He had a surge of excitement that this was a video message and he was going to see his father talking directly to him. Tears came into his eyes. Something like eggshell cracked in his chest as he felt the emotion welling up from his stomach. On the other side of the cassette was a faded sticker from Dex-Box Productions and, in his father’s hand: Found May 17th 1979. Found? The date was three months before his father had absconded. Perhaps, thought Boxer with some delusory joy, this had nothing to do with Devereux’s murder and his father’s disappearance. It was just a communication with lots of love, Dad xxx. But then why ‘Found’? Why hide it? He shook the envelope and a folded piece of paper fell out.
Marcus Alleyne was sitting in his second-hand white Peugeot Bipper, which was still emblazoned with the daft cartoon logo of the cleaning company that had sold it to him. He thought it made him less obtrusive. He was parked next to some garages opposite a block of flats in East Walworth. The van was full of cigarettes he was going to deliver to a bigger supplier. He was nervous about the way the business had come to him. Although he’d worked with Harvey Cox before, it had been a while ago and he didn’t know his sidekick, but at least he’d been vouched for by Glider.
Then again, this was the first job he’d had from G in the last eighteen months. There’d been a breach of trust between Alleyne and the north London gangster. When Amy had gone missing a couple of years ago, Mercy remembered that Alleyne was the receiver of some cigarettes Amy had smuggled from the Canaries. It had been a bit of fun for Glider. Mercy had forced Alleyne to give her Glider’s address and had sent Boxer round to visit. Since then Glider hadn’t given Alleyne any work.
This business hadn’t come direct from G. When he checked back, Glider’s mobile number went through to some woman called Jess, said she was G’s new security boss and was acting on his instructions. She told him it was a regular bit of business, ten grand a month, with Harvey Cox and his sidekick Delroy Pink. Ten grand was too much for Alleyne to ignore and he wanted to get back in with Glider. But was it a set-up? Had the cops got to G? Fear slipped the leash and the thought that he might be part of a deal for a lighter sentence galloped through his mind. He saw himself from above sitting alone in a police cell waiting for his telephone call, the one that would drop Mercy to her knees.
‘Calm the fuck down,’ he muttered.
He was smoking a cigarette with a few strands of grass in it to take the edge off. He had the window open a crack to let the smoke out and the cold, damp air was blowing in. He turned on the engine, cranked up the heating. A white transit pulled up and a young black guy got out of the passenger side.
‘You Marcus?’ he asked.
Alleyne blanked him. That was not supposed to be the opening gambit. The young black guy leaned back, looked into the transit, shrugged. A rail thin black guy got out and came to Alleyne’s window walking in what seemed like exaggerated slow motion.
‘Sorry,’ he said, looking in with a bloodshot eye. ‘What he mean is: Glider sends his best regards.’
Alleyne shunted him back as he opened his door. The younger man shuffled to the front of the Bipper.
‘We going to do it here?’ asked the rail thin man, looking around at the dead end made up by garages on either side, a wall joining them.
‘You Pink?’ asked Alleyne, thinking what a ridiculous question to ask a black guy.
‘That’s me.’
‘Who’s driving?’ asked Alleyne.
Pink nodded the younger man to the driver’s side.
‘Who’s he?’
‘Jarrod.’
‘Move your van forward, Jarrod. I don’t want you parked up in front of me. Take it between the garages.’
‘How we going to do this?’ asked Pink. ‘You want him to reverse in there?’
‘You and I are going to start with the money, my friend,’ said Alleyne, looking at him warily.
‘Yeah, right. Ten grand is what we agreed.’
‘He reverses between the garages and you get in the passenger side of my van.’
The man nodded to the driver of the transit, wound his finger round and pointed to the garages.
Alleyne waited, sniffing the air, wondering if this was going a bit off or were they just being thick, these two?
The transit pulled away, turned and reversed up between the garages. Pink got in the passenger side of the Bipper. Alleyne eased himself behind the wheel. The man handed over a brown envelope packed with two blocks of fifty-pound notes. Alleyne counted through one and measured it against the other, put them in his inside pockets. He pulled out and reversed up alongside the white transit.
