‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘But very discreetly, please, Mr Grant. As you say, plenty of people around here never want to hear Roach’s name mentioned again.’
‘I understand. Thank you for being so open with me, Chief Inspector.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Now, I must dash. I have a committee meeting. Home Affairs Committee, you know it?’
Brock caught the gleam in Grant’s eye.‘I don’t think so.’
‘You should. It’s a Departmental Select Committee, charged with scrutinising the operations of the Home Office, the Attorney General’s Office, the Crown Prosecution Service and the Serious Fraud Office.You lot, in other words.’
He grinned and got to his feet, shaking Brock’s hand.
When he returned to his office Brock put a call through to Keith Savage. The Trident detective spoke with a renewed confidence. Things were going well, he said, and arrests were expected shortly. Several sources had confirmed that Dana and Dee-Ann had stolen drugs from a powerful underworld figure in Harlesden, and Savage hoped their murders would provide the opportunity to close him and his operations down for good. And this time the team was going to do the job properly, at their own pace. Brock told him what they’d learned about the bodies on the railway land and asked if the Trident records might throw any light on them.
‘They don’t go much further back than 1998,’ Savage said, ‘when we were formed. There were earlier operations, of course, going back to the “Yardie Squad”, Operation Lucy, in 1988. Before that you’re talking ancient history, I’m afraid. Things have changed a lot since those days. For a start, most of our villains today aren’t Yardies at all-they were born here.’
‘While other things never change,’ Brock said.‘The guns and the crack are still concentrated in the poorest boroughs.’
‘True enough.’
‘So you don’t think you can help us identify our three victims?’
‘Sorry, it’s all too long ago. Ancient history.’
‘Right. Incidentally, I came across a little quirk of ancient history that may intrigue you. That name that Michael Grant gave you-Roach.’
‘Yes?’ Savage was cautious.‘What about it?’
‘It seems that Mrs Ivor Roach was hurt one day last week in a robbery.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘Her car was stolen as she was getting into it, by two unidentified black kids. I’m wondering if there could be a connection.’
Savage was silent for a moment, then said, ‘Million to one, I’d say.’
‘Yes, you’re probably right.’
Kathy’s phone rang precisely on seven. Icy rain was battering the window.
‘Hi, I’m downstairs.’
‘I’m ready, be down in a minute.’
‘I’ll meet you at the door. I’ve got a brolly. By the way, I, er . . . I have someone else with me.’ He sounded uncharacteristically hesitant.
‘Okay, fine,’ she said, slipped on her coat and grabbed her bag. She took the lift down to the lobby and saw his car parked directly outside under the lights. In the rear window she could make out the pale face of a small figure.
Tom wrestled his umbrella open. ‘Hi.’ He offered her a smile and an arm, but no kiss.‘What a night!’
Kathy smiled back.‘Hello.Who’s your passenger?’
‘It’s my daughter, Amy. I’m sorry, I’d forgotten that I’m supposed to feed her before I take her back to her mother’s.’ He looked acutely embarrassed.
‘That’s fine,’ she said, sounding more enthusiastic than she felt. ‘I’d like to meet her. How old is she?’
‘Nine.’
They scurried across to the car together and Kathy slid into the passenger seat and turned around to meet the eyes of the young girl staring at her from the back.
‘Hello, I’m Kathy.’
‘I’m Amy.’ Her expression was grave, and Kathy couldn’t quite shake off her first impression of a little old lady.
‘We’ve been out together,Kathy,’Tom said.‘Tell Kathy where we’ve been, Amy.’
‘The London Dungeon,’ the girl said, still inspecting Kathy carefully.
‘Oh yes? Any good?’
‘Yes.’ Amy turned away as they moved off, wipers beating against the storm.‘It was all right.’
‘It was horrible,’ Tom said.‘I felt sick.’
Amy said flatly,‘He didn’t like the blood when they cut off the queen’s head.’
‘Too right. Not a good evening to be out on your site, Kathy.’
‘No, they were expecting this. It’ll be flooded.’
‘Is that the murder site?’ Amy asked.‘Can we go there?’
‘Not tonight, sweetheart,’ Tom said.
He dropped them at the door of the pizza restaurant while he tried to find a parking space, and Kathy and Amy hurried inside together. The place was bright, warm and busy, and they found a table and took off their coats. Looking around Kathy saw young women in studded belts, stretch jeans and pointy black boots, looking like refugees from the eighties. On the wall were framed posters for The Cure and Depeche Mode. It seemed that Brock wasn’t the only one having an eighties revival.
She noticed that Amy had been clutching a fat paperback under her raincoat.
‘You’re a reader, like your dad.’
‘Yes,’ Amy said, settling herself.‘We’re very alike.’ She glanced around at the other tables. ‘I shouldn’t really be here. I’m on the Atkins diet.’
Kathy looked at her in surprise.‘Are you?’
‘Yes.’She screwed her nose up at the menu.‘The most dangerous food additive on the planet is sugar, in all its forms.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes. How many bodies have you found so far?’
‘Three.’
‘Yuk, doughnuts, twenty-seven carbs.Were they all together?’
‘No, they were spaced apart.’
The precocious manner sat uncomfortably on the little girl and Kathy suspected that it was her form of protest at having to share her father with her.
‘Can you draw a plan?’
Kathy smiled at the girl’s serious expression, as if they were discussing a professional problem of great mutual concern. She took a pen from her bag and drew a diagram on a paper napkin with three crosses. ‘We call them Alpha, Bravo and Charlie.’
‘Hm . . . Doesn’t that mean they were shot separately? If they were shot at the same time you’d dig one big hole, not three little ones, wouldn’t you?’
‘Sounds reasonable.’
‘How did the murderers get onto the land?’
‘We think from here, a derelict warehouse.’
‘So this would have been the first grave . . .’ Amy pointed to Bravo,‘. . . followed by Alpha, then Charlie.’
‘How do you work that out?’
‘Bravo is the closest to where they got in, right in the middle of the site, halfway to the railway. The next time they went past that spot to here, and the third time further again, to here. I bet you I’m right, fifty p.’
‘Okay, you’re on.You’re pretty smart. Do you want a Coke?’
‘I’m going to be a forensic pathologist. Forty-one carbs, no thanks. I’ll have a Diet Pepsi, zero carbs.’
‘You should meet our forensic anthropologist, Dr Prior.You’d like her. She worked out just about everything we know from their bones.’
‘Cool. If you’re going to have pizza, I’d advise the thin ’n crispy, and definitely not the Hawaiian.’
‘All right.’
Tom arrived, shaking off rainwater.‘How are you doing?’
‘Fine. Amy and I have just made our first bet. And here’s the fiver I owe you.’
They ordered, three thin ’n crispies, and chatted happily for an hour until Tom said he had to get Amy back to her mother’s. As she sat in the car, watching Tom and his daughter running to the front door beneath the umbrella, Kathy felt as if she’d been given another little glimpse into Tom’s life, and wondered if it had been as accidental as he’d made out. Afterwards they went for a drink, and he told her a little more about his ex-wife, divorced now for six years.