Guns Of Brixton (63 page)

    But
then Sean was due at work and he had to return to south London, where a split
shift and the eventual need to sleep prevented another visit to the hotel until
Friday afternoon. By that time, Jimmy had already checked out. Even so, Sean
knew his father wouldn't be far away and that he would turn up soon.

    Sean
was still living in the garage flat adjoining Linda's house. He could've moved
out months before but somehow it seemed easier to just stay put, to become
increasingly involved in the upbringing of his niece and nephew, and to offer
babysitting services on his lonely nights off when they happened to coincide
with the nanny's. But Linda rarely ventured out after dark any more and no one
ever visited. And over the past few months, Sean had watched her become
increasingly jumpy and nervous, lose weight and begin biting her nails again,
just like she had when she was a young girl. He tried to ask her what was
wrong, but every time he did, she turned on him, and he soon stopped. Women's
problems, he surmised.

    But
just as she was without a man, he was without a woman. He'd received a good few
offers from women he met at work, both in and out of 'the job'. But he hardly,
if ever, took them up on it. The shadow of his father's release sat heavily on
his shoulders and Sean didn't need any further complications in his life. He'd
actually made a date with DI Sally Cooper, who he'd met at the murder scene at
Loughborough Junction, but it hadn't really worked. Her rank, and the fact that
she'd talked shop all evening, had put him off.

    Luckily,
Linda's moods didn't seem to influence the children, who were both of a sunny
disposition. So he left well enough alone and hoped that she'd eventually come
through whatever crisis she was suffering. But in her own time.

    That
Friday evening, after he'd lost contact with Jimmy Hunter, he knocked on the
kitchen door at the back of the house and Linda let him in. The children were
in bed, the nanny was off at some au pairs' gathering - where they moaned about
the meanness of their employers and the behaviour of the children in their care
- and Linda had been sitting alone at the kitchen table. Alone, that was, apart
from a bottle of white wine, a single glass, a packet of cigarettes, a lighter
and an ashtray.

    He
frowned when he saw the clutter. 'I didn't know you were smoking again,' he
said.

    'There's
a lot of things you don't know about me,' she said, fetching another glass from
the cupboard and pouring him one. He sat down, opposite her chair.

    He
waited for her to enlarge on the remark, but when nothing was forthcoming he
said: 'There's one thing I do know.'

    'What's
that?'

    'He's
out and on the move.'

    For a
second there was a flash of something in her eyes. Something like interest.
Something like the old Linda. 'Who?' she asked.

    'Our
father.' He didn't add 'who art in heaven'.

    'Oh,
him,' she said, the interest dying as suddenly as it had appeared.

    'Who
did you think 1 meant?' he asked.

    'Forget
it.'

    'And
he may try and look us up.'

    'If
he does I'll stick my finger in his eye,' she said and lit another cigarette.

    'My
kids,' said Jimmy in reply to Butler's question. 'I don't even know where they
are. Whether they're alive or dead.'

    'But
I do,' said Daniel Butler. 'Both very much alive, I'm happy to report. Did you
know you're a grandad?'

    Jimmy's
eyes widened. He'd often thought it was a possibility but hadn't dwelt on it.
Despite the excitement Butler's words generated, he fought to remain calm.
Butler had too much on him already and knew far too much about him as it was.
'No,' was all he said.

    'Well,
you are. A boy and a girl. Luke and Daisy.'

    The
news was almost too much for Jimmy on top of everything else that had happened
recently. 'Christ. Where are they?'

    'You're
in south London, I believe,' said William.

    Jimmy
nodded.

    'Then
not far away.' He smiled an unkind smile. 'And your boy. Sean, isn't it? Did
you know he was a copper?'

    Jimmy
couldn't believe his ears. 'Do what?' he almost shouted.

    'Detective
Sergeant,' said William. 'Doing well. Course, not with your name. That would
never do. They don't even know who his real father is.'

    'How
do you know all this? And how's Linda?'

    'Proud
mother of two. Sean hasn't married. Not even got a girlfriend. No, don't worry
Jimmy. He's not a shirtlifter. He just seems more interested in looking after
his widowed sister and her little brood and moving up through the police
service than in playing happy families in suburbia.'

    'Widowed?'
Jimmy couldn't take it all in. 'What happened?'

    'Car
crash a year or so ago. Left her with a tiny baby girl who never knew her
daddy. Linda came out of it quite well though. Got a decent pay-off as I
understand.'

    'So
how do you know all this?'

    'It
always pays to know things, Jimmy. Information is power, isn't that the
expression? And as we're such old mates, I made it my business to keep an eye
on them. A friendly eye, of course. I've never interfered. Just filed every
drop of information away for future reference. And if you're with us, I'll be
able to give you the full SP.'

    'Thanks,'
said Jimmy. 'Thanks a lot.'

    'But
before you rush off to your family's waiting bosom, we need to talk business.'
'Yeah.'

    'Yes,
I've got a little job for you, Jimmy. Interested?' 'What and how much?' 'I want
you to kill some people.' 'Do what?'

    'That's
what you do isn't it, Jimmy? Kill people?' 'Not recently.'

    'But
once a killer, always a killer - that's what they say, isn't it?' 'Who says?'

    'The
elusive "they". But let's not get metaphysical. Will you do it or
not?'

    'Who
is it?' asked Jimmy.

    'They're
here. At the entertainment. By the way, did you enjoy it?'

    'I
saw more claret when we invaded the nonces wing at Gartree and gave them a good
seeing to.'

