David Raker 01 - Chasing the Dead (11 page)

But then I stopped dead.

About a quarter of a mile down on my left, Jade was crossing the road. She looked both ways, a cigarette glowing between her fingers, and moved off in the opposite direction. I hesitated, suddenly unsure it was her.

But it was.

It was Jade.

I followed her, keeping to the other side of the street, moving in and out of the pools of light cast by the street lamps. When I drew level with the alley she’d emerged from, I looked along it and saw a big green door, partially open. Above it were a pair of neon angel’s wings. She’d left through the rear entrance – which meant they knew I was waiting.

So why lead me back to where Jade would come out of?

Because it’s a trap
.

What if it was? What if the first guy had led me here and now Jade had been told to lead me somewhere else? What if that phone call outside Eagle Heights
had
been my one chance to walk away? The one chance I hadn’t taken.

She disappeared from sight at the end of the road.

I stood there, frozen to the spot, uncertainty pumping through my veins. Something flooded my chest, a sense that I’d been here before, in the first few weeks after Derryn’s death: standing on the edge of a precipice, watching the ground crumble beneath my feet.

But then I saw my reflection in a nearby shop window and realized how much direction this case had brought to my life, the energy it had returned to me. And I understood that if I wanted to carry on moving forward, this was something I had to do. A step I had to take.

So, I went after her.

When I got to the end of the road, I saw Jade about forty yards along a street to the right. She was crossing the road and heading for a thin sliver of back street, partially lit. There was a restaurant on the corner, its front decorated in tinsel and Christmas trees. Otherwise it was another London back alley full of exit doors and second-floor windows.

I caught up quickly, and then slowed as I got closer to her.

‘Jade?’

Her face dropped. She sunk her hands into the pockets of her fur coat: a reflex action. She felt threatened by me. Maybe she hadn’t actually been leading me anywhere.

I held up a hand. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

She didn’t reply. Her eyes darted left and right.

‘I just want to talk to you.’

She nodded, slowly.

‘Were you leading me somewhere?’

Her face creased a little. A frown. ‘I was tryin’ to get
away
from you.’

‘Why?’

‘’Cos you’re trouble.’

‘You knew I was coming?’

She nodded. ‘One of the guys saw you out front.’

The barman. I’d been right.

‘What was the point of the decoy?’

She frowned again.

‘The scruffy guy,’ I said.

Her expression didn’t change.

‘The guy who led me to you. What was the point of that?’

She shrugged and looked away. But when she turned back, her expression had changed to a kind of relief, as if she’d just reached the biggest decision of her life.

‘What d’you want with me?’

She shrugged again, and nodded. ‘Then we talk.’

Her eyes got darker as we walked; harder to read. I tried to figure out whether she was scared, or confident, or both, but I gave up as we got to the car. Men were probably drawn to her suddenly and easily – but left just as quickly when they realized she’d never let them in.

‘Is this what you drive?’ she asked, looking at the BMW.

‘This is it.’

‘I thought you’d have something better.’

‘I’m not
really
Magnum, Jade.’

She glanced inside, then back at me, as if anticipating the question to come.

‘So, what’s going on?’ I said.

‘Can’t we go somewhere?’

‘Where do you want to go?’

‘I’m hungry.’

‘Okay.’

We got into the car, and I started it up.

‘What’s on the menu?’

‘Cheeseburgers.’

‘Where?’

She smiled. ‘If you’re paying, there’s a place I know.’

We headed east, past the shells of old stadiums and storage yards. Everything was dark, almost decaying, as if the city were slowly dying. Tightly packed housing estates emerged from the night, lonely and deserted, windows dark, street lamps flickering on and off.

‘Where are we going?’

‘It’s near,’ she said, staring out of the window.

I looked at the clock. 8.34.

‘Will they still be serving?’

She didn’t say anything.

‘Jade?’

She glanced at me, then shifted in her seat. ‘You lost someone, Magnum?’

‘Huh?’

‘You lost someone?’

‘What do you mean?’

Her eyes caught the light again, her expression perfectly still. ‘You’re sad.’

I didn’t reply. Didn’t want to. But I needed her – more than she needed me. She had turned away from me now, her face reflected in the glass.

‘I lost my wife.’

