A Fistful of Knuckles (22 page)

‘But we need more than that. We need a witness who’s prepared to testify. And I think I’ve found one. Tracy Porter, Patsy’s girlfriend. He used her to get at Denzil. She was the one who made Denzil unbolt his door to let her in the night he died. She was there. She witnessed the whole thing. She could tell us everything that happened, but she’s terrified – and with good reason. Patsy beats that poor girl black and blue, and she knows only too well what she can expect if she grasses him up to the police.

‘So – while Patsy is distracted at the fight, I want you, Annie, to get hold of Tracy. She knows you. You can talk to her. With Patsy well out of the way, you can you persuade her to give a statement, to name Patsy as the killer and testify in court against him. You think you can manage that, Annie?’

Annie looked straight back at him and said: ‘No.’

‘Is that ‘no’ as in ‘no’?’

‘That’s no as in ‘no way’, Boss. She won’t say a word.’

‘Then you’ll just have to try.’

‘Of course I’ll
try,
Boss. I tried before but couldn’t get a word out of her.’

‘This time it’ll be different.’

‘Not in her head it won’t,’ said Annie. ‘Just because Patsy’s off fighting somewhere won’t make her feel safe. You’ve seen her. She’s nothing but a punchbag for that bastard. If you think her body’s a wreck, just imagine what state her mind’s in.’

‘She’s right, Boss,’ said Ray. ‘Lasses like that always stick up for their fellas.’

Sam chewed his lip, thinking the problem through. ‘Offer her anything. Offer her protection. We can take here away, put her somewhere safe. Tell her it’s what we did with Spider, and he’s been perfectly safe in our care. Make her see that cooperating with us is her way out of this awful life she’s trapped in. We can help her, protect her, but only if she makes a statement. After that, we can put Patsy away for life. Make her understand that, Annie.’

‘I’ll do my best, Boss,’ said Annie, shrugging.

Sam wanted to impress on her how vitally important it was that they secure that conviction against Patsy. Couldn’t she see what was at stake here? Couldn’t she see that this wasn’t just about putting Patsy away, but about saving themselves – saving Annie herself – from whatever the hell it was that was out there that wanted to hurt them so badly?

No, she doesn’t see it. How could she? She senses that something’s wrong, but for her it’s just a vague feeling of unease, half-remembered dreams, confused recollections of nightmares. She doesn’t see things as clearly as me. She doesn’t have that little girl haunting her and goading her – and she hasn’t seen the devil in the dark.

‘Well, folks,’ he said. ‘That’s my plan. How’s it sound to you guys?’

‘Iffy,’ put in Ray.

‘And why’s that?’

‘Too complicate by ‘alf. The guv’d never go for all that round-the-mulberry-bush bollocks.’

‘Well, as it happens, he’s already pissed on this plan from a great height,’ Sam admitted. ‘But not even Gene can piss on me all way from central hospital, so there’s not a lot he can do.’

‘Are we back onto loyalty?’ Ray said, fixing him with that look again.

‘For God’s sake, Ray, I’ve told the guv how I intend to proceed with this operation and he voiced no objections – admittedly because he wasn’t feeling too clever, but that’s by the by. I’m not doing anything behind his back – and if we get the result we’re after, he’ll be the last one to complain about it when he returns. We’re all on the same side. We all want the same thing. We have to work as a team, with the tools we’ve got available, and make the best of the situation. At the end of the day, that’s all that matters …’

And here he found himself looking at Annie. All at once she seemed to him unspeakably vulnerable. He could almost see that awful devil in the dark looming out of the shadows behind her, its eyes glowing, the venom dripping from its fangs, its taloned claws slipping round her throat.

‘… All that matters is that we nail Patsy O’Riordan. Right to the wall, guys. Right to the bloody wall. Chris, are you up for this?’

Chris shrugged: ‘If that’s the orders, Boss. But what am I supposed to do?’

‘I’ll be with Patsy, wearing a wire. You and Ray will be nearby, picking up everything that’s said and recording it. If he lets slip something really juicy – something we can use to nick him then and there – then I’ll want you both as back-up so we can arrest him. Failing that, you’ll be able to warn Annie in advance of Patsy’s return. We can make this work. We can do it – but we’ve got to be smart, and we’ve got to be careful, and we’ve got to work as a team. Well? Are you with me on this?’

There was a silent pause.

