Lone Wolf (9 page)

16. DIG

Totteridge was a moderately posh suburb, eight miles from the centre of London. Ning reached the underground station a few minutes before seven-thirty, bought a bottle of water from a newsagent and stared at rows of semi-detached houses for long enough to wonder if Fay was coming. She was about to send a where-the-hell-are-you text when Fay finally arrived.

‘Nice shovel,’ Ning said. ‘Makes you pretty identifiable if anyone searches for you on CCTV.’

‘True,’ Fay said. ‘I ditched Foster-Daddy’s Oyster card at King’s Cross because they can use them to track you. It’s been a while since I’ve been up this way, but I think we need to get a 251 bus from a stop at the top of the hill.’

They waited twelve minutes for the single-deck bus. It took them on a twenty-minute ride, passing golf courses and mansions before reaching the edge of London’s protected green belt.

‘This is definitely the middle of nowhere,’ Ning said, as they stepped off the bus on a road with no markings and hedgerows growing up past head height on either side. ‘What is this place?’

‘Not telling,’ Fay said, smiling, as they crossed the road.

‘For all I know you’re planning to whack me with the shovel and kill me.’

Fay raised one eyebrow. ‘Damn, you guessed.’

After a few hundred metres the pair reached a wooden gate crudely painted with
Greenacre Community Allotments – Please lock after entering
.

The dirt pathway inside was rutted with vehicle tracks. As they began walking, they passed a ramshackle shop which had two foul-smelling mounds of manure, on offer at £3 per bag. Beyond this, a network of paths lined with individual parcels of land stretched off in all directions.

Some allotments were beautifully kept, with painted sheds, neat rows of growing vegetables and greenhouses full of flowers. A few were tangled and overgrown, while the vast majority of plots fell somewhere between the two extremes. Even though it was early, there were already cars parked up and people picking fruit and hosing their plants.

‘The British make me laugh,’ Ning said, as she looked around. ‘In China families do everything they can to leave the land and go live in the city. Here they work all week, then come and dig a piece of land like it’s some kind of fun.’

‘Don’t knock it,’ Fay said. ‘My mum used to grow the best-tasting tomatoes. And the courgettes and strawberries were amazing.’

A couple of turns on the meandering tracks brought them to plot sixty-four. The eighteen-metre square was bisected by a crazy-paved path and had two large sheds at the far end.

‘Looks neat,’ Ning said, as she looked along rows of runner beans and raspberry bushes. ‘Who’s been looking after it?’

‘You’re not allowed more than one allotment, but a lot of people want two,’ Fay explained. ‘The woman on plot sixty-three said she was more than happy to look after it when my aunt got sent to prison.’

Fay lifted some anti-bird mesh and picked a couple of raspberries from a bush. She popped one in her mouth and offered the other to Ning.

‘Nice,’ Ning said as the taste exploded in her mouth. ‘It reminds me of the village I lived in when I was little. Except we’d have ducks and chickens around as well.’

Fay led Ning along the strip of crazy paving, until she came to a curved reddish piece of stone that looked like it had once been part of a chimney pot. It was pretty solidly bedded into the earth and Fay had to dig with the fingers of both hands to prise it up.

Beneath the stone were half a dozen woodlice, and more importantly a round metal tin. Fay couldn’t twist the rusty lid.

‘Give us,’ Ning said.

But Ning couldn’t open the tin either, so Fay went down on one knee and prised the lid with a screwdriver. When it eventually popped open, the tin contained a bunch of keys wrapped in thick plastic to keep out moisture.

One of the keys opened a lock on the smaller of the two sheds. The exterior was tatty, but Fay led Ning into a cosy little space. Grubby windows in the roof and door let in light. There was a camp bed, a small camping stove fuelled by gas cylinders and a metal sink with a single tap that would provide cold water.

Fay opened a cupboard and found some tea bags. ‘Fourteen months past the sell-by date! I guess I’d better go to Asda and stock up.’

‘So you’re planning to stay here?’ Ning said.

Fay nodded. ‘There’s no heat or hot water, but at this time of year it should be fine.’

‘What’ll you do when it gets to autumn?’

Before Ning got an answer, Fay turned the tap over the sink. There was a violent chugging noise, followed by a splutter of brown water that made her jump backwards. After a few seconds, the pipe settled down and a drizzle of clear water ran out.

‘By the autumn . . .’ Fay said thoughtfully. ‘By the autumn, I reckon I’ll either be dead or I’ll have killed Hagar and robbed enough drug dealers to afford better digs.’

‘Always planning ahead,’ Ning said chirpily. But on the inside she felt kind of sad because she’d started to like Fay and didn’t like the idea that she might end up dead.

‘So I’ll have to go to the supermarket, get some groceries and some cloths and stuff to give this place a good clean. The allotment shop should have gas cylinders for the stove.’

‘You came with a shovel,’ Ning said. ‘I assumed we were coming here to dig something up.’

Fay realised she’d forgotten and nodded excitedly. ‘Yes! Next door.’