‘How?’

‘She got cancer.’

‘Derryn.’

She nodded again, looking out of the window. ‘What was she like?’

‘She was my wife,’ I said. ‘I thought she was amazing.’

We drove for about half a mile more, then she told me to take a left. Out of the dark came huge blocks of flats, wrapped in the night.

‘What do you miss most?’

‘About Derryn?’

She nodded.

I thought about it. ‘I miss talking to her.’

The restaurant, Strawberry’s, was an old carriage set inside a series of railway arches. A blue neon sign that said
HOT FOOD
buzzed above a serving hatch. We got out of the car and Jade led me to one of the tables out front. There were seven of them. Each one had a heater attached, their orange glow lighting the yard in front of the carriage. There was a couple on the table furthest away from us. Apart from that it was empty.

‘Didn’t realize we were going à la carte,’ I said.

Jade ignored me and sat down. She reached into the pockets of her coat, trying to find her cigarettes, and laid the contents out on the table: keys, a wallet, an ATM statement, some cash, a photo which she placed face down. It had writing on the back:
this is the reason we do it
. She found her cigarettes, removed one and popped it between her lips.

‘Get the burger with everythin’ on,’ she said.

‘In a previous life,’ she said. ‘I used to come with my mum and dad. They loved places like this. Places with personality.’ She turned and pointed at the carriage. ‘They used to have a guy called Stevie runnin’ it back when it was called Rafferty’s. He liked my mum and dad. Always cooked somethin’ special for them.’

‘Your parents still around?’

A pause. Then she shook her head.

The heater was pumping out plenty of warmth. Jade removed her coat, lit her cigarette and looked at me. ‘So, what’s your story, Magnum?’

‘I’m not a PI, Jade.’

She smirked. ‘But you
want
to be one.’

‘Do I?’

‘You’re actin’ like one.’

A woman emerged from the carriage wearing a retro waitress’s uniform, a name badge that said
Strawberry’s
and a face that could turn a man to stone.

‘What can I get you?’ she barked.

‘Two burgers with everythin’ on,’ Jade replied. ‘I’ll have a beer. Magnum?’

I looked at the waitress. ‘A big coffee. Black.’

The waitress disappeared again. Jade and I stared at each other. Light from the heater glinted in her eyes, making her seem mischievous. Then she started to put the things she’d laid out on the table back into her pockets.

‘That your mum and dad?’ I asked her.

She followed my finger. I was pointing at the photo.

Eagle Heights.

‘I know that place,’ I said.

She didn’t say anything, hardly even moved.

‘Who’s the boy?’

She glanced at the picture. ‘“This is the reason we do it”,’ she said.

‘What does that mean?’

She smiled. ‘I’d tell you if I knew. But I don’t. I don’t know what that means. But I know what the boy represents.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Making a difference.’

‘Making a difference?’

‘What’s that sayin’? Uh…’ She took a drag on her cigarette and stared off into the night, blowing a flute of smoke out into the chill of the evening. ‘The end justifies the means.’

‘Okay.’

‘That’s what this is.’

‘You’ve lost me, Jade.’

She nodded, as if she hadn’t expected me to keep up, then pulled the photo back across the table towards her. ‘You ever had to keep somethin’ secret?’

‘Sure.’

‘Neither do I.’

‘So, what secret have you had to keep?’

‘I worked in Israel, in South Africa, in Iraq.’

‘So?’

‘I saw things in those places I’ll never forget.’

‘What sorta things?’

I thought of Derryn, of keeping my work away from her. The things I saw. The bodies I stepped over.

‘What sorta things?’ she repeated.

‘Things I could never bring home to my wife.’

The waitress returned with our drinks.

‘Come on, Magnum. You’re gonna have to try harder than that.’

‘I’m not playing this game with you.’

‘It’s not a game, it’s a trade.’

‘I’m not trading with you.’

‘Why not?’

‘We didn’t come here to trade. That wasn’t the agreement.’

‘I don’t remember makin’ no agreement.’

She put the cigarette between her lips and took a drag.

‘I shouldn’t really be smokin’ these,’ she said. ‘But I guess we all have our demons.’ She pressed a thumb against her lips, knowing and playful, and then a small smile escaped. ‘You follow this little project of yours any further, you’re gonna have to face down a few demons of your own.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Of what?’

