Hot Seat (32 page)

They climbed from my Honda. Steve opened my door and took my hand. ‘Be careful, son.'

‘I will.'

Steve closed my door and I pulled away. I rounded the corner and light spilled from the entrance to Ragged Racing. I was expected. I wondered how many were waiting for me inside. Five? Ten? Well, there was only one way to find out. I parked next to Rags' Mercedes and let myself in.

I found Rags in the workshop, alone. He stood in front of my car running his hand over its contours. He was a man admiring his own handiwork. It was worth admiring. He'd built quite an empire for himself, but at what cost?

I felt like an intruder with my presence, so I let the sound of my footsteps on the concrete floor announce my arrival.

‘I was thinking about Jason today,' Rags said without turning around.

He wants to talk, I thought, so let him talk. ‘In what way?'

He turned around and leaned against my racecar. He tried smiling at me but it failed to take shape. The Rags the ESCC had come to know and fear was gone. His mistakes had caught up with him.

‘I was thinking what a great guy Jason was. He was hardworking, smart, attentive and honest.'

‘And he didn't deserve to die.'

‘No. He had integrity. The kind this sport needs. The kind I used to have.'

Rags was going to confess. He just had to be pressed and pushed in the right places. He knew it was over.

‘Was his death connected to what we're doing tonight?' I asked.

Rags nodded.

Only one question came next. My mouth went dry at the prospect of asking it. ‘I know that you knew that Jason was going to search the transporter the night he was killed. Did you kill him?'

‘I might not have done the deed, but I phoned it in. I took my hands off the wheel and let someone else steer. If I had half the guts Jason had, I would have faced him myself. I don't think I could have dissuaded him, but at least he would be alive and we wouldn't be here tonight.'

I said nothing. Rags was struggling with the guilt, but he deserved to struggle. He'd let a man die. And if he'd let one die, he'd be likely to do it again.

‘You disappoint me. I thought more of you.'

The remark surprised me. ‘How so?'

‘You seemed honest. Your grandfather has a reputation for playing by the rules. I didn't think you'd want anything to do with this.'

It was time to get into character. ‘Yeah, well, being honest doesn't put money in the bank.'

Rags shook his head. ‘There's more to life than money.'

‘That's easy to say when you have it. My dad made it to the top of this sport and didn't have a penny to show for it. Worse, he died owing money. It almost cost my grandfather his livelihood. That wouldn't happen in any other industry. I may be my father's son, but I won't starve because of some ideal. I want to succeed in this sport and I don't care how I do it.'

A tremor that I hadn't intended invaded the tail end of my speech. I was breathing hard when I'd finished. Maybe I wasn't entirely playacting.

‘I thought like you and look where it's gotten me,' Rags said.

‘To the top of your game.'

Rags shook his head. ‘You're too young to get it. That's your problem. But you'll work it out. Hopefully before your mistakes swallow you up.'

‘Can we get on with this?'

‘Why don't you just go? Forget about this shit. I'll tell my people that you had second thoughts and I paid you off.'

‘But you haven't.'

‘I will. I've got ten grand waiting for you in my office. You can have it and I'll make sure you get more.'

Something was wrong. Rags was trying to sideline me and it unnerved me, but I had to follow through with the plan. ‘You're not squeezing me out. I want what I came here for and that's a piece of the action.'

The sound of a car pulling up outside drew our attention.

Rags looked back at me and raised his hands. ‘Have it your way, Aidy. I did my best for you. Don't you forget that.'

My heart thundered in my chest. This was it. I was going to come face-to-face with Jason's killer.

As Rags went to the door to let our visitor in, my mobile vibrated in my pocket. It was Dylan. I answered it.

‘Be quick.'

‘Mate, we're busted.' Dylan was out of breath. His voice was uneven like he was running. ‘It's Barrington. Him and two of his boys just swooped in. They've got Claudia and Steve. I'm trying to give these fuckers the slip so I can back you up.'

A voice in the background barked something I couldn't quite make out. Then a second voice, much closer to Dylan's phone, told him to stop. I recognized Barrington's voice.

