Brock And Kolla - 09 - Spider Trap (16 page)

Kathy and Brock walked away.

eleven

‘I
owe you a fiver.’

He chuckled.‘You’ve established a date?’

‘April 1981.’

‘Interesting. How about buying me a pizza tonight? You can tell me all about it.’

‘Suits me.’

‘Can I pick you up at seven?’ he asked.

‘Fine.’

‘And I may have something interesting for you.’

‘Great, as long as it’s not rum punch.’

‘Aw, I thought you liked my rum punch.’

‘I did, but it refuses to let go.’

‘I know what you mean. I’ve got this strange limp today.’

‘Strange limp what?’

‘Now, now.’

That afternoon Bren had returned to Queen Anne’s Gate to set up the case room for a new phase of the investigation, while Kathy got to work on Joseph Kidd.She established that he had entered the country on the eighteenth of September 1980, but there were no further records of him either leaving or returning. He had been allocated a National Insurance number the following month, but there were no records of any social security, national health or income tax transactions on that number. He had had no driver’s licence,bank accounts,police record or traffic offences.As far as the record was concerned, sometime during 1981 Joseph Kidd had simply ceased to exist, although no one had ever reported him missing. Kathy looked at the copy of Father Maguire’s photo of the two boys pinned to the wall, feeling the poignancy of that brief moment of elation at the arrivals gate at Gatwick. One boy had gone on to success in his new country, the other had disappeared into the void.She began to assemble the material that would be sent to the JCF in Kingston and to Interpol.

Brock, meanwhile, had got through to Michael Grant in his office at the Houses of Parliament. The MP had already heard from Father Maguire, and said he’d been intending to contact Brock. He said he’d come over immediately, Queen Anne’s Gate being only a short walk away, and ten minutes later Brock met him at the front door. Seeing him again he recognised the handsome boy of the photograph, but the caution in his look had been replaced, or masked, by that air of open energy and confidence.

‘I’ve been wanting to get in touch again ever since the rumours started about finding bodies on the railway land.Is this where you’re running that investigation from? No chance of seeing the operations centre, I suppose?’

‘Of course. This way.’ Brock led him along the corridor to the main case room, once a merchant’s drawing room with tall sash windows to both the street and the small courtyard at the rear.

There he introduced him to Bren and Kathy, whom he remembered, and gave him a tour of the material on the walls— the gridded site map, the photographs of retrieved items and, most recently, the enlarged photograph of Joseph and himself.

‘Oh my goodness.’ Grant stared for a long moment at the picture.‘Father Maguire said he’d found a photo. I never knew it existed. Is there any chance, do you think, of getting a copy?’

‘Certainly.’ Brock had a word to Kathy, who nodded and went to her computer.‘Let’s sit down and see what you can tell us,shall we? Tea or coffee?’

‘Tea would be good.’

‘Yes, always the safer bet.’ Brock led the way to a conference table by the window overlooking the rear courtyard.

‘So you think Joseph is one of your victims?’

‘It looks very likely, Mr Grant. We’re trying to contact his family in Jamaica to make a DNA match, but we’re having trouble tracing them. Can you help us with that?’

‘I don’t think I can.You see, I didn’t know Joseph before we came out together. Father Guzowski introduced us for the first time at Kingston airport.’

‘Didn’t Joseph talk about his background? Mrs Wellington thinks he was from Tivoli Gardens.’

‘Actually, that does ring a bell. I’m sure we must have chatted about things like that on the flight over, but I don’t remember. He was a few years older than me, and I can recall feeling a bit intimidated. To tell the truth, I was pretty overwhelmed by the whole experience. It was my first trip out of Kingston, my first flight. And I didn’t come from Tivoli Gardens.’ He gave a wry smile.‘The Gardens was a rough district, but we used to think of it as a step up from where we lived. I came from Riverton City, on the edge of town. Riverton City was the Soweto of Kingston, grown up around the Dungle, the Kingston City rubbish dump, which was pretty much the only resource the people there had to live off. It’s all been cleared away now, transformed into what they call Riverton Meadows.’

Kathy arrived with his copy of the photograph and mugs of tea.

‘You would have kept in touch with Joseph when you arrived here, I take it?’ Brock asked.

‘No. Oh, I saw him around, but I wasn’t in his circle. The whole point of Father Guzowski sending me here,as he drummed into me again and again, was to get an education. He believed in me, said I could do it and mustn’t let him down. I worshipped the man.With the help of Father Maguire and Abigail Lavender I just buried myself in schoolwork—I was so far behind the English kids, you see. I don’t know what Joseph was up to,but it certainly wasn’t studying.’

‘What about his friends, someone called Walter and another, older man? They called themselves the . . .’ Brock checked his notes,‘. . . the Tosh Posse.’

‘Oh, after Peter Tosh, yes?’

Brock looked puzzled.

‘He was one of the three original Wailers, with Bob Marley in Trench Town. But no, I didn’t know Joseph’s friends.You think they could be the other bodies?’

‘It’s possible.’ Brock described the physical characteristics they’d been able to establish, and for a moment he thought that something registered with Grant, then faded.

‘No, I’m afraid I can’t be of much help with Joseph or his friends. I’m sorry. And what about the murders of the two girls? Has there been any progress there?’

