give himself up. Because
we're after him, and we're going to get him. And
the longer he stays out there on the run, the more
we're going to assume he's responsible for Roy
Fowler's disappearance, and possibly worse.'

'I will/ he said, leading us to the door. 'I don't
want him getting in any more trouble than he's
already in.'

When we were back out on the street and walking
along the Holloway Road in the direction of
Highbury Corner, Berrin said that he wasn't sure
about Riggs. 'He reminded me of what Fowler was
like the first time we interviewed him,' he said.
'Very keen to help, but never actually said one thing
that we could use.'

'No, I know.'

'Plus, I think he was lying. He was good at it, but
I reckon he was definitely giving us the runaround.
Especially that bit when he let slip about the
murder.'

'Do you think he knows what's happened to
Fowler, then?'

He nodded, thinking about it. 1 got the impression
he does. What about you?'

'What I'm thinking is that every time we talk to

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someone about this case we seem to come up
against a brick wall, with no-one willing or
able to help and not enough evidence to break the
thing apart. I think it's time we tried a new
approach.'

'What kind of new approach?'

'I'm not sure,' I told him, but I was beginning to
get an idea.

Iversson

I was in bed with Elaine when the phone rang. It
was five past two in the afternoon and we were
taking a short break from one of those sex
marathons you sometimes have when you've met a
girl you're really into and you've still got the sex
drive to do something about it. To be honest with
you, it had been like that all week. Great fun, yes,
but parts of me were beginning to feel the strain. I
was absolutely fucking cream crackered, and still
only just past the panting stage from the last bout
when Elaine picked up on the fourth ring and
handed me the receiver. 'Joe,' she said.

'All right, Joe, where are you calling from?'

'A phone box in Tufnell Park, no trace possible.
I've got two interested parties for our arrangement,
men I think we can trust.'

'That was quick.'

'I had a good idea where I was going to look.'

'Oh yeah?'

'Yeah. You see plenty of people owe our man big
time, which is what happens when you spend your

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days throwing your weight about and upsetting
people.'

'So, who are they?'

'You know I told you about that jeweller,
Kalinski, and his business arrangement with our
man? The one who ended up at the maggot farm
with his girlfriend? His brother Mike's an ex-armed
robber and someone with a grudge.'

'Are you sure it's a good idea to use someone we
don't know?'

I've got it from decent sources that he's reliable.
Plus, he's greedy. Plus, they chopped up his
brother, and they're a close family. That's enough
pluses, as far as I can see.'

'Fair enough. Who's the other one?'

'T.iin Lewis, remember him?'

'Christ, yeah. I didn't think he was still alive.'

'Alive, well, and short of money.'

Iain Lewis, Tugger to his mates for a reason best
not gone into, was a Geordie ex-marine and
mercenary who'd served with me and Joe on some
of our more exotic overseas tours, and who'd been
wounded in Bosnia fighting against Serb forces
back in the early nineties. He'd be useful on this
sort of job because the potential calibre of the
opposition wouldn't faze him.

Where's he living now?'

'Down in Swansea of all places, but he'll be up
here tomorrow. How are you getting on with your
end of things? Have you talked to your mate
Johnny yet?'

The saw him last night. He's in already. I've
dropped him five hundred in expenses and he's

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going to sort out the vehicles. He's meant to be calling
me back later.'

'But he doesn't know anything about the
targets?'

'Not a thing.'

'Good. Have you taken a look at any possible
locations for storage?'

'I drove out to Essex yesterday and visited a
couple of letting agents.'

'What cover did you use?'

'I said I was a writer looking for a short let somewhere
nice and isolated so I could complete my
first novel in the peace and tranquillity I needed.
It's a thriller apparently.'

I heard Joe sigh down the phone. 'Look, we've
got a problem. The police have traced the stain on
the seat of your car back to Fowler.'

This was bad news. 'So?' I said all casually, keen
not to worry Elaine.

