He was about fifty, hair like steel wool, and he wore a green combat-style T-shirt, straining across his chest. The men on the machines behind him whistled appreciatively at Bel as Chuck came towards us. Bel’s face reddened with anger.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘Are you the owner of this establishment, sir?’
He got a bored look on his face. One question had established in his mind who he was dealing with. I knew he wouldn’t recognise me; I’d changed a lot since Brent Storey had brought me here.
‘That’s right,’ he said warily.
‘I’m looking for someone called Scotty.’ Chuck’s face stayed blank.
‘As in “Beam me up?’” he hazarded. I didn’t smile.
‘Scotty Shattuck,’ I went on. I had one hand in my pocket. I was wearing tight black leather gloves, as was Bel. We’d bought them on the way here. Her idea. They shouldn’t have worked, but in fact they did make us look more like police officers. ‘He works weights,’ I went on. ‘Little guy, but well-built. He’s ex-army.’
‘Sorry,’ said Chuck, ignoring all this, ‘I didn’t catch your name.’
‘West, Detective Inspector West.’
‘And this is...?’ He meant Bel.
‘DC Harris,’ she said, stony-faced. Chuck gave her a good long examination, not caring if I noticed or not. The two customers using the apparatus had stopped and were sauntering this way, rubbing their necks with towels. Another three men were squatting by the window. The noise of traffic was a low persistent growl, with vibrations from the buses shaking the mirrors on the walls.
‘Well,’ Chuck said at last, turning back to me, ‘can’t help, I’m afraid.’
‘Look, we don’t want any trouble. It’s just that I need to talk to Mr Shattuck.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Chuck was shaking his head, hands on his hips.
‘He’s not in trouble or anything, Mr...’
‘People just call me Chuck. Know why? Because if I don’t like someone, I’m liable to chuck them out of that window over there.’
‘Ever tried a policeman?’
‘Funny you should say that. Just tell me what you want to talk to Scotty Shattuck about.’
‘You know him then?’
‘Maybe I’m just curious.’ He was checking the floor between us.
‘Come on,’ said Bel, ‘let’s go.’
Chuck looked up. ‘All I want to know is why you want him.’
The last time I’d been here with Brent, the atmosphere had been very different. But then I’d been with a member, with someone everyone knew. I hadn’t been a policeman then either. I’d misjudged this place. It looked like Chuck had a score to settle with law and order.
‘Afraid not,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘But I can assure you it’s nothing serious.’
‘No?’
The two hard men were flanking Chuck now. They knew they didn’t need to say anything. Their voices would only have spoiled the picture they made.
Suddenly Bel flipped open her ID the way she must have seen actors do on the television. ‘If you don’t tell us where to find Mr Shattuck, you’ll be hindering our inquiries. That could be construed as obstruction, sir.’
Maybe she’d been watching too much daytime TV.
Chuck smiled, first at one of his men, then at the other. He seemed to find something interesting on the tips of his shoes, and studied them, talking at the same time.
‘I’ve nothing to say. I don’t know anyone called Scotty Shattuck. End of story. Goodbye, adios, au revoir.’
I stood my ground for a moment longer, knowing I didn’t believe him. We could back off, or we could try another tactic. We didn’t have time to back off. Besides, if we left now, word could get back to Shattuck, causing him to disappear. There was one option left.
So I drew the gun.
It’s not easy to conceal a Heckler & Koch MP5, but it’s always worth the effort. It was why I’d borrowed a Barbour jacket from Max. It was roomy, and he’d sewn a pocket into it so the gun could be carried more easily. So what if I sweated in the heat?
At twenty inches long and six pounds weight, the MP5 can be carried just about anywhere without creating a stir. It only created a stir when you brought it out and pointed it at someone. I held it one-handed and pointed it directly at Chuck.
‘This thing’s got a fifteen-round mag,’ I said, ‘and I’ve set it on a three-round burst. You’ve been around, Chuck, you know what that’ll do to you. You’ll be lying in two pieces on the floor, and so will everybody else. Whole thing’ll take just a couple of seconds.’
Chuck had taken a couple of steps back and raised his hands slightly, but otherwise seemed fairly calm under the circumstances.
‘I want to know where he is,’ I said. ‘When you tell me, I’m going to go talk to him. That’s all, just talk. But if he’s not there, if someone’s warned him, then I’m coming back here.’
Chuck’s minders couldn’t take their eyes off the gun. To be honest, I didn’t think I could aim the thing properly, never mind fire it. I wasn’t used to sub-machine guns, far less ones so short you could use them one-handed like a pistol. I was brandishing it for two reasons. One, I knew it would scare the shit out of everyone. Two, I didn’t have time to take ‘no’ as the answer to any question I needed to ask.
‘I didn’t think you were a cop,’ Chuck sneered.
‘I only want to talk to him.’
‘Go fuck yourself.’
The men who’d been crouching by the window had risen to their feet. I could hear Bel breathing just half a step behind me. I should have known a pretty face wouldn’t have been enough for people like Chuck. They’d gone way beyond pretty faces in their time.
He wasn’t going to speak, so I waved the gun around a bit. One of his minders spoke for him, maybe for all of them.
‘Scotty lives in Norwood, near Crystal Palace.’
‘I need an address.’
He gave me one. ‘But he hasn’t been in for a while. I haven’t seen him around either.’
‘You think he’s got a job?’
The gorilla shrugged.
‘Okay,’ I said, ‘sorry for any inconvenience.’ I started backing towards the door. Bel was already on her way. ‘I’ll let you get back to your weight-gain. Looks like a few of you have lost a pound or two into your underwear.’ I looked at Chuck again and waved the gun a final time. ‘They call it the mercenary’s life-support.’
Then we were gone.
The taxi took us south of the river.
Bel said she felt drunk, with the excitement at the gym and then our brief jog to the traffic lights where a taxi was just unloading. I didn’t want to talk about it, not in a taxi, so she waited till the driver dropped us off. We were standing on Church Road, a busy two-lane street of large detached houses. The area must have been posh at one time, but most of the buildings had fallen into disrepair to a lesser or greater degree. The house we were standing outside definitely fell into the category of ‘greater degree’. It was a huge monstrous affair, all angles and gables and windows where you’d least expect to see them. Paint had faded and peeled from it, and some of the windows were covered with blankets for curtains, or with boards where the glass should be. The even larger house next to it had been added to and converted into a hotel. I imagined the cheapest rooms would be those to the side.
Bel wasn’t looking at the house, she was looking at me, wanting me to say something.
‘I wouldn’t have used it,’ I offered.