Dark Briggate Blues (20 page)

‘You can’t leave that here,’ he insisted.

‘Mr Carter asked for it,’ Markham said. He handed over the keys. ‘You know what he’s like. You’d better tell him his car’s arrived.’

‘He’s not even here,’ the man blustered. ‘He left not five minutes ago.’

‘Don’t ask me.’ Markham shrugged. ‘I was told to bring it here, that’s all.’ He walked away with a smile.

So far he’d infuriated Carter. What he’d done had been niggling and annoying, but not dangerous. He needed something bigger. Something audacious. Something final.

He wanted this to be over. He wanted Carla back in Leeds, to see if anything was still possible between them. He looked at his watch: a little after three. He couldn’t face the climb to the third floor and the empty office. Instead, he started the Anglia and went home.

He filled the flat with piano music. From Bach and Schuman to Shearing. Sounds to sit at the back of his brain as he thought.

What could he do that would really hit Carter hard? What could he do to topple the man? By midnight he’d found nothing. Plans skimmed through his mind, none of them workable. With the door double-locked and bolted, he went to sleep. Maybe the answer would arrive in his dreams.

***

The morning was dreary, grey skies and sharp, squally showers that sent people running under shop awnings for cover. The windows on the buses were steamed with condensation. He parked on Albion Place, dashing between the car and building, the rushing to unlock the office door before the telephone stopped ringing.

‘Where have you been?’ There was fear in her voice. ‘I tried ringing you all yesterday afternoon.’

‘I was out,’ he answered. ‘What’s happened, Mrs Hart?’

‘He came here.’

‘Carter? When?’

‘About three o’clock yesterday. He had someone with him. A big man.’

‘What did he want?’

He heard her take a deep breath.

‘He said he’d indulged my little games, but it was time to stop and sign the papers. He wasn’t going to offer a penny more than he already had and I was going to take it.’

‘Did you sign?’

‘No. But he’s coming back this morning.’ She hesitated. ‘There’s a strange car parked outside the house.’

‘Is there anyone in it?’

‘I don’t know. I can’t see.’

‘Call the police,’ he advised. ‘Tell them about the vehicle and Carter. They’ll send someone out.’

‘There’s one more thing,’ she said quietly.

‘What?’

‘He hinted that you were out of the picture.’

‘I’ll bet he did. I’m here. Look, I’ll drive up there. It’ll only take a few minutes.’

‘Thank you.’ She sounded as if she was starting to cry. ‘When I couldn’t get hold of you, I thought …’

‘He’s going to have to work a lot harder to get rid of me.’

***

Before he left, he needed to make one more call.

‘Jones,’ the man answered, his voice somewhere between boredom and exasperation. The secret service, or whatever name it had, wasn’t keeping him busy enough.

‘Ged, it’s Dan.’

‘Again, boyo?’ He chuckled. ‘What’s it this time? What’s been happening up there?’

He gave a very brief outline, hearing the soft scrape of a pencil taking notes.

‘You’re sure about all this, Danny? It’s not your imagination or anything like that?’

‘I’m positive. Christ, Ged, the man smashed my fingers with a hammer. His men were going to kill me and bury me somewhere I’d never be found. You think I’m making this up?’

‘Calm down,’ Jones said quietly. ‘You need to think straight.’

‘Right now he’s threatening my client. He wants her business and her won’t take no for an answer.’

‘Wherever she is, get her out and somewhere safe.’

‘I’m just about to.’ It was the procedure, one the army had taught him.

‘Let me talk to some people here and I’ll see what I can do. We both know he’s well connected but I think they’ll draw the line at a murder spree.’

‘I bloody well hope so.’

‘I’ll keep trying until I reach you,’ Jones promised. ‘Make sure you stay safe, Dan.’

***

There was no black car on the street when he parked. A police car sat there instead, one constable inside, the other banging on the door of the Hart house.

The officer turned as Markham marched down the drive.

‘We received a message about a car here, sir. Do you know the owner of the house?’

‘I do,’ he answered with concern. ‘She’s not answering? I’m the one who told her to ring you. It was only a few minutes ago.’

The bobby shook his head.

‘I’ve been knocking. There was nothing here when we arrived.’

Markham could feel his heart beating faster. His mouth was dry.

