East of the City (11 page)

‘Just as well.’

There was an announcement — the race was delayed for five minutes — and Nev led me away to the bar.

I had a beer and Nev had a lemonade, we sat watching the dogs up on the big screen. I wondered where Katy was, if she was okay, but when I mentioned it to Nev he said, ‘She’s got plenty of mates here. Let her be.’ He sipped his lemonade and studied the screen over the brim of his glass. ‘What’s the problem with Ward?’

I looked at him. He kept his eyes on the screen.

‘You show up at the Gallon the first time in Christ knows how many years, next thing Tubs is askin’ about Sebastian Ward?’ He put down his glass and faced me. ‘I’ve got cancer, Ian, but it hasn’t made me brain dead.' His look went right through me, I wasn’t sure what to say. ‘But if you don’t wanna tell me,’ he said turning back to the screen, ‘no big deal.’

The dogs were being taken up to the traps, the announcer’s voice came over the speakers in the bar. Nev meant what he'd said; it hadn’t put his nose out of joint not being in on things, he’d just been curious, that was all. So I asked him how his betting shops were doing.

He said, ‘Tubs never told you?’ When I shook my head, he shrugged. ‘They’re on the block.’

‘For sale?’

‘No pockets in a shroud.’ He explained that he wanted to cash-in while he still had some chance of spending it. So far the only one to show any interest in the three leases was an American hamburger chain.

I mumbled something stupid about him still having plenty of time, and he said. ‘The other one plays "Jingle Bells".’ He reached over and clinked his glass against mine.

What the hell, I thought.

And I said, ‘Sebastian’s house burnt down.’

‘I heard.’

‘Eddie Pike died in the fire.’

‘I heard that too.' He coughed, it racked his whole body. ‘Can’t say as I cried me eyes out, the man was a bloody weasel. Always was.’

Surprised, I asked how well he’d known Eddie.

‘Well enough. Just about the biggest hit I ever took was down to Eddie bloody Pike.’  It was in the Cesarewich, he told me, one of the classics; there’d been big money on the favourite but Nev hadn’t taken much on it, he thought the favourite was a certainty. Then ten minutes before start time another big wave of money came into the ring, this lot on the second favourite. Nev took a set against her, by the time he realized he’d overdone it, the odds had plunged everywhere; he couldn’t lay off without taking a bath. ‘So I held on.’

‘A mistake?'

He laughed, it turned into a cough, and he covered his mouth. ‘Lost me soddin’ shirt.’ Above his hand his eyes glistened; you could see Nev Logan wasn’t long for this world. ‘A week later, I drop in at the favourite’s kennels. Took a bottle with me, you know. Me and the trainer, drown our sorrows. Guess who’s just resigned from the place?’

‘Eddie Pike?’

‘Our friend Eddie.’ Nev paused, his look becoming less cheerful. ‘Eddie, the nobbler.’

‘They tested the bitch?’

‘Clear on the night, but she died two weeks later.’ Nev watched me as I took that in. He had another shot from his lemonade. ‘Like I said. A weasel.’

Up on the big screen the kennel lads were stuffing the dogs into the traps. Around the bar, heads were turning. Swordplay, I noticed, was making trouble.

I asked Nev if he knew how long Pike was working for Sebastian.

‘Pike never worked a day in his life for anyone ’cept Eddie Pike.’

The bar went quiet, the announcer’s voice rose, and then paused. Like everyone else, we looked up at the screen. The hare shot out from the chute and swept down by the traps. The traps flicked open and a roar erupted from the bar.

‘Three dog!’ Nev shouted at the screen. ‘Get up there, the Three dog!’

They were leaning into the first turn, Swordplay drifting wide, going out of the picture. When they straightened she was running near the back.

‘Get up there!’

She made an effort, got past one dog, but when they hit the next turn she drifted again. Now the whole bar was shouting at the screen. The favourite bounded through the line two lengths clear — Fair Island — there was a big cheer. Swordplay came in stone cold last.

‘Unlucky run,’ Nev murmured.

‘Jingle Bells,’ I said, and he smiled. Then I told him, ‘Eddie was working as a security guard for Sebastian.'

‘Bullshit.’

‘Straight up.’

‘Pike?’ He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t a trusted the bugger to guard a tuck-shop.’

I asked Nev if he’d seen much of Eddie lately, if Eddie was up to something that might have landed Sebastian in trouble.

‘Haven’t seen him for six months. Not since the summer.’