‘DCI Savage believes they were killed because of something that happened in Harlesden, where they came from. He’s quite optimistic about some leads he’s following up there.’

‘I see.’ Grant looked carefully at Brock. ‘You don’t sound entirely convinced.’

‘I’m keeping an open mind. We’re still trying to trace their movements after they arrived in Cockpit Lane, and find the people they made contact with. It’s a slow business, but it usually brings results in the end.’

‘Good.’ Grant paused, looked back over his shoulder at the people working, then leaned towards Brock and spoke more softly. ‘Father Maguire mentioned to me that you were asking about Spider Roach. Can I ask, do you think he was involved with the bodies on the railway land?’

Brock hesitated.‘What would your interest be in that?’

Still in the same quiet voice,but stabbing the table with a finger to emphasise his points, the MP said,‘When I arrived in Cockpit Lane I thought it was paradise compared to where I’d come from. But I quickly learned that there was a nasty serpent in paradise. Spider Roach and his gang had an iron grip on that part of the city, and everyone was terrified of him. I saw what he did to people. Abigail Lavender’s husband had both legs broken because he threatened to go to the police with something he’d seen. They told him the next time they’d take the hammer to Abigail.’

Brock nodded.‘I was a detective in the area then.I remember Mr Lavender. The hospital reported his injuries, but he wouldn’t say a word.’

‘Then you know what I’m talking about. But do you know that Spider Roach is still there, still sucking the life out of those people like a predatory leech?’

‘Still there? I thought he’d moved away?’

‘Oh, you won’t see him on the streets any more, or his sons, but they’re still operating there, through their agents, behind the scenes, intimidating, destroying our young people with drugs.’

Brock looked sceptical.‘Do you have any evidence of this?’

‘I have evidence enough to know I’m right, but not enough to interest the police. Perhaps you know of the reluctance in some quarters to pursue Spider Roach. But if you have some new evidence against him, it may be that I can help you. I have a strong constituency network, including people who were around in 1981.’

Still Brock hesitated, weighing the risks. In the end it was the strong impression that Michael Grant had made on him, his passion and conviction, that persuaded him to open up.

‘Joseph Kidd disappeared on the night of April the eleventh, 1981, the night of the Brixton riots. He told a witness that he was going to the Windsor Castle, which was burnt down that night. He appeared to be in fear of his life, and was apparently being pursued by two white men. A witness thought they might be Roach’s men. I’d be very interested to know if Joseph and his friends had upset Roach in some way, if they did jobs for him, or were ever seen in the company of Roach and his sons. I’d also be interested in finding anyone who was in the Cat and Fiddle in Angell Town that night, or between there and the Windsor Castle, and who may have seen Joseph or the two men.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘But very discreetly, please, Mr Grant. As you say, plenty of people around here never want to hear Roach’s name mentioned again.’

‘I understand. Thank you for being so open with me, Chief Inspector.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Now, I must dash. I have a committee meeting. Home Affairs Committee, you know it?’

Brock caught the gleam in Grant’s eye.‘I don’t think so.’

‘You should. It’s a Departmental Select Committee, charged with scrutinising the operations of the Home Office, the Attorney General’s Office, the Crown Prosecution Service and the Serious Fraud Office.You lot, in other words.’

He grinned and got to his feet, shaking Brock’s hand.

When he returned to his office Brock put a call through to Keith Savage. The Trident detective spoke with a renewed confidence. Things were going well, he said, and arrests were expected shortly. Several sources had confirmed that Dana and Dee-Ann had stolen drugs from a powerful underworld figure in Harlesden, and Savage hoped their murders would provide the opportunity to close him and his operations down for good. And this time the team was going to do the job properly, at their own pace. Brock told him what they’d learned about the bodies on the railway land and asked if the Trident records might throw any light on them.

‘They don’t go much further back than 1998,’ Savage said, ‘when we were formed. There were earlier operations, of course, going back to the “Yardie Squad”, Operation Lucy, in 1988. Before that you’re talking ancient history, I’m afraid. Things have changed a lot since those days. For a start, most of our villains today aren’t Yardies at all—they were born here.’

‘While other things never change,’ Brock said.‘The guns and the crack are still concentrated in the poorest boroughs.’

‘True enough.’

‘So you don’t think you can help us identify our three victims?’

‘Sorry, it’s all too long ago. Ancient history.’

‘Right. Incidentally, I came across a little quirk of ancient history that may intrigue you. That name that Michael Grant gave you—Roach.’

‘Yes?’ Savage was cautious.‘What about it?’

‘It seems that Mrs Ivor Roach was hurt one day last week in a robbery.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘Her car was stolen as she was getting into it, by two unidentified black kids. I’m wondering if there could be a connection.’

Savage was silent for a moment, then said, ‘Million to one, I’d say.’

‘Yes, you’re probably right.’

Kathy’s phone rang precisely on seven. Icy rain was battering the

window.

‘Hi, I’m downstairs.’

‘I’m ready, be down in a minute.’

‘I’ll meet you at the door. I’ve got a brolly. By the way, I, er . . . I have someone else with me.’ He sounded uncharacteristically hesitant.

‘Okay, fine,’ she said, slipped on her coat and grabbed her bag. She took the lift down to the lobby and saw his car parked directly outside under the lights. In the rear window she could make out the pale face of a small figure.