Black Daffodil (Trevor Joseph Detective series) (6 page)

Blighted before they even began their schooling, kids turned to crime almost as soon as they could walk and talk, because, contrary to government thinking, in his opinion no amount of sympathetic teaching or well-meant ‘schemes’ could compensate for the absence of a home life. But sympathy didn’t stop him from reaching into the oversized pocket of his cargo pants and wrapping his hands around the Taser he’d been issued, or checking that the handgun Dan had slipped him was still in his back pocket.

He looked through the spy hole and saw the skeletal boy hopping from one foot to another. Was Sneezy desperate for a fix? Or was his uneasiness down to something more sinister?

Chris pulled back the three deadbolts but left the safety chain on. He wondered if the Housing Association fitted high security locks on all their high-rise property, or just the ones they rented out to the police. The links on the chain were sound, the door and frame were steel-reinforced. Not burglar proof. He had seen similar ones sliced open by acetylene cutters. But it was solid enough to deter the casual thief. He opened the door a few inches.

The door thudded back as far as the chain would allow. Metal cutters sliced through the links and the door crashed against the wall. A fist flew over Sneezy’s shoulder. Chris ducked. Not quickly enough. The blow connected with his cheek bone instead of his jaw and sent him reeling across the room.

Sarah jumped up. Her plate, burgers and chips crashed to the floor. She turned and saw four men burst in. Sneezy stood, gnawing his knuckles, behind them. He caught sight of her staring and ran.

Alerted by the commotion, Tiger charged in from the kitchen. The man who’d thumped Chris, pulled a knife and waved it in front of Chris’s eyes. Tiger flew across the room, sank his teeth into the man’s hand and forced him to drop the weapon. Chris saw one of the men pointing a pistol at the dog. He pulled out his gun and fired. He knew, even as he squeezed the trigger, that the angle was wrong. The bullet ricocheted off the steel door and hit the man’s shoulder. The thug yelped and dropped his pistol. The third man slammed Chris into the wall.

Tiger pinned the man who’d pulled the knife to the floor. His companion tried to drag the dog away, but Tiger sank his teeth further into the man’s hand. Blood spurted, spraying the walls.

Sarah reached down the side of the sofa in search of the Taser she’d hidden there. Her fingers closed around it as the fourth and largest man grabbed her by the neck and dragged her backwards. There was no time to fire. She lifted it and, with all the strength she could muster, hit him on the side of his head.

‘I likes girls who fight back.’ He grabbed the Taser, wrenched it from her and pointed it at the dog.

Sarah screamed. ‘Tiger!’ too late.

He fired.

Tiger yelped and rolled, lifeless, on his side.

The man tightened his grip on Sarah and yelled at his companions. ‘Get that bloody dog out.’

The thug who’d dropped the knife dragged Tiger’s body outside, slammed the door and turned on Chris who was slumped, barely conscious, in the corner, legs stretched out in front of him, back to the wall, pointing his gun at the men.

One of them picked up the pistol. Chris fired. His bullet hit his target’s thigh. The second man flung himself on Chris and grabbed the gun. It fired twice in quick succession. Chunks of plaster flew down from the ceiling. He grabbed Chris’s head and slammed it against the wall. The lout who’d taken out the dog kicked Chris in the chest. Dazed, nauseous, Chris was too far gone to fight.

Sarah’s assailant locked his fingers into her hair and dragged her backwards into the inner hall. She screamed and lashed out furiously to no effect before instinctively resorting to the moves she’d been taught in self-defence sessions. She flung herself forward, caught the man off balance, planted one foot on the floor and kicked back at his shins with the other, before swivelling round and grabbing his genitals.

He screamed but knotted his fingers even more tightly into her hair before slapping her soundly across the head with his free hand. He threw her into one of the bedrooms, stepped after her and locked his arm around her throat. She could hear Tiger scratching and whimpering outside the door and fought all the harder.

