Highbridge (33 page)

‘You. As you apparently know everything,' Joey replied and leaned in closer. ‘And the police, perhaps?'

The pebbles rattled in Bobby's throat again. ‘Now you're winding me up. Or getting confused about policing and justice, Joe. The cops know. Well, most things. Trouble for them is that that isn't their job. Their job is to prove things. Knowing isn't enough.'

‘But good enough for you?'

‘Natural justice. The only justice people like you and me believe in. The way they did things in the old days. With strangers' fields.'

‘Which was?' Joey asked, intrigued.

Bobby edged even further forward. ‘In the old days, villagers sorted things out themselves. Any stranger giving aggro would be taken down to a field. The strangers' field. And sorted out. One by one, each villager would land a blow. Weapon or fist. Didn't matter. Then everyone took a turn in digging the grave. Everyone had to take part. Everyone culpable. Everyone knew everything, so nobody spoke. Mutual responsibility. Mutual respect. That's how we should handle things. People like me and you, Joe.'

Joey was about to protest, but Bobby came back with a quick jab. ‘And don't try and give me some old bollocks. I know …' he emphasised it. ‘I know. You'd soon give someone a good smack if they came near you and yours. Like you would have done last night at the club? Eh? Your trouble, Nolan, as it's always been, is that you can't just walk away. Damsel in distress. Someone getting a hard time. Get yourself involved in things when you don't have to. Max tells me your Tanya's the same.'

The comment stung. Unintentionally. And ironically. That was exactly the opposite to the way Joey was feeling at the moment. He shook his head. He was thinking that he hadn't been doing much getting involved lately when they were interrupted by a voice from behind.

‘You two look like you're up to no good.'

They both turned to find Luke standing behind them, a coffee to go in his hand.

‘That a bit of the old SAS training? Creeping up on people?' Bobby asked.

Luke shook his head as he joined them. ‘Not necessary when people get locked in to their own little worlds.' He indicated how close they were sitting, then pulled a chair round to join them.

Joey noticed he was now, like himself, in a more lightweight jacket and jeans, obviously not having come straight down from the hill.

‘So what you doing?' Bobby asked, with a glance to Joey. ‘Still hanging round?'

‘Just needed a chat with Joe about some electrical work I want doing.'

‘Up at your ghost house?'

Luke just grinned. Refusing to be baited. ‘Where else?'

It was enough for Joey. There was something else. Otherwise he would have just agreed. The devil also picked up the detail. It was a probe. What did he know? So he fired one back himself.

‘Thought your services would be much in demand in this troubled world we live in?' he asked.

Luke followed Bobby's quick glance to Joey, as he also reached to pick up his phone. Luke's arrival had served as a reminder to Bobby that he had been out of touch for too long.

‘You going to record this bit, Bob?' Luke asked. It was a deflection, but a grin showed he was joking. Bobby's counter-sneer showed he wasn't impressed.

‘Bobby reckons you and Matt could solve the town's drug problem by throwing people off the viaduct,' Joey said, trying to sound casually incredulous.

It didn't go unnoticed by the devil. It was a heads up on the conversation.

‘Ah. How much?' Luke asked Bobby, believing the best form of defence is always attack.

‘Where's your community spirit?' Bobby asked with a throaty laugh.

‘Expended on some far-flung foreign battleground. Go on, how much?'

‘Bobby told me last week he could get it done for fifty quid,' Joey said. ‘Or, five hundred for a proper job?'

Bobby took a quick look round in case the wrong sort of ears were within range. Too much detail even for the devil. It was Luke's turn to laugh.

‘And how many of these proper jobs end up with the executioner in jail?'

Bobby just shrugged. Like Joey, no matter how tough he felt, there was something cold and measured about Luke that made him feel, if not inadequate, then slightly out of his depth.

‘Enough to make it not worthwhile. There's three kinds of crime the cops take seriously. Multiple rape. Serious fraud. And murder. They'll verbal a lot about everything else, as we all do, but when it comes down to it it's those three that frighten the powers that be. Those three that get everyone agitated. Worrying that it could happen to them. Or get people asking questions about why they should keep paying taxes and keeping them in jobs. Why? Because people do a lot to protect their lifestyles.'

