Warned Off (2 page)

I
was finding it hard to control myself. If emotions travel through your body like
blood then none had flowed through me for five years, the well had dried up. If
they had started just trickling back I’d have been able to handle it better but
they were gushing. I was almost shaking. I felt panicky. I got to my feet and
started pacing, almost marching, up and down. Glancing wildly in all directions
I couldn’t keep my eyes still. I covered them with my hands, rubbing them hard,
massaging my face, still striding up and down.

McCarthy mistook it all for impatience.
‘Eddie, slow down, you can’t start tonight.’ I didn’t answer. ‘You’re going to
have to be fully briefed.’

I shoved my hands into my pockets and
kept pacing. ‘Tell me more about Kruger.’ My voice sounded high-pitched, almost
strangled.

‘Later.’

‘Now!’

‘Eddie, you’re building your hopes too
high. Be realistic. If you do catch him he’s going to hate you enough to want
to kill you ... probably already does. The last thing he’ll be inclined to do
is clear your name.’

‘I’ll take my chances. Tell me
everything you’ve got on him.’

‘Slow down, man! Kruger is the main
suspect but the evidence on the whole case is too scant to pin anything on
anybody just now.’

‘Just
tell
me, Mac!’

He got up. ‘Look, if you’re taking this
on let’s do it right. We’ll arrange a meeting and you can have the full file on
the case.’

‘Tomorrow, then.’

‘For God’s sake, Eddie, slow down!’

I stopped pacing and faced him.
‘Tomorrow, Mac. I’ve taken it easy and slowed down for five years. I want this
bastard Kruger and I want my licence back. Meet me tomorrow’ I felt as if my
eyes were bulging. My face was hot, it must have been deep red. McCarthy stared
at me.

‘Where?’

‘What about the Red Ox?’ I said.

‘Fine. That’s not far from my house.
Okay, around twelve thirty?’

I nodded.

‘Have you got transport?’

‘I can probably talk Melling into
lending me his car for the day but I’m going to need one long-term.’

McCarthy hauled his coat on and pulled
the brim of his hat low. ‘We’ll talk about it tomorrow.’

‘Okay.’

That night, for the first time in years
I closed my eyes with some hope for the morning.

Rising
at dawn, I shivered as I dressed. I boiled some water and the coffee mug warmed
my hands as I stood at the window. Melling had only four horses in and it didn’t
take long to feed them and muck out. I’d known him to have up to ten in at the
one time. Horses out of training, ex-point-to-pointers, young unbroken ones,
old rogues – they all had one thing in common, problems. Melling tried to sort
out the physical ones and he expected me to deal with the mental ones.

I didn’t plan to tell him I was leaving
for good. I needed to borrow his car for the day and it was grudgingly lent, as
it was. The ten-year-old Saab started first time. Pulling out into the rutted farm
road I checked the petrol gauge, half full. A thin drizzle started and I
mistakenly tried out the lights and indicators before I found the wipers.

By the time I reached Lambourn the rain
was pelting down. I drove through the valley. On the downland gallops trainers
would be working their second or third lots of the morning. Up the slope to my
right a string of fifteen or more walked steadily along the ridge, their riders
in all colours of plastic capes hunched against the driving rain like Apaches
coming from an all-night party.

The Red Ox is a white-walled pub by the
river Lambourn, its pebbled car park no bigger than a large front garden. I
parked beside the only other car there, a brown Volvo. The bar was small, warm
and thickly carpeted. On the walls were racing prints and a dartboard.

McCarthy was the only customer. He
nodded as I approached.

‘Am I late or are you early?’ I asked.

‘I’m early. I’ve got to be in London for
two o’clock, something’s come up.’ He looked across at the barmaid. ‘I’ve ordered
sandwiches, will that do?’

I nodded. ‘Sure.’

His briefcase was on the floor beside
his seat. He flicked it open and came up with a cardboard file thinner than a
folded newspaper. Laying it on the table he looked at me.

‘What’s that?’ I asked.

‘That’s what we’ve got on the case so
far.’

I pulled the folder toward me. ‘Bulging
with reports, eh?’

‘I told you, our information dried up
months ago. That’s the result of only a few weeks’ investigations.’

The barmaid brought the sandwiches and
two glasses of beer. She was small and dark haired and she smelled nice.

I took a sandwich, bit into the pink ham
and swallowed some beer. McCarthy’s was gone in a couple of bites. ‘There’s not
really much else I can tell you. It’s all in there,’ he said.

I nodded.

He said. ‘Since I’m stuck for time would
you mind if we didn’t discuss it now? Could you take it away and read it, then
phone me with any questions?’

‘Sure,’ I said and he smiled and seemed
to relax. I smiled back. He picked up another sandwich.