‘You want it rough?’ Her attacker lifted her head to his. His teeth were black and broken. She reeled as a wave of stinking beer breath wafted over her. Determined he wouldn’t get the better of her, she brought back her elbow and thrust it into his solar plexus. The breath hissed from between his lips but his grip remained firm.

He thrust Sarah on the bed, jumped on top of her and pressed the full weight of his arm across her neck, cutting off her air supply. She reached up and dug her fingernails into his eyes and cheeks, scraping and tearing at his skin. He relaxed his hold for an instant. Utilising every ounce of strength she possessed, she propped herself up. He brought back his hand and punched her across the head. Ringing filled her ears. Darkness crept inwards from the corners of the room when he punched her again – and again – and again –

The last thing she heard was shouts from the living room and Tiger scratching at the door in the outer hall. Random thoughts sparked through her mind.

‘Please don’t let them hurt the dog or Chris. Please don’t let them hurt the dog or Chris … Please …’ She plunged downwards into a swirling mist.

Peter drew up outside the tower block, glanced at the rubbish strewn parking area and remained on the road.

‘This is it?’ Trevor leaned forward and looked upwards.

‘The address we were given.’ Peter removed the ignition keys.

‘You see what I see?’

Peter glanced through the window. ‘Parked pizza delivery van?’

‘Pizza delivery painted on the side but no telephone number or logo. Not keen to advertise and not very bright. Take a look at the driver watching the door of the tower block.’

‘Could be he’s waiting for someone to deliver a pizza.’

‘At midday around here?’ Trevor said sarcastically.

‘You’re right; Giro bunnies don’t leave their bed until sundown.’

‘Could be Chris and Sarah’s deals have annoyed the local supplier and that’s his driver. Is there another entrance to the block?’ Trevor asked.

‘It’s worth taking a look.’ Peter started the car and drove around until they faced the back of the building.

‘No door.’

‘Boarded up windows on the ground floor.’

‘Bring the torch,’ Trevor ordered.

Five minutes later Peter had located a loose board and they were inside an abandoned ground floor flat. It was pitch black and the electricity had been cut off. The fetid air stank and the floor was littered with syringes and other debris they were reluctant to examine.

‘Third floor,’ Trevor checked after recalling the briefing notes he’d memorised.

‘Third floor,’ Peter confirmed. ‘You know what I hate most about these bloody places. The stench. Stick this in Westminster and it would be advertised as a spacious luxury block with panoramic views from the top floors. Why do some people live like bloody pigs?’

‘Don’t insult pigs.’

‘I keep forgetting you grew up on a farm. At least pigs don’t inject themselves with bloody crap.’ Peter kicked half a dozen syringes aside, shone the torch on the floor and picked his way towards the door.

Chapter Six

Chris was soaked in blood and hurting but he sensed very little of the blood was his. He pushed thoughts of Aids from his mind. That was something to consider later – if he survived.

The man he’d shot in the shoulder was kicking him, the one he’d wounded in the thigh was lying across him and the third was punching his head. But he was too concerned for Sarah to consider his own predicament. She had stopped screaming. The silence emanating from the bedroom was worse than her cries. Ominous and foreboding.

For all the talk of and insistence on equality in the force, he felt he should have protected her. Instead, he was helpless, cornered by three thugs. While … what? His partner was being raped …

‘Don’t fuck with us. This is our turf. No bastard is going to move in and undercut us.’

Chris groaned when the steel toe-capped boot connected with his ribcage.

‘Give us your gear and we might let you crawl away.’ The man palmed a knife that dropped down from his sleeve.

Chris gritted his teeth and braced himself for more pain.

The man rose slowly into the air. He hovered there, his feet dangling six inches off the ground as his two companions rolled away. Chris stared, mesmerized as the two wounded men struggled to rise.

Tiger bounded up to him, licked his face, turned, bared his teeth and snarled at the two men who’d backed against the wall. Chris watched his assailant continue to sway, apparently unsupported for what seemed like minutes although it could only have been seconds before he crumpled to the floor.

