Vacuum (11 page)

‘You study these things, do you?' Harpur said.

‘I study them because some of us might get hurt.'

‘Which “us” is that?'

‘Us. Me, for instance. My partner, Jason Wensley. You'll have a bigger file on him.'

Yes, there was a hefty dossier on Jason, and, besides this, Harpur had seen him now and then around Valencia Esplanade and other drug-dealing spots in what seemed some sort of managerial, whipper-in role. ‘Ah, files,' he said. ‘Police are turning into bureaucrats. RIP Dirty Harry.'

‘I'd love to see what you've got re Jason.'

‘Does he know you've come here to talk to me?' Harpur replied.

She stared at him across the considerable segment of currant loaf on its way to her teeth, which she halted now. ‘Of course he doesn't,' she said. ‘What would I tell him? How would I put it? “Oh, by the way, Jase, I'm popping over to see that charming cop, Harpur, and will let him know I'm scared more or less paralytic in case you get killed because of your plotting, and would like him to intervene and prevent it.”' She completed the bread move and munched slowly, as though she thought she had squashed Harpur by this surge of sarcasm and could now concentrate on her vittles.

‘You're acting solely as you?' he asked.

‘I'm acting solely as me, but because I fret about
him
. He's got some scheme. He's got some associates. They hobnob on the quiet. They're preparing something.'

‘The plotting?' Harpur found his own frets growing, but for her. He felt pretty certain he would have been as concerned even if she'd been plain, with poor legs. Or he hoped that was true. Anything other would be debased. She sat very upright. Her legs, slantwise and together, but not discouragingly together, seemed to him how a woman's legs ought to be. He'd prefer that Hazel and Jill didn't see her sitting like this. ‘Will Jason wonder where you are?' he said. ‘Will others wonder where you are? The general scene is quite tense since Sandicott and then Mansel's move out.'

‘I could be anywhere. Around the shops? I'm not kept on a leash.'

‘But you're not anywhere. You're here.'

‘You think your house is watched?'

‘I think
you
might be, Karen.'

‘I said I paid attention to the mirror.'

‘This is not the driving test. You could be dealing with very smart people who know every tailing trick. They don't cling close to your backside. They don't pose in your mirror. Then, there's your car, parked and standing a long while.'

‘Among other cars. Not yelling for notice.'

‘People in the noticing trade don't expect what they're looking for to yell at them. They notice what many would regard as unnoticeable.'

‘I deliberately left it a distance from your house.'

‘They might allow for that.'

‘Oh, God, Harpur, you bring endless objections. Why would they imagine I might be flaky?'

‘Some of them suspect everyone always. You might have given off signs you're not aware of.'

‘You're saying I shouldn't have come?'

‘Well, I'm—'

‘I couldn't see what else to do.' She spoke it plain: no tremble or tears or face slump. She chewed more currant loaf. He felt pretty sure currant loaf didn't possess aphrodisiac qualities. ‘You just told me you were here for people with difficulties,' she said. ‘I have difficulties.'

That stabbed him. ‘Stay put. I'll go and have a look at the street.' He left the house and walked a slow couple of hundred metres leftwards, but having a good all-directions gaze. He didn't see anything to perturb him. What the fuck did that mean, though? There were people about. A few he recognized as neighbours. The others meant nothing to him. Essentially, this stroll added up to that same nothing. Useless. Token. It was on a par with his later visits, revisits, to Sandicott Terrace. Gesture. Twitch. Pantomime. Let's-play-detective.

He tried to work out whether one or more of these unknowns seemed especially focused on him, or on the house. But members of that noticing trade he'd spoken of would take care they noticed without being noticed noticing: a basic skill. He might even be making things worse. He didn't often, if ever, do patrols on foot in Arthur Street and stare through 360 degrees. Would his absurd saunter flag up something exceptional? Did he look as though he might be on reconnaissance? If so, why was it needed? He mustn't prolong the stroll, anyway. He'd have to go and fetch his daughters soon.

‘I mentioned a scheme. You'll ask what kind of scheme,' Karen Lister said when he returned. ‘My partner Jason's scheme.'

