The Informant (8 page)

Helen spent the coffee break on the fringes of a group she vaguely knew; some lads from Labour HQ were baiting a fat Lib-Dem, who was unfortunate enough to have a very junior
role at the Home Office. She saw Turnbull bearing down on her, but there was nowhere to run. As usual he was immaculately turned out: a tailored suit, silk tie with platinum tiepin. As he held out
his hand to shake, Helen reflected he dressed more like a high-priced corporate lawyer than a policeman.

‘Ms Warner! I thought it was you.’

It was impossible to ignore him. His handshake was a grip, a subtle demonstration of his hidden physical power.

‘I see the Feds are out in force today Superintendent.’

He smiled, crinkling the flesh round his eyes as if her quip had really amused him.

‘I’m only here to give the Assistant Commissioner some moral support. But I’m glad I ran into you.’

‘Isn’t that what these things are for, running into people?’

He smiled again, Helen found him hard to dislike. He was certainly a cut above the average senior cop. As a lawyer Helen had dealt with quite a few, mostly they were snotty and arrogant. But
Turnbull had an easy manner.

‘How’s your client?’

‘Which one? I’ve got over fifty.’

‘I was thinking of Karen Phelps. She’s a special project of yours, isn’t she? Bit of a poster girl for the rehabilitation of offenders?’

There was only a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Helen painted on a smile. Did he have any inkling of just how special or was he simply being a cop? She concluded the latter.

‘She’s fine, but she’d be even better if you lot’d stay off her case.’

Suddenly the smile vanished. Turnbull sighed and fixed her with a serious look.

‘Something you don’t know, but probably should, is that we had an undercover officer who got pretty close to Joey Phelps. We’ve just pulled his body out the river. Looks like
Phelps murdered him.’

He scanned her face, waiting for the reaction this news would bring. But Helen wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. She shook her head.

‘C’mon, what’s that got to do with Karen? She’s been in jail and she has no involvement in her brother’s criminality. I’m sure she knows nothing about
it.’

Turnbull inclined his head to one side as if dealing with a recalcitrant child.

‘My point is, Joey Phelps has murdered a police officer. What do you think he’s going to do to his sister when he finds out she’s been talking to us?’

Helen raised her chin. This was really beginning to piss her off. ‘She hasn’t been talking to you, you’ve been badgering her and she’s made her position very clear.
She’s not prepared to act as an informant and you can’t force her to. And if you continue to harass her . . .’

‘One of my officers went to visit her at the hostel. He even bumped into Joey. Now I wonder how Karen will have explained that away? If she lied, that could be tricky. Joey Phelps is not
stupid, he sees the same officer hanging round Karen a couple more times, he’s going to get curious. In a paranoid individual like him, who knows how that’ll play out?’

Helen stared at him in disbelief. ‘What is this? You’re setting her up? You’re hoping to provoke him into attacking his own sister?’

‘Not at all. I’m merely trying to point out to you the dangers of her situation. She’s not going to be safe to get on with her life until her brother is behind bars. You need
to persuade her Ms Warner. It’s for her own good. I’m not the enemy, you need to tell her that.’

Helen met Turnbull’s gaze directly. He exuded a confident masculinity. Crossing swords with him was exhilarating, at the same time Helen felt at a disadvantage. Some men seemed to be able
to do that to her and she hated it.

He produced a business card from his pocket. ‘Let’s keep in touch.’

Helen took the card, but she wasn’t about to let him think he’d won. She eyeballed him, gave him the tough stare that had put the fear of God in more than one CPS lawyer.

‘Two things Superintendent. Karen Phelps has served her time and provided she abides by the terms of her licence she’s entitled to get on with her life free from police harassment.
And if I have to go to the IPCC and lodge a formal complaint, I will. Secondly, even if I tried to persuade her, I don’t think I could. She’s given you her answer, she’s not going
to change her mind. So back off.’

Turnbull smiled, inclined his head. ‘Sooner or later he’ll turn on her. You know that, I know that. You really want that on your conscience?’

It was a hit, Helen’s face remained a mask but they both knew it. Helen had expressed exactly that fear to Kaz on several occasions. But Kaz had simply dismissed it; Joey would never harm
her. Helen wasn’t convinced.

