Broken Faith (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-seven

It was ten-past three in the morning and George's Jag stood in the car park of Ebbsfleet International station which, bathed in the eerie glow of fluorescent light, looked to Jimmy as God-forsaken a place as anyone could wish to find. It was a vast expanse of black neatly edged with pale kerb-stones and covered with white lines demarking each of the hundreds, maybe thousands, of parking spaces. There weren't many cars parked and the whole place had an almost abandoned look. The first Eurostar wouldn't arrive until five forty-two, another two and a half hours. Jimmy stared ahead looking at nothing in particular. George put his hand into his coat and took out a packet of cigarettes, Jimmy didn't take any notice, he had the gun and George had already lit up two or three times since they'd arrived. George lit his cigarette and opened the window.

‘Filthy habit, George. You should give it up.'

‘Not as filthy as some I could mention.'

‘True, and not as hazardous to your health.' George smoked on for a while and Jimmy looked at nothing in particular. Then George threw the half-smoked cigarette away. ‘What's up? Decided to take my advice and pack it in?'

‘No, funny thing but they seem to hurt my throat. Can't think why.'

George closed the window and they sat in silence and let the time pass. Both had plenty of experience of sitting waiting. After half an hour George pulled out another cigarette and tried again. Once again he threw it away half smoked but this time left the window open. The car was getting stuffy.

‘I've done you a favour. Probably saved you from cancer.'

‘Thanks, I'll try and return the same favour one day.'

And again they lapsed into silence. After a while a man came from somewhere, got into one of the few cars and drove off. They both watched him.

‘It's all go here, isn't it?'

‘Just one damn thing after another.'

The sky was lighter, morning wasn't far away. Through the open window they heard the birds of Ebbsfleet begin their dawn chorus. George tried to stretch. Jimmy moved so his arms didn't come near him. George turned to him.

‘Don't worry, I'm not going to try anything, just trying to iron out a few kinks. I haven't spent a night sitting in a car for a long time.' He bent down and massaged below his left knee. Then he sat up. ‘I can't say I ever got used to the waiting, sitting like this, at night in a car with nothing to say, just waiting for the job to begin. I thought I'd done with all that kind of thing. I
had
bloody well done with it until you came back.'

Jimmy didn't respond. He hadn't liked the waiting either. Waiting for just the right time to move in and make the pull. It was like George said, sitting with nothing to say and nothing to do but wait. Some seemed better at handling it, seemed to be able to just switch off. Like newspaper photographers. Jimmy pulled the gun out of his pocket, opened the chamber and held it so the bullets slid out into the palm of his hand. He dropped the bullets into the back behind his seat and held the gun out to George.

‘Here you are, let's do a swap.'

‘What sort of swap?'

‘Your gun for your phone.'

George got out his phone, handed it to Jimmy and took the gun. He snapped the chamber shut and looked at it.

‘Stupid bloody thing. If it ever does go off I'll probably shoot myself. I hope I don't hit anything important.'

He put it back into the shoulder holster.

‘Why carry it? You were never the violent type and I can't see you shooting anybody, not in cold blood.'

‘No, me neither. But they said I had to stop you if you turned up. How was I supposed to do that? But if I didn't, well, you know how it is, so I got the gun. Didn't do me any more good than the knife did that time in the Hind.'

‘It didn't put you in hospital this time.'

‘No, that's true, but this time you needed me so you couldn't very well put me in hospital could you?'

‘No.'

They sat for a moment.

‘They'll come for you, Jimmy, you know that? They won't let you close down their racket, it makes too much money. It's not just the porn, it's what goes with it.'

‘I know. But I really do have a deal. That wasn't just a story to get Rosa and the heavy mob out of the way. I have a deal and I want you to tell them what it is.'

‘What deal?'

‘The same one.'

‘Just Harry going down hard?'

‘That's right. What do you know about all this?'

‘Not much. I know who put the word out on you and that hard porn is only one of the things they're into. I got the word like everybody else; give them the nod if you turned up.'