‘Have you tried the door or looked in the windows?’

‘Sir?’ the constable asked.

‘She should be here,’ he insisted. ‘I told her I was coming over.’

‘She might have gone out, sir.’ He shrugged. ‘Women, you know.’

Markham thought for a moment then dashed to the garage and pulled the door open. The Humber sat inside.

‘If she’d gone out, she’d have driven.’ He moved into the back garden, peering through the windows of the house, seeing no one inside. He tried the back door, then the front door. Both locked. ‘Can you pass a message to Detective Sergeant Baker at Millgarth?’

‘Because she’s not here, sir?’

‘Yes.’ His voice was sharp.

‘Sir, she’s over twenty-one,’ the policeman said. ‘She can come and go as she pleases.’

‘She’s part of a bloody investigation.’ He almost shouted the words then took a breath. ‘Baker will want to know.’

‘Yes, sir.’ He sounded doubtful but went to the car. A minute later he returned with his notebook open. ‘They’ll pass it on. I just need some details from you.’

Name, address, relationship to the woman of the house. The constable raised his eyebrows at enquiry agent but said nothing. The patrol car pulled away in a shower of gravel. Markham looked around. The house stood by itself, surrounded by a tall privet hedge. Plenty of privacy but no help for him. In an area like this people didn’t look to their neighbours. Not openly, anyway.

He caught his reflection in the window and straightened his tie. The creases in his trousers were sharp, shoes shined. He smoothed down his hair. Presentable enough to go around and ask questions here.

Markham started with the house across the street. The woman who answered his knock was in her late fifties, grey hair in a severe perm, the scent of lavender water around her. She’d seen the parked car, she claimed, but it had been empty.

‘Did you see anyone else arrive?’ he persisted.

‘There was a motor car,’ she answered. ‘It was only there for a minute.’

‘Did Mrs Hart leave in it?’

‘I wouldn’t know.’ She sniffed. He waited. ‘I went to make a pot of tea. By the time I came back, it had gone and so had the other car.’

That was all she knew. By the time Baker pulled up in a plain black Ford, Markham had been to four other houses. There was no answer at two of them; the others had seen and heard nothing unusual.

He pushed the brim of the hat back. ‘You’d better tell me what’s going on.’

Markham condensed it into a few sentences, watching the man frown as he glanced at the house.

‘Are you sure Mrs Hart isn’t inside?’

‘I haven’t been in.’

‘Good. That’s copper’s work. Come with me.’

At the door Baker took a set of lock picks from his pocket. A few deft flicks of his wrist and the lock clicked. He turned the handle and they were inside. The smell of beeswax filled the air.

‘You look downstairs,’ the policeman ordered. ‘I’ll go up.’

The rooms were empty. In the kitchen a half-drunk cup of tea stood by the cooker. The liquid was still warm. Hart’s handbag, the purse still inside but no keys, was on the floor next to her chair.

‘There’s nothing upstairs,’ Baker said as he returned. ‘She’s a messy cow, though. Clothes and towels all over.’

‘Her keys have gone. Everything else is here.’

‘Carter, you think?’

‘I’m sure of it.’

‘Where would he take her?’

‘There’s the place off Dock Street where they took me.’

Baker shook his head.

‘I’ll have someone look but it’s too obvious. Where else?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You get searching,’ Baker told him. ‘I’ll go back to the station and organise things. I’ll tell you what, though, if she’s just nipped out for a pint of milk I’m not going to be happy with you.’

‘She’s gone, Sergeant. You know it as well as I do.’

‘Aye,’ the man agreed grimly.

***

Where, Markham wondered as he drove back into town. Where would he have taken her? And what had happened to Carter? Why was he so obsessed with owning Hart Ford? What was there that he needed? What the hell did he hope to do by taking Joanna Hart? It was guaranteed to set the police after him.

He needed to find her, and find her quickly. In the office he pawed through the papers taken from Carter’s room. He noted down every single address. She might not be at any of them, but it was somewhere to start. It made him feel he was doing something.

After half an hour he had a long list. It was time to begin looking. He ignored the businesses that Carter owned; there’d be too many people around and too many awkward questions.

On a hunch he drove out to Carr Manor Parade, to the house where he’d been duped by Jenkins, the man who never really existed. He didn’t try the door but went next door. The woman had been helpful before.