Turnbull knew he’d made his point. He gave her a lop-sided grin. ‘Come on Helen, are we that different, you and me? I’ll tell you how I look at it. Justice system can’t
cope, the government’s got its head up its arse, police morale’s the lowest it’s ever been. But still the likes of us, we soldier on don’t we? Why?’ He glanced over
her left shoulder with a faraway look in his eye. Then he sighed. ‘Fact is, we get on with it, don’t we. Do the job as best we can. Surely we’re on the same side you and
me?’

Helen inclined her head and laughed. ‘Nice speech. I’m still not buying.’

Turnbull let his gaze travel round the room, then he zoned back in on her. ‘Well no one comes to these things for fun, do they? So my guess is you’re planning a career move. Politics
is a whole new ball game. You’ll be needing a few friends and allies. And as you said yourself, Karen Phelps is one client.’

Their eyes met, he seemed completely relaxed, which was maddening.

‘Good to talk to you.’

Helen watched him snake his way across the room. He homed in on Marcus Foxley, the Deputy Mayor for Policing and Crime. Foxley grasped his hand and gave him a blokey pat on the shoulder. Helen
let her annoyance escape in a breathy hiss; bastard was just showing her how well connected he was. Rubbing her nose in it.

She turned and walked away. She strode down the first corridor she came to until she found a quiet spot. Then she took out her phone, clicked it on and anxiously scanned the text she’d
received earlier from Kaz:
scuse mistakes jus getting hang of this been staying at mum and dads all ok b in touch K.

Helen sighed as she clicked the phone off; on a personal and professional front this was all getting way too complicated.

Kaz stood before the wall-to-ceiling plate-glass window gazing out. Joey’s place was on the south bank of the Thames close to the Tate Modern. In one of the upscale new
developments, which clustered behind the gallery, it commanded a river view with the dome of St Paul’s as a backdrop. She strolled over to the kitchen area and poured herself another coffee.
She’d made a whole pot of Blue Mountain Arabica using the state-of-the-art coffee-maker. She wandered round the room letting the caffeine hum through her veins. Having given up cigarettes
during her last year inside she was delighted to discover that there was still one hit she could legitimately indulge in.

She’d slept like a log cocooned in a vast double bed in the apartment’s spare bedroom. It had its own en suite plus there was a shared bathroom with a massive Jacuzzi. The place was
remarkably clean and tidy, she thought, considering it was occupied by Joey and Ashley. She later discovered a couple of Polish blokes in neat blue overalls turned up every afternoon at three,
blitzed through the whole flat in less than an hour and disappeared again.

As Kaz sipped her coffee her eyes roamed around the minimalist space. A large 3D, flat-screen TV dominated one wall with a stack of Blu-ray discs and a PlayStation on a shelf underneath. She was
surprised to see a dozen or so books next to the discs. The titles ranged from self-help manuals about how to succeed in business to a couple of heavy-looking economics tomes. She pulled one out of
the neat row:
The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People
. It didn’t strike her as being very Joey, but then what did she really know about him now? Six years of prison visits had
only provided a series of snapshots of a boy turning into a man.

The front door opened and Joey bustled in with a couple of carriers of shopping. He dumped them down on the kitchen counter and beamed. ‘Great. You’re up. But it is only half
eleven.’

Kaz yawned. ‘Think my body clock’s up the creek ever since I got out.’

Joey unloaded his bag. ‘We got pastries, some oranges to juice’ – he pulled out a pack of bacon – ‘plus, you ask me nicely, I’ll make you the best bacon butty
you’ve had in your entire life.’

Kaz grinned. ‘Okay, I’ll give that a go.’

Joey pulled out a frying pan from the pristine bank of cupboards. ‘I sent Ashley on an errand, give me and you a chance to talk business.’

‘Thought Ashley was part of the business?’

‘Up to a point. He’s a good lad, don’t get me wrong. Totally loyal. But when it comes down to it, he’s not the sharpest card in the pack.’

Kaz absorbed this. She’d been hoping to persuade her brother that while he had a sidekick like Ashley he didn’t really need her. ‘But he is your best mate.’

‘Yeah, but you’re my sister.’

‘Don’t give me that family first crap. ’Cause I’d run a million miles to get away from our lot.’

Joey laughed. Kaz watched him slapping the rashers in the pan, he was a complicated boy, always had been. She remembered him as a small child, clinging to her when the old man went on the
rampage. Usually they’d hide in one of the many cupboards in the house and frequently Joey would wet himself. It always made him cry, tears of rage and shame. But Kaz would tell him it
didn’t matter, she’d clean him up and then she’d cuddle him until he fell asleep.

