‘Yeah? Why not? Hey, you could ask Ragga to have his men do it. He’d kill his own mother if the price was right. I never said that, though.’ When she didn’t reply, he continued: ‘Wouldn’t that be better, having Ragga’s men do Palmer? That way you know it gets done.’
Lottie gave a snort of contempt. ‘You think I would trust those strutting idiots to do anything? They’re street hooligans, that’s all, flashing their silly gold chains and hiding behind dark glasses. Real men don’t need to hide their eyes, Mr Szulu. People like Palmer and Mitcheson… they look you straight in the eye.’
Szulu nodded, recognising something close to admiration in her voice. Man, she sounded like she respected those two. That was something he hadn’t expected.
‘Anyway, I can’t ask Pearl.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I went to see him two days ago, while you were busy. To talk over some stuff. While I was in his office, I noticed some papers on his desk. He seems surprisingly businesslike, for one so…uncouth. A bit careless, though, with people he thinks are beyond it.’ She gave a slight chuckle. ‘We’re the invisible army, us old ones, you know that? Nobody sees us until it’s too late.’
‘So?’ Something in the old woman’s tone told Szulu he wasn’t going to like where this was going. From rarely telling him the time of day, here she was suddenly gobbing off about some visit she’d made to Ragga Pearl’s den.
‘I’ve always had the knack of reading upside down, you know. It came in handy over the years. The paper on his desk included a list of names and bank accounts. My late husband always had a list like that, too. Piggy-banks, he called them. Bits squirreled here, bits tucked away there… makes it difficult for anyone to follow the money trail, see? Information like that, though, there’s always somebody interested in buying. Always.’
Szulu felt the situation rapidly slipping away from him. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He’d thought all along that the old woman was crazy, but this was something else. He stared at her. ‘Let me get this right: you stole information about bank accounts from Ragga Pearl? Tell me you’re joking, man! Why would you do such a thing?’ He wondered if he shouldn’t just kick her arse out of the car and leave her here in the middle of the street. Then drive until the car ran dry or he was out of money. It would be way better than the shit-storm she was going to bring down on their heads once the Ragga found out what she’d done. Because as sure as the man was crazy as a bed bug, there was no way he’d let her get away with it — and that included anyone around her at the time. Shit, he’d be lucky if he didn’t end up floating alongside her down the Thames.
Lottie Grossman moved slightly, slumping back in her seat. It was enough to drag Szulu’s mind back to the here and now. Then he noticed something wasn’t right. She looked like she’d taken an over-strong hit of something. Her mouth had gone slack on one side, and her eyes were rolling towards the roof of the car. He glanced at her hands, which were now clutched tight in her lap, the brightly coloured nails digging into her palms. And one knee was trembling slightly, as if she had the fever.
‘Hey — Mrs Grossman! Lottie — what’s up?’ He leaned over the back of the seat for a closer look, and saw a trickle of saliva worming its way down the old woman’s chin. Her breathing sounded bad, too, like it was coming out of the end of a long tube, and there was a sour smell in the car. He guessed she’d had a heart attack, or maybe a stroke. Whatever, he was no medic and she plainly needed more help than he could give her.
He turned and flattened his forehead against the side window, the feel of the glass cool and flat against his skin. He didn’t need this. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Hospital, that was the best bet. The nearest he could find. Drop her off at a casualty unit and leg it before anyone could ask questions. By the looks of it, she wouldn’t be in a position to tell them anything, anyway. Then wait to see what the Ragga would do. In spite of knowing the gangster’s psychotic nature, Szulu was fed up with feeling like a chicken every time he heard the man’s name. No way he was going to crawl like a slug and ask for mercy. Damn if he’d do that.
He turned the key in the ignition, put the Lexus in gear, and checked his mirror, mentally planning a route to the nearest A amp;E. He was surprised to see a large black Toyota Land Cruiser had ghosted quietly up the street behind him, and was now filling his rear window with its radiator grill.
‘What the-?’ He turned and ducked his head a fraction and saw three large figures inside, just sitting there behind tinted glass. Szulu heard another engine and switched his eyes to the front, where a similar vehicle was reversing the other way at speed. It stopped three feet from his bonnet, the array of brake lights flaring like fireworks. Two shapes sat inside this one, one of them horribly familiar. Shit, so they had been followed!
Before he could move, there was a figure at his door and another on the passenger side, peering in at him like he was a caged exhibit. Both were big, with shoulders like weightlifters and heads like cannonballs. He didn’t recognise them, but he didn’t have to — they were Ragga’s boys. Then the door of the Land Cruiser in front opened and the Ragga himself strolled towards him, heavy body rolling, springing off his left foot like he always did and snapping his fingers to some insane, inner tune. He wore trainers and a gold tracksuit, his large belly straining against the soft, silky cloth. He made a rolling motion with one fat finger, and Szulu pressed the button to lower the window.
‘Szulu, my man,’ Ragga greeted him. He seemed to chew on the name with relish, as if they were old friends. Szulu sensed it was Ragga’s way of unsettling people — especially those to whom he intended no good. The gang leader leaned over the car, filling Szulu’s side window. He smelled of fried food, sweet smoke and some sickly expensive cologne that someone had probably told him was really cool this season in L.A.
‘Ragga.’ Szulu nodded and wondered how he was going to get out of this one. Damn, he should have bugged out long ago, when he first met the crazy woman in the back seat.
Ragga peered past him at Lottie Grossman, running heavy-lidded eyes over her with a peculiarly vacant expression. He exchanged a look with one of his lieutenants, then said to Szulu: ‘What’s up with her, man? You been smackin’ her around?’ Ragga tittered, the pink tip of his tongue sneaking out from between his lips like a schoolboy enjoying a filthy joke he wasn’t supposed to have heard. ‘Still, we all got to get our kicks somehow, right?’
‘It wasn’t like that,’ Szulu protested. ‘She had some kind of attack. I was about to take her to hospital.’
‘You kiddin’ me?’ Ragga seemed genuinely surprised. He bent to study the old woman again. ‘Shit, Szulu, I think you’re right. That’s bad news, man. Before she kicked off, did she say anything about having some property of mine?’
The question nearly caught Szulu by surprise, but he managed to keep a straight face. Just a bare hint that he knew what this psycho was talking about and he’d be history.
He shook his head and stared directly at the other man, allowing a little heat to creep into his voice. ‘Now you’re fucking joshing me, right? This old bitch never even told me her real name until a couple of days ago. She’s been dangling me like a sucker all along, not telling me nothing. Watch this guy, check out this place, take me here, drive me there, put the frights on that woman… shit, I’d learn more working for one of those monks that never speaks.’ He stopped speaking, mostly because Ragga had put his hand through the window and placed a pudgy finger against his cheek. It felt hot and damp and Szulu wanted to take hold of it and bite it.
‘Enough, man,’ said Ragga softly, his voice suddenly sing-song, as if he was crooning to a child. ‘Don’t make me lose my temper. The old woman took something from me, see. I can’t be having that. Make me look soft, like I got no control. Now you sit still, nice and quiet.’ He muttered instructions over his shoulder and two of his men opened the rear doors and eased Lottie Grossman out of the car. They took her to the Land Cruiser at the back and placed her inside, then one of them came back and collected her handbag off the back seat. The doors closed with twin clunks.