‘Ups a daisy, sunshine.’ Peter leaned over Chris and offered him a hand. Chris allowed Peter to heave him upright. He perched, breathless and light headed on the windowsill. Tiger was lying at Trevor’s feet. Dog and man were glaring at the two men against the wall. It was only then Chris saw the gun in Trevor’s hand. Tiger continued growling, anticipating an order to attack. The men watched the dog – in between eyeing Trevor’s gun.

Chris’s head cleared. ‘Sarah …’ He staggered upright. ‘The bedroom …’ he lurched towards the inner door.

Peter kicked the man he’d hauled off Chris towards the other two before charging after Chris into the inner hall.

Sarah was lying on the bed. A man was leaning over her, pulling down her jeans. Peter pushed Chris aside, slipped his hand into his pocket, brought it out and slammed the back of his fist against the man’s head. The would-be rapist grunted and rolled off the bed onto the floor.

Chris saw the dull glint of brass. ‘Knuckleduster?’

‘When you play with the big boys you need their toys. See to Sarah.’ Sarah was a good-looking girl and despite the often hard-edged banter he’d exchanged with her, Peter admired her. He wanted to kill the man who’d almost succeeded in violating her. If he and Trevor had stopped on the way for fish and chips as he’d wanted to, they would have been too late …

Chris folded the duvet over Sarah. ‘I’ll give you a hand with him.’ He pointed to the man on the floor.

‘I’ll put the rubbish out. You check Sarah, wash the blood off yourself and change your clothes.’ Peter locked his fingers into the back of the man’s collar, dragged him through the door and closed it behind him. He hauled the man into the living room and dropped him in front of the two who were upright and the one who was lying in front of them.

Trevor eyed the four men. The one Peter had brought in was unconscious and had the beginnings of a bruise spreading out from behind his ear. The thug Peter had lifted off Chris was balanced precariously on his left leg, his right trouser leg soaked in his own blood. Of the two he had cornered, one had blood running down his arm; the other was nursing a bloodied hand.

Trevor couldn’t risk blowing his and Peter’s cover. Neither could he allow the thugs to run wild or attack Chris and Sarah again.

‘We need to get them downstairs,’ he said to Peter.

Peter had worked so closely with Trevor over the years he knew exactly what he was thinking. ‘I’ll bring in their driver.’

He returned five minutes later with a stocky man who was sweating from more than his excess weight.

Trevor waved his gun. The man lined up alongside his companions.

‘Empty your pockets on the floor. All of you. And his.’ Trevor nudged the man who was still unconscious with the toe of his shoe. He hadn’t looked at the dog, but Tiger lunged forward. The men moved. Wallets, keys, cigarettes, condoms and packets of drugs piled up at their feet. Peter picked up the drugs, opened the packs and sniffed them.

‘Crystal meth, Pot, E’s, Charlie, GHB …’.Peter opened one packet wet his finger dipped it into the white powder and tasted it. ‘Smack.’

Trevor motioned with his gun. ‘Stuff everything back into your pockets. Then downstairs.’

The man with a bullet in his thigh whined. ‘He’s out of it. I can’t walk …’

‘Then we’ll drop the pair of you over the banister. Unless you prefer to slide down on your arses.’ Peter pushed him off balance. The man soon dragged himself away.

Twenty minutes later, stomachs heaving at the latrine stench, Peter and Trevor watched the driver and battered and wounded men haul their comatose friend into the downstairs flat.

Trevor cleared an area with his foot for the dog and ordered Tiger to stay. Leaving the door open enough to allow in a sliver of light, he motioned Peter aside.

‘My carry-on is in the boot.’

‘Cable ties and a gas canister?’ Peter asked.

‘Give our tame copper a ring. He’ll be interested in this little lot and what they’re carrying.’ Trevor didn’t bother to lower his voice.

Peter left.

