To Fight For (7 page)

We were in a stairwell, the stairs going up to the top of the building and a door leading to the ground floor.

The man was unconscious. I rolled him over onto his side and used his shoelaces to tie his wrists behind his back. Then I bound his ankles together with his belt. I tore his shirt off and tied that around his mouth.

I climbed the stairs to the third floor and opened the fire door. This put me into a carpeted corridor. Paget's place was number 3C.

I moved down the hallway, my feet silent on the thick carpet. Paget's flat was at the end. When I got there, I put my ear to the door and listened. There was no sound inside. I tried the handle. It was locked, of course. I didn't have lock picks, and I was lousy with them anyway. I put my shoulder to the door and leaned. It wasn't a heavy door, and I felt it start to give, but not enough. I took a step back, raised my foot and kicked the thing in.

Then I waited for someone to shout at me, waited for an alarm to go off, anything like that. When none of that happened, I walked in.

As soon as I entered, something felt wrong. I didn't know what it was exactly, maybe something I'd noticed without realizing it. I shook the feeling off. My mind was wandering around so much, I didn't know how much I could trust it.

I trawled through the drawers and cupboards, looking for something that would link Paget with Glazer. Anything would do, a scribbled note, a diary with Glazer's initials. There was nothing.

There was a bookshelf against one wall, paperbacks lined up. I started to pull the books off and hold them open to see if anything fell out. Then I saw it. The bookshelf was dusty, but there was line in the dust just in front of the spines of the books. Someone had already pulled the books out – pushing the dust back – and had replaced them. It wasn't much, and I might've missed it.

I knew I wasn't going to find anything here, others had beaten me to it. Dunham, I thought. Only he and Cole and me knew that Paget was dead. Well, that's how it had been and I couldn't think Cole or Dunham would've reported it to the law. Dunham must've disposed of Paget's body.

But then I realized that was wrong, and I knew what that feeling had been. The place had been done over, sure, searched from top to bottom. I'd expected that. The problem was that it had all been put back again, nice and neat. And that meant that whoever had done the searching was expecting someone to come here. Either someone had searched the place not knowing Paget was dead and expecting him to come back, or someone who knew Paget was dead had searched the place and was waiting for someone else to turn up.

Either way I'd made a big mistake.

Too late.

I saw them as I turned, saw their grey suits, their grey faces, their grey eyes watching me coldly. I went for my gun, but I fumbled it and dropped it. I saw the blackjacks they held, the Taser. I said, ‘Fuck, not again.'

They hauled me up into a sitting position, one on each arm. I couldn't see them and I tried to throw them off, but my arms were tight behind my back. I could feel the plastic ties binding my wrists together, cutting into my flesh. I pulled at them anyway, knowing it wouldn't do any good.

Then a man came before me. I looked up and cursed.

He was in his fifties, dressed in a badly fitting suit and white shirt. There was a tie around his neck, but it was pulled down so far it didn't serve any function. He wiped a hand over his grey moustache. His name was Compton and he was the fucking law.

‘Hello, Joe,' Compton said. ‘We must stop meeting like this.'

I told him to fuck off. He laughed.

The other two moved over to stand either side of their boss. I knew them too. Bradley was tall, white and slim with thinning hair and puffy eyes. Hayward was the youngest. He was black, too good-looking for this life. If he'd taken the time to study the other two, he would've seen the haggard look he was bound for.

‘You're getting sloppy, Joe,' Compton said.

Bradley laughed at that for some reason.

‘Yeah,' I said.

‘You're lucky.'

I didn't feel lucky.

‘Very,' Hayward said.

‘Am I?'

‘We coulda been anyone,' Bradley said. ‘We coulda been part of Glazer's crew, or Dunham's. What do you think would've happened to you if that'd been the case?'

I knew the answer to that.

‘They'd work you over, Joe. They'd make you hurt.'

They were law, this lot, but they weren't dangerous – annoying, yes, but not dangerous. They had a habit of turning up when I didn't have any means of escape.