‘You take the two boxes out the back and I’ll get the other two out the side door,’ he said.
He slid the side door back, unloaded the two boxes and brought them down to the back of the transit. When all four were loaded, he nodded to Pink and turned to shut the rear doors of the Bipper.
And that was when Jarrod appeared from behind his van, his arm swinging sideways.
A hard jolt to the back of his skull. Alleyne’s forehead thumped into the rear door of the Bipper. White sheet lightning flashed behind his eyes and he was falling into the black abyss.
‘I’m not really into that,’ said Amy.
‘You don’t sound very certain of yourself,’ said Siobhan, sipping her champagne, grinning her little gap-toothed grin.
She wasn’t. She’d never had a kiss like that before in her life. Even in the heat of the bar her nipples had gone hard and her breathing rapid. There was some kind of current fizzing in her coccyx and the treacliness in her stomach meant that she had to consciously resist the desire to run her hands over the black T-shirt straining over Siobhan’s breasts under her grey leather jacket.
‘Was it the tab you gave me?’ asked Amy.
‘I doubt it,’ said Siobhan. ‘That was just a placebo … mini aspirin. Maybe we should get some fresh air.’
She took Amy’s glass, put it on a table and walked her out of the bar with her arm around her waist. Amy tripped down the steps and staggered into the street. Siobhan caught her, cupped her breast. Amy felt the strength in Siobhan’s arm, the roundness of her bicep pressed into her side.
The cold air sharpened up Amy’s mind but she couldn’t help herself. She slipped her arm under Siobhan’s jacket, around her ribs and caressed her breast. She wanted another one of those electric eel kisses and pushed her face into Siobhan’s neck, felt its cords under her lips.
‘Let’s go somewhere and relax,’ said Siobhan, smiling.
They sat on a crowded overground train opposite each other. The distance in the aisle felt huge, but when the woman next to Siobhan left her seat, Siobhan put her finger up forbidding Amy to join her. They got off at Highbury and Islington and walked down Upper Street, hands clasped like lovers, as a homeless couple prepared themselves for the night in the doorway of a travel agent. Siobhan pulled Amy off the main road and led her down dark, glistening streets of Georgian terraces.
They arrived at Lofting Road, to a house just down from a big old red brick Victorian school, and Siobhan let them into the warmth of a ground floor flat, where they fell on the sofa kissing madly. Siobhan kicked off her heels, pulled Amy up and pushed her into a dark bedroom at the back of the house, where she undressed her, sucked on her breasts and put her into bed. Amy heard the zip travelling the full length of Siobhan’s black leather skirt.
‘Turn the light on. I want to see,’ she said, massaging the saliva around her nipples.
‘It’s sexier in the dark.’
Amy spread her arms and legs out, felt the smooth texture of some expensive new white cotton sheets and duvet on her skin. She’d never been possessed by such powerful sexual anticipation in her life. The thought slid into her mind: maybe she was gay. Maybe this had been the problem: she’d just naturally assumed she was het without ever trying women. Certainly the boys she’d been with hadn’t triggered this kind of excitement. Was that really a mini aspirin Siobhan had given her?
/>
There was a noise somewhere else in the house.
‘Come on,’ said Amy.
‘Did you hear that?’ asked Siobhan.
‘It’s just someone upstairs.’
‘The house is supposed to be empty. I was told I would be the only—’
A beat of silence before a tremendous crack. Feet rumbled into the living room and the bedroom door crashed open. The lights were slashed on. Amy sat up in bed, eyes slitted against the sudden glare. Men with tights over their heads, one with the loose leg hanging down his back like a long plait. Siobhan naked apart from her bra. But that wasn’t all … A penis was hanging from the pubic hair between her legs. Amy shook her head as if the ‘mini aspirin’ might be responsible for the hallucination. But no, it was definitely a long, slim penis between narrow hips above muscular thighs.
