Bad Music 2
Hit the North.
‘Dominic Kerr?’
Sitting on a park bench, enjoying the solitude, Dominic turned, his period of morning calm drifting away with the breeze. ‘Detective Khatter,’ he said, recognising her.
‘You remember.’
‘I do.’
‘It’s Detective Inspector now.’
‘Congratulations. You’ve done well.’
‘Thankyou.’ She looked away, had forgotten how unsettling his eyes were, somewhere on the pale side of cornflower. Azure, maybe. No one should be allowed to have those eyes, she thought, brushing her hair from her face; the breeze was picking up. She pocketed her warrant card. ‘Mind if I sit down?’
He shifted along the bench, more as a courtesy than anything else, there was more than enough space. Despite the cool morning he was dressed only in canvas shorts and an old sweater decorated with numerous abrasions, and raggedy holes at the elbows and neckline. He smelled of soap and fresh air. He yawned. ‘Sorry, been up all night,’ he said, straightening his legs and stretching.
‘Me too,’ she said. He disconcerted her. Those blue eyes. Those lean, muscular legs.
‘Catching bad guys?’ he said.
‘That’s the plan,’ she said, reorienting herself. ‘You?’
‘Landed late last night. By the time I picked up the dog, got home, unpacked, I was too tired to sleep. Decided to take the little fella for a walk instead.’ He turned to look across the field towards where the dog was rooting amongst the shrubs and plants. ‘What can I do for you, Detective Inspector?’
She unshouldered her bag, placed it by her right foot. ‘We’re looking for your son.’
Dominic’s eyes followed the dog as it sniffed amongst the low shrubs and stunted trees. ‘I have two sons.’
‘Only one of them has been getting in trouble with the law since he was thirteen.’
‘Angus,’ he said. It was always Angus. ‘What has he done?’
‘I can’t divulge that.’
‘Are you planning to arrest him?’
‘He’s a person of interest in an ongoing enquiry, is all I can say.’ She added, ‘He’s also a person of interest to some quite unpleasant people, and they won’t be reading him his rights if they find him first.’ He glanced at her. ‘He’s better off coming to us,’ she said.
‘Angus might disagree with you on that.’
‘Do you know where he is?’
‘I haven’t seen him in weeks.’ He whistled, and forty yards away the dog perked its ears. After some moments it began trotting back.
‘How many weeks?’
‘Six.’ The dog veered away and disappeared into the undergrowth. ‘One word from me,’ he said, watching it, ‘It does what it likes.’
Khatter smiled. ‘When I was a kid, I always wanted a dog.’
‘He’s a tie, to be honest. I work away a lot; have to arrange a sitter.’
‘What do you do?’
‘Management consultant.’
She turned back to the subject that had brought her there. ‘It would be helpful if you could get in touch with Angus, Mr. Kerr. Not just for us. He’s in danger.’
‘Who’s looking for him?’ Dominic asked, his voice a little quieter.
‘I can’t give you that information.’
He looked over to the park gate where a man stood. ‘He yours?’
‘My driver. Detective Minto.’
He looked back towards where the dog was. ‘Let me work through this,’ he said. ‘Angus is in real trouble, because your warrant card says NCA, and you don’t deal with minor crimes, and even if Angus banged someone out on a nightclub dancefloor, you wouldn’t be the people to come looking. That’d be local bobbies. Plus you’re a DI, and DIs don’t normally do house calls. You say he’s in danger, and knowing Angus, who doesn’t shy away from a fracas, that means they’re serious people…’ he paused as the dog returned and sniffed at DI Khatter’s legs.
She leaned forward and stroked him. ‘He’s cute. What’s he called?’
‘Chess,’ Dominic said.
‘Chess. Like the game?’
‘The record label.’
She didn’t reply. He said, ‘I’m guessing drugs,’ and giving her a searching look, and nodding when she gave a tell, the slightest sniff. Dominic rubbed his chin. ‘So, my wayward child is involved in the drugs business.’
