Riot Act (12 page)

I glanced back towards Garton-Jones, just as his gaze swept back over me, like the blaze of a searchlight. I forced my face into relaxed boredom, and stayed put. If I made any moves to contact Madeleine now, to speak to her, I stood the chance of exposing both of us to who knew what dangers. I’d just have to try and catch her as she left the meeting. In the meantime, I was minutely aware of her, like she was putting out heat.

The CPO wound up his talk and received a desultory round of applause for his pains. Someone from the Residents’ Committee thanked him on their behalf for coming. He packed up his case, made his excuses, and left.

Then it was Garton-Jones’s turn. The Residents’ Committee man introduced him without undue enthusiasm, and sat down hurriedly, looking nervous in case he was blamed for heralding the bearer of bad news.

I could understand his reasoning once Garton-Jones got under way. The big man started innocuously enough, pointing out that the crime rate on the estate was already dropping. He’d even conjured up some figures from somewhere, which West parroted out when called upon to do so. Percentages and statistics that could have been twisted to mean anything, and probably had been. It was all very slick. Very pro. But then, that’s exactly what they were.

The good times weren’t designed to last long, and they didn’t. Garton-Jones checked his notes, schooled his face into well-mannered contrition, and carried on.

“Unfortunately, these swift results have not been without their price,” he said. “Streetwise Securities’ original estimate did not take into account the particularly unruly behaviour we’ve had to deal with. Aware that you deserved a quick initial return to order, to public safety, we’ve had to allocate more manpower to the estate than we originally envisaged,” he reported. “Of course, the results speak for themselves, and therefore we feel sure that you won’t begrudge the slightly increased cost.”

For a truly modest fee, he told us, he and his firm would undertake to continue to patrol the streets and keep Lavender Gardens crime-free, round the clock, twenty-four seven. And then, per household, per day, he named his price.

I’m always much more suspicious when health clubs, insurance schemes and the like break down their annual fee into a daily amount. If the only way you can stomach a meal is to cut it into tiny pieces, you’re eating the wrong food.

It took a few moments for the more arithmetically agile among the group to work out the cost per year, and the gasps they gave spoke for themselves.

The man from the Residents’ Committee read the faces around him and didn’t need to put it to the vote. He stood up and told Garton-Jones stoutly that the people were already paying as much as they could afford. He mentioned the number of young families on the estate, who were living on a restricted budget.

Garton-Jones listened with an apparently sympathetic frown, nodding seriously. “Oh I quite understand,” he said soothingly when the man’s speech stumbled to a halt. “Unfortunately, much as we feel those families have a right to our protection, we also have a duty to the men who work for us, to pay them a reasonable living wage. We would very much regret having to withdraw from the estate at this stage, just when we feel we’re making such progress . . .”

He tailed off the sentence artfully and stacked his papers on the table in front of him, preparing to clear them into his briefcase. West took his cue and stood, also.

The Residents’ Committee man realised they were about to leave and started to panic. Surely, he said, his voice shaky, there must be some room for negotiation, some scope to talk about this?

“I’m so sorry, but myself and my colleague here have been over and over these figures to see if there was any way at all we could reduce them, but they’re pared to the bone, I’m afraid,” Garton-Jones shrugged regretfully, then put a forced brave face on. “Still, never mind, hey? I’m sure you people will manage without us somehow.”

The way he allowed just a fraction of doubt to cloud his voice at the end there was a masterful touch. All the passion he’d shown when he cornered me and made his threats to Friday might have never existed.

Without haste, the two Streetwise men finished packing away their papers, leaving the Residents’ Committee stuttering.

“Look, obviously you need to think things over and let us know one way or the other,” Garton-Jones said smoothly to the spokesman, as though the whole thing was of no real importance to him. “Why don’t you make your minds up and let us know – say before the end of the week? We’ll stay until then, anyhow.” He smiled, friendly for all the world. “Least we can do.”

And with that, they strolled out, leaving turmoil behind them.

The Residents’ Committee man, who’d looked so sure of his ground when he objected to the price hike, now looked doubtful and bewildered. His eyes darted quickly about him, checking to see if he was going to be generally blamed for this sudden turnaround in fortunes.

Somebody else spoke up, asking for suggestions.

I waited a few seconds to see if anyone was going to be brave. When it became obvious they weren’t I took a deep breath, and waved my hand.

“I know that strictly speaking I’m not really entitled to stick my oar in,” I said. “I’m only on the estate temporarily, but from what I’ve seen your problems are being caused by a small, but active minority, yes?”

I looked around me, and received one or two cautious nods. Madeleine was watching me with a sudden stillness. Mind you, so was everybody else. Perhaps calling attention to myself like this wasn’t such a hot idea. Ah well, too late now.

“All I’m saying is,” I went on, “that there’s nothing to stop you taking the responsibility for your own security yourselves.”

The Residents’ Committee man snorted his derision, glad to be back on safe ground again. “We have tried Neighbourhood Watch before. It isn’t enough,” he argued.

Cautiously, I agreed that Neighbourhood Watch schemes were a start, but the difference they actually made to crime figures wasn’t that great. “On the other hand, recruiting what amounts to a gang of mercenaries to garrison your streets is inviting disaster. I’m sorry.” I shrugged. “But it is.”

“So what do you propose? That we do nothing?”

I took a deep breath, and launched into the details of a plan they could put into action themselves. It wasn’t so much Neighbourhood Watch, more Neighbourhood React. The idea was not that they hid behind their net curtains and watched the crime happening outside, they needed to react to it.

