Vacuum (12 page)

‘You'd have to think about getting out.'

‘Getting out of what?'

‘Ditching Jason. Doing a bunk.'

‘To?'

‘Have you got somewhere you could go? Parents? Siblings? Or would Jason know about these – perhaps he's visited them with you, so, not a bright idea. Is there a good, same-sex friend somewhere, just to get you out of sight for a little while, until you find a permanent bolt-hole?'

‘This doesn't add up, does it?' she replied. ‘If I don't go home because I've got something tracking me, they'll track me to where I
do
go, won't they?'

Yes, a sharp mind here. ‘Go home. Act unafraid. Then, when you spot a chance, get in the Mini again and hop it.'

He knew it was dismally poor, entirely fallible guidance. He lacked anything better. Thank God, he observed no car get into the Mini's slipstream. But, as he'd reminded her, these might be smart experts they were dealing with. Perhaps they'd seen her arrive now in Harpur's vehicle. They'd realize he would be watching. They'd have tactics to beat him, and her. To provide a belated reason for being here he stepped from his car and went into the ‘eight-till-late' convenience store and bought some wine. Then he left to meet the children.

During the trip to Arthur Street after judo, Jill said from the back seat: ‘Shall I tell you how I see the Karen Lister matter?'

‘Probably,' Hazel said.

‘This is a woman from one of the gangs, most probably Manse Shale's, or Manse Shale's as was,' Jill said. ‘Everyone knows there's trouble in the firms because of those killings and then Manse going drop-out and into holiness. There could be a scrap among Manse's people to decide who takes over. Oh, I heard from kids who buy from his outfit that he named someone to run things, but this someone is someone whose brain goes historical and abroad now and then. Not really good for a business.

‘Maybe Karen Lister has a boyfriend, partner, who might be thinking of a grab at the top job, to give some true leadership. So, she's scared for him. Very. She thinks that in any battle he could get hurt or even killed, which is most likely right. Maybe he and his little band would be outnumbered. She hopes to bring some sense to things. She's so scared, she wants Dad to meet him and tell him to lay off, and when Dad tells him to lay off he'll lay off, not because Dad told him to lay off, but because, if Dad tells him to lay off, it shows the plan is not a secret, and that means there can't be no surprise, which is vital in such a plot, as all know. Karen has shopped the boyfriend, or whatever he is.'

‘Can't be
any
surprise,' Harpur said. ‘Or
can
be no surprise.'

‘No, there can't be
any
surprise,' Jill said. ‘Yes, there
can
be no surprise. That's the picture, isn't it, Dad? You should feel proud, I suppose, because she comes to you and blows the whole plan. She's a woman who seems to trust you.' Her tone said women of this sort were scarce.

‘Matilda Shale was at judo tonight,' Hazel said. ‘She comes now and then. It's always been now and then. Laura Cave, the little twit, asked her if she wasn't frightened to be in the Jag with her dad after all that. But Matilda stayed calm. She said why should she be scared? The shooting was done, the job finished.'

‘Like the job was to kill their stepmother. That's how it sounded, wasn't it, Haze?' Jill said.

‘And the brother by accident,' Hazel said.

‘Yes, him by accident, but not their stepmother by accident,' Jill said. ‘Nobody would bother her and her dad now. That's what she seemed to say. I thought Matilda was telling us, but without the actual words, that she didn't believe Laurent had it right when he said twat Ralphy laid on the Jag shooting. If Ralph had done this, it would be because Manse was a rival in the trade and should be got rid of. But Ralphy wouldn't have such a reason to arrange for Manse's wife to get it.'

As he expected, neither of the children mentioned Karen Lister to Denise. She was already at 126 after the swimming tutorial when they arrived back, and she'd cleared up the living room. No stain on Karen's cup, luckily, because she hadn't come lipsticked. ‘I saw your car parked up near Jubilant, Col,' she said. ‘I guessed you'd be doing a bit of shopping on the way to judo, so I didn't stop.'

It sounded as though his car was unoccupied at that time, didn't it? Karen Lister must have gone. ‘I wanted to pick up some wine,' Harpur said. ‘We'll have a glass later, shall we?'