‘What kind of scheme?' Harpur said.

‘If Ralph Ember's company is blitzed, no matter what the reason, there'll be increased possibilities for any firm that's not Ralph Ember's. This is Jason's thinking. Take Ember out and what's left – a vacuum where his outfit used to be?'

‘Nature abhors a vacuum,' Harpur replied.

‘These ancient maxims can tell us something occasionally. That's how Jason sees it, too,' she said. ‘He wants to move in there, grab the abandoned territory, incorporate the excellent business structure built by Ralphy, establish monopoly. I think Jase has at least a couple of collaborators in on the project. But Jason's definitely kingpin. He originated the idea.'

So, Iles thought a vacuum because Shale had gone, and Karen's boyfriend, Wensley, thought a vacuum because Ember would go. Hell, Manse's withdrawal had brought big destabilization. Harpur found it tough to adjust.

‘Look, I'm terrified,' she said. Again, no facial or body signs to signal inner anxiety.

Harpur said: ‘So far nothing has—'

‘I want you to talk to him, Mr Harpur – to Jason. You'll have our address in the files. I want you to show you're aware of his plans. That will stop him. I'm certain that will stop him, and his pals. He thinks the essence of any coup by him is surprise. The situation invites him in, and he must move immediately. He doesn't know much re such things – how could he? He's never been in this position before – but he's read a bit here and there. How all coups operate – surprise.'

‘He discusses coups with you?'

‘He talks a little. I know his mind. I can read him all right, I think. I hope. My theory is, if he discovers you're in on it, he'll realize surprise is not available any longer, and he'll not go on. OK, you'll say now you're not, in fact, aware of his plans, or only this very vaguest outline I've just given you.'

Harpur said: ‘I'm not, in fact, aware of his plans, or only this very vaguest outline you've just given me.'

‘It shapes like this – and it's what shatters my nerves. Jason is where in the ex-Shale, new-Shale, organization? Number Two? Three? Either way, he's not the designated leader, that heir nominated by Manse.
He's
Michael Arlington, isn't he? All right, Arlington must have some strengths or Manse Shale wouldn't have picked him. But there are these wobbles of his mind, the General Franco,
El Caudillo
, complex. OK, spasms only, but potentially dangerous spasms. And who knows what they might develop into? He's got a Falangist civil guard's three-cornered hat, you know. Well, yes, of course you know. And you'll probably sense what comes next: Jason doesn't believe Arlington has the sustained judgement, strength and determination to manage the kind of operation needed. He's going to try to push him out. In a way, the logic is irresistible.'

‘Which way?'

‘Irresistible but perilous.'

‘Push him out how?' Harpur replied.

‘Yes, push him out.'

‘Demote him?'

‘More than that, I imagine. Jason would be afraid Arlington might make bother for him from the back-benches. It could be Arlington's turn to try a coup. It's what Franco did against the Popular Front government, isn't it?'

‘You're saying Jason and his mates would kill Arlington?'

‘And afterwards, Jason will run the show, maybe backed by his allies. He's got those three possibilities I listed to think about: maybe Iles has fallen out with Ralph and is going to get rid of him; maybe your new Chief has taken decision-making away from Iles; maybe Iles himself has concluded, post Sandicott, that the drugs scene has to be totally cleaned up. Whichever, Jason believes he can handle it and that General Franco couldn't.'

‘And you?'

‘What do I think? It's miles too dangerous. OK, Arlington has lapses, but he's bound to know how to protect himself. A bodyguard is almost always with him – Edison Something.'

‘Whitehead,' Harpur said.

‘Capable?'

‘Experienced.'

‘Loyal to Arlington?'

‘As far as I know.'

‘Arlington will be able to deal with any attempt at a putsch. As I've said, what familiarity with coups, with putsches, does Jase have? Why imagine he'd be any better at an internal struggle than Arlington? Think Madrid. Did any putsch against General Franco succeed once he got power? And in Spain, Franco didn't have Manse Shale backing him.'

