American Crow Page 2

  I looked down as Sheila slid the eggs and bacon in front of me drawing me away from my moroseness. I didn’t like to admit it, but Lenny’s call had excited me on some level too and I found that plain distasteful.

  I was sure I’d quit Baxter’s for good after the funeral, in fact all tracing work and anything resembling private investigation. End of. I’d made my vow at Laura’s graveside. I’d find something else to do. Something...I shook my head slowly and dipped a corner of my toast in the egg yolk. What in the hell was that going to be?

  It was flattering that Lenny had tapped me up I supposed, rather than chancing his arm on a new face, but was I ready to go back even if there was something decent on the table? Had I exorcised my demons enough to get a difficult job done when it came down to it?

  After all, the margins between winning and losing were paper-thin sometimes, especially with cult extraction and abduction cases. You had to be on your game. It wasn’t all checking electoral rolls and e-mails, or sitting behind the wheel of a car on a stake-out; it involved befriending people, creating an illusion to gain people’s trust so you could illicit that vital information that unlocked that all important door. You had to be clear-headed and confident, and right now I wasn’t sure if I was either of those. I felt in limbo still.

  To try and help, Jerry had organized it for me to do some odd jobs around the site to keep me occupied, and we sank more than a few beers occasionally at the local pub to raise the spirits, but it wasn’t enough to halt that restlessness gnawing away in my guts since September.

  Trying to overhaul your life was like trying to cut out a piece of your own flesh, and well, what did a guy like me do when the majority of his natural had been spent tracking down people, been spent living out of a suitcase...take up fucking golf?

  It didn’t take long for me to work my way through breakfast as I worked through the alternatives. A few extra slices of toast helped mop up any residue and clean the plate as if it had never been used. I finished the gargantuan mug of tea, left a generous tip on the table as usual, then gave Sheila a wink as I left to make her day.

  Outside, I stood on the steps and looked up at the heavy rain clouds passing overhead as if they would offer some sort of answer, then gave up and headed back to the static to take a much needed shower. A few minutes later I heard footsteps running in my direction.

  ‘Blake...’

  I turned. It was Sheila. Perhaps she’d set the cafe on fire again...

  ‘Darling, did you drop something?’

  She held out her hand, finger extended. I stared at the golden object hanging down from the black cord. It was Laura’s necklace...

  ‘Where did you find that?’ I said, shocked.

  ‘I found it under the newspaper rack, hun,’ she said almost apologetically, folding it carefully into my hand.

  I stared at the letter L lying on my palm, relieved to have it back. I’d brought it for Laura back in France, in some tacky tourist shop on the seafront on our last day together. She’d loved it and insisted I buy it for her there and then, even though it only cost a euro. It was the first thing I’d brought her in a long long time, and ironically it turned out to be the last.

  I clipped it back around my neck, berating myself for having lost it, then said my thanks and carried on walking, thinking about how I’d failed Laura in every way a father could.

  Back at the static I sat outside on the steps like a fucking gnome, feeling wretched; then I smoked a stale cigarette Jerry had given me as some of the other residents stirred and headed for breakfast. There was definitely something brewing out there and heading my way that was for sure. I could feel it in the air now, almost see it as a haze creeping towards me like some poisonous spider.

  I’d always had that sixth sense too, from when I was just a kid, tracking down strangers on my BMX for my old man’s firm back in the eighties, then later on when I became a professional and happened to knock on the wrong door. Now, I had that same feeling and it was like hot sand under my skin. As hot as it had been back on that beach all those months ago...

  I stepped inside the trailer and eyed the near-empty bottle of vodka on the side-table, then thought better of it and put the kettle on instead for the novelty. Then I listened to the Dead Kennedys on volume ten and watched the sun rise higher through the crack in the curtains, hoping that the proposal would be something different this time, that it wouldn’t involve cult extraction or kidnap for once, and that it would pay well in return, and maybe, just maybe, help me forget about everything that had happened over the last six months, even it was just for a few measly hours…

  Chapter Three

  ‘The meeting’

  Lenny’s Office. Walworth. South London.

  The next day. Mid-Morning.

  I ignored the worried-looking guy sitting outside the office and headed straight in. Lenny was sat behind his large mahogany desk as usual, smoking one of his strong cigarettes and reading a copy of the Racing Post, catching up on the form for the day, like he did most days before the phone started ringing.

  He let me get comfortable before he looked up. Then he eyed me intently above the half-moon glasses perched halfway down his flattened nose. I pointed a thumb in the direction of the door.

  ‘There’s someone waiting outside to see you.’

  ‘He wants a job.’

  I cracked an unfamiliar smile. Lenny always made you wait. It was one of his little tests.

  ‘How have you been doing these days, son...you know, since the funeral?’

  I looked at him blankly. Lenny nodded slowly looking concerned, like he always did to punters when they arrived with their problems.

  ‘Indeed, indeed...’

  Silence. I stifled the emotion at source. That wouldn’t do. We eyed each other up for a minute or so, searching each other out. Eventually he stooped down and pulled out a bottle of French brandy from the bottom drawer, the stuff he knew I liked, then placed a couple of glasses on the table between us. He talked as he poured.