The first man in lunged forward and slapped Siobhan on the side of the head. She went down fast, without a word, stunned, eyes fluttering at the edge of consciousness. Amy sprang up out of the bed holding the duvet by two corners and hurled herself spread-eagled at the two men. The three of them crashed to the floor. A grunt as one of their heads made contact with the wall. Amy was up and heading out of the room until she felt her trailing ankle gripped, her hip practically wrenched from its socket. She fell, clawed at the carpet as she was dragged back. A hand closed around her throat, gripped her windpipe, rammed her into the corner of the door jamb, shook her.
‘This isn’t about you,’ said a voice, London accent. ‘You keep it shut and you won’t get hurt. Orright?’
She nodded. The thumb loosened off her throat. She sucked air into her rasping lungs.
Siobhan was on all fours, still groggy from the slap. She went for the sash window but the catch had to be unscrewed. One of the men got to his feet, grabbed her by the hair, hauled her back and threw her to the ground. He lashed her twice across the face with his hand.
He came back to the door, laid the duvet out, rolled Amy over, stuffed something into her mouth, and smoothed tape over her lips. They lined her up on the duvet and, as they wrapped her up, she saw Siobhan, eyes rolled back, blood coming from her mouth. They tied Amy up tight, trussing her with cord they’d brought with them, and lifted her on to the bed. She heard the muffled moans of Siobhan getting it together.
‘Right,’ said the voice. ‘Let’s get this one sorted.’
More slaps. Gasping and crying. They left the room dragging Siobhan between them. Amy heard them haul her into the bathroom and the sound of a struggle, of a body bouncing around in a glass cubicle. The terrible smack and thud of blows and then a male grunting as if making some hideous effort, and Siobhan’s cries, muffled and struggling for breath. The shower came on. There was indistinct questioning. More blows, slaps as of a wet towel making cruel contact, and crying out, but always muffled. More questions, harsh and whispered, as if being ripped out rather than spoken. Then the horrible rhythmic male grunting and the process repeated.
After forty interminable minutes, Amy heard the men conducting a manic search of the flat. They came into the bedroom, turned out drawers, ripped open cupboards and then finally left. Silence resumed except for the consistent noise of the shower hissing water on to an inert body.
6
19.15, 15 January 2014
unknown location, London
Alleyne started to come round, confused to find himself on a cold concrete floor. Water was being squirted on to his face. It dripped into a drain hole close to his mouth from which came a cool but morbid stench. His arms were tied behind his back. He struggled to bring them forward and realised he’d been hogtied, with wrists connected to his ankles. Everything was black. Not a scintilla of light coming in.
‘What the fuck you hit him with?’ asked a voice, London accent.
‘A SAP glove.’
‘Show me.’
‘’S’only a glove.’
‘Fuck me, this must weigh a pound. What’s in it?’
‘Steel shot.’
‘Bloody hell, the idea was to put him out, not knock him into next fucking week.’
‘I just cuffed him on the back of the head. He fell forward and banged hisself on the van door on his way down.’
‘It’s going to be fucking jelly in there, you bloody moron.’
‘Look, he’s coming round now.’
‘Marcus,’ said the voice. ‘You all right, Marcus?’
His tongue felt foreign in his mouth, good for shoes but not for talking. He winced at the water on his face, tried to follow it with his lips, to get some moisture. His eyelids were too heavy to open, or maybe taped shut.
‘Look, he’s after it. Squirt it in his mouth. Maybe that’ll help.’
The coolness of the water in his hot, dry mouth felt good but his tongue didn’t know where to go and the water shot down the wrong way. He coughed, which set off blinding flashes in his head. He sucked in air, groaned against the nauseating pain.
‘Get him sitting up,’ said the voice. ‘We don’t want the bastard drowning on us.’
They disconnected his wrists from his ankles, sat him on a chair. Alleyne knew for certain that he’d been stripped naked as the chill of the metal seat spread over his buttocks, made his scrotum cringe. They lifted his arms over the back of the chair. He had to breathe down the vomit, could feel it gathering, didn’t want that, thought it would kill him.