So, if kids were vandalising cars in the street, the entire population of that street had to come outside and tackle them about it. It was a straightforward safety-in-numbers tactic. Even the bravest vandal will think twice about taking on a crowd of fifty, or a hundred, no matter what their age and ability.

There was a chain system they could easily put into operation, where the first person to spot a crime taking place would ring two neighbours, who would each ring another two, and so on. The whole street could be mobilised in minutes. Far quicker than any police response. Far cheaper than Garton-Jones and his men.

“All you need to do is get to know each other, keep in contact, and keep an eye out for each other,” I said at last. “If you don’t learn to look after each other, you’re going to have to pay someone else to do it for you forever.”

I glanced round the faces. Some looked enthusiastic, others dubious, but the majority showed little emotion. I really had no idea whether I’d got through to them or not.

“So, Mr O’Bryan,” said the Residents’ Committee man, “what is your opinion of this scheme?” In the absence of anyone better, I suppose he was the nearest thing to a professional there.

O’Bryan’s features were noncommittal as he slowly pulled a cigarette out of a new pack, and put a struck match to the end of it. For a moment, as he regarded me narrowly through the fresh smoke, I thought he was going to rubbish the idea.

“I’m always reluctant to advise anybody to confront criminals,” he said eventually, almost diffidently, “but this sounds like it’s got legs. I think you should get some detailed proposals from Miss Fox and give them some serious consideration.”

The meeting broke up about then. I found myself agreeing to put something together for the Residents’ Committee before Garton-Jones’s deadline ran out, and joined the throng as they headed out.

I looked round for Madeleine and saw that she’d managed to get to the exit ahead of me. Trying to push through to get to her proved difficult, and by the time I reached the car park she was just about to climb into a black cab that had pulled up in front of the pub. I started forwards, intent on speaking to her.

“Miss Fox.” It was O’Bryan’s voice that stopped me. He came jogging out of the doorway of the Black Lion, car keys in his hand. “Ah, I’m glad I caught you,” he said, panting slightly. “Can I offer you a lift?”

I eyed Madeleine’s back disappearing into the taxi with a certain amount of resignation, then turned back to O’Bryan and lifted my bike helmet. “I have my own transport,” I told him.

“Ah, yes, of course you do,” he said, pausing awkwardly for a moment. “I’m parked just at the back there. Can I walk with you?”

I thought it an odd request, but shrugged my compliance. If nothing else, it was a bit of insurance just in case Langford had decided that tonight was the night he wanted his revenge.

We moved round to where I’d parked the Suzuki, and I noticed a dark green MGB roadster, with wire wheels and plenty of chrome about the grille, parked a couple of spaces away from the bike.

“I like to leave it well out of harm’s way,” O’Bryan confided unexpectedly. “Some people are very careless of your paintwork when they open their car doors.”

“Don’t I know it,” I said, bending to unlock the chain from round the bike’s back wheel. I stood and nodded to the MG. “It seems you’ve got quite a classic car collection.”

“Oh,” O’Bryan looked both embarrassed and pleased. “Another one I restored myself,” he said, pride uppermost. “I enjoy picking them up for a song and doing them up. That old thing was laid up for years. It was in a pretty sorry state when it came to me. Still, the thrill of getting them back out on the open road makes all the hard work worthwhile.”

“How’s the Merc?” I asked.

He blinked and the smile went out. “It’s going to take a bit of effort to get that back up to scratch,” he said, and the steely glint was back in his eyes again. “That was one of the reasons I wanted to speak to you, actually.” He hesitated before going on, occupying his hands with the business of lighting another cigarette.

I shifted from one foot to the other, trying not to shiver in the cold, and said oh yes, in a manner that I hoped was designed to prompt him on.

“Well,” O’Bryan said carefully, “I wouldn’t like you to find yourself in the same position, Charlie. Where they pick you out, I mean, make you a target. And if you take these kids on, set yourself up as some sort of leader in the fight against them, they will mark you out, believe me.”

He paused again, drawing on his cigarette. Took it out of his mouth and expelled smoke upwards into the chilled evening air like an industrial chimney. He glanced at me, his gaze calculating. “They’ll make it personal.”

Personal. I was on familiar territory there. The thing was, did I have to watch out for the kids who were causing the crime, or Garton-Jones’s thugs who were supposed to be preventing it? Was I supposed to be guarding against the likes of Roger, or protecting him? And where the hell did Sean fit in to all this?

I swung my leg over the bike, then looked back at O’Bryan levelly. “Thanks for the warning,” I said, “but I know all about things getting personal, and I rather think they already have.”

***

My words to O’Bryan might have had the ring of bravado to them, but for days afterwards I lived with my nerves on a knife-edge.

Particularly after I’d put together some proposals for the Residents’ Committee on how they could take over from Streetwise Securities and do the job themselves. It was a simple basic idea, that just involved people finding out a little about their neighbours. Their names and phone numbers for a start, their daily routines.

After that, if someone noticed anything out of the ordinary, they would have a network of neighbours to call upon for help. It was a system designed to build up, street by street, until the whole of the estate could be brought together into a proper community scheme.

Well, that was the theory, but whether it would work in practise or not was something else. In my experience, neighbourly disputes and personality clashes could drive wedges deep enough to bring the whole thing down round their ears. Still, trying it had to be better than leaving matters up to Garton-Jones on an indefinite basis.

The Residents’ Committee must have thought so, too. According to Mrs Gadatra, who seemed to have an inside hotline, when his end-of-the-week deadline hit, they told him they’d decided to try another way, and had regretfully dispensed with his services.

“And how did he take that?” I’d asked with some trepidation over the garden fence.

“Very well,” Mrs Gadatra reported. “If anything, he seemed enthusiastic about the whole idea.”