‘OK I'll tell you my story and if you believe it you can pass it on.'

‘What's my believing it got to do with anything?'

‘Because it'll be true, or true enough. If I don't convince you, you won't convince anyone else.'

‘Fair enough, tell me your story.'

‘Harry gets involved with a team who try for a bookie's up in Birmingham and as a result goes down for a ten stretch. He knows that when he comes out his days as any kind of muscle are well and truly over so he looks around for a new line of work. He meets someone inside who's in for running porn. They talk about it and Harry thinks, that's the work I want. But he's got a lot of form so the law will be keeping an eye on him. What he needs is a new life, a legitimate life that provides a good income. Then Jarvis turns up. They talk and Harry tells Jarvis about himself. Jarvis makes some remark, something like, “if you could put it in a book it would make money”. Something like that, about writing up his experiences and Harry thinks, why not? He's not interested in becoming a writer but even though he's not too bright he can see it would be a good front. The books wouldn't have to sell because that's not where the money will be coming from. All he needs to do is have books out there with his name on so he gets Jarvis to agree to do the writing in return for looking after him. Jarvis thinks, why not? After all, he's in for sex offences and all he knows is teaching, nothing else. How is he going to make a living when he gets out? Harry tells his porn mate that he's got a business plan but he needs somebody to handle the money side of things. He gets given the name of a good client of the porn merchant, Henderson.Henderson is vulnerable and, with a bit of pressure, he'll drop. Harry's got time to serve but he coaches Jarvis so when he comes out the first thing he does is put the bite on Henderson – join us or we'll give you to the police. Henderson folds. He likes his porn and doesn't want to give it up, but also he's greedy. He smells the money so he sets up the publishing end by buying Tate and Wiston who are already on his books. That's the cover for Harry as a writer set up, but it's no good for laundering any serious money. So Henderson sets up a property company in Gibraltar called Iberian Property Holdings, easy enough to get to and well away from official prying eyes. When Harry gets out he moves to Spain and starts setting up the production end, probably in some ex-Eastern Bloc country. My guess is Albania or Romania or somewhere like that. Harry's in charge of the buying and selling, Jarvis gets a house rent-free and a regular income while he does the writing. Henderson handles the money through the property company and everything is hotsy-totsy until I turn up at the same time that Jarvis cops a bullet in the back of his head and Harry thinks it looks like things are beginning to unravel.'

Jimmy stopped and waited. He let George chew on what he had given him so far. George wasn't in any hurry to comment so they sat in silence for a few minutes. Then George came to life.

‘Did you do it? Did you top Jarvis?'

‘No. I'd never heard of him till I got asked to go to Santander and talk to him. First thing I knew about him was that he was dead.'

‘What were you doing there? What was this Jarvis geezer to you?'

‘Never mind about that. It wasn't anything to do with Harry's racket. I was asked to talk to Jarvis about something to do with the Church.'

‘The Church? Your Church?' Jimmy nodded. ‘What's the fucking Church got to with this? I thought we were talking about wholesaling porn?'

 ‘I told you, it doesn't matter what I was there for. It turned out to be a load of bollocks anyway. The problem is, while I'm there I bump into Harry and when I do I'm keeping a local detective inspector company and we're asking about Jarvis. Harry jumps to the natural conclusion that his racket is in the frame. I'm somehow tied up with the local coppers and maybe I'm positioning myself to come on to him for a bung to keep me sweet about the whole thing. Whatever I'm doing I'm bad news.'

‘How else would he would figure you? You always took your bung to stay sweet.'