‘I really can’t divulge that information.’
‘The drugs trade requires long-term commitment, attention to detail and a Machiavellian mindset,’ Dominic said. ‘None of which Angus has. He’s surprisingly naive. It also requires a sustained level of evil.’ He took a small biscuit from his pocket, fed it to Chess. ‘Angus is impulsive, thoughtless, you could argue he’s a borderline sociopath, but he’s not evil,’ he said. ‘He hasn’t got the staying power for that.’
‘He’s done some bad things.’
‘He has.’ Dominic sat back on the bench, stretched out his legs. He was wearing very scuffed walking boots. He had nice calves, she noted. ‘Angus has a limited number of responses,’ he continued. ‘Mostly based around his ability to enjoy a party and/or knock someone cold with his left hand.’ He let out a sigh. ‘I’ll ask around. If I find him, I’ll suggest he gets in touch with you.’
She took a card from her purse and held it out, ‘That’s my number. Call at any time.’
From his hip pocket he took out an old leather wallet, and from this he produced a small phone.
‘A 3310,’ she said.
‘My entire working life, I’m tied to a laptop and an iPhone, so when I’m not working I hide behind this old brick phone. Only friends and family have the number.’ He punched in her number and texted her a smiley face. ‘And now the cops have it too.’ He slotted the phone back inside his wallet and put it back in his hip pocket, then leaned forward and rubbed the dog’s neck. ‘I can’t promise I’ll find him before you do, or that he’ll listen to me if I do, but I will try.’
Khatter stood, pocketed her phone, shouldered her bag. ‘Thankyou. I think you’re right about Angus. He’s a bad boy, but nothing he can’t recover from; not yet; he’s not evil. It would be good if we got to him before other people do. Let me know what he says.’
‘Will do.’
She walked away towards the gate, leaving him sitting at the bench, aware of him watching her. She walked past Minto, who turned and followed her to the waiting car, opening the doors with the fob. He got in the driver’s seat, she in the passenger seat. ‘Any luck?’ he asked.
‘Wait a minute.’
They sat quiet for a while, until they saw Dominic walk out of the park with the dog trotting beside him, glancing up at him as if for instructions. He opened the door of a a battered pickup, climbed in, the dog jumping in and over his lap to get to the passenger seat. He started the engine, pulled away, drove past them as though he hadn’t seen them. Maybe the hadn’t. The dog stared at them from the passenger window.
‘These northerners, they don’t seem to feel the cold,’ she said.
‘Don’t look at me,’ Minto said. ‘Until I joined the force I’d never been north of Brixton.’
‘This is Wildling country,’ she said, looking around.
There was a period of silence, then Minto smiled to himself.
‘What?’
‘Mr. Kerr had that Silver Fox thing going on,’ he said.
‘You noticed?’
‘He’s handsome, in a weather-beaten sort of way.’
Her phone bipped, saving her from answering Minto. She checked the message, frowned. ‘They’ve just let Lala go. Not enough evidence.’
Minto glanced at Khatter who, after reading the message, was rubbing her eyes with fatigue. ‘Can’t we just deport him?’
‘We’ve been trying for four years.’
‘First kill the lawyers,’ he said.
‘Indeed.’
‘We’ve got an RTS deal with Albania, haven’t we?’
‘We do.’ She said. ‘As far as I can tell, the entire crew are illegal, from the car-wash crews to the so-called Turkish barbers.’
‘Why don’t we peddle them all?’
‘Ask the lawyers,’ she said. She stared hard at her phone, replying to the text.
‘Is that before or after we kill them?’ Minto said.
Finished her message, she slid her phone into her shoulder bag, fastened her seatbelt, checked her watch. Staring out of the window at the grey morning sky and the fast moving clouds, she shivered. ‘Does it ever get warm up here?’
‘Three days in July, I believe.’
‘We’ve got a briefing at ten,’ she said. ‘Let’s go get some breakfast.’
Chapter 3 of Bad Music is here.
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