‘If I talk to Jason—'

‘Tell him what you've heard and that it's stupid. If this new Chief is set on destroying not just Ralph's firm but what remains of Shale's as well, there'll be nothing for Jason or General Franco to lead. He – whichever – will be annihilated by the police under your new disinfecting boss. My own bet is that's what's happening, in fact. The Low Pastures raid was only a beginning. True? This Upton wants a totally pure domain. It's not a matter of Iles's turning against Ralph, nor of Iles changing attitude. This is a new Chief acting like a new Chief. He comes trailing clouds of clean-up.'

‘That's poetic.'

‘Nearly. Or he's been instructed to start a clean-up.'

She had an intellect, Karen Louise Lister, despite the ‘re's. She saw damn clearly. She'd be able to run a firm herself. Harpur said: ‘If I talk to him, he'll obviously know I've been leaked to by someone.'

‘By someone, yes.'

‘Don't you think he'll know who?'

‘You needn't say.'

‘The only other possible would be one of his co-plotters. Why would they do that – give away a plan that could bring them fat money and power? No. You'll be top of the likelies.'

‘Perhaps.'

‘How would he react if he came to suspect you? What you're doing is a kind of betrayal, isn't it? This is his prized project and you aim to sabotage it.'

‘He'd see I was trying to help him.'

‘Don't count on that.'

‘I'd like him to stay alive,' she replied.

In fact, Harpur thought she was taking risks for Wensley in a way he would almost certainly detest. That's how women could be. Governed by love – admirable; but their responses narrowed, simplified by love – sometimes, not so admirable. ‘You also should try to stay alive,' Harpur told her. He felt reasonably certain he would have said that to anyone in Karen Lister's situation: it wasn't to do with her fine face and body. He still reckoned he'd achieved very considerable neutrality as regards those, and spoke to her as most police officers, of either sex, would speak to anyone who needed a warning about a hazard, hazards. In any case, she was fucking obviously and intensely committed to Jase. ‘I have to go for the children now. I'll drive you to your car,' he said.

Did she seem hurt, let down, by this dismissal? ‘Is that wise?' she said.

‘I don't know a wise way for you to get to it, but it's got to be got to so you can go home as normal. Do a bit of token shopping en route?' He left the cups and saucers out and the remains of the bread. He felt there was something innocent looking about a currant loaf which might reassure Hazel and Jill. If an interlude had been innocent, proclaim this innocence. Make the most of it. Things would not always be so easy. A currant loaf was kiddies' picnic grub. It smelled of fruit, not sex. Definitely no aphrodisiac.

He took Karen to her car. On the way she said: ‘Your boss man – Ilesy. I'm told he thinks the main aim of policing is to keep innocent, civilian blood off the streets. He wouldn't mind pushers and barons getting hit—'

‘He'd love that, is always working towards it, preferably so they're killed, but complicated disablement would do. Disfigurement at least – loss of something facial.'

‘Not ordinary people in the crossfire, though.'

‘He has his own way of viewing things. Crossfire can definitely be a pain.'

‘But, look, if Jason and his mates try to eliminate General Franco and
his
mates, there could be a hot war – will more or less certainly be a hot war – probably crossfire, possibly blood on the streets. These people know about weaponry.'

‘Which people?'

‘The ones Iles wants dead – from either side.'

She'd left her car outside a little group of shops and a chiropody practice called Jubilant, presumably after that line in the ‘mine eyes have seen the glory' hymn – ‘be jubilant my feet'. Harpur said: ‘You drive away first. I'll wait to find whether another vehicle pops in behind. Mobile on, please, in case I need to tell you. You've got a hands-free set?'

‘What if a vehicle does pop in behind?'

‘You'll know – we'll know –
they
know you've been talking to me. I might even be able to get an identification.'

‘But why would they tail me in the first place?'

‘They live with the constant expectation of broken trust. All crook cliques are like it.'

‘Which they?'

‘People around Jason, I'd say. Maybe Jason himself. They constantly sniff for treason. And do checks for treason.'

‘And what do I do if they come after me?'

‘We've got to hope they don't.'

‘Oh, thanks, I think I could have worked that out for myself,' she said. ‘But what do I do if they do come after me?'