Trevor stepped back into the flat. ‘We know who you are, and where your families live.’ Trevor had no doubt that the local force could supply details if he needed them. ‘Tangle with us, or our friends again and you’ll take a short walk off a steep cliff. One word from you about what’s happened here and we’ll get to you inside, because that’s where you’re going. Don’t even think about calling in favours to even the score. Try, and there’ll be a bloodbath. In your houses, not ours.’ He paused. ‘Understood?’

The men’s eyes shone in the subdued light of the torch.

‘This is now our estate. If as much as one hair on either of our operatives’ heads is touched, you and your families won’t live to see another sunset.’

‘Bastard …’

‘He’s got a death wish. Can I kill him?’ Peter had returned. The man fell gibbering to the floor, when Peter pulled out his gun.

Peter handed Trevor half the ties. ‘I asked the tame one for five minutes grace.’

They set to work fastening the men’s ankles together and their wrists securely behind their backs. They went to the door and waited. Peter activated and threw in the C S gas canister when they heard the first siren.

‘Remember, this is our estate.’ Trevor closed the door on the sound of coughing. He raced back up the stairs behind Tiger and Peter.

Trevor and Peter sat on the chairs of the three piece suite, leaving the sofa for Chris and Sarah. Someone – Trevor guessed Chris – had righted the furniture and tried to wipe the blood from the walls. Smears remained.

Chris saw him looking at them. ‘I only had soap and water. I need to go to the shop to buy a few things.’

Trevor took a sweeper identical to the one Andrew had used in the estate agent’s office from his pocket. He switched it on and walked around the flat, checking every room. ‘I think the place is clean.’

‘Forget the shop; we need to get the two of you out of here.’ Peter made a face as he drank the instant coffee Chris had made.

‘Why?’ Sarah asked. ‘Those men are in custody – they’ll stay there – won’t they?’

‘I phoned Andrew. He contacted the locals for us. Even if those thugs have someone on the inside of the local force prepared to lose relevant paperwork, I know Bill. He’ll make sure they are remanded in custody. The drugs and weapons they were carrying, even without the charges of intimidation and assault, are enough to keep them inside until they go to trial. Hopefully we’ll have this operation wrapped by then.’ Trevor set his cup on the coffee table.

‘You need an Aids test,’ Peter warned Chris.

‘I’ll see about it.’

‘Phone Bill on one of your disposable Sim cards,’ Trevor ordered. ‘He’ll arrange it and check ups for both of you after the beatings you took. Ask him to run health checks on the men to see if any of them are positive.’

‘I’ll do that.’ Chris knew what the odds were of a drug user having Aids and he didn’t doubt that the men were users.

‘This afternoon,’ Trevor ordered.

‘We will. But if the men have been locked up there’s no reason why we can’t stay on here,’ Sarah pleaded.

‘After what you’ve just gone through?’ Trevor knelt before Sarah and lifted her chin gently to expose the bruise that had spread across her neck.

‘That party was held on this estate. Sneezy found us four Black Daffodils within an hour, so we know it’s available …’

‘There could be two kinds.’ Trevor told them what Jude had said about suspect pills being the cause of the deaths of the people on the estate. He looked at Sarah’s face, taut and ashen and Chris’s cuts and bruises. ‘Peter’s right, we have to get you out.’

‘A couple more days might make all the difference,’ Chris added his plea to Sarah’s. ‘With those men inside there’s a vacancy for a dealer around here.’

‘Let some other bugger take the risk,’ Peter left the chair and went to the window.

‘We’re already here. There’s no sense in bringing in new agents who will need time to get as far as we have.’

‘Sarah has a point,’ Chris said firmly.

‘You two don’t know when to give up, do you?’ Trevor wasn’t sure whether he should praise or argue with them.

‘See it from our point of view, sir …’

‘Trevor,’ Trevor corrected Sarah.

‘Trevor,’ Sarah continued. ‘You’ve been in this job for ever …’

‘Thank you very much for making me feel like Methuselah,’ Peter said.