  ‘My brother, Mickey, has got a very good friend in the city called, Henry, who’s a bit posh, right. He works for some big, banking corporation high up, over in Canary Warf.’

  ‘Right...’

  ‘And he’s got a problem.’

  ‘What sort of problem?’ I asked, tensing.

  ‘One that needs a great deal of know-how, to sort...’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘His teenage daughter, Olivia, has gone missing.’

  I nodded respectfully.

  ‘How old?’

  ‘Just turned eighteen, but acts a lot older, he says.’

  I took a generous mouthful from my glass, swallowed, then enjoyed the burn, but not the irony of what I was hearing.

  ‘And he’s tried the official route I take it? He’s done all the usual searches online, traced train and plane tickets, social media sites, card purchases and reverse directories?’

  ‘He has...’

  ‘Police?’

  ‘They’re about as useful as a chocolate pencil in this particular neck of the woods. Both the P.I’s he’s hired too haven’t come up with the goods. One drew a blank after just a week’s work and the other went off with his money and hasn’t been heard of since.’

  I chewed my bottom lip, then over what he was saying carefully.

  ‘And what neck of the woods is that exactly?’

  ‘America...’

  I leant back and let out a loud sigh, hands clasped behind my head.

  ‘Well that’s going to be a problem straight away, isn’t it, Lenny?’

  ‘Not necessarily. You’ve been back since the Vegas job, haven’t you?’

  ‘No, that was Canada. The Hendrick’s case...’

  He pulled a face as if mulling over what he was going to say, then offered one of his manufactured smiles.

  ‘We can get around it, as always...’

  I returned his gaze wondering what he meant exactly. A warrant for my arrest was still out in Nevada.
End of. Things got messy out there at the end of that particular jaunt. There was a high chance I could get stopped at the airport and thrown in the slammer from the off, especially now things were tighter with Homeland Security.

  For a moment I pushed the thought to one side, still intrigued by the case.

  ‘So how long has she been gone? It’s not uncommon for kids of that age to go on a walkabout, is it?’

  Lenny leant back in his executive chair and pushed his belly out, stretching his braces.

  ‘Problem is, is that no one has heard from her in over six weeks and she’s been out there for over three months as it is. She’s missed her flight home, and her visa’s run out her father says.’

  I sat upright getting more interested.

  ‘Go on...’

  ‘She’s studying history of art or some rubbish like that, and there lies the problem. She should be at home starting a family, not studying some arty-farty crap. It’s what’s wrong with the world.’

  ‘And all the others are tied up you say? I mean, Zac could do it. You wouldn’t have the worry of getting me in to the States...’

  Lenny sighed.

  ‘He’s out of the game for the next few weeks, Blake, just like everyone else on the team. And as for someone new, well, Henry needs someone he can trust out there, and so do I. He’s had it dealing with American investigators, with the cops. Nothing’s happening. He’s even been over himself for a weekend recently. He missed the girl’s eighteenth birthday too. Her bloody eighteenth...’

  Lenny leaned forwards and pointed one of his fat, sausage fingers in my direction.

  ‘I need someone out there who can get results quickly and cleanly, son, especially if she’s going through some rebellious turn and is in the arse end of nowhere with some bad influences around.

  ‘So…’ I said, trying to appear uninterested.

  ‘If she’s run off for whatever reason, it’s going to need someone out there who can talk her around quickly and talk to her on her level. You can mix it with the worst, Blake, blend in with the riff-raff... you know what I mean? You’re not some stiff Columbo type in a mackintosh and never have been, and that’s why you get results on these sorts of cases, where others can’t. Zac and Adam might be just a little too straight for this one, even if they were available.’

  Lenny inhaled deeply, exhaled, then finished his drink with one long pull. As he placed the tumbler down, he eyed me like he did when he was ready to hear a proper answer.

  ‘You in? It might do you good...’

  The offer hovered before me like some hypnotizing Cobra. Once I’d agreed that was that. Your word was your bond in Lenny’s old-school world and I’d always respected that. My old man had worked on the same principles too, before he’d disappeared on a job in Panama.

  I side-stepped the issue a little longer, needing time to think.

  ‘And you’ll be able to get me in to America hassle free?’

  He made a gesture with his hands.

  ‘Not an issue. You just keep your nose clean while you’re there, and everything will be fine. I can sort it, as always...’

  When Lenny said he could arrange things, I believed him, but it just might be different to how I imagined it. Uncomfortably different.

  ‘And this guy is prepared to pay some serious cash is he? It might get expensive if she doesn’t want to return, or has gone to ground somewhere. America is a big fucking country, Lenny.’

  ‘Find her and we get five clicks each on top of the usual costs. Convince her to get on a plane then there is twenty on the table.’

  I pursed my lips and whistled.

  ‘Even split, of course.’

  That meant the sweetener was probably thirty. Lenny topped up the glasses and continued.

  ‘She’s his only daughter from his second marriage right, and he adores her. The guy is climbing the walls with worry. Find her Blakey. Take a photo. Get her to speak on the bloody phone to him, or even better, bring her back over your shoulder and Henry pays big time. Simple as that. But I need to know right now whether you’re in, so that he can find another agency if we can’t do it. You know how it works...’