‘Can I ask you one question just now?’ I
said.

He raised his eyebrows, chewed and
nodded.

‘How much are you paying?’

‘For what?’

‘For me.’

‘As in?’

‘As in wages, salary.’

‘How does a grand a month plus expenses
sound?’

‘Mean.’

‘It’s a hard item to place on the
budget, Eddie.’

‘That’s your problem, Mac. I’ve got to
live.’

‘How much is Melling paying you?’

‘Melling asks me to break horses, you’re
asking me to catch murderers. And Melling throws in board and lodgings.’

He picked at his teeth with a fingernail.
‘I’m arranging that for you, and a car.’

‘Where will I be staying?’

‘A friend of mine has a holiday cottage
in the Cotswolds. I should have confirmation this afternoon that you can use
it.’

‘And the car?’

‘A hire car will be delivered to you, just
tell me where you want it and when.’

‘Melling’s place, 9 a.m. tomorrow.’

‘Okay.’

McCarthy continued working on his teeth
and looking at me. ‘We’re agreed on a grand a month then? he said.

‘And a ten grand bonus on Kruger’s
conviction.’

He shook his head quickly. ‘You’re
kidding, Eddie, there’s no way I can authorise that.’

‘Ten grand is peanuts compared to what
it’ll cost if Kruger starts using this drug on the racecourse.’

‘You’ve got Kruger hung out to dry and
you haven’t even opened that file.’ He reached for another sandwich.

‘It was you that said Kruger was the
chief suspect,’ I reminded him.

He drank and chewed. ‘Only on the
evidence we’ve got. Anyway, he’s supposed to be your big motivation, not the
money.’

‘You said last night you had the budget for
it.’

He wiped his mouth with the back of his
hand. ‘Not that sort of money, for God’s sake!’

‘Listen, Mac, at the end of this, if I’m
not dead or crippled I’m going to have to live on something till either my
licence is returned or I find another job. Trainers will hardly be queuing up
to sign me. Even with my licence it’s going to be a long road back.’

He shook his head again. ‘Can’t do it,
Eddie, not ten grand.’

‘Okay.’ I pushed the file toward him.
Let’s forget it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean forget it, I’m not doing it, I
don’t want the job, it doesn’t pay enough.’

‘We can’t forget it, where does that
leave me?’

‘Get your own guys to do it.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

He looked away without answering.
Getting up, I walked round the table and leaned over him. ‘Why not, Mr
McCarthy?’

‘They’re too busy.’

‘Bull
shit
.’

He forced himself to look up at me.
‘Tell me why, Mac, tell me why your boys won’t do it?’

He looked away again.

‘Then I’ll tell you why – because they’re
scared. Isn’t that right? Bergmark’s crippled, Rask’s blind, Danny Gordon’s
dead and your guys are shit-scared!’

He was still avoiding my eyes. I went
on. ‘I was thinking about things as I drove here and the one thing that
bothered me was the reason the RSS boys weren’t dealing with this themselves.’
I straightened up and walked slowly to the window. ‘I can’t believe I took in
all that crap you gave me last night. Made a fool of myself in my hurry to take
this on. You must have been pissing yourself laughing all the way home.’

‘Don’t be daft man! I was there to try
and do you a favour.’

‘Bollocks. You were there to try and get
me to take the chances your boys wouldn’t because I’m a worthless has-been and
it doesn’t matter if I go the same way as the other three.’

I walked back to the table and stood in
front of him. ‘Am I right, Mac?’

‘I am having a bit of trouble getting
someone to take it on,’ he mumbled. We were silent for ten seconds then
McCarthy spoke quietly, ‘I’ll pay the ten grand if you still want the job.’

I sat down. He pushed the file slowly
toward me. I let him stew for a minute before picking it up.

‘Good,’ he said, smiling as he rose. He
slung a business card across the table. ‘Call me at that number around ten
tonight and I’ll give you details of the cottage.’ I slid the card into my top
pocket and drank some more beer.

‘Must rush,’ McCarthy said. ‘I’ll pay
the bill on the way out.’

He walked toward the bar but stopped
after about five paces, turned and came slowly back. ‘Eddie,’ he said quietly.
I looked up, smiling smugly, expecting an apology. ‘Eh, you won’t be wanting
that last sandwich will you?’

It
was mid afternoon when I got back home and Melling was in the yard bawling at
someone. His teenage son stood scowling in front of him, a broken halter
trailing from his hand.

Melling was pushing him, thumping his
chest with his open hand, shouting each word that synchronised with the blows.
Knowing I could wind Melling up at the same time, I decided to rescue the boy
before he got bumped into the next county.

‘Mr Melling, sorry to interrupt the
family get together but can I have a word?’

