Shadow Box (11 page)

I checked each room of the flat to make sure I was completely alone. I could hear the distant hum of the traffic on the High Road. I went into Hannah’s bedroom. There was a knot of clothes on the floor and the bed was unmade. I felt awkward when I saw the open top drawer of her chest, a tangle of underwear spilling out. It was not glamorous and was quite worn. I felt I was invading her privacy. I was.

Sharp had told me to be thorough.

I booted up her laptop and entered:
password
. It came up as incorrect. She must have changed it after I’d been caught in her room.

Her duvet was bunched up at the end, like a sleeping dog. Shoes and trainers were stuffed under the bed. I scrabbled about underneath and found a few carrier bags full of clothes.

I moved on and opened the drawers. I went through them methodically, carefully taking out clothes that had not been carefully put in. In the bottom drawer I hit gold. A large biscuit tin, the kind you get at Christmas. Inside were twenty or thirty bags of pills. I tipped a few out on top of the chest of drawers. They were pale green, each stamped with a shamrock. Es. It looked like Hannah had a lucrative sideline. At a tenner a pill, that was a hell of a lot of money hidden in her drawers. I was surprised. I really would never have guessed. I took a few pictures of the pills with my phone, then gently wedged the tin back into the drawer.

Out in the hall, I looked up at the small hatch that led to the loft. On a hunch, I grabbed a chair, climbed up and pushed the panel open. I levered myself up into the loft space and pulled a light cord dangling over my head. There were boxes stacked up to the left and right of the loft door. I opened the nearest one. It was full of polythene bags containing the same type of pills I had seen downstairs. Thousands of them. Multiplied by the quantity of boxes, I was looking at tens of thousands of them, possibly millions. Times ten quid a pop. My mind spun at the maths.

I closed the lid carefully and lowered myself back down onto the chair. I heard a door slam somewhere downstairs followed by feet on the stairs. Shit. I checked everything was as I had found it and tucked myself in behind the bedroom door, trying to hear above my own heavy breathing. The footsteps stopped and I heard the muffled thud of a door slamming. It was the floor below.

I had taken long enough, and the interruption made me jumpy. Music started in the flat below; I could faintly feel the beat through the floorboards. I quickly scanned the sitting room and let myself out, closing the door silently and creeping down past the door of the lower flat, the beat of house music bleeding through the door.

On the street, I breathed out my relief, checked behind me and walked in the opposite direction of the station. I called Simon Sharp.

“You knew, didn’t you? There’s a major stash of pills up there… Ecstasy, I think. I mean, thousands and thousands. I’ll text you pics.”

“OK, hold the details,” Sharp said. “Tony didn’t put you on to her for nothing. I want you to stick around up there for a while. Go and see Hannah later, try and work out what she’s up to. It’s good for you to get back in there straight away. You’re going to have to stay close to this girl.”

Sharp left the implication of “close” hanging in the air as he rung off. I checked my watch. It would be a good hour until she was home, so I walked down towards Queen’s Park to kill time. This suddenly felt like deep water. I didn’t feel like sticking around at all.

Donnie stepped out from the newsagent’s. He had bought a packet of fags and pretended to read a free paper there while he kept an eye on the door opposite.

It was the same kid, he was sure. He had become more familiar the longer Donnie shadowed him. He watched him walk off down the tree-lined street and called Dave Slaughter.

“Dave?”

“Wassup, Don?”

“He’s been back to the flat on his tod.”

“Which flat?”

“Kilburn.”

There was a pause while Dave considered.

“Tommy wonders what the fuck this has to do with finding Sophie.”

“Search me, Dave, I’m just doing what I was told and sticking to the kid like shit to a blanket. I’m like his shadow.”

“The guvnor thinks they’re dicking us about. He thought he had a deal with the kid’s handlers to find Sophie.”

“All I know is, he’s hanging out in this flat in Kilburn. Perhaps Sophie’s being held prisoner there?”

“Don’t be a tit, Don. Kilburn? Sophie wouldn’t be seen dead in Kilburn. We’d know.”

“Just an idea, Dave.”

“Well, don’t have ideas. Go in and have a butcher’s, see what’s going on up there.”

Donnie did as he was told. He crossed the street and, with a practised shoulder, let himself in.

I wandered around Queen’s Park for a while then texted Hannah.

What time you back? I’m in yr neck of the woods. Kieran

I walked around the park again and waited. She texted back.

In around 6. Drop by? Bring Guinness.

I replied that I would. I wasted another twenty minutes then walked back to the newsagent’s and picked up a four-pack. Personally, I was getting sick of the stuff.

I crossed the road and was about to ring the buzzer when I noticed the street door had been forced in. I pushed it open and stepped silently into the hall. No sign of life. I crept up the stairs. The door to Hannah’s flat was open. I walked into the living room and found Hannah pacing about, staring wide-eyed at the walls. The place was wrecked: cushions all over the floor, carpet ripped back, drawers pulled open and emptied on the floor.

“Hannah? What’s happened?” I pulled her down on the sofa and sat beside her. I felt sweat break out on my brow.

“I’ve been burgled,” she said. Her voice was flat – shocked, I guess. “Someone’s broken in. They’ve been through all my things. Look in my room.”

I was confused; I’d only been gone an hour and had locked everything behind me. I went into her room. The drawers had been pulled out, clothes were all over the floor.

“Have you called the police?”

She looked blankly at me and shook her head.