‘Together with Ward?'

‘Nah. Seen Pike here, at the Stow.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Sebastian came down the Gallon a while back, not long before...you know..’ His eyes dropped, I filled in the blank. Not long before Mum and Dad died.

But it was the other thing that surprised me, that Sebastian had been down at the Gallon back then. It must have been around the same time that Sebastian took me out to lunch, a weird occasion, a one-off that I couldn’t help remembering. He’d grilled me in a roundabout way on ethics in the market, a lot of hypothetical stuff. Assume this, assume that, it took me till halfway through the main course before I figured out he was testing me, feeling me out. I was sure Allen was behind it. Checking up on me, before I got the big promotion. But Sebastian never mentioned to me that he’d recently been down the Gallon.

‘I always said you done the right thing, Ian.’ Nev said now. ‘Gettin’ out,’ he said. ‘Takin’ that job with Ward. You done okay. I told your old man that. You think the bugger’d listen?’

I put up a hand. ‘Nev-’

‘Your old man could be the stubbornest bastard in the world.’

I stood, telling him I had to go and find Katy.

‘He was too fuckin' proud.'

I didn't say anything to that, then Nev added, 'He was proud of you too.' That caught me. He looked at me from somewhere way back in those glistening eyes, and I touched his shoulder as I went by. I told him that I'd see him around.

There wasn’t much of a queue behind Abes Watson’s stand, he’d had Fair Island in the red early. Tubs left the book with Abes and we strolled along the rails. Then we turned, rested back on the rail, and looked up at the stand.

Tubs said, ‘If I’d found something I woulda called.’

‘I couldn’t get hold of you.’

He folded his arms, settling back, legs splayed. His gut hung over his belt. ‘Night like this,’ he said, ‘your old man woulda cleaned up.’

But I’d already had more of that than I could take from Nev, and I said, ‘Tubs, I wasn’t exactly honest with you about Sebastian.’

‘How, not exactly?’

‘It wasn’t his house we insured.’

His eyes were fixed on me now. I hung my head, scuffing my shoe on the tarmac.

‘Jesus, Ian, you take the fuckin’ cake. You know that? The fuckin’ cake.’

‘Sebastian’s been kidnapped.’

Tubs peered at me, the annoyed look fading. When I glanced around, there were a couple of kids picking up torn betting slips, but nobody else close by.

‘That’s what we insured him for,’ I said. ‘Kidnap and ransom.’

‘Straight up?’

‘Straight up, Tubs. He’s in real trouble.'

Tubs’s mouth hung open, slack with surprise. I told him what Max had told us about Sebastian’s dicky heart.

‘How much is the ransom?’

‘Five million.’

His eyes widened. ‘Fuck. And you gotta pay?’

'Unless we can find him.'

Tubs shook his head in disbelief. He said something about Bonnie and Clyde. ‘Say you find him, Ian. Then what?’

‘There’s a team. Listen, Tubs-’

‘A team. What kinda team?’

'There’s a team of people trying to rescue him. I was with them today. We went down to Brentwell. Lower Park Barn?’

Tubs squinted. ‘The old flappin’ track?’

‘The kidnappers sent us there. They didn’t show up, and there was no sign of Sebastian.’

‘Why there? Jesus, no-one’s used that place for years.’ Tubs turned a puzzled look up to the stand. After a few moments he seemed to figure out what I was thinking.

‘Someone from here? From the dogs?’

The punters were gathering around the bookies again, the action on the next race getting started. The tic-tac man signalled over the heads of the punters with his white-gloved hands, and Tubs watched him, reading the odds while he turned things over.

I said, ‘I want you to drop it.’

‘What’s that?’

‘The questions. Asking around about Sebastian.'

He tugged thoughtfully at a jowl. ‘I thought you said this was important to you.’

‘It is.’

He shrugged, like that settled the matter, he was going to go on with it. He signalled up to Abes. The five dog was opening at evens.

‘Pike’s dead,’ I said. ‘Sebastian’s been kidnapped, and after this morning’s trip down to Brentwell I’m pretty sure it’s tied up with the track. Tubs, what I’m saying is-'

‘I don't care what you're sayin'. What I'm hearin' is you're deep in the shit.’

'I shouldn't have asked you to help me out.'

'You got any other volunteers?' When I didn't answer, he stepped away from the rail, hitching up his belt. Then he paused. 'You told Katy?'

'Christ no.'

