bollocks. ‘Lean forward. Head on the wheel.’
I tapped the calendar icon. He had loads of appointments today until three forty-five, and then it went blank. On Sunday evening he had a chess game. I assumed that was what it was - it just said, ‘Chess’. Maybe it was the musical. I didn’t care. There was still no indication of what or with whom. No dinner parties booked, nothing else going on.
‘Please, just take everything. I won’t say anything.’
‘Fucking shut up!’
I hit the number list. ‘Who’s Gillian? You made a call to her at ten oh eight this morning.’
‘She’s my receptionist. I was a little late and …’
The only other call was the one he had just made. ‘Who’s M?’ I pressed a +1 310 number, Los Angeles.
‘My mother, she doesn’t sleep so well and—’
‘Give me your wallet.’
‘Now you’ve got to let me go. I have nothing else. Take the car!’
I opened the slim brown leather folder. Besides cards, there was about PS150 in crisp twenties and tens, straight from the ATM. There were no family snaps. He should at least have had a baby picture in there, even if it wasn’t his. It gives you far more chance of having your wallet returned.
His driver’s licence gave an address in Stanmore Hill in North London. The house number was followed by a B. He lived in a flat.
‘Get the keys, left hand. Turn on the engine.’
‘Just take everything.’
I pressed the knife harder into his crotch. ‘Turn on the engine.’
His left hand fished for the key and the diesel was soon ticking over. I powered down the window and smashed the phone onto the concrete. I kept his wallet. It joined the other steak knives in my pocket.
‘Now sit up, and belt up.’
Breathing heavily, he did as he was told. Sweat ran from the back of his head down the front of his face and nose, and was now trying to make its way onto his chin. He glanced across and got his first view of me as I pulled down my hood. When he saw who it was under the glasses and cap it was like the opening of a floodgate.
‘Oh, my God! They made me do it! I’m so sorry, I—’
‘Who? Who made you do it? Tresillian? Julian?’
‘Who - what? Look, I don’t know. Two guys visited with me. Heavies. They said this was your scan, and they gave me the drugs. I swear. I had no choice. Please—’
He lost it. His hands came up, pleading with me. ‘They made me! Please believe me! I don’t know anything …’
I pressed the knife down further. ‘Calm down.’ I pointed at his face. ‘You got no wife or kids over here? You on your own?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, whatever - you don’t know it yet, but you’re in deep shit. I can’t lose control of you until I’ve finished what I’m here to do. That means either killing you …’
‘No! Please!’ He was almost hyperventilating.
‘Calm down, for fuck’s sake. Or it means keeping you with me all the time, making sure you can’t tell anyone what’s just happened.’
If I was right about him, he was in as much shit as I was. He just didn’t know it.
‘Take deep breaths. Come on, that’s better.’ I took the knife away and held it up between us. ‘But don’t go mistaking kindness for weakness, all right? You tell me what you know and do what I say and you’ll get out of this car alive.’ I pointed the blade at his face. ‘OK, a couple more deep breaths and then you’re going to drive us both to Fulham.’
5
Kleinmann was a good prisoner.
We sat at a window table in TGI Friday’s. A far too cheerful waitress bounced over and announced she’d be looking after us tonight. Kleinmann was happy for me to do the ordering, as long as it was chicken.
My eyes never left the restaurant front on the other side of Fulham Broadway. Getting something to eat and keeping out of the rain were secondary. We were here for the stakeout on the Vietnamese.
Passing buses obscured the target for a couple of seconds now and again. The junction was busy. High-sided vans sometimes got stuck at the lights. Most of the footfall had their heads down, collars or brollies up, orange Sainsbury carrier bags alongside them, en route to a ready-meal for one and a bottle of wine in front of the telly.
Our food turned up, with another round of Diet Cokes. I knew Kleinmann was scared, but