Backlash (18 page)

‘You have a beautiful home,’ Anna said as he waited to take her coat. He gave a wide smile, showing two gold teeth, as he neatly folded her coat and placed it over the back of a
lounge chair.

‘Unexpected, huh?’

She smiled and nodded, at the same time wondering how he could afford such an elegant and clearly expensive place on a doorman’s salary. She sat beside a glass-topped table and placed her
briefcase on top of it while he crossed to an ornate bar and opened a fridge, taking out a small bottle of chilled water for her. He took a paper napkin and put it on the table beneath the
bottle.

Ira then picked up a hard-backed chair, turning it around with one hand to sit astride it, and leaned his elbows on the gilt frame.

‘Just in case you think I got all this from ill-gotten gains, I ain’t no drug pusher, this is down to hard graft. I used to work the doors on nightclubs in the East End as security,
then decided to start my own business. I now provide over two hundred registered door supervisors to pubs and clubs across London. Recruited a lot of the old boxers and pals and then got into
working as an extra on movies and TV, so nowadays they do all the hard graft and I make a nice living, thank you.’

‘Congratulations.’

Anna took out the photograph of Henry Oates and passed it to him. He did no more than have a glance before handing it back to her.

‘Henry Oates.’

Anna explained her reason for wanting to talk to him and he listened, occasionally twisting his head to loosen his hair.

‘Basically I need to know when you last saw him,’ she concluded.

‘Few years back, three, four, maybe longer.’

‘Did he work for you?’

He shook his head and gave a wide-handed gesture.

‘Nah, we tried him, but he couldn’t be trusted to turn up and to be honest, though he could handle himself, he was on the short side and he could lose it just like that. Working the
doors you got to have a big presence; you also got to know who’s who if it’s one of the smart nightclubs, know what I mean? Movie stars can turn up looking like scruffs and dealers can
look like dummies outta Burton’s. I train my guys up. They’re smart, savvy, and Oates was a bum. I got contracts for West End clubs, couple in Stockwell, one over in Kilburn and another
about to open in Kensington.’

‘So this last time you saw him, did he come here?’

‘Nah, wouldn’t let him through the door if he did. He was a mess, but I felt sorry for him. Years ago, when he was on the amateur circuit, he got himself mixed up with a right whore,
everyone at the old club knew what she was, but he was always one sandwich short of a picnic, know what I mean?’

‘So where was it you met up with him?’

He closed his eyes and then drummed his fingers on the back of the chair.

‘I’d closed a deal at a local pub when he sees me and comes over looking for a handout. I took him for a burger at the McDonald’s off Shepherd’s Bush Green.’

‘So you met him around here in Hammersmith and then took him to Shepherd’s Bush?’

‘Yeah. I was goin’ to the BBC at White City. I said where I was off to and he asked if he could cadge a ride there. Said he had a chance of getting some work, an’ he stunk out
my car, but like I said I felt sorry for him. He ate three cheeseburgers, I remember that, said he was no longer with his wife and that she’d taken his kids to Scotland.’

‘Did you know his wife?’

‘Not really. I didn’t say anything but I wasn’t surprised they’d split. Everyone knew she put it about. They said the daughter looked nothing like him, more like me.
Don’t get me wrong, I never slept with his missus, she was a minger.’

‘Did Oates say anything else to you?’

I asked where he was living and he said he’d found a squat somewhere. To be honest I couldn’t wait to get rid of him. I gave him fifty quid and that was the last I saw of
him.’

‘He never tried to see you again?’

Ira shook his head, then showed his wide toothy smile.

‘Well he said he’d pay me back as soon as he got a job so that’d be a reason to stay away.’

Anna made a note in her notebook.

‘I remember watching one of his fights. Took a terrible pasting, his face was like a squashed tomato; ref had to stop the fight because he was bleedin’ so badly. He only had a go at
the ref, wouldn’t go down, but that was his last bout.’

‘Do you think he’s punch-drunk?’

Ira laughed and pointed one of his thick fingers.