It was Chris who broke that silence: ‘I’m with you, Boss. I’ve defeated Hammer Hands O’Riordan once before … I can do it again.’

‘I’m with you too,’ added Ray. And then, with a grudging hint of respect: ‘Boss.’

‘Are you all waiting for me to join in with this boysy moment?’ asked Annie, folding her arms. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and said: ‘Yes, yes,
I’m
onside too. Stone me, it’s the ruddy musketeers round here, ain’t it.’

Chris suddenly burst out with: ‘Athos! Bathos! Davros! And …’

He searched frantically for the last one.

‘We get the idea, thank you, Chris,’ said Sam.

Chris cursed, clicking his fingers and trying to dredge his memory: ‘The guv’d know the name of the fourth one!’

‘Ask him when comes back,’ Ray suggested.

‘It’s d’Artagnan,’ said Sam. But when Ray shot him yet another hostile look, he realized that it would have been better not to have said anything at all.

Sam went down to the cells and found Spider powering his way through a series of rapid press-ups.

‘How are you doing, Spider?’

His face red and streaming with sweat, Spider ignored him, until at last he spat out:
three hundred and fifty!
And with that, he was done. He sat himself on the cell’s meager cot and towelled his head and neck.

‘Keeping yourself in trim,’ said Sam. ‘Excellent. Well, it looks you’ll be safe to leave here very, very soon. I met Patsy last night. I’ve persuaded him to fight you.’

Spider stopped dead and glared at Sam. His jaw muscles clenched, making the tattooed spider on his neck ripple and flex.

‘The whole thing’ll be a sting,’ Sam went on, ‘just like we talked about. All you have to do is be there. No fighting. No danger to you. Just be there; provoke him – make him say something that reveals his guilt. I’ll be wearing a hidden microphone, I’ll capture every word he says. We can nick him, Spider. We can have him. Thirty years to life, in the hardest bloody prison in the country. You with me on this?’

Still panting, Spider nodded curtly. He seemed sullen and unfriendly. Sam wondered if he was preparing himself, mentally as well as physically, for a showdown with Patsy. Did he not understand that the fight between them would all be for show, that no actual blows would be exchanged? If all went as Sam hoped, they’d have Patsy in handcuffs long before him and Spider got the chance to clash.

‘Remember, Spider, this whole thing is about arresting Patsy O’Riordan. If you can somehow goad him or provoke him into admitting his guilt, that’s worth far more to you and me and all the rest of us than trying to batter his brains in. It’s a fight, Spider, but one that won’t be won with fists, but with
this
.’

Sam tapped the side of his head.

Spider stared hard at him for a few moments, then said at last: ‘I’m not dumb. I know what’s what.’

‘Good. Then we’re on the same side. Are you feeling ready for this?’

‘I’m feeling ready.’

‘Sunday night. Eight o’clock, just outside the fairground.’

‘I’ll be there,’ said Spider, his voice emotionless.

‘You’re doing the right thing, Spider.’ Sam turned to go, but paused in the cell doorway: ‘You won’t understand this, Spider, but I want to see Patsy O’Riordan put away as much as you do. I want it for … for different reasons. It’s important. It’s really important.’

Spider said nothing. He was drawing into himself, focusing his energies, narrowing down his thoughts until nothing existed except the fight.

If it helps him to treat it like a real fight, then so be it,
thought Sam, heading away from the cells and back to CID.
How will he react when we arrest Patsy before he can get a single blow in? Will he feel cheated? Will he turn all that channelled rage on me instead?

‘I’m in control of this operation,’ he told himself firmly as he strode away from the cell. ‘I’m in control. I’m totally in control.’

Still tucked away in the derelict factory where Gene had left it, the Cortina sat waiting for its fallen master, as faithful and patient as a loyal wolfhound. Sam looked it over while Annie stood nearby.

‘All in one piece,’ he said. ‘Tyres, hub caps, wing mirrors … Just as we left it. No smashed windows, no bumps or scratches.’

‘It’s fared better than Gene has, then,’ said Annie. ‘That’ll cheer him up, at any rate. But what are we going to do with it? Shall we call in and get it towed back to the station?’

Sam brandished a key: ‘He entrusted me with this, just in case. I’ve never used it. He never lets me drive.’

‘Well, now’s your chance.’

Sam held the keys in the palm of his hand, suddenly unwilling to use it.

‘What’s the matter, Sam? You look guilty.’

