A big part of me knew that Roger should get what was coming to him, just as I knew I should do whatever I could to help bring him in. But, there was another part, smaller yes, but no less loud and insistent, that squirmed and twisted at the thought. At what the boy’s capture and conviction would do to Sean, to his mother, and to Ursula and her unborn child.
Besides, Roger hadn’t set out to kill me on his own account, I was sure of that. There was still someone else out there, a shadowy figure lurking in the background. One who’d set the boys on their way with a loaded gun. One who’d whispered in MacMillan’s ear that Sean was a murderer. I needed to find out who that was.
What was going to happen if you didn’t kill me, Roger? I wondered. Who was putting so much pressure on you to do it?
“So,” O’Bryan said now, nudging at a wisp of fraying carpet with his toe, “what do you plan to do next?”
A sudden thought occurred to me, and with it, a course of action. “Find Harvey Langford,” I said.
O’Bryan looked surprised. “Why would that help Roger?”
“Because the last time I saw Langford he told me he knew who was behind the crimewave on Lavender Gardens,” I said. “Or if he didn’t know, he could find out.”
“And you think he’d be prepared to tell you that?”
I gave him a cynical smile. “Let’s just say I know certain things that good old Harvey definitely does not want broadcasting.”
“Ah, I see,” O’Bryan said, looking clearly mystified. “Well, that information would be worth knowing, I suppose. I just don’t see how that’s going to help the boy.”
“Roger isn’t in this alone,” I said, my voice grim. “It’s only fair that he shouldn’t go to prison alone, don’t you think?”
***
After O’Bryan had gone, folding himself into his MG and disappearing out into the flow of traffic, I determined how best to make good on my promise to find Harvey Langford.
I recognised that if Langford didn’t want to be found, it wasn’t going to be easy. I knew Sean had been after him since our run-in on Copthorne, but without success. He’d even spent the previous Thursday afternoon hanging around near the building site, but the vigilante hadn’t shown.
I flipped through the Yellow Pages until I found Mr Ali’s building firm, and rang the office number. A starchy-voiced woman answered, and took my request to speak to her boss with a certain amount of disdain.
“Ai’m afraid Mr Ali is very busy this morning,” she said. “He left strict instructions that he wasn’t to be disturbed.”
“Tell him it’s Charlie Fox,” I said. “Tell him that I want to speak to him about his business dealings with Harvey Langford. I’m sure he’ll find time to speak to me then.”
I waited while she relayed the message, listening to a first-year rendition of Greensleeves scratch through two verses.
“Ai’m sorry, Miss Fox, but ai’m afraid Mr Ali is still unable to take your call,” the woman said when she came back on the line, and this time the sneer was all but evident in her voice. “However, he has asked me to inform you that he has no ‘business dealings’ with anyone of that name. If you’d like to arrange an appointment, then ai’d advise that you approach in writing. Goodbye.”
She’d put the receiver down before I had chance to say anything else, leaving me spluttering into an empty telephone. I hung up my end slowly, trying to work out exactly what this new development meant. Then I spent the rest of the day quietly simmering over Mr Ali’s barefaced ability to lie.
***
By the time I got home later that evening, I was in the mood to give half an hour of serious pain to the punchbag in the corner of my living room.
As it turned out, I almost got an interesting substitute.
I saw the hunched figure waiting under a streetlight as I trundled down St George’s Quay, and I kept a wary eye on him as I slowed to turn off the road. Even through the restriction of my helmet, I saw him drop and grind out his cigarette butt, moving forwards to meet me.
I couldn’t fail to recognise Jav’s peroxide hair, despite the shift from the sodium lights overhead. How the hell had he known where I lived? I toed the bike’s side stand down and dismounted quickly, unsure of my reception from the boy. After all, the last time we’d met, Madeleine and I had been lightly crushing his chest with a barbell.
I needn’t have worried, though. He paused a dozen or so feet away from me, waited until I’d dragged off my helmet and gloves before venturing any nearer. He watched me wheel the bike onto its patch of hard standing with narrow-eyed distrust.
It was only when he’d moved closer that I saw he didn’t have a choice about the way he was looking at me.
“Nice black eye,” I said, by way of greeting, as I threaded the roller-chain through the Suzuki’s back wheel and swinging arm.
He shrugged, wrapping his arms around his chest. He was wearing a thin jumper which did little to keep out the bitter chill that nightfall had brought with it, and he was shivering. For a moment we just faced each other in silence, but I was in no mood for games.
“Whatever it is, Jav,” I said shortly, shifting to unfold the cover over the Suzuki and not looking at him, “it must be important that you’ve been hanging around here waiting for me, so why don’t you just spit it out?”
“I might have some information for you,” he said at last, cagey.
“Yeah?” I said. “Well, I’m not sure just how reliable your information is, Jav, if you know what I mean?”
He shrugged again, started to turn away. “OK, lady, but you’re the one who’s been looking to get your hands on Langford. If you’ve changed your mind that’s fine by—”
Before he’d finished I’d got his back slammed into the brickwork and a forearm across his throat. I pressed my face towards his. “Do not,” I said, speaking slowly and clearly, “mess me about, Jav. If you genuinely know where Langford is, then tell me now, otherwise get out of here before I do something you’ll regret.”
He swallowed, which is not easy when someone’s elbow is jammed up against your windpipe. “OK, OK,” he managed. “Ease up and I’ll tell you.”
I released my grip and backed off a step. He rubbed at his neck. “And I thought you’d be easier to tackle without that bloody dog,” he muttered.
“Friday’s as dangerous as a stuffed pyjama case compared to me,” I said grimly. “Now talk.”
“Langford,” he said. “You want him. I know where to find him.”
“Where?”
He hesitated. “Look, this didn’t come from me, all right?”
I sighed, passed a hand across my eyes. “Just tell me where he is, Jav.”
“OK, OK. You know that new industrial estate that’s going up out near Heysham?”
A creeping sense of recognition came over me. “The one Mr Ali’s firm is building?”
“That’s it,” he nodded, almost eager. “He’s camping out in there.” He saw my next question forming, and held his hands up. “I don’t know where, exactly, just that he’s somewhere on the site.”
I paused for a moment, considering. I still didn’t think I could trust Jav. It was a damned sight too convenient, for one thing, but I couldn’t afford to ignore the tip-off, either. “Why the handy hint, Jav? What’s in it for you?”
“It’s time the bastard got what’s coming to him,” he said, touching a hand to his face and favouring me with a tight little smile.
He started to move away, turned back after a few paces. “If you want to catch him, you’d better hurry,” he said. “Rumour is that Langford’s planning on doing a moonlight flit – real soon.”