‘Who's into currant loaf?' Denise replied.

‘Jill and I needed something before judo,' Hazel said, ‘to build strength for the arm locks.'

‘And the best china!' Denise said.

‘Now and then we show Dad we can be ladylike,' Hazel said. ‘The crocks are expensive, and we don't want him to feel it's money wasted as far as we're concerned. He deserves some consideration.'

‘Definitely,' Jill said.

‘That's really kind,' Denise said. ‘Isn't it, Col?

‘It's family,' Hazel said.

‘They're truly thoughtful girls,' Harpur said. He might have liked to talk to Denise, though, about the visit from Karen Lister: talk to and listen to, for her reactions and advice. But the children had obviously decided it would be risky to mention that Karen had called. Perhaps they judged right. Things had to be kept OK with Denise. The remains of that currant loaf could have brought embarrassments. Hazel had headed them off. She had a strong, practical streak. She'd deftly neutralized the loaf by swiftly claiming she and Jill were the ones who'd fed off it. So, no need to admit Harpur had been entertaining a quite young woman with legs and so on here alone for at least an hour.

Just the same, Harpur ran through in his head the kind of conversation he
might
have had with Denise about Lister. Denise possessed a good, quick but dogged brain, perhaps a match for Karen Lister's.

‘
The girlfriend-slash-partner of someone in Manse Shale's firm called because she's worried about him,
' Harpur might have said.

Denise would grow alert. ‘
Called? On the phone?
'

‘
No came here.
'

‘
To the house?
'

‘
It's in the directory.
'

‘
If it was business, why didn't she go to the nick?
'

‘
She's got an aversion to police stations. It's not uncommon.
'

‘
She just rolled up and knocked the door, set on seeing you personally?
'

‘
Not exactly that.
'

‘
What then?
'

‘
She waited in the street until we came out, on the way to judo. She wouldn't want to be seen knocking the door of a senior cop.
'

‘
Seen who by?
'

‘
She wondered if she'd been tailed.
'

‘
So she puts herself on show pounding the street.
'

‘
Yes, she's not always very logical.
'

‘
Why would she be tailed?
'

‘
I don't think she was.
'

‘
But why would she imagine it?
'

‘
People in these firms don't believe love for one of their members is the same as loyalty to the outfit. The two different interests can clash.
'

‘
So, what's her worry about?
'

‘
She thinks he's going to try for control of Manse Shale's company.
'

‘
The control has already passed to someone, hasn't it? That's what I heard in college. Quite a few students get their stuff from his team. And lecturers. Shale more or less appointed someone, didn't he? Isn't it a bloke they call General Franco, real name Arlington?
'

‘
He calls
himself
General Franco from time to time, and acts the part. That's the guts of the problem.
'

‘
Yes?
'

‘
The boyfriend doesn't think this new leadership with its mental quirks is able to handle big changes sure to come in the drugs game here.
'

‘
And the boyfriend thinks he
could
handle them? But she's not so sure?
'

‘
Her worries start before that. She isn't confident he can manage the grab for the top job.
'

‘
That's a pretty poor response from a girlfriend, isn't it? Where's the love? Where's the esteem? Where's the lustful complicity? It knocks him, poor bugger.
'

‘
It does. But she's shrewd. She could be right.
'

‘
A lot of people mix up being cautious with being right. Why does she come to you? Is that part of the shrewdness?
'

‘
She wants me to see him and hint I'm aware of the plan. She calculates that if he finds it's known he'll chicken. Coups need confidentiality.
'

‘
God, this is sleazy of her, wouldn't you say? And isn't it all very flimsy, Col? She's only guessing he might have a go, and that, if he does have a go, he'll get damaged.
So
hypothetical. This is figment on figment. And suppose you do go to see him. He'll deduce she's spilled to you, won't he?
'

‘
Possibly. All the same, she thinks she's doing what's best.
'

‘
Do you?
'

‘
Not certain.
'

‘
Will you see him?
'

‘
Not certain.
'

And he wasn't. He had no official cause to interview Jason. He didn't want to bring retaliation and punishment upon Karen Lister. If the chat with Denise had been real, she'd probably have put her doubts much more forcibly. In his fantasy script he provided some of his own weak quibbles for her to speak – but that's all they sounded like: weak quibbles. Denise didn't go in for quibbles of any category. They were enough to make him undecided, though.