As the delectable aroma of frying bacon rose up from the pan, Joey glanced at her. He raised his index finger, ticking off a mental list. ‘So . . . number one, let’s start with
Ibiza.’

Kaz took a deep breath, it was now or never. ‘Hang on, I got some stuff I need to say first.’

He stared at her. His expression was hard to decipher. Joey didn’t like to be thwarted, Kaz knew him well enough to read impatience behind the look. But he simply shrugged. ‘Fire
away.’

Kaz sighed, she positioned herself on the opposite side of the kitchen counter to him. ‘Thing is Joe, I don’t ever wanna go back inside. Six years of my life, swallowed
up.’

He opened his mouth to butt in, but she ploughed on. ‘And I ain’t blaming no one but myself. Drugs and a stupid bit of villainy, that’s what put me there; I ain’t going
back to that. Which is why I can’t be involved in the business. I appreciate what you’ve done. Truly I do. But if I get recalled, I’m fucked. I can’t take the
risk.’

Joey beamed at her. ‘What if there is no risk?’

Kaz shook her head in disbelief. ‘Are you being dense or what? Last three months I’ve had the old bill on my back, visiting me inside, trying every which way to get me to grass you
up.’

Joey chuckled. ‘Plonkers! If you was gonna do that, I don’t reckon you’d’ve waited six years.’

‘The point is they are after you little brother.’ Kaz flung her arms wide. ‘All this, the house that charlie built? It’s a red rag to them. They are on your case and they
ain’t about to give up.’

Joey smiled. ‘You worry too much babes. If they had even a shred of evidence to nail me, you think they’d be knocking at your door? Just proves how desperate they are.’

‘What if this place is bugged? They could be listening in even now.’

Joey grinned. ‘They’ll be lucky. Not with the kit I’ve had installed.’

Kaz folded her arms protectively; she took a turn round the open-plan living room. This was never going to be easy. ‘What I want is to go to art college. Learn to be a proper
painter.’

Joey flipped the rashers over a couple more times. ‘I got no quarrel with that. It’s a good cover.’

Kaz faced him, stared him down. She had plenty of her own brand of angry defiance. ‘It ain’t a cover, it’s what I wanna to do with my life.’

He gave her an amiable grin. ‘Great. I could do with a few pictures round here. Get some plates out. I don’t want this to get cold.’

Kaz watched him cut doorsteps of bread and carefully load each slice with bacon, mayo and a handful of salad leaves. It was all a bit messy, but he ended up with two gut-busting sandwiches. He
plated them up and carried them to the table.

‘Tuck in then.’

Getting their mouths round the erupting, dripping slabs of bacon, mayo and bread put paid to any further discussion. Joey demolished his in canine gulps. He got up, tore some sheets of kitchen
paper from the roll on the counter and wiped his mouth and hands.

‘So am I right or am I right?’

Kaz was only halfway through hers. ‘About what?’

‘Best bacon butty you’ve ever had?’

Kaz gave a wry smile as she chomped her way through another mouthful. ‘It’s not for wusses, I’ll give you that.’

Joey poured out two fresh mugs of coffee from the pot on the hob and brought them to the table. ‘Can I have my say now?’

Kaz shot him an acerbic glance. ‘Can I stop you?’

He strolled over to the vast window, coffee mug in hand. ‘Look out there. What d’you see?’

Kaz took a mouthful of coffee. ‘Buildings? London?’

‘Yeah London. One of the biggest financial centres in the world. You know what’s at the heart of it? What makes it tick?’

‘Money?’

Joey shook his head. ‘That’s how it functions. That’s like the wheels. Nah, at the heart of it all there’s one truth. Only one truth: everybody’s at it.
Everybody’s on the take. Laws don’t matter, nothing matters. You’re smart enough, you grab your share. How do I know this? ’Cause I got lawyers, accountants, bankers –
posh boys with degrees down to their bums – who’ve never seen the inside of a nick or the back of a police van. And now they’re working for me.’

Kaz watched him, his eyes shone with that same fervour she’d seen the day before.

‘And I ain’t exaggerating.’ He put down his coffee mug and laced his fingers together. ‘Nowadays villainy and business are like this. ’Cept we don’t call it
villainy no more, ’cause as I say everybody’s at it. We’re all players in the market. I’m no different to the rest, I’m just a businessman.’