They were investigating corruption in the force, and had been given the job of targeting vice corruption, especially Glazer. That put us on the same side – for the time being. Well, sort of. Of course, that didn't mean I trusted them. They were still fucking law.

Bradley pulled a pack of smokes from his jacket pocket and lit one. Hayward glanced at him and moved away. One thing was for damned sure; they were in control here, far too casual.

I shook my head, trying to get it clear.

‘Punchy,' Bradley said.

Hayward laughed at that. They were having fun.

‘Do you lot do everything together?' I said.

‘Only where you're concerned, Joe,' Compton said. ‘Well, you and Glazer.'

‘You were watching the block,' I said.

‘Not exactly. We have friends in the local nick. Someone saw you enter the building. They called it in, and the locals called me.'

I tried to stand again, made it up to a crouching position before Bradley put the boot in. I went sprawling backwards. I would've ripped his head off if I could've. Instead, I cursed myself.

I pushed myself back into a sitting position then managed to put one foot down, the other leg bent so that it looked like I was being knighted. That wasn't what I had in mind, though, and they knew it. They stepped back enough that if I'd tried to charge them they would've been able to move aside.

‘What're you doing here, Joe?' Compton said.

I looked up at him.

‘I was just passing,' I said. ‘I heard a cry for help so I came in.'

Compton smiled.

‘There's a bloke downstairs. We found him tied up and unconscious.'

‘Yeah?'

He sighed and shook his head.

‘We know you want Glazer. That's why you came here, isn't it? Anyway, we know everything. A word from us and you'll do thirty years. You know who we are, Joe. You know we've got clout.'

‘I'm guilty till proved guilty,' I said. ‘Is that it?'

‘That's it in a nutshell, mate,' Bradley said.

‘But you
are
guilty, Joe,' Compton said. ‘Don't you remember?'

They were doing their tag-team thing, taking me for some mug who'd been caught shoplifting. I pulled at the binds.

‘You're not going anywhere, son,' Compton said.

‘Guilty of what?'

‘Oh, just about everything, I reckon. Murder, armed robbery, assault, obstruction of the law etc. etc. and so on ad infinitum.'

‘That means forever,' Bradley said. ‘Like your prison term's gonna be.'

‘You'll have trouble proving it.'

‘Fuck proof. We make our own proof. You've been around. You know how it works.'

I knew. If they'd wanted to arrest me, they'd have done it already. Which meant they wanted something. I said to Compton, ‘This place has been searched. Was it you lot?'

‘Maybe.'

‘What were you looking for?'

‘Same as you, I expect; anything that'll lead us to Glazer. Anything that'll help convict him. Anything that'll help us find him.'

‘You don't know where he is?'

They glanced at each other.

‘He's fucked off,' Bradley said. ‘Gone to ground. And that's your fucking fault.'

‘Officially, he's on leave,' Compton said. ‘No one's seen him for a couple of weeks. He's supposed to be back in a few days. I don't think he will be. He hasn't been to his home, nobody's heard from him. We could do with your help there.'

Now it was Hayward's turn. He said, ‘Come on, Joe. We all want the same thing. In different ways, maybe, but the same result: Glazer has to pay.'

He was putting a lot of emotion into his voice.

‘You know about Operation Elena; the whole point of that was to target the immigrant sex industry, to help women, children. That's what you want too, isn't it? To help the victims.'

Now he was looking concerned, gazing at me as if to say ‘I know how much you've suffered.'

‘And you know they gave the job to Glazer, right? They put him in charge of the operation, and what did he do? He sold the information to the very bastards he should've been catching. That's why we're investigating it now. We aren't your enemies, Joe.'

Sure, Hayward was a decent bloke. He was on my side. He was my fucking friend.

‘He's got to pay, Joe. Let us make him pay.'

I stared at him while he sympathized with me.

They'd worked out who was playing which part. Hayward drew the good guy straw.

Well, I could play their fucking game.

‘You're right. I'm tryna find him.'

‘Well …' Compton said, making like he was working out a plan. ‘Glazer's not likely to surface, is he? I mean, Paget's dead, Marriot's dead, and Glazer knows we're after him. No, he'll keep his head down. So we need something else, another way to get him.'