‘How's the crawl?' he said.

‘Better,' Denise said. ‘The coach gave me some really close help.'

‘Oh, good.'

‘Showed me how to get my left arm going deeper and coordinate more closely with leg rhythm. It was a session very much focused on my legs and thighs.'

‘Oh, great.'

‘You don't have to get steamed, you know.'

‘Steamed?'

‘The coach is a woman. Hetero woman.'

‘Great,' Harpur said.

‘Did you get steamed about it?'

‘A bit, yes.'

‘Great,' Denise said.

Harpur made some more tea, using the quality cups, saucers and plates again, and he and Denise sat on the chesterfield and finished the currant loaf. But watching Denise eat, he thought for a couple of moments again of Karen Lister's good little teeth as part of a death mask.

EIGHT

T
hat dawn search by low law-thugs at Low Pastures brought big changes to Margaret Ember. Above all, she decided she could not leave Ralph, whatever her plans might have been before. To bolt now with the children would look like the filthiest cowardice, and a vile obsession with Ralph's loot. The police had suddenly turned against him after an epoch of gloriously permitted, endlessly incrementing profits; so, his wife buggers off and leaves him to it, scared of more cop harassment, and scared also that the raid could mean Ralph's chief business would get hammered, and the marvellous money shrink or even stop. This was how her escape would be seen. She couldn't do it. She had to stick with him, help him if she could, support him.

She knew the invasion of their house had really shaken Ralph, not just because of that disgusting episode itself, but because of what it told. It told a lot. It told that the special Iles formula of trade tolerance as payback for street peace had been abruptly shut down. Ralph and his family and his property were treated as any old lag and his family and property might have been treated. Iles said they shouldn't consider the raid as spinning Ralph's drum – to use the gross police lingo: just what it was, though, and, obviously, Iles knew it. His remark had been a poisoned slice of waggery, a contemptuous tease. Ralph would be badly upset. Because of his resemblance to the young Charlton Heston, she knew some thought of him as radiating the dignity and worth of Heston's great, heroic roles: El Cid, Moses, Ben Hur; El Cid especially. He'd realize that for them to learn his fine home had been thoroughly thoroughfared by a four thirty a.m. law posse with a warrant would be an appalling shock, possibly not recoverable from.

Although Margaret saw nearly every bit of these Chuck Heston comparisons as idiotic film flimflam, she knew they counted for Ralph and garrisoned his ramshackle ego. It troubled her that if they ceased to work, his morale and his self-image might collapse. They had always been fragile, despite his showmanship. Yes, she'd heard there were men in the business who'd shared dodgy situations in the past with her husband and who now referred to him as Panicking Ralph, or Panicking Ralphy, nicknames that made him sound like a gibbering dud. She hated this, had to help him prove them mistaken, envious and evil, even if they weren't mistaken; most of all if they weren't mistaken. Who'd want to be linked to a Ralphy wreck? She'd admit there came times when, looking at him in the right half light, she, also, saw El Cid. Or Ben Hur. Hadn't she thought of him like that when that bloody raid on Low Pastures started and she'd been ashamed of her half-formed intention to quit with the kids? It was a privilege to back him, wasn't it? Wasn't it? She needed to witness and have a part in that legendary dignity and worth.

Something else Iles had said during the house search remained stark in her memory: the security difficulties at Low Pastures. An abundance of growth offered cover even in winter for anyone wanting to approach the house and grounds unobserved. She stood with Ralph now in one of the paddocks, watching Venetia and Fay on their Welsh cob ponies practise gymkhana jumps, Venetia riding Jasmine, Fay with Billyboy. Because of Iles, Margaret found her attention kept turning away, though. She had to stare and re-stare towards the strung-out beech copse, the shrubbery and hedges, which stood between Low Pastures and Aspley Farm. She eye-hunted for any kind of unusual movement.