‘I’m
feeling
guilty. The Cortina’s special to him.’

‘Oh, get on with it. It’s only a car.’

‘No, Annie. It’s not. It’s more than that.’ He looked at her and shrugged: ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

‘No, I suppose not. I
am
only a bird.’

‘Opening it up and driving it away when he’s not here, it’s like … sleeping with his wife.’

‘I can’t even begin to
imagine
the guv’s wife!’ Annie exclaimed. ‘Have you ever met her?’

‘Nope. I don’t know anyone who has, except Gene. And to be honest, I’m not even entirely sure she actually exists.’

Annie thought for a moment, then said: ‘You know what? I can see a posh lass going for him, one who’s excited by a bit of rough.’

‘Stella from the gym’s hardly posh.’

‘There’s nothing between them two. A hoity-toity type – educated … I can see a lass like that going for the guv. And him going for her.’

‘If you don’t mind, Annie, I’d prefer to leave the curtain well and truly closed across the guv’nor’s sex life.’

Sam straightened his back, pushed all hesitation aside, and slipped the key into the door lock. When he clambered behind the wheel, he could feel that the driving seat still bore Gene’s heavy, rounded imprint.

He hit the ignition and the engine sprang into life.

‘It sounds different when Gene does it,’ he said. ‘More … aggressive.’

‘You’re imagining it. It really is only a car, Sam.’

He nosed the motor out of the derelict factory, passed through a series of drab, rundown streets and began working his way through the city traffic. The Cortina had never been driven so carefully and considerately. It seemed to want to lurch forward, like a dog pulling at the lead – but Sam didn’t say anything, because he knew exactly how Annie would respond.

‘Are you still having bad dreams?’ he asked as he drove.

‘On and off. I try not to think about them. What about you?’

‘All the time.’

‘What’s happening do you think, Sam? Are we going slowly potty together?’

‘Not if I can help it, Annie.’

Sam pictured Patsy O’Riordan, bristling with his demonic, inhuman tattoos – and then he imagined a cell door clanging incontrovertibly shut, sealing that monstrous creature off for ever.

Nothing is going to happen to Annie. I won’t allow it. Whatever the hell it is that’s out there, I’m going to lock it away along with Patsy O’Riordan. They can rot together in a maximum security cell. Me and Annie, we’re the future.

‘I think we’re both going to be sleeping a lot easier in the near future,’ said Sam.

‘What makes you say that?’ asked Annie.

‘Just a hunch – you know, the way coppers get hunches.’

‘Don’t be mysterious. What are you getting at?’

Sam looked for the Test Card Girl as he drove, expecting to see the little brat popping up on a pavement or sauntering by on a pelican crossing. But there was no sign of her.

‘I’m not sure I can even put it into words,’ he said. ‘Just a … a good feeling.’

Annie laughed. It wasn’t a cruel or condescending laugh, or a mocking laugh, or a laugh of exasperation. It was just a laugh. An honest laugh. An Annie laugh. Sam could not have asked to hear a more heart-warming sound.

‘Sam, I don’t know what you’re on about!’ she smiled at him. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever understand you lot.’

‘What do you mean ‘us lot’?’

‘
You
! Men. Fellas. The way you talk and that. The way you
think …
if you can call it thinking.’

‘We think,’ said Sam, a little defensively. ‘We think more than
your
lot ever give us credit for.’

‘And what is it you fellas think about, eh? Boobs and brmm-brmms and Brian flippin’ Clough.’

‘If I lumped all women together in a big cliché like that, you’d be the first to protest,’ said Sam. ‘Men
talk
about boobs and brmm-brmms and football, Annie, but that’s just the surface. You’ve got to look behind the words to catch the meanings. It’s like poetry.’

‘Now I’ve heard everything!’ Annie hooted.

‘Take Gene, for instance,’ Sam went on. ‘You think he’s a caveman, don’t you.’

‘I’m not the only one. You think he is too.’

‘Of course. On the surface. And, to be fair, quite a way
under
the surface too. But if you were to go down
really
deep, right to the core of the man-’

‘Journey to the Centre of the Guv,’ suggested Annie.

‘-you’d be surprised at what you’d find. And don’t look at me like that, Annie, I mean what I’m saying.’

‘I’m sure you do. That’s what makes men so funny. But tell me, Sam – if I dug deep and reached the secret core of Gene Hunt, which is a pretty horrible thought, what would I find there that would surprise me?’