‘Well, that’s your job, not mine. I’m quite busy, you know,’ says Connie. ‘But Kuldesh stole from two of the biggest drug dealers in the South of England. A day later he’s shot dead. This isn’t rocket science.’
‘So you think either Luca or Mitch killed Kuldesh? Lured him into that country lane and shot him?’
‘It’s what I would have done,’ says Connie. ‘All due respect to your mate.’
‘But which one of them?’ says Ibrahim.
Connie walks to the door, and opens it for Ibrahim. ‘I’d say the last one to die probably did it. Wouldn’t you?’
‘They’re both still alive, Connie,’ says Ibrahim.
‘Well, let’s see how long
‘Will you walk out with me?’ Ibrahim asks.
‘Staying here,’ says Connie. ‘Another appointment.’
Connie touches Ibrahim’s arm as he leaves. She has never done that before. It is a very intimate moment, very unlike Connie. Signifying what? I trust you? I’m concerned for you? I appreciate you? Each would be progress in its own way.
Ibrahim steps out into the free world; he will think about it on the drive home.
As he gets into his car, he spots a middle-aged woman walking into the prison.
The view from the top of the multi-storey car park is to die for. The English Channel stretching off to infinity. You could turn this place into flats, Mitch is thinking, as he spots the cars up ahead. Property development, that’s the game to be in. Bribe a few local councillors, no one tries to kill you, you get to choose colour schemes. Maybe he’ll have a think about it when this is all over. If he survives.
Mitch parks his black Range Rover next to Luca’s black Range Rover. Next to Luca’s car is a small, yellow Fiat Uno, from which Garth is currently unfolding himself. He looks like he’s been sleeping rough.
‘You been sleeping rough, mate?’ asks Mitch.
‘Yes,’ says Garth, stretching his arms above his head. ‘Thank you both for coming.’
‘You sent me a message with my address and said you’d firebomb my family if I didn’t,’ says Mitch, brushing some sausage-roll crumbs from his jacket.
‘And you threw a brick through my front window,’ says Luca.
‘Well, you’re here,’ says Garth. ‘That’s the main thing.’
The wind is bitterly cold, high above the streets of Fairhaven. What does Garth want with them? Does he have the same information as they do?
‘I’m sorry about your wife,’ says Luca.
What’s this about Garth’s wife? Garth also looks puzzled.
‘Excuse me?’ he says.
‘I’m sorry about your wife,’ repeats Luca.
‘What happened to his wife?’ asks Mitch.
‘Someone killed her,’ says Garth.
‘Jesus,’ says Mitch. How many more people are going to die? Hopefully none. Or at least hopefully not him. ‘Sorry, mate.’
‘Did you kill her?’ Garth asks him.
‘No,’ says Mitch.
‘Then why are you sorry? Now I hear the heroin is at the old people’s village. You hear that too?’
‘Yup,’ says Luca.
Mitch nods. He heard it from one of Connie Johnson’s people last night.
‘So how do we get it without killing them?’ asks Garth.
‘We could ask politely?’ suggests Luca.
‘Or make a deal,’ says Mitch. Imagine, walking into the meeting with Hanif with the drugs in his hand? Or in a bag, sure, but imagine. If he has to pay off four pensioners, so be it. He’d rather be out of pocket than dead. Give Hanif the drugs, handshake and apologies, get out of the game for good. Straight into property development. Or sparkling wine.
‘I don’t make deals,’ says Luca.
‘How’s that working out for you?’ asks Garth. ‘Here’s what I suggest. You two get two hundred grand together. We go down to Coopers Chase again with guns and a suitcase of cash. They give us the heroin, you give them a hundred grand, we get out.’
‘And the other hundred grand?’ says Luca.
‘You give to me,’ says Garth. ‘For my help, and for my emotional anguish.’
‘I’ll tell you what,’ says Luca. ‘Why don’t Mitch and I go down there, wave our guns around and walk out with the heroin? Nothing for them, nothing for you. What about that?’
‘I wouldn’t advise it,’ says Garth.
Luca laughs. ‘Garth, we’re drug dealers. You’re some antiques guy in over his head. So run along home, bury your wife and sell a few clocks.’
Mitch is not at all sure about this. Garth seems like he might be many things, but he’s not a simple antiques dealer. And Mitch has dealt with the old people at the village before too. And they don’t seem scared or stupid.
‘Garth,’ says Mitch. ‘We give you fifty thousand, we give them fifty thousand. No guns.’
Luca shakes his head. ‘Come on, Mitch. Let’s kill him and go.’
‘No more killing,’ says Mitch. ‘Please.’
They hear a siren from the streets far below. Each man stops like a meerkat until it fades into the distance, then they resume their conversation.
‘Last one, I promise,’ says Luca, reaching for a gun tucked into the back of his trousers and pointing it at Garth.