‘I didn’t mean it that way,’ Sarah said hastily. ‘Plain clothes is a step up for us.’

They stiffened at a knock at the door. Chris dragged himself off the sofa and went to the spy hole. Trevor and Peter pulled out their guns and moved stealthily behind him.

‘Who is it?’ Chris shouted.

‘Moselle. Sneezy said he’s sorry for what happened. They followed him. He didn’t see them until it was too late. He needs stuff real bad. There’s no one else he can go to round here now.’

Trevor nodded to Chris and stepped behind the door. Peter moved the other side and stood flat against the wall.

Chris pulled the bolts back. A girl held out a bundle of grubby notes. ‘Sneezy feels bad about Jon’s boys.’

‘I don’t buy your “they followed him” story.’ Chris made no attempt to take the money.

‘I told Sneezy you wouldn’t. They paid him a visit because he was late picking up his stuff. They beat this address out of him. But we heard the coppers have them.’

‘That was quick,’ Chris growled.

‘We saw them being dragged into the police van. And, like I said, there isn’t anyone else dealing except you around here now. Please, you have to help us. We need Charlie … we’re desperate … I wouldn’t be here if we weren’t.’

Peter pocketed his gun and moved into view. The girl looked about twelve. Skinny as most addicts were, with sores around her nose and mouth – a legacy of glue sniffing before she moved on to the hard stuff? Her eyes were enormous, too large for her white, pinched face, her pupils dilated.

Chris took the notes she offered. He counted them out as though he had all the time in the world, watching her grow more and more agitated with every passing second. Eventually he pulled a gram bag of cocaine from his back pocket and handed it to her. ‘Tell Sneezy there’s another like this for free when he brings me more Black Daffodil. In person.’

‘You just want to find a bigger dealer than Sneezy,’ she challenged.

‘That’s right.’ Chris didn’t attempt to lie.

She walked away then turned back at the top of the stairs. ‘Want me to put the word out that this is a new shop?’

‘Yes.’ Chris tried another tack. ‘Can you arrange a meet with the supplier of Black Daffodil?’

She shook her head. ‘Only Sneezy knows who that is.’

‘Then tell Sneezy we need to see him – urgently.’

‘Sneezy’s afraid to come here after what he did to you.’ She eyed Peter warily.

‘Remind him I’m offering free goods. That gram won’t last for ever.’

‘I’ll tell him but I can’t make him come here.’ She hesitated. ‘You’re crazy, you are. Black Daffodil killed my friends. Stick to weed and Charlie. You know where you are with them.’

Chris and Peter watched her run down the stairs.

Peter drove out of the estate and took a turn that led away from the city.

‘Why the scenic route?’ Trevor asked when they left the estates behind them and drove past trees, fields bordered by hedgerows, grey stone walls and the occasional farmhouse.

‘Because I saw you looking at your watch.’ Peter swerved into a parking area screened by birch. Although there were no people in sight he parked the car as far from the picnic benches as possible. ‘After that estate a ploughed field looks remarkably clean.’ He took a pack of cigars from his pocket.

‘Bill won’t appreciate a bill from the rental company to remove the smell of tobacco from the upholstery.’ Trevor took his mobile phone from his pocket, opened the back, removed the Sim card and stowed it in the glove compartment. He extracted one of the disposable Sim cards from his wallet, placed it in his phone, closed the back and stepped outside. The air was fresh, fragrant, and cool after the suffocating heat of the concrete-walled estate. He switched on the phone and waited for it to pick up the signal before dialling Lyn’s mobile. She answered on the third ring.

‘Hello … is anyone there?’

‘It’s me.’ His voice sounded unnaturally deep and husky. ‘How are you? Both of you?’

‘Burgeoning, blooming,’ the tone of her voice changed and he visualised her moving into determinedly cheerful mode for his benefit. ‘Bending your credit card as I promised we would.’

‘Bend it all you like. Whatever you’re buying, get the best. You both deserve it.’