‘Ease up. Let him be. Give him a chance to pull hisself together,’ said the voice. ‘You with me, Marcus?’
‘Yeah, I’m with you,’ he said, panting, head lolling. ‘I don’t know where, but I’m with you.’
‘Right. Looks like he’s alive and sensible. Put him in the back of my van and we’ll sort the money.’
Alleyne felt himself lifted off the chair, carried horizontal and laid down on the cold floor of a van. They secured his wrists and ankles with ties to the side of the vehicle. There followed a long, vague discussion and a parting.
Someone got into the van next to him.
‘This’ll keep you relaxed for your next trip,’ said the voice. ‘No SAP gloves here.’
The last thing Alleyne heard was some large doors opening, as of a warehouse. The van jolted him as it moved off and he blacked out.
He came round with no idea of time and a poor recollection of what had happened, only that he knew he’d been kidnapped. He was sitting on a metal chair again, arms over the back. He was in pain and more things came back to him.
‘Who are you, what the fuck do you want?’ he asked. ‘Let’s get on with it. You been sent by Glider?’
‘Slow down, Marcus. We’re going to take this one step at a time,’ said the voice. ‘This phone of yours, what sort of a phone do you call this?’
‘A mobile phone?’
‘Don’t get clever, or we’ll have to knock you about some more.’
‘What am I supposed to say? A Nokia 109. A cell phone. I don’t know what answer you’re looking for. It’s just a phone, for fuck’s sake.’
‘It’s not a smartphone. There are no numbers on it. No apps. Nothing.’
‘It’s my business phone. I don’t carry any numbers on me when I’m doing business, that way there are no … what do you call them? Repercussions. That’s it. If I get caught, nobody goes down with me.’
‘So you remember all your numbers, do you?’
‘Not all of them, no. There are too many. I just memorise the ones I’m doing business with on that particular night. It’s a precaution.’
‘And you’ve got another phone with all your numbers on it?’
‘No.’
‘I mean, like your private numbers.’
‘Private numbers?’
‘People close to you. Like your family, friends … your girlfriends,’ said the voice. ‘Boy like you, good-looking black bastard, bit of money about you. You must have plenty of girlfriends. Hard to keep track of them all.’
‘What are you driving at? Is there a question in there? I don’t know what to tell you.
’
‘Where’s your other fucking phone?’
‘I haven’t got one. They’re all in my head.’
‘All right, let’s have your girlfriend’s number then.’
‘Which one?’
‘Don’t fuck me about, Marcus.’
‘You’re the one who said I had plenty of girlfriends.’
‘It was a test to see if you’re a lying black bastard.’
‘Well I’m not up to tests. Somebody whacked me over the head. I’m blank in here … just going with the flow, hoping for the best.’
‘You mentioned Glider.’
‘Yeah, he was the contact for this job. He vouched for you.’
‘That tell you anything?’
Silence from Alleyne, thinking now. Glider had served him up, which meant he must have made some connections.
‘No,’ he said.
‘No what?’
‘It doesn’t tell me anything.’
‘I know he hit you hard, but you’re talking all right, you’re not slurring your words, you’re together. Now think about it. Glider gave you the job and look where you are. He doesn’t like you, and Glider’s got a lot of time for black bastards. Now why’s that?’
‘I think you’ll find Glider’s got a lot of time for black girls.’
‘You see, Marcus, you’re sharp. Things are coming to you. So what is it about you that Glider doesn’t like?’
‘Give me a clue. I’m still a bit mushy in here.’
‘Your girlfriend. Singular,’ said the voice. ‘You had a bit of a rep before. Lad about town. Three or four on the go at once. But now you’ve only got eyes for one, haven’t you, Marcus?’
Marcus felt a chill in his chest. The voice was standing closer now, had his knees between Marcus’s legs so he couldn’t close them. He shuddered as one hand strangled his genitals, gave them a nasty tug, while the other gripped him around the neck and horrible garlicky breath came close to his face.
‘You want to retain these family jewels, don’t you, Marcus?’ said the voice. ‘Now let’s have Mercy Danquah’s number.’