‘So what do we do?' I said, still playing along.

Compton wiped a hand over his moustache.

‘There's more than one way to skin a cat,' he said. ‘If we could find something on him, some kind of physical evidence, say, then we could cut off his avenues of retreat. His friends would soon start turning their backs on him. Once he's out in the cold, we could get him.'

‘Meanwhile, we could give you protection,' Hayward said. ‘From Dunham, Glazer.'

Protection? They'd give me protection? Shit.

‘So? Do you have anything?' Bradley said.

‘If I did, I wouldn't be here, would I?'

‘Anything, Joe,' Hayward said. ‘Or if there's anything you know could lead us to finding evidence.'

I tried to stand, just to see if they'd let me. They did. In fact, they helped me. Fucking coppers.

‘Such as?' I said.

Now they were looking up at me. That made me feel a bit better – not much, but a bit.

‘Oh, anything concrete,' Compton said.

‘Just evidence,' Hayward said.

They were being cagey, which meant they didn't know what I knew, and didn't want to tell me too much. That was worrying because it might mean they thought they knew more than me. And that might mean they did. Still, all I had to do was play dumb. That was pretty easy.

‘Why didn't you ask me this earlier?'

Compton frowned. It was a lousy act.

‘That's a fair question. Fact is, we thought we'd have something on him by now. We thought Paget would give us something. But then, of course, Paget disappeared on us. For good.'

He gave me a knowing look here. But I knew they'd have nothing to tie me in with that.

Something was clicking in my mind, though. Something Bradley had said earlier. They could've been part of Glazer's crew, he'd said. Or Dunham's.

That meant they knew Dunham was after me. Of course, they'd probably heard that Dunham's place got hit and Paget got killed, and they knew it was me. Sure, it was logical that Dunham would want to kill me.

But that wasn't all Bradley had said. ‘They'd work you over, Joe,' he'd said. ‘They'd make you hurt.' He hadn't said, ‘They'd kill you, Joe.'

That was ringing alarm bells in my head.

‘Suppose I find something,' I said, making like I was thinking it all through, letting them see my brain working, my lips moving. ‘What would you give me? Why wouldn't I just use it to go after Glazer myself?'

They thought I was dumb; fine. I could use that.

Bradley shot a glance at Compton. There was something in that, some message. I watched Compton's face, but all he did was wipe his moustache again. Bradley turned back to me.

‘Look, Joe. You know we can't condone anything illegal, right? But, if you bring us something, we'll see if we can give you a heads-up, let you know where Glazer is, if we can. You understand? We'll have to go and arrest him, but if you happened to get there first and leave before we arrived, well …'

He let that hang in the air. They were offering to give Glazer to me. Now I was suspicious as fuck.

‘Think about this; if you ever want justice for your woman, give us Glazer.'

I nodded slowly. I said, ‘If I get anything, I'll let you know.'

Compton nodded to Bradley who pulled a lock-knife from his pocket and sliced through my ties. I rubbed my wrists to get the circulation going again. Hayward held my gun out to me. It was empty, of course.

‘You're letting me go?'

‘Sure,' Compton said. ‘What else are we supposed to do with you?'

‘We could kill him.' That was from Bradley.

‘I wonder if we could. Anyway, yes, Joe, we're letting you go. Charging you at the moment would be a waste of our time and, frankly, it might be awkward. So, you run along now, and be good. We'll get Glazer. You just keep your head down, try not to get killed by Dunham. And don't forget, you get anything, you let me know.'

He handed me a card with his number on it.

They wandered off, laughing.

I didn't mind that because I'd worked out what that alarm in my head was all about. Those cunts wanted the DVD, and they figured I might have it and that Dunham knew I might have it, which was why they expected Dunham to torture me, not just kill me as he should've done if it was payback for killing Paget.

But there was more. They wanted the DVD, but they didn't want to tell me they wanted it. That meant it was valuable to them and they didn't want me to know in case I got to use it for myself.