'If I hear anything, I'll call.'

I wanted to tell him again that I didn't want him involved, that I didn't need his help. But he was already on his way back to Abes' stand in the ring. And anyway, he wouldn't have listened.

T
here’s no fixed procedure for the meetings a Lloyd’s underwriter has with his lawyers when a claim goes into dispute. Sometimes the lawyers descend on the offices of the managing agent, and sometimes there’s a gathering over at the 58 Building, the LCO. But now, midway through the Ottoman Air dispute, we all trooped along to Lincoln’s Inn where our barrister had his chambers.

I met Lee Chan outside in the street; she was wandering up and down peering at lists of names beside each door.

‘Lost?’

I was ready for the cold shoulder, but instead what I got was a half-arsed smile. ‘Bewildered,’ she said. She fell into step beside me and we continued on down the pavement. We hadn’t gone ten yards before she asked, ‘Any news on Ward?'

I pursed my lips.

‘No comment?'

‘None you’d like to hear, Lee.’

She sniffed, she wasn’t too pleased with me. I guess she’d been looking forward to giving her friends back at the LCO the inside gen, but all I could think of was how quickly the story had spread. How long would it be now before the media got hold of it, and what would Bill Tyler do if they did? And Frazer. He must have been back in the Room, just watching and waiting for it all to go pear-shaped. K and R. My big bright idea. He was going to drive it like a stake, straight through my heart.

Inside the chambers it was another world. We stepped off the street and back fifty years, the place was shabby like you wouldn’t believe. The carpet in the hallway was worn threadbare in patches, and, when I grabbed the banister, flakes of old paint came off in my hand. They made big money — millions each year in fees must have gone into those chambers — but they didn’t waste much of it on decorations. Lee Chan’s nose wrinkled up. We went along the corridor, glancing through the occasional open door.

Lee asked me if our barrister, Rajan Batri, was any good, she hadn’t been to any sessions in court. I explained that Batri had done five cases for us, won three in court outright, and settled two others on better terms than we’d hoped for. ‘If you can afford him,’ I said, ‘he's one of the best.’

Right then Batri stepped into the corridor up ahead. He stopped and pivoted, he didn’t even seem to break his stride as he came back and offered me his hand. I introduced him to Lee Chan, and he ushered us into his office where his phone was ringing. ‘Bear with me,’ he said.

While he was on the phone we unzipped our bulging leather hold-alls. It was really Justine and me he wanted to see; Lee Chan was along as an observer, making sure the interests of the other syndicates on the policy weren’t being walked over. In half a minute Justine arrived with our solicitor, Clive Wainwright. Batri beckoned them both in.

‘Ready for your big part?’ Clive whispered, pulling up a chair beside me. ‘I swear by Almighty God, the truth, the whole truth-’

‘Can’t wait,’ I told him quietly. ‘Where’ve you been?’

A break in Paris for a few days, he told me smugly. He’d gone straight from the airport to his office, where he’d picked up Justine. Now he reached across me and shook hands with Lee. I really wanted to speak with him privately. Clive had done criminal law for a few years at the start of his career, but when he realized it wasn’t going to make him rich, he switched to commercial. At least that’s what he told everyone. The truth was that in a way he’d never really left the Old Bailey behind. Down at Lloyd’s, Clive’s office had become the first port of call for more than one troubled person with serious problems completely unrelated to the market. He had a reputation for good and discreet advice, and if things were really bad he could point you at the most appropriate criminal barrister. He seemed to enjoy this sideline more than his real job, the cases like Ottoman. I thought Allen was wrong not to tell him straight off about the K and R. But now that the news had spread, I was sure Clive would hear it as soon as he got back to his own office. I wanted to tell him myself, before he picked it up secondhand.

Batri hung up the phone. He asked Clive if we’d been briefed. Before Wainwright could answer, Justine said, ‘Some rehearsal?'

Batri smiled. ‘Not quite, Miss Mortlake. Rehearsal implies a script. There won’t be one of those in the court.’ He picked up a pen, holding it in both hands, and rocked back in his chair. He must have been in his mid-forties. His black hair was flecked with grey and there were bags under his eyes, but that air of sleepiness he had, it was pure bullshit. I’d seen him looking like that when he went into court one, morning to cross-examine some claimant who was trying to rip us off. Two hours’ verbal assault later and the claimant crumbled like a biscuit, the case was over by lunchtime. ‘Let's call it, rathe, an exploration of possibilities?'