‘Shit,' Dylan said.

The panic I heard in Dylan's voice spread to me.

Barrington had to be right next to Dylan as I heard his voice clearly. ‘Use my personnel for your own private investigation? I don't bloody think so. Your fun and games are over.'

‘Aidy, get out,' Dylan said. ‘You're on your own.'

But it was too late. Rags was returning with our drug connection – Crichlow. And I was totally alone now.

B
arrington had inadvertently screwed me by taking my only backup. I tried not to let that thought scare me and bottled my panic. I clung to Claudia's belief that tonight was just a first date. Nothing would happen.

Crichlow looked at me bemusedly as he walked up to me. I was sure he thought his grand entrance would be a big surprise to me. My only surprise was that Gates wasn't there with him.

‘Who were you on the phone with?' Crichlow asked.

‘Just my grandfather. He gets worried when I'm late.'

‘Let's have the phone. I don't want anything interrupting our business.'

My mobile was no longer a lifeline, so I handed it over. Crichlow pocketed it.

‘I bet you're wondering what the hell is happening, Aidy,' Crichlow said.

Rags looked from Crichlow to me. ‘Do you two know each other?'

‘Isn't Andrew joining us?' I said. ‘Or doesn't he like to get his hands dirty now that he's an upstanding businessman?'

‘Andrew? What's he talking about?' Rags said. ‘Is he talking about your boss?'

‘He isn't my boss.'

Not in all things, I thought. Did that mean he was here without Gates' permission? I remembered something Eddie Stores had said about Gates. It was all starting to fall into place and it was creating a dangerous picture. ‘You're the one Andrew caught dealing drugs.'

‘How'd you find out about that?' Crichlow barked. His angry words bounced off the metal walls.

‘You never stopped dealing though, did you?'

‘Watch your mouth.'

‘I heard that Andrew left his mark on you. Can I see?'

Crichlow lunged, grabbed me by my shirt and thrust me back. I struck the ground on my back. Rags caught his arm, snagging his sleeve. A crisscross of scars made a patchwork of his arm over the four-inch length of exposed skin. They weren't just stripes like on Rag's arm.

Gates wasn't part of this. It was Crichlow. He was responsible for everything and he knew I knew. I bottled my panic. Knowing wasn't enough. I still needed him to incriminate himself with this drug deal.

I raised my hands. ‘OK, message received. Can we talk business now?'

Crichlow shrugged off Rags, put out a hand to me and pulled me to my feet. He didn't release his grip on my hand. ‘Let's keep the chat to the business at hand. All right?'

I took that as code: Gates isn't to know about this. ‘Yeah. Sure.'

‘Rags says you've got a proposal. Let's hear it.'

‘Car collectors around the world bring my grandfather their classic cars to restore. It's similar to the operation you have with Rags. Your customers send Steve their cars to work on. While they're in his workshop, I put the drugs in the tyres or wherever else I can. With all the cars coming in and out of Archway, no one will think twice.'

‘What's in it for you?' Crichlow asked.

‘What else? A steady income. The same reason you're in it – easy money.'

‘The money is never easy,' Rags said. I felt the weight of personal experience behind his words.

‘What are your terms?'

Terms? I didn't have a clue. How much did drug mules get? Was it a fixed fee or a percentage based on weight? I should have expected this question and been prepared to answer it.

‘I'm not greedy. I'll take whatever you're paying Rags.'

Crichlow jerked a thumb at Rags. ‘And him? What's in it for him?'

Rags seemed to shrink from us once Crichlow mentioned him. He folded his hands tight across his chest and kept his gaze on the floor.

‘I realize I wouldn't have this opportunity without him, so I'll cut him in from whatever I get from you.'

‘You've thought this all out, haven't you?'

‘I've tried my best.' I got the feeling Crichlow didn't have a lot of faith in me. He only knew me from my dealings with Gates. He needed to see a different side of me. ‘Look, the cops are on to this place when it comes to ferrying drugs around Europe. You can't continue, but you still need to move the coke. I can help you do it. And all I want is a nest egg to keep me out of the poorhouse. It's a win-win.'