Melling spun and faced me. He was an
ugly sod with an uncommonly large head covered with more hair than a man his
age was entitled to.

‘What is it?’

He was still almost shouting but was
concentrating on me rather than the boy, who took the opportunity and made a
swift exit.

‘Holidays,’ I said. His scowl had been
pretty bleak but he dug hard and came up with another wrinkle on his forehead.
‘What?’

‘Holidays, Mr Melling.’

‘What about them?’

‘I’d like some.’

‘Don’t be daft.’ He turned, looking for
the boy. ‘Benny!’ he yelled.

The only reply he got was a slight echo
from an open box at the bottom of the yard. ‘Benny! Don’t you show your face
back here without that filly!’

He grunted and started walking toward
the house. I fell into step with him. ‘About the holidays, Mr Melling ...’

He didn’t stop. ‘I don’t pay you to take
holidays, son.’

‘I need a month off.’

‘I can’t afford to give it to you and you
can’t afford to take it.’

‘What does that mean?’

Stopping at the front door he turned to
look at me. ‘It means, Malloy, that the first day you don’t show in this yard
for work, you pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and get your arse out of
my caravan.’ He smiled and went into the house, slamming the door in my face.

Leaving in the morning was going to be a
pleasure.

Reading the RSS file on the case didn’t
take up much of my evening. The evidence against Kruger was far from
conclusive. It was based mostly on my allegations of his connection with my
case five years ago, a reported sighting of one of his henchmen speaking to
Danny Gordon a month before he died and a strong rumour that Kruger had been in
Austria for the last two years (his son, who worked for a large drug company,
controlled a research lab in Vienna).

A report confirmed that Kruger hadn’t
been seen in England for two years, that the henchman had disappeared since
last seen talking to Danny Gordon and that neither the crippled Bergmark nor
the blinded Rask would answer ‘relevant’ questions. On the two suspected
murderers there was little information; brief physical descriptions which, in
essence, said, both big, fit, white and English. The only recent clue to their
whereabouts was an unconfirmed report that they’d been seen leaving Sandown
racecourse three weeks ago with a jockey called Alan Harle.

I knew Harle, he’d been one of the
journeymen jockeys when I’d been riding. Racecourse Security Services had not
yet interviewed him so he looked the most promising lead. The rest of the file
consisted of reports on the assaults on Bergmark and Rask and on the murder of
Danny Gordon. There was a photograph of his body. Suddenly a grand a month plus
expenses seemed as crazy as Russian roulette with five bullets.

At ten o’clock I walked to the pub and
phoned McCarthy.

‘Eddie. Been through the file?’

‘Uhuh.’

‘Any questions?’

‘Yes, am I mad?’

‘No, just desperate.’

He was right. ‘If I end up dead, scatter
my ashes at Cheltenham.’

‘Don’t be morbid.’

‘Tell that to Danny Gordon.’

He tried to change the subject. ‘The
car’ll be there in the morning.’

‘What about the cottage?’

‘I’ll tell you about it ...’

McCarthy
had said the place was isolated, he wasn’t kidding. It lay in the heart of a
thick wood, the track leading to it barely wide enough for the silver Rover
he’d hired for me.

The cottage had grey stone walls and a
small garden, one bedroom, one kitchen, one living-room all furnished and
decorated in greens, browns and greys. Faded cushions covered the slate seats
of a deep inglenook fireplace.

A hand-written note was propped on the
mantelpiece. ‘Firelighters in kitchen cupboard. Logs in shed outside. Chimney
may need swept.’

The next few days were spent organising.
The phone needed reconnecting, the chimney had to be swept, I bought logs for
the fire, food, some new clothes and footwear. When everything was done I
started looking for more to do, more mundane necessities, and I realised I was
just putting off the moment when I’d actually have to do what I was being paid
for –’investigating’, but I didn’t know where or how to start.

I thought back to the last time I’d
tracked down Kruger. I’d just been running around crazy then, asking everyone
anything till I got what I needed. This time I couldn’t work that way.

I sat down to think. It was dusk,
windless but still cold. I built a fire and the clean chimney sucked at the
firelighter flames and wrapped them round the ash logs. I washed the paraffin film
from my fingers, poured a large whisky, with ice, and sat down by the fire.

I drank and tried to plan. The only
links at the moment apart from Harle, were Bergmark and Rask. They hadn’t
volunteered anything to McCarthy’s people and there was no reason for them to
treat me differently, but I had to try. I’d learnt from the file that Bergmark
lived with his widowed sister, near Nottingham. I would visit him tomorrow then
go to Kent the day after to see Rask.

Even if I came up with nothing from
those two at least I’d have made a start. I drank some more and thought some
more and wondered about what was to come. The fire burned hot now and I eased
off my shoes and closed my eyes.