“My dad wouldn’t like it.”

I guessed my lot wouldn’t be too keen either. I was completely thrown. I had “burgled” the flat only a few hours earlier. What were the chances of another, random burglary the same afternoon? Virtually none, I guessed. Someone else was on Hannah’s case.

“Are you sure it was a burglar?” I asked. I put my arm around Hannah’s shaking shoulders and felt her lean into me a little. “Anything missing?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “There’s nothing much to nick.”

“Let me just have a look around,” I said. “Have a cup of tea, you’ll feel better.” I put the kettle on and put a teabag into a mug for her.

I did a quick inspection of the bathroom and Hannah’s room. I checked the open drawer where I had found the pills. The tin wasn’t there.

I went back to finish off making the tea then sat back down beside Hannah.

“Any clues?” I asked. “Why won’t your dad call the police? Is he, like, involved in anything?” I asked, innocently. “Does he owe anyone money?”

Hannah shook her head. “He doesn’t trust them. He had bad experiences in Ireland. The Troubles, you know…”

“Sure,” I said. “Could there be any connection? Could anyone be after him – or you – over that?”

I had heard of Irish families, both Catholic and Protestant, whose feuds from the 1970s were still running today. Tony had made me aware of that stuff.

Hannah shrugged and looked at me with panda eyes. Her tears had smudged her heavy make-up into big black patches that made her wet eyes very blue. Her cheeks were red and her lower lip trembled. It was the first time I had seen her look vulnerable.

“Can you stay?” she asked. “I don’t want to be here on my own.”

I agreed I would. I bodged up a bolt across the door of the flat and wedged a chair under the handle. I wanted to feel secure as well. The break-in, hot on the heels of my own, unnerved me. As did the missing pills. And the massive stash above our heads.

I looked out of the window, nervously checking the street outside. It was as quiet as usual.

Hannah cracked open the cans I’d bought earlier. They were welcome now. She opened a small tin and rolled a spliff.

“I don’t much,” she said. “But I’m all on edge.”

“Sure,” I nodded, then declined when she offered it. “Doesn’t agree with me.”

Hannah put some music on and we sat in near silence, sipping Guinness while Hannah mellowed out. An hour later, her eyelids began to droop.

“I’m done in,” she said. “You OK out here?”

“I’m fine, I’ll crash on the sofa.”

Hannah found me a hippy blanket and I threw it over the sofa. I was better off in the living room, I thought. I took my jeans and shirt off and made myself as comfortable as I could, wrapping the blanket around me. My brain was still racing with questions and possibilities, but I must have got some kip because I had disturbing dreams about fighting, Ireland, black eyes, Sophie Kelly, boxes of pills, Spain and the recurring image of an exploding car that woke me up with a start.

That, and the click of a door.

I didn’t move. I could sense a person in the room, but they were behind me and concealed by the back of the sofa. I got ready to spring, then heard a voice.

“I can’t sleep.”

Hannah.

She padded round to where I could see her. From the streetlight outside the window, I could see her bare legs and the baggy T-shirt she was sleeping in.

“Kieran.” She touched my shoulder.

I grunted as if I was just stirring, not fully awake, pretending I hadn’t heard her. I rolled over to face the back of the sofa and felt the pressure as Hannah sat on the edge of the cushion, then swung her legs up to lie beside me.

I knew this wasn’t a good idea.

Donnie felt the pill kick in.

As the rush came up on him, he realized he’d been stupid taking a whole one. Of course, he was used to narcotics in their various forms, but he’d never seen these green pills before. He should have been cautious and started with a quarter to assess their strength. Donnie knew where he was with the nose candy. Cocaine was cocaine, give or take a cut of baby laxative, but these new pills were getting stronger, and you never knew how strong till you took one. He downed a couple of lagers and a vodka chaser at the bar of a pub, trying to level off the effects of the E. He stepped out into the night air and lit a fag, feeling marginally less woozy, and his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, not wanting to talk, but couldn’t drop the call.

“Don? Dave.”

“Dave,” Donnie answered, his tongue feeling a bit fat. “How you doing, Dave? S’Don.”

“What’s new, Don?”

Donnie gathered his thoughts; at least he had something new to offer.

“She’s up to something, Dave. I went up there and had a look around and…” Donnie tried to stop gabbling.

“Who? What?”

“The girl. I went in the drum like you asked. It’s just a student sock, a right hole. But there was quite a few Jack and Jills in the chest of drawers.”

“What sort?”

“Es I think. I’ve took…”

Donnie felt the bags of pills rattle in his jacket pockets.

“You took what?”

“I’ve secured some of the pills for testing,” Donnie said, pleased with his turn of phrase.

“How many? One, two…?”

“All of ’em. About a thousand.”

“You great plum, Don, you weren’t meant to take nothing, you daft slab of shit! You were supposed to have a butcher’s and naff off, not disturb nothing.”

“Thing is, Dave, I got discombobulated during my fact-finding mission. Didn’t know what to do for the best.”

“Don? Have you taken one of them pills yourself?”

“No.”

“Don? Troof?”

“Like I said, I’m just a bit discombobulated.”

“Don, Don, Don … what the eff is going on? I ask you to keep an eye on the Savage boy and you put your size twelves into God knows what. This is confusing, Don, very confusing. I don’t like the flavour of it. Get them pills to me asap. I’ll have to speak to the guvnor. He won’t be happy.”