    'I'm
sure you did. But we digress. The target is a man named Smith. Rodney Smith.'

    'And
who is he?'

    'Just
another traitor, Jimmy. It doesn't matter who he is and what he's done. It only
matters that he did it, and now he has to pay.'

    'And
who's the.other?'

    'His
wife. A horrible little ginger slapper. She won't be missed.'

    'Is
she a traitor too?'

    'She
cohabits with one, but otherwise she's just a tart.'

    'So
why do I have to kill her?'

    'Because
she'll be with him. They're always together. In fact, it's a kindness to put her
out of her misery. She'd only pine with him gone… Just one moment.' Butler
stood up and went over to an antique, roll top desk, where he opened the centre
drawer and took out a pair of thin, black leather gloves which he tossed to
Jimmy. 'I hope they fit,' he said. 'Put them on.'

    Jimmy
did as he was told. The gloves were skin tight and he made a fist of each hand
to ease them on. 'They'll do,' he said.

    'Come
here, please,' said Butler.

    Once
again Jimmy did his bidding. The drawer was empty except for a small automatic
pistol with a fitted silencer, a set of car keys and a folded sheet of paper.
'The gun has been cleaned inside and out,' said Butler. 'No prints on it or on
the ammunition. Likewise the keys. The car is outside and clean too. You take
it away with you tonight.'

    'I
haven't driven in over twenty years!' protested Jimmy. 'And I don
't
have
a licence.'

    'So
you'll be breaking the law. What a surprise. Just drive carefully, Jimmy, and
you'll be fine.' Butler picked up the paper, unfolded it and handed it across.
On it was an address and a car registration number… 'Learn these,' said the
white-haired man, 'then give it back.'

    Jimmy
looked at the address - which was in New Addington near Croydon - committed it
and the car number to memory, before handing the paper back to Butler who used
a gold cigarette lighter to set it on fire, before dropping the burning remains
into the cold fireplace and crushing them to fine ash. 'Bob will point them out
to you, and their car. It's a Lincoln. Very rare over here. You can't miss it.
This is what you do. Tomorrow is the bitch's birthday. Rodney has booked a
table at the Ivy for dinner. They'll drive up. They should be finished by
eleven and home some time after midnight. The house is large, with a two-car
garage under remote control. They'll drive in and you'll be waiting. The place
is alarmed to the hilt, but don't worry about that. You don't need to be
inside. Just follow them through the garage doors and do the business. You'll
be in and out in seconds. Then take your car and drive it to Sainsburys at Nine
Elms. You know it?'

    .
Jimmy shook his head.

    'Then
find it some time tomorrow before you go. Park the car there with the keys on
the back offside tyre and it'll be collected. Vauxhall Bridge is just a few
minutes away. Drop the gun in the river, then go home and have a good night's
sleep. Simple.'

    'I'm
not a shooter,' said Jimmy.

    'That's
not what Billy Farrow would say - if he could.'

    'That
was a shotgun. This is a pistol.'

    'Thanks
for the lesson in ordnance, Jimmy, but I can tell the difference. You've used
one of these before, haven't you? Some time during your illustrious career?'

    'Twenty
five years ago.'

    'You'll
manage. Otherwise, forget it. I'll say goodbye, get Bob to drop you where you
want to go, and no hard feelings.'

    'No,'
said Jimmy, picking up the pistol. He dropped the magazine out of the butt,
pulled back the slide to make sure the chamber was empty, checked the load in
the clip and slapped it back home. 'I'll be fine.' Then he unscrewed the
silencer, put it in the inside pocket of his jacket and the pistol into the
right side pocket. He lifted up the keys and stuffed them into his trouser
pocket. 'What's in it for me?'

    'Rodney
and his wife both wear very expensive watches. Rolexes covered in diamonds.
They're worth maybe eighty, maybe ninety grand altogether. Stupid waste of
money.' The irony of the fact that he was wearing a handful of rings with more
diamonds that Jimmy had ever seen seemed to escape Daniel Butler. 'They're
yours. There have been a number of robberies by so called 'Rolex raiders' over
the last few years. Some of them sadly ended in tragedy. This will be one such.
Personally, I'd dump them into a drain as far away as possible, but it's up to
you. They'll be the hottest pieces of torn in London by noon the day after.
Still, maybe Gerry Goldstein will take them off your hands. Rodney always
carries a fat wallet full of cash. That's yours too, and his and hers credit
cards. But once again the best bet is to lose them somewhere where they'll
never be found.'

    'So
all I get is a bit of cash.'

    'And
my eternal gratitude, Jimmy. That's worth more than gold round here. And of course,
I'll know you're up for the job I'm planning, and I'll let you know who grassed
you up all those years ago. You'll get a result, Jimmy. And there's always the
matter of Sean and Linda and your pretty little grandchildren…' The way he said
it was almost a threat.

    Jimmy
knew he was buggered. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't.

    He
shrugged. 'You're not setting me up here, are you?' he asked.

    'Don't
be silly, Jimmy. If you get captured it'll be your own stupid fault. There's no
connection between you and them. Not that any dumb plod could work out anyway.
You don't know them, they don't know you. Just do it.'

    'OK,
Dan,' said Jimmy. 'Let's have a gander at them then.'

    Butler
smiled, picked up the phone on the sideboard, pressed in a single number and
whispered something into the handset. Within seconds, Bob opened the door, a
big smile playing on his lips. 'Come on then, Jimmy,' he said. 'It's getting
late.'