'So now they're really after you, although they
still don't have a clue about what's happened. The
thing is, if anyone who rents you out a place sees a
picture of you anywhere, it could put the whole
thing in jeopardy.'

'Don't worry, I wore specs, and I've got a bit of a
beard now, so I don't know how easy it'd be to
make the connection.'

'It's still too risky, Max. You're not exactly a
master of disguise.'

'I thought I looked quite good.'

'I'm sure you did, but I'd better take over on that
side from now on. Did they show you any suitable
properties?'

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'There were two I liked the look of. One'll be
empty next week, the other's empty now. Both
farmhouses. I said I'd get back to them but I wanted
to run the details past you first. See if there was one
you preferred.'

'All right, I'll come over and get the stuff off you,
and then I'd better do the booking. I'll need some of
that money back.'

'NTo problem. Come over now.' Elaine pulled a
face. It looked like she wasn't finished with me yet.
Much more of this and I was going to have to find
some bromide to stick in her tea.

'I'll be there in an hour/ he said.

'One last thing,' I said, 'before you go. The tools
we're going to need for the job . . .'

i \c got enough. Don't worry about that.'

Till see you in an hour, then.'

I rang off and forced myself to smile at Elaine. I
was trying to take in the news that I was now a
suspect for a murder. One more reason, I reckoned,
to make sure everything went to plan with the
Holtz snatch.

She sat up in the bed and lit a cigarette. 'So,
things moving along then, are they?' she asked.

'Everything's going peachy,' I said, but there
must have been something in my tone.

'But?'

What is it about women? They can always see
through your lies. I gave her a quick rundown of
our conversation, mentioning about the police
being on to me.

'What are you going to do about it?'

I shrugged. 'Not a lot I can do, really. It's a pain

245
having them on my back, but if I keep my wits
about me, then that's all it'll be. Not enough to mess
up any of the plans.'

'It's suspicion of murder, Max, not unpaid parking
tickets, so they're going to be making an effort
to find you.'

I nodded. She was right. 'I'll be careful, don't
worry.'

She took a drag on her cigarette and blew the
smoke up towards the ceiling. 'What are you going
to do when this is all over?'

'I'm going to get out of the country for a while. I
know a bloke who puts together perfect-quality
fake passports, and I'll have money as well, so I'll
be able to survive. Anyway, everything'll die down
in a few months. I mean, they haven't got any other
evidence against me on the Fowler thing, and
they're never going to find the body, not if the
Holtzes have done their bit, so it'll end up gathering
dust in the unsolveds. I'll just come back in a
while and tell them it was nothing to do with me.'

'What about me, though?' she asked.

I thought about that one for a moment. 'Do you
want to come with me? We'll both have cash, and
there's nothing keeping you here any more.' I
might have only known Elaine for a few days but
sometimes you can just tell when they're right for
you. My mum and dad had got engaged after only
two weeks, so whirlwind romances obviously ran
in the family. They'd lasted close to five years, too.
Not that I fancied getting hitched just yet.

'Do you want me to?' she asked, her expression
serious. I knew then that she felt the same way.

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Sometimes, with her, it had been difficult to tell. She
could be a bit distant on occasion, to be honest with
you, and it had made me wonder more than once
whether I was maybe outstaying my welcome.

I nodded. 'Yeah. I do/

'Have you got anywhere in mind?'

'As long as it's not Sierra Leone, I don't much

care.'

Che smiled. 'How about Bermuda? I've always
fancied going there.'

I shrugged, thinking that whoever said money
didn't buy happiness was badly fucking mistaken.
'Sure, Bermuda it is.'

'Let's have a little celebration, then. Fancy a
beer?'

Life doesn't get much better than that, does it? A
beautiful naked woman with a devil tattooed on her
shapely rear offering to go and get you a nice, cool
lager while you lounge idly on her bed.

'Yeah, I'd love one,' I said, getting myself comfortable
and lighting a cigarette of my own.