‘Do you know the risks you're taking?' Crichlow asked.

‘I race cars. I take risks all the time.'

‘This is different.'

‘Yeah. It's safer. The cars will be freighted or hand-delivered by me. No one is going to suspect anything. It's no more dangerous than putting a letter in the post.'

‘Who on your end will know about this?'

‘No one.'

‘Not your grandfather?'

‘Like your boss, he wouldn't approve, and like your boss, he doesn't need to know. The fewer people who know, the less that can go wrong.' I'd had enough of the questions. It was time to force a decision. ‘What do you think?'

Crichlow stepped back from Rags and me and paced a tight little circle. I could see him considering my offer, pulling at the fabric of it, looking for tears. I hoped the bait was tasty enough for him to go for it. If I got him on the hook, I was safe. Barrington might not like my off-the-books plan but he wouldn't care if I served up Crichlow's operation on a plate.

Crichlow stopped, jammed his hands in his trouser pockets and looked at us. ‘I should confer with my people, but I don't feel I need to. Rags' operation has proved successful for us. I think your plan would prove just as successful. But you know what? I'm not interested.'

Relief swept across Rags' face. I felt panic spreading across mine. I was blowing it. I couldn't let Crichlow slip through my fingers.

‘Hey, wait,' I said. ‘You're missing out on a golden opportunity.'

‘I don't think so. Hiding the dope in the wheels has been a great deception, but Customs is wise to it now. A variation on a theme won't cut it. I need something completely different.'

Barrington's instincts to cut his losses had been right. There was no way they were going to use Rags again to reopen their drug pipeline to Europe.

‘Besides, there's a bigger reason why I'm walking away from your offer.'

‘What's that?' I said.

‘You know too damn much about my business.'

His hand flew from his pocket so fast that I didn't see the knife until it slashed across my stomach. The pain was so intense that it froze me in the moment. Thousands of severed nerve endings crackled with electricity and tried to jam my brain with the same message of pain at once. I clutched at the wound. Blood leaked between my fingers.

‘No!' Rags yelled. He shoved me aside, sending me sprawling to the floor and lunged at Crichlow.

Crichlow sidestepped Rags' lunge. As Rags lumbered by, he swept the knife through the air again in an efficient arc. The blade caught Rags across the side of the neck. His legs went out from under him and he collapsed on to all fours. Blood poured from a deep and ugly wound. He clambered to his feet, but only half managed the feat before pitching forward on to his face.

I saw my fate if I didn't do something. I pushed myself upright, but I took too long. Crichlow charged at me. He caught me hard while my balance was off. I bounced off the side of my racecar, cracking my head on the door.

The moment I hit the floor, Crichlow jumped on top of me and pressed his knee into my stomach. It radiated pain, paralyzing the rest of me. Pouncing on my weakness, he grabbed the side of my head and smacked it on the concrete floor. The shockwave that went through my head stopped me from fighting back. The second blow put me in a stupor. The third left me clinging to consciousness.

Crichlow pushed himself off me and looked down at the mess he'd made of me. ‘You know it had to end this way.'

I watched him walk over to one of the oil drums in the supply area. He broke the seal open and rolled the barrel over on to its side. A pool of amber spread slowly across the floor. He did the same to a second barrel before picking up a jerry can of petrol. I lost consciousness knowing what was going to happen next.

T
he stench of smoke jerked me awake. In the short time I'd been out, the workshop had been turned into an inferno. Crichlow had doused everything that could burn in petrol and torched it. With all the chemicals and flammable materials, this fire would burn long and hot. The tyre rack burned black and ugly, spewing choking smoke. The office suite cracked and popped as something else succumbed to the fire. The oil barrels had been left to pump their contents over the floor. Black smoke billowed upward in a thick cloud off the oil pool and accumulated in the rafters. It swelled by the second and was now rolling back towards the floor. Where the oil burned slow and steady, the gasoline burned hot and fast. The rising temperature inside the workshop dried my face and I could feel it pricking my skin. Each breath hurt my lungs.