He focused on Joey. ‘How long you been going up and down the country for a decent job?'

Joey conceded the point, as Luke pressed on. ‘And Hilary and her gang aren't really interested in your fake knock-offs, Bob. Or clocking someone doing thirty-five in a thirty. They want to be doing the serious stuff. And so long as they do a good job we put up with all the pettiness that comes with it.' He grinned at Bobby. ‘So, five hundred quid? For ten to fifteen years inside?' Shook his head. ‘Need to multiply it by a thousand to make it worthwhile.' He then grinned. ‘To do a really proper job.'

This time Bobby appeared to miss the look that went between Luke and Joey as he was now scrolling through his accumulated text messages. The look that reminded Joey what he was getting for his money. Something more than community spirit. Revenge for Janey.

‘Well, that takes me out of the frame,' Bobby said with another throaty chuckle, as he stood up and waved the phone. He had to go. ‘But if you drop your rates, I might have a list you could work your way through.'

With that he headed for the door, then across the street to where his Range Rover was parked half on and half off the pavement.

‘Do you really have a job for me?' Joey asked Luke.

‘I'm thinking of adding a steam generator to the shower. If anyone asks. But I'm also interested in learning more about the way electricity works. Like you told me how you can always get power from street lights.'

‘Go on.'

‘Just wondered how, for instance, someone could rig the swing bridge to open. For a prank, say?'

Joey shook his head. ‘That'd be a bit of work. You'd have to, I'm guessing, be working with any number of combinations from 11,000 Volt multi-poles, 415 Volt AC, 240-Volt three-phase down to 12-Volt DC control systems. That's why I've got certificates.'

Luke looked deflated. Until Joey grinned. ‘But there's an easier way.' Then added, in answer to Luke's curious look, ‘Remember Gary McClintock? The guy who used to come to school on his trail bike?'

Luke nodded. ‘Got expelled for tearing up the running track doing wheelies or something?'

‘Doughnuts. Anyway. He's got the keys to the castle.'

‘What?'

‘He lives in the old cottage on the towpath. Just along from the control box. Where he …?' He let it hang for Luke to pick up.

‘Operates the swing bridge?' Luke asked. Intrigued.

Joey nodded, but noticed that as Luke took this in he seemed a bit more preoccupied with something else. ‘And?' he asked.

‘One last question from me.' He leaned forward and brought the coffee cup up to his mouth, obscuring his lips, just in case. ‘Go or no go?'

‘What's that mean?'

‘We're trained for point and shoot. In, out, job done, get gone. Someone else always has to consider the consequences. It's always someone else who has to make the final decision.' He left it at that. For Joey to think about. To think through the consequences.

Joey did. For him, Natasha and the kids. Of him getting caught. He had thought of little else since his chat with Natasha. But he'd also thought a lot about Janey. About what had happened and nearly happened to Tanya. And about the young lad found dead on a sports field named after another young lad who'd died tragically from a heart condition. That was a waste. But how much greater waste was it for someone to be killed by drugs?

‘If you mean can I live with the consequences of … what? Whatever you want to do with your body warmer? Then, yeah. I can.'

The two old friends held each other's eyes for a moment. Understanding. It was go. Before their attention was drawn to the window by the sound of the horn on Bobby's Range Rover, as he roared off.

‘Hilary was right. Can't help himself,' Joey laughed. But then turned back to Luke. More serious. ‘Do you think he knows anything? Or just guessing?'

Luke remained unfazed. ‘Even if he does, he's not going to talk. The real question is, why is he letting this bunch from out of town operate on his patch?'

It was a good point. And one Joey had completely overlooked. If Bobby did know everything that was going on in Highbridge then he'd know exactly what was really being sold at the chippy. And, much more to the point, was he in on it? Was the devil really fishing to protect his own?

Over by the gas heaters Sean was in deep discussion with Mr and Mrs Councillor.

‘Yes, we heard all about the demo. But that is not the way to go about things. There are procedures.' It was Mr Councillor, Malcolm Sawyer, Chair of Education.