  ‘And it’s possible to meet him first?’

  Lenny cracked a crafty smile.

  ‘He’s going to meet you this afternoon.’

  Nice manoeuvre. If I turned him down, he would ring Henry in front of me there and then and cancel, making me feel bad enough to change my mind.

  ‘If I take the case on, it doesn’t mean that I’m coming back for good, okay? I quit right...It’s just one last job.’

  ‘Of course…’ Lenny said with a poker face.

  I stared at the nude calendar on the wall behind him and mulled over the offer for a final time.

  ‘Where in America did she fly to exactly?’

  ‘Somewhere in Minnesota, he said. Can’t remember the city. Been a bit snowed under the last few days with everything. You know how it is...’

  I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly thinking about my promise to Laura, pursed my lips, blew out some air, stared at the ceiling then down at my shoes, changed my mind twice, then reverted back to my second last decision. I needed to do something, I was stagnating. I’d been in a drunken stupor for the last few months and knew it was a one-way ticket to oblivion.

  It seemed like a straight forward job once I’d got into the States. It didn’t sound like there were any strange sects or cults involved, or crazed parent having abducted their kid at the expense of the other party.

  It could all be over in a few days if things moved fast, and I could use the cash to pay for another trip to Panama to try and pick up some fresh leads on the old man.

  ‘Look, I don’t know the area, and haven’t got any contacts up there, but I’ll give it a shot.’

  Lenny beamed ecstatically then held out his pudgy hand to seal the deal.

  ‘I know you won’t let me down, son. Now look, if you find out that she’s dead when you get there, then we still get the ten, okay?’

  I stared at him blankly.

  ‘Sorry, son, but it happens, doesn’t it? I didn’t mean to offend you, you know that...’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said, feeling my guts tighten.

  ‘Plane leaves at ten a.m. tomorrow, from Heathrow. It’s all sorted. You’re meeting Henry in St James’s Park at twelve o’clock today.’

  ‘You weren’t bluffing then?’

  ‘I knew you would take it, Blakey. Men like us get bored with nothing to do. It’s in our blood.’

  I stared at his rotund mid-rift and thought his comments amusing.

  ‘And it looks like you could do with some fresh air too. You look pale, son, if you don’t mind me saying.’

  I offered a deft nod, finished my drink then headed outside. Halfway down the corridor I heard him shout out a final instruction.

  ‘Don’t go quiet on me, Blake. I want regular updates while you’re there, even if it’s just to tell me about the number of Yank birds you’re nobbing, okay?’

  ‘Will do...’ I replied, raising an eyebrow at the perplexed guy still waiting in the lobby.

  I jogged down the stairs feeling strangely re-energized. Getting out of the country might be just what I needed ironically. My only concern was where my head was now that I’d agreed to take the case on. I didn’t feel physically fit or focused. And I was unsure of how effective I’d actually be when I got out there, when I was trying to talk some errant teenager into ending an adventure, or worse, bringing her back forcibly if she wasn’t compliant. A girl I thought, heading down the street with my head lowered, who was probably very much like the one I’d only just buried...

  Chapter Four

  'henry and izzy'

  St James's Park.

  Midday.

  Henry Deacon looked completely different to the man I’d imagined. He had a soft, sullen face the colour of dough, dull grey eyes that were hard to read and a lopsided mouth, lending itself more to a whisper than to a kiss. A slight
slouch completed the awkwardness, which would have engendered sympathy from most with any empathy to give.

  As he walked from the cafe in my direction, I thought that it wasn’t a look befitting someone in charge of a whole load of people, and a whole load of money either. There was something vulnerable about the way he carried himself as if he had the worries of the whole bloody world on his shoulders.

  God, he didn’t even know his daughter was in any sort of trouble yet. Maybe he was just that depressive sort who needed something to worry about? There were plenty of them out there who’d paid for my services already...

  I watched him carefully as he took a seat outside the cafe overlooking the pond. He sipped his coffee carefully as he worked his way through a sheaf of notes he’d pulled from a battered leather satchel. I held back for a little longer, double-checking that he hadn’t been followed, or more importantly that I hadn’t...

  “Don’t assume you’re the only one doing the watching, son,” my old man used to say when he’d lumbered me with some tedious surveillance job as a kid. And most of the time he was right. Sometimes there were other parties involved, hidden agendas and complications you just weren’t aware of from the start, which you were then going to get shafted for when the dust had finally settled.

  When the banker started fidgeting, I made my move from a few metres away, where I’d been quietly standing feeding some inquisitive ducks like a brainless tourist. I pulled up a chair opposite, pushed up my shades, then looked him straight in the eyes so he knew who he was dealing with, as was my way.

  I watched him tense, like a lot of clients do at first when they’re expecting some nerdy investigator and don’t get it.

  ‘The name’s, Blake,’ I said extending my tattooed hand. I work for Baxters.’

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ he blurted nervously, ‘I could certainly do with some help right now. And from someone who knows what they’re doing...’