‘Come back to see me?’ she asked with a smile as she answered his knock.

‘Just a quick question. Have you seen anyone next door today?’

‘Today?’ she asked in surprise. ‘There hasn’t been anyone there in a week or more. Why?’

‘I just wondered.’

‘There’s something going on, isn’t there?’ Her eyes were full of curiosity.

‘Can I use your telephone?’ He’d seen the wires running to the house. She looked uncertain. ‘I’ll pay for it.’

‘Of course. It’s in the hall.’

As he talked to Baker at Millgarth station he sensed the woman hovering at the kitchen door.

‘I’ve made a list of places she might be,’ he told the detective.

‘And how did you do that?’

‘Some of Carter’s papers.’

‘I’ll not ask how you got them.’

‘There are too many for me to check myself.’

‘I’ll have the bobbies go to them.’

Markham rattled off eight addresses.

‘Right. If you find anything, let me know. I kept someone at her house in case she comes home.’

He hung up and folded the list before returning it to his pocket.

‘It sounds urgent,’ she said, holding out a mug of tea. ‘You look like you could use that.’

He drank gratefully.

‘Someone missing.’ It was all he was willing to say.

‘Very hush-hush?’

‘For now.’

‘Will I hear about it on the radio?’

‘I don’t know.’ He finished the tea in a long gulp and took out a business card. ‘If you see anything next door, ring me, please. Or call the police.’

‘All right.’

He trailed to houses and businesses all over Leeds, pushing and darting through traffic, from a street of back-to-backs in Armley to a cleaning business based in Roundhay. Nothing. No sign of Joanna Hart or Carter in any of them.

Markham’s head was throbbing as he drove back into town and parked at the office. As he reached for the telephone it began to ring.

‘Markham,’ he said, surprised at how jumpy he sounded.

‘It’s Ged.’

‘Things have changed. Carter’s snatched my client.’

‘They’ve changed here, too. The brass decided to send someone up to take care of him.’

‘Take care of?’ he asked.

‘You know what I mean, boy. The powers-that-be have decided that he needs to be stopped.’

‘I see.’

‘If he’s caught, then his past is going to come out. A matter of national security.’

‘Of course.’ He gave a small, cynical snort.

‘I’m the one who’s coming up,’ Jones told him.

‘You? You’ve done this before?’

‘Once or twice.’ He kept his voice bland. ‘I’ll be there at seven. Can you meet me at the station?’

‘Of course.’

‘One thing, Danny. Are you armed?’

He felt the weight of the pistol in his coat.

‘Yes,’ he answered, reluctantly.

‘If you’re somewhere quiet and can get off a clean shot, take him out. There won’t be any comeback. Our people will clean up.’

‘And if I can’t?’

‘Then I will,’ Jones promised.

***

He rang Millgarth again.

‘Anything?’ he asked Baker.

‘Not a dickie bird. I sent the uniforms out but no luck.’

‘What about Sergeant Graham? He might know.’

‘He rang in sick this morning. He’s not at home. His missus doesn’t know where he’s gone. Someone rang him and he told her he had to go out. Any more ideas?’

‘MI
5
or someone is sending a man up.’

‘How the hell do you know that?’

‘It’s a friend of mine. Their plan is to kill Carter.’

‘Not in my bloody city, they don’t,’ Baker exploded.

‘I think it’s out of our hands now,’ Markham told him.

‘No, it’s not,’ he said, but the truth was apparent in his voice. MI
5
trumped the local police.

‘We’ll have to find him first.’

‘Just tell me where.’

That was the problem. He didn’t know. He’d run out of places to look.

‘I have no idea,’ Markham said with a sigh.

‘There’s a bulletin out about Joanna Hart and Carter. That’s all I can do for now. If you come up with anything else, ring me.’

‘I will.’ He glanced at the clock. Half past two. He locked the office door and started walking briskly through the city centre.

***

It took a while before anyone answered the door at the Kit Kat Club. Will Dawson was in his shirtsleeves, holding a mop, his collar undone and tie pulled down, a pair of braces holding up his trousers.

‘It’s you,’ he said without any welcome in his voice. ‘I thought you were the bloody cleaner. She hasn’t shown up again.’

‘I just need a word, Mr Dawson.’