The second shed was larger, but had none of the frills. The windowless interior meant that the only light came through the open door, while the contents were a cluttered mixture of garden tools, pots, netting, and bags of fertiliser and compost.

‘Shovels,’ Ning said, laughing as she rattled some garden tools. ‘So much for carrying one all the way from Elstree.’

Fay sounded narked. ‘Well, I didn’t know what tools I’d find here. I’d never have got the keys to the sheds without the screwdriver.’

‘Joke,’ Ning said airily. ‘Don’t blow your stack.’

Fay took a deep breath and held up her hands. ‘I’ve got a temper, I know. But I’m putting a lot of faith in you, Ning.’

‘How come?’

‘You could go back home and grass me up,’ Fay explained. ‘Can I really trust you? I mean, how long have I known you? A week?’

‘Barely,’ Ning said. ‘But you’re the one who called me at five a.m., asking if I wanted to come and have some fun.’

‘Fair point,’ Fay said. ‘I need you to help me drag most of this stuff outside and lift up the floor.’

It took the girls ten minutes to drag tools and sacks out of the shed. Once the space was clear, Fay told Ning to stand up against the back wall of the shed.

‘I’ll lift the floor with the shovel, you grab hold and prise it up.’

Fay took three attempts before she got the shovel between the boards and lifted a big section of the shed’s wooden floor. Ning struggled to lift it, so Fay threw the shovel down and after some grunting the pair managed to rest it against the side wall.

‘Grab a shovel,’ Fay said.

As Ning went outside for a shovel, Fay began digging. After the first couple of loads, her spade banged the top of a metal box. Ning moved in and the pair gradually unveiled an ex-army ammunition box a metre and a half long and half a metre wide. Fay dug a little hole at the narrow end to reach a handle and strained as she tugged the box out of the earth.

‘Give us a hand.’

Ning grabbed the handle at the other end and the two girls lifted the box out of the earth.

‘God that’s heavy,’ Ning said, as the box thudded down. ‘What’s inside?’

‘I’m not sure exactly,’ Fay said, as she grabbed the box’s aluminium lid.

Ning was half scared, half impressed when she looked inside. There was an arsenal of knives, but her eye was drawn to some small rolls of twenty-pound notes, tightly wrapped in clingfilm to keep out the damp.

‘There’s a few of these,’ Ning said. ‘Maybe a couple of thousand quid.’

‘Enough to keep me ticking over for a few weeks,’ Fay said, as she studied the contents at the other end and pulled out a set of body armour and a nylon pouch full of evil-looking knives.

‘Ceramic blades, no rust,’ Fay explained.

Removing the body armour had unveiled some cardboard boxes, each one vacuum sealed to keep out moisture. Fay used a craft knife to open a box, and Ning instinctively backed up when she saw the contents.

‘Is that for real?’ Ning asked.

Fay nodded as she lifted out a handgun. ‘This is what I was hoping to find. Two Glock 17 police issue handguns and two hundred rounds of ammunition.’ Then she pointed the plastic-wrapped gun at Ning and said, ‘Bang, bang!’

17. BACON

Ryan woke up feeling pretty pleased with himself. He’d got in with the right crowd and had even been sent on an errand by one of the heavies from The Hangout. He found James in the kitchen, with a foot on the dining-table cutting his toenails.

‘Now there’s a sight,’ Ryan said. ‘And what happened to the nice cooked breakfasts I’ve been getting?’

James smiled. ‘You get breakfast on a schoolday. On the weekend, it’s self-service.’

As James said this, a big piece of toenail shot across the room in Ryan’s direction.

‘You’ll have someone’s eye out,’ Ryan said, as he walked to the fridge and found a big pack of bacon.

‘Bacon sandwich?’ Ryan asked, as James clipped another nail.

‘Count me in,’ James said, as he put his foot down and started pulling on a sock.

Ryan put a pan on the hob and poured in some cooking oil.

‘So tell me more about your errand,’ James said.

‘Not a massive amount to tell,’ Ryan said. ‘The Somali guy gave me some cash—’

James interrupted. ‘Name?’

‘I didn’t get a name, but Abdi or one of those kids will know. So anyway, he gives me fifty quid and sends me to buy burgers.’

Ryan paused while he laid out bacon rashers in the pan, then quickly washed his hands before walking to the cupboard and grabbing a white sandwich loaf.

‘So what was going on when you got to this flat with the burgers?’

‘Poker game,’ Ryan said. ‘I only got as far as the hallway, but I could tell from the noises they were making.’

‘Makes sense,’ James said. ‘They’re not gonna send an untested kid into the place where they count the money or something. But it’s a really good sign.’

‘How come?’

‘They’re interested in you,’ James explained. ‘For all we knew, Hagar’s crew had fifty kids all eager to work for them and you wouldn’t get a look-in for weeks. Did he take your mobile number?’

Ryan nodded. ‘When I got back to The Hangout I asked for his number, but he just laughed.’

‘What about the girls?’ James asked.

Ryan looked mystified as he laid four slices of bread on the countertop. ‘What girls?’