‘Runnin’. Lyin’. Startin’ again.’

‘What do you mean, starting again?’

‘I mean, you won’t find anythin’ at Angel’s now. Everyone associated with it as of now will be gone. You askin’ questions, that just makes it harder for you. You go back, it’ll be new people. It’ll have all changed.’

‘Why?’

‘Why d’you think?’

I paused. ‘The bar’s a front.’

She clicked her fingers and smiled.

‘For what?’

‘It helps us do what we
really
want to do. It makes money for us. It pays our way.’

‘You own it?’

‘Not me.’

‘Who?’

She picked up the statement from the table and opened it, placing it down in front of me. The bank account belonged to Angel’s. There were two pages of listings, but about halfway down was a direct debit payment:
CALVARY PRO
. 5000.00.

The Calvary Project
.

Every month, Angel’s was paying five grand to a company the Inland Revenue didn’t know existed.

anything
about that company.’

The waitress arrived with our meals. Jade didn’t waste any time, biting down on the burger, juice bubbling beneath the bun.

‘So, where will everyone from the pub go?’ I asked her.

‘The others… I don’t know. I don’t make those decisions.’

‘What about you?’

She paused. ‘I’m not going back. I can’t now.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m sittin’ here with you – why d’you think?’

‘So, where are you going to go?’

She shrugged.

I thought of the numbers Spike had got me.

‘Who makes the decisions, then? This Gerald guy?’

She started laughing, almost choking on her food. ‘
Gerald?
’

‘Yeah.’

‘No. Not Gerald.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘Gerald doesn’t even know we exist. Gerald’s just a crook, living in some shithole in Camberwell. I just go to him for…’ She paused. ‘Identity changes.’

‘Fake ID.’

She winked. ‘You’re good, Magnum.’

She took another bite of her burger.

‘For all of us.’

‘Who’s us?’

She smiled. ‘You could be a good copper. You ask the right questions. But you realize the whole reason we’re sittin’ here now isn’t because you’re good, but because we made mistakes. Droppin’ that mobile phone like that, that was a stupid, careless thing to do. Thing is, Jason didn’t expect you to turn up like that. He got jumpy.’

‘So, who’s Gary Hooper?’

‘He’s no one.’

‘The phone your guy Jason dropped is registered to Gary Hooper.’

‘My phone’s registered to Matilda Wilkins. That don’t make me her.’

‘So, who is he?’

‘I told you – he ain’t no one. He’s a ghost. You’ll be chasin’ your tail all fuckin’ day with that one. It’s just a name. Just another lie.’ I watched her push some fries around her plate. ‘I hate to disappoint you, Magnum, but what you have here –’ she gestured to herself ‘– is a foot soldier, not a general.’

‘Who’s Vee?’

‘Vee?’

‘Jason – he asked for Vee. What’s that short for? Veronica?’

She looked at me and suddenly became serious. ‘I’m gonna tell you what I know,’ she started quietly. ‘I’m gonna tell you what I know because I’m tired of

‘What does it do?’

‘What do you think it does?’

‘I don’t think it does anything. You just pass money through it.’

‘It’s a means of protection.’

‘So you can launder money.’

‘
Launder
money?’ She smiled. ‘This ain’t the mafia.’

‘So the Calvary Project only exists in name?’

She opened a wallet and took out a credit card. ‘All our money comes and goes through it. All our cards are registered to it. It buys our food and our clothes.’

‘So none of the purchases can be traced back to you.’

‘Right.’ She turned the card over. Company Barclaycard.
miss matilda wilkins
was printed at the bottom. ‘Jade ain’t bought a pair of shoes in years.’

‘This Michael guy, at the church – what’s he got to do with it?’

‘I don’t know much about that.’

‘So, tell me what you
do
know.’

‘The church is where he recruits people.’

‘Michael?’

‘What do you mean, “recruits”?’

‘Helps them to start again. Sells ’em an idea.’

Selling ideas
.

Suddenly, from the darkness of my memory, a face stepped out: the guy with the tattoo in Cornwall.
My friend’s a salesman
,
he’d said
. Sells ideas to people
. I looked at Jade. She was picking at her food.