‘Listen, that’s old wives’ crap. In the old days maybe, cos of the illegal fights, bare knuckle ones with no holds barred, you got hurt bad in those days, but we got strict
rules and regulations, you get knocked out and they got you down the hospital for a brain scan. I know I was no Lennox Lewis, but I had a chance and had a couple of professional bouts, though the
reality was I couldn’t keep up the training, it costs, and without a lot of money backing you there’s no way. In those days I was working the doors every night and you can get injured
tossing out drunks. They can come at you with iron bars, not worth the aggravation. Besides, I started my own business.’

‘Are you married?’

He nodded and held up two fingers.

‘Was twice. Got a couple of kids that live with their mother.’

‘Do you live alone?’

He gave her a cold look.

‘Why you asking me about my private life?’

‘Just out of interest.’

‘Well for your interest, ma’am, I live with someone, a model, Swedish, been together three years. What about you, are you married?’

‘No.’

‘Live alone?’

‘Mr Zacks, I am sorry if you think I am being too personal, but we are investigating the disappearance of two young girls and strongly suspect that Henry Oates was involved in their
abduction. He has recently been charged with the murder of a woman and he said in interview that he had committed two others—’

‘What?’ he interrupted.

‘One was Rebekka Jordan, the other Fidelis Julia Flynn.’

Anna passed over the girls’ photographs, which Ira studied for some while. Finally he asked, ‘Jesus Christ, how old is she, the little one?’

‘Thirteen.’

‘Is it recent?’

‘No, Rebekka disappeared five years ago. She was last seen leaving the riding stables in Shepherd’s Bush. Fidelis went missing a year and a half ago in Kilburn.’

‘Don’t make sense to me, why are you asking about them now?’

‘Because we have never found either of them and Mr Oates is now a suspect. Can I take you back to when you said you last saw him? You said he told you he was looking for work in the
Shepherd’s Bush area?’

Ira rubbed his head.

‘He implied that he was – I mean, I had just left the pub and was walking to where I’d parked my car. I was unlocking it when he come up to me, I think I sort of said something
like I didn’t have much time, you know, I wasn’t that eager to rap with him.’

‘So he didn’t have a vehicle?’

‘No, just looked like shit. I felt sorry for him.’

‘Did he mention anything about stables, or what kind of work he was looking for?’

‘No, I think we talked about the old days and if he’d ever gone back to the boxing club or York Hall to see any fights. Listen, I told you all I can about the last time I saw him,
and I wish I could give you more, but I’ve not seen him since.’

Anna closed her notebook and took back the photographs to replace in her briefcase. She stood up and Ira fetched her coat.

‘You know, I’ll ask my guys about him; if I get anythin’ can I contact you?’

She took out her card, and wrote down her direct line.

‘I’d be most grateful, and thank you for your time, Mr Zacks.’

As she passed a cabinet she noticed some photographs in silver frames.

‘That’s my mum, my dad was Jamaican – he’d gone off by the time I was six, never heard of him since. These are my kids, and this is my woman.’

The ‘woman’ was a stunning blonde, and Anna noticed his gentle tone of voice as he indicated her picture.

‘She’s a good ’un, love her to pieces – maybe third time lucky!’

Ira ushered Anna into the corridor and pressed the button for the lift, standing beside her like a perfect gentleman.

‘It’s been nice meeting you,’ she said and meant it. She just wished he had been able to give her more. The only thing she had gleaned was that three or four years ago Oates
had been in Hammersmith and then in Shepherds Bush, possibly looking for work.

Back at the incident room, Anna had plenty to tell Mike.

‘When I heard about the doll thing I was surprised you didn’t get your skates on straight away and visit the Jordans – it’s a big breakthrough,’ Mike commented.

‘Well I’d arranged this meeting with Ira Zacks at his place in Hammersmith and he recalled bumping into Oates three or more years ago. Oates said he had a chance of work in the area,
but Zacks has no idea what he was actually doing. It could all be a coincidence, but you are looking at a chance he worked on the building of the multi-storey car park.’

‘Yeah, we’ve had meetings with the contractors, talk about shelling out work this way and that, but Paul’s tracking down as many as possible of the men that worked on the
rebuild to see if they remember Oates. The company have admitted to using a lot of cash labour, mostly Polish, so they’re even harder to track down as they move around and share properties .
. .’

‘Paul said you had a forensic archaeologist ready to go with a radar of some sort.’

‘Ground-penetrating radar, it’s costly and time-consuming. I’d feel better if I had some evidence that he actually worked there, so the archaeologist is on standby at the
moment.’