‘So he decides the best thing to do is have me topped. He's got plenty of the right connections in that part of the world now so he can get someone to do the job at short notice. But the guy he sends misses and I'm still alive. Harry tries and again it's a miss. Two pops at me and the bodies pilling up means now I really am pissed-off at Harry so I head off for London to do some digging about him and Henderson and their nice little earner. And that's it, that's the story I will tell to the law. Just Harry, Henderson, Jarvis and no one else. I came to the UK and made the connections between the three of them. I found out about the writer thing being a front and now I'm buggering off to Gibraltar to confirm they own a company called Iberian Property Holdings. When I've done that I'll take everything I've got to the Spanish police so they can roll up Harry and Henderson. What do you think?'

George didn't answer for a moment.

‘So did Harry kill Jarvis?'

‘George, for God's sake just stick with what I'm giving you. Forget Jarvis. Harry didn't want him dead, he wanted him alive and writing his bloody books.'

‘So who did kill Jarvis?'

‘How do I know? The man in the fucking moon. I told you, forget Jarvis.'

Reluctantly, George did as Jimmy asked.

‘OK, Harry and Henderson get rolled up. How does that go down well with the London end? It still sounds like you're closing down their racket.'

‘Only temporarily. There'll be nothing in what I tell the police to tie into any London end. If the police follow up my story all they'll get is Leicester gaol, Henderson-Kenwright, Tate and Wiston, and Iberian Property Holdings in Gibraltar, and all of that gives them nobody except Harry and Henderson. Harry'll be no loss, as things stand he's not going to be much good to anybody with no one to write his books for him so maybe now is a good time for London to think of a new face to handle that end of the business anyway.'

George began to see where Jimmy was going.

‘So this end, London, and the production end wherever it is, get moth-balled while the coppers do the investigating and once Harry and Henderson are safely banged up the operation can get set up again somewhere else.'

‘Exactly. No real harm done, just temporarily closed for refurbishment and staff training. All very business-like, all very Canary Wharf.'

George almost managed a grin but his lip still wasn't up to it.

‘I like it, Jimmy, it's neat, believable even. OK, I'll try to sell it for you. I don't say I will, but I'll try.'

‘Thanks. I'll go to Gibraltar by train, that will give London long enough to get stuck in to covering their tracks and telling the production end to do the same. By the time I get what I want, hand it over and the Spanish police start talking to Harry and Henderson, London should be free and clear.

‘I understand.'

‘Just one more thing. None of this works if Harry gets a sniff of him being set up to take the fall. Him and Henderson have to be there to go down so the police think it's all wrapped up.'

‘The people at this end are many things, Jimmy, but stupid isn't one of them. Harry will drop if you do everything just like you say you will. What if he decides to talk?'

‘You know your mates here in London better than me. If Harry tried to talk could he put the finger on any of them? Could he have any of them put away?'

‘I doubt it.'

‘And if they knew he'd tried to grass them what would happen to him?'

‘I see what you mean. Well, I guess you've got it sorted. All I have to do now is get them to see it your way.'

The sky was light blue now and bright, the sun was up and the day had begun.  Jimmy looked at his watch, it was a quarter to five.

‘Time to be on my way.'

‘One last thing, Jimmy.'

‘Yeah?'

‘Why?'

‘Why what?'

‘Why are you doing this?  What's in it for you? As far as I can see there's no way any money comes to you, all you get is Harry and Henderson banged up. Why is that important?'

‘You could say I get my pay-off from someone else.'

‘Who?'

‘A friend, I'm doing it for a friend, George. Let's leave it at that, shall we?'

George shrugged. It wasn't his business one way or the other.

‘If you say so, sunshine.' Jimmy reached over to the back seat, picked up his holdall and got out of the car. George lowered the window and leaned across. ‘Good luck, mate. You're still going to need it.'

‘Thanks. By the way, George, clean yourself up before you go out in public. The state your face is in you'll frighten the horses. See you.'

Jimmy walked away carrying his small holdall. George moved the rear view mirror. Jimmy was right, his face was a mess. He readjusted the mirror started the car and pulled away. His last view of Jimmy was him walking across the car park towards the glass and steel of Ebbsfleet International. George thought about his parting words, “See you”.

‘No you won't, Jimmy lad. Not any more you won't.'