‘And as for the playground itself, Sean, it's been debated and agreed. It's for the good of the town.' Mrs Councillor, Sarah Sawyer, Chair of Planning, declared in a tone that she expected would bring the conversation to an end.

‘Who by?' Sean replied with an incredulous edge that seemed, to the Chair of Planning, to be challenging the very principles of democratic government.

‘By the elected members of the Town Council, Sean,' Mr Councillor, Chair of Education, replied on behalf of both himself and his spouse and fellow Chair.

‘And did they consult anyone who might be vaguely interested? Like the public they are supposed to represent?'

‘We are elected to do the job on their behalf,' Education responded. ‘You know how it works. If you don't like it, you can easily vote us out.'

‘Oh come off it, Malcolm,' Sean responded. ‘All I'm asking is whether it's true, or not, that you lot are flogging off the kids' playground.'

‘It's your tone we are finding objectionable, Sean,' Mrs Councillor, Chair of Planning, replied. Firmly.

Sean decided to take a breath. Count to ten and continue. But he only got to three before Education had had enough of this intrusive invasion of their shopping trip.

‘Look, Sean, we are out trying to enjoy ourselves by spending money here, with you. If you feel so strongly about this matter, then write to us formally.' The Chair of Education then took the elbow of Planning to guide her away. Obviously the meeting had been declared over. But Sean stepped in front of them. With Any Other Business.

‘Hang on,' he said. ‘All right, I might have been a bit harsh, but what is that political saying? If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen?' He glanced round, and smiled, hoping it would defuse the obvious tension. ‘Or greenhouse, perhaps?'

‘Your apology is accepted, Sean,' Planning responded. ‘But Malcolm is right. If you feel …'

It hadn't worked. ‘I didn't apologise, Sarah. I've …' He emphasised the point. ‘I've done nothing to apologise for.'

‘Are you implying that we have?' Education suddenly blustered.

‘Well,' Sean commented, slightly surprised by the vehemence of the reaction. ‘What's that other saying about he who protesteth too much? Have you Malcolm? Is there something going on that we, the electorate, should know?'

‘How about this, Sean? We won't tell you how to grow plants if you don't tell us how to run the Council. Now, are we still welcome to buy a spot of lunch?'

‘Look Malcolm, I know you see yourself as part of some sort of local political dynasty, following on from your dad and granddad, but you are there to represent everyone, remember, not just the ones who voted for you.'

‘Well if more people bothered to turn out and vote …'

But Mrs Councillor recognised that this was drifting towards a typically male, locked-antlers confrontation so demonstrated why she had become Chair of Planning, and intervened.

‘Sean, if what you are asking is, are there any plans under consideration for redeveloping the playground area, then the answer is yes. We have a preferred developer, but all is being done above board and under the EU Procurement Rules. Which we have to abide by, of course, whether we like it or not.'

She succeeded in making the two stags back off, but only long enough to allow Sean to draw breath and come back with another question. ‘If that's the case, then how come the public and local media don't know anything about it?'

‘Sometimes we have to act, on behalf of the people if you like, under a cloak of commercial confidentiality.'

‘And what does that mean?'

‘You know as well as we do about all the problems attached to that playground.'

‘Yes. Including the young lad who was killed there the other night,' Sean countered.

‘We don't know if he was killed,' the Chair of Planning shot back. No doubt as a Point of Information. ‘Only that he died. Tragically, perhaps, but we mustn't jump to conclusions. About anything.' It was her turn to emphasise a point.

‘Sarah, look …' Sean was trying to remain calm in the face of this political stonewalling. ‘He died of a drugs overdose. Those who sold him the drugs killed him, in my book. And those who allow that to happen should be …' He hesitated as he could see her lips beginning to purse and the Chair of Education's complexion changing to a ruddy hue as his blood pressure was obviously creeping up. ‘Should be challenged.'

‘Through the proper procedures,' the Chair of Education replied, clearly thinking he needed to educate Sean on the workings of the Council. ‘As I said at the outset. And if you have any trouble with that, I suggest you take it up with the Chair of the Council, Councillor Peagram.'