‘Did you see Langton?’ Anna asked with a sigh.

‘No, he was being taken to hospital for a check-up, maybe catch up with him tonight.’

She smiled and he caught it, giving her a grin back.

‘Yeah, lucky you.’

‘See you in the morning,’ she said as she headed for the door.

Mike paused. ‘This Ira Zacks, you reckon he was telling you the truth?’

‘Yes I do. Very expensive, tasteful flat, worth a packet.’

‘By Hammersmith Bridge, right?’

‘Yes, but he didn’t know or recall anything about Rebekka Jordan. He did say he’d ask around his friends to see if they knew anything.’

‘Is he dealing?’

She hesitated.

‘Come on. He worked doors and now lives in a place you say was worth what, how many thousands?’

‘He has his own security business. I didn’t think he was lying. He also works as a film and TV extra.’

‘All the same, run a check on him. I’d say he was dealing drugs . . . only way you get out of the world of doing heavy muscle on club doors is supplying gear to the kids.’

‘Okay, I’ll look into it. Goodnight.’

Barbara was just about to leave when Anna asked if there had been a CRO check on Ira Zacks for any previous criminal record. It felt as if Mike had been having a small dig at
her, but he was right . . . she knew she should have run a check on Zacks and Bradford before visiting them. It had totally slipped her mind. She didn’t think that Ira Zacks was a drug
dealer, but then she had also believed Eileen Oates.

‘Joan was dealing with the boxers,’ Barbara had told her. ‘She’s in the Ladies, but I’m off. Mike said it was okay, I’ve got a dinner party.’

‘Goodnight, have a nice evening.’

Barbara was already heading out of the door and Anna overheard her say to Joan, ‘She’s still here so I wouldn’t bother putting your coat on yet!’

‘You want me?’ Joan said, coming over.

‘Did you run a check on any criminal record for Ira Zacks?’

‘No, did you want me to?’

‘Yes, and run one for Timmy Bradford as well.’

‘Anything else?’ Joan sat at her desk, taking a squirt of moisturizer from a container she kept by her computer. She rubbed her hands together and patted them with a tissue from the
box she always had on her desk.

‘No, just get them as soon as possible,’ Anna said, more abruptly than she’d intended, but she was already trying to compose herself for the difficult call to the Jordans.

Stephen Jordan answered and Anna quickly explained her reason for wanting to see him as soon as it was convenient, so they agreed she would drive over that evening. Anna
decided she’d fortify herself with a quick bite to eat first. She knew she should have chosen something light like a salad, the canteen’s steak and kidney with chips made her feel ill
just looking at it. She took a few mouthfuls and then pushed her plate aside. She just about managed to finish her strawberry trifle, but knew deep down she was intensely agitated. She absolutely
dreaded the thought of facing the Jordans and explaining how they had discovered the tiny broken figures, which would further reduce any hope they had of Rebekka still being alive.

Joan was sitting with her coat on ready to leave when Anna got back from the canteen. She gave one of her flushed looks.

‘Both of those men have criminal records. Timmy Bradford, when he was a juvenile, for assault and burglary and a six-month sentence for handling stolen property. Ira Zacks has had a number
of run-ins with the law. Ten years ago, again an assault charge. He apparently used too much force ejecting someone from a disco, but more recently he was flagged up by the Drug Squad. Suspected of
being involved in a cocaine ring; they’ve been monitoring the gang for eighteen months.’

Anna sighed, resting her head in her hands.

‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I should have checked them out earlier.’

‘It’s all right, Joan, don’t worry about it. I’m as much to blame.’

‘Here’s all the details and if you want the contact for the Drug Squad officer there’s his mobile and office number.’

‘Thank you.’

Joan hovered and asked if she could get off home and Anna nodded, more interested in reading the reports.

‘It’s just I have to do a grocery shop for my mother.’

‘Goodnight, Joan.’

Anna was furious at herself; it was a real oversight. But even knowing their backgrounds didn’t really change the fact they both denied seeing Henry Oates for a number of years. Unless of
course they had both lied, but she could see no reason why, as neither would benefit from it. What concerned her was her lack of intuition. It was even worse that Mike Lewis had been onto Ira
Zacks’ possible drug connection without even meeting him.