James laughed. ‘It was a disco, wasn’t it? So I assume there were girls there.’

‘Oh right,’ Ryan said. ‘There were a few fit girls, but I never got a chance to talk to any of them.’

‘Keep your eyes peeled for an ex of someone who might know stuff,’ James said. ‘Are you still messed up over that Natalka chick you met in Kyrgyzstan?’

For a second Ryan wondered how James could know, but as a mission controller James would have read all the records of his past missions.

‘It’s a year since we had to go our separate ways,’ Ryan said. ‘I still think about her though.’

James nodded. ‘I fell in love on a mission a couple of times.’

‘Was that with Kerry Chang?’ Ryan asked.

James laughed. ‘Nah, I was usually cheating on Kerry.’

‘Is Kerry still your girlfriend?’

James nodded. ‘But she’s at university in California so I don’t get to see her much.’

‘Bummer,’ Ryan said.

As Ryan flipped the sizzling rashers he felt his iPhone vibrate in his pocket. He backed away from the noisy pan so that he could hear the deep voice in his ear.

‘It’s Ali,’ the guy said.

‘Ali who?’

‘You went to Dirtyburger for me last night.’

‘Oh, sorry!’ Ryan said. ‘You never gave me your name.’

As Ryan spoke he pointed at the pan and gestured for James to take over the cooking.

‘Busy today, son?’

‘No,’ Ryan said. ‘Just moved into the area. No idea what to do with myself.’

‘Well, you wanna earn twenty-five quid for a few hours’ graft?’

‘Sure,’ Ryan shrugged.

‘I’ll text you a location, Youssef will meet you there.’

*

Fay and Ning rode the bus back to Totteridge, then began the half-hour tube journey to Kentish Town. It was a beautiful day. Their carriage was empty apart from a woman with a buggy at the opposite end, but Fay’s huge smile made Ning uneasy.

‘Why so happy?’ Ning asked. ‘Aren’t you worried?’

Fay shrugged. ‘I’ve been dreaming about getting Hagar back since my aunt died.’

‘But your mum and aunt were smart and Hagar got them.’

‘The therapist at Idris said I was a
pathological thrill seeker
,’ Fay said. ‘A danger addict.’

‘Where do we start?’ Ning asked. ‘I mean, presumably we don’t just ask for directions to Hagar’s house and then shoot him.’

Fay laughed. ‘First off, it’s unlikely Hagar even lives in a dump like Kentish Town. Second, I don’t just want to kill Hagar. I want to get right in his face and make him mad first.’

After riding the escalator out of Kentish Town tube station, Fay and Ning walked away from the shops and restaurants and headed for the Pemberton estate.

‘That’s The Hangout youth club,’ Fay said. ‘Hagar’s people used to run a lot of small-time stuff out of there.’

‘Like what?’

‘Street-level dealers, mostly,’ Fay said. ‘They recruit local kids to do the jobs nobody else wants.’

‘Are we going inside?’

‘No point,’ Fay said.

Instead, Fay led Ning to a shabby underground garage block, through a park that seemed seedy even on a bright summer’s day, and finally to an industrial estate where a man lay sleeping on his back.

‘He’ll do,’ Fay said.

The man was dirty, dressed in a denim jacket, football shorts and filthy trainers. His legs were so skinny that you could see every bone and tendon and he had scabs all over his body.

‘Is he a drug addict?’ Ning asked, looking shocked.

‘Of course,’ Fay said. ‘You wanna know what’s happening in the drug trade, go ask an addict.’

Fay crouched over the crumpled figure and pinched his cheek. ‘Rupert.’

The man slowly opened one reddened eye and then began furiously scratching his arms, as if he had fleas.

‘Piss off and leave me alone,’ Rupert demanded. ‘Bloody do-gooders.’

‘I’m not a do-gooder,’ Fay said firmly. ‘Where are your friends, Bob and Tony?’

The man was intrigued by this show of knowledge and squinted from the sun as he sat up slightly. ‘Bob was stabbed up and didn’t make it. Tony’s in prison.’

‘That’s a shame,’ Fay said. ‘You three were quite a team.’

‘No offence, but who the hell are you?’

‘You used to be friendly with my aunt Kirsten.’

‘Kirsten was a nice lady! She used to fix me up good.’

Fay pulled a twenty-pound note and Rupert reached for it.

‘No, no,’ Fay said, snatching it out of reach.

‘You’re the wee girl Kirsten had with her sometimes? How is your auntie?’

‘Dead,’ Fay said bluntly.

‘Ripping off dealers,’ Rupert said. ‘That’ll get anyone killed.’

‘I’ve got twenty pounds here,’ Fay said. ‘I’ll take you to the greasy spoon up by the railway arches. I’ll buy you something to eat and you can tell me all the best spots to buy heroin and cocaine. Is that a deal, Rupert?’

Rupert’s smile showed off missing front teeth. ‘Forget the food,’ he said. ‘Just give me thirty for my next two fixes and I’ll tell you all you need to know about Hagar and Eli.’

‘Eli?’ Fay said. ‘Who the hell is Eli?’