The Norway Room (21 page)

CARROW

37

Carrow was driving fast on the Pershore Road when his phone rang.

‘What the fuck's your game, Carra?' It was Crawford.

‘I'm driving.'

‘Well I hope you fucking crash. I pay you a wad to keep me informed and I hear about Stretton from everybody but the bloke who's collecting the cash. What—'

‘I didn't know. I've been in the gym all day. I've only just heard. I'm on my way over now.'

He couldn't get the motor anywhere near Essex Street. Police closure notices everywhere. He pulled on to the back of a closed garage forecourt in Gooch Street and legged it from there.

Police barricades closed Essex Street from just below the car park behind Pinks. Carrow spotted Toga inside the cordon, standing on the steps of Pinks with some of the other Norway doormen, Matty Fallon and the two Lukes. He called over. Toga waved, said something to the uniform standing beside them and he came across to the barrier. ‘You one of the staff here? The Norway?'

‘Yeah. On the door.'

‘Name?'

‘Carrow. Craig Carrow.'

‘Hop over.'

The uniform walked him to Pinks. ‘Wait here with your mates. Everyone's being seen in here.'

A crew were setting up a gantry of night lighting. About a dozen press and television reporters were crammed behind a barrier at the top of Wrentham Street, side-on to the Norway.

‘They're taking us in one by one,' Toga told him. ‘Letting people out through the back. Must think we don't have phones.'

‘What the fuck's happened anyway? Stretton's shot, you said? Is he dead?'

‘Yes, and Trudy. They got both of them.' This was Luke Jarvis. ‘The cops aren't confirming anything, just saying a man and woman shot through the head. The bodies are still in there.'

‘But it's them,' Luke Freeman said. ‘Stretton and Trudy. If it wasn't, they'd be here with us, wouldn't they?'

‘And what's our line once we're in there?' asked Luke Jarvis.

‘Neville just texted,' said Toga. He kept his head down as he read from his phone. ‘
they seem to know about turf war. i answered everything straight. told basics about chink raids. never asked about bulgs. i never said.'

‘So. It's cough, but nothing more than you get asked,' Matty said. ‘That's what I'm going to do.'

Carrow looked around, tried to take everything in. ‘Where's Uncle Bulgaria now?'

‘No one's seen a sign of them,' Toga said.

‘On the payroll?' Carrow asked.

‘Got to be,' Toga replied. ‘Stretton kept at least one inside during the day. Obviously a wedge from the Chinese saw them do a runner.'

‘So old Sergei will probably be back in Sofia tomorrow.'

Luke Jarvis frowned. ‘Who's she?'

Matty whacked the side of his head. ‘It's the capital of Bulgaria, you fucking ape.' They all laughed.

‘You lot seem very jovial considering your boss has just been shot.'

Carrow turned to see Sean Dowd, his old boss, standing in front of Pinks's neon panel, as immaculately dressed as ever, and to his side, as always, Jack Stevens.

Between us and the good guys it's a very thin line, Dowd used to say. And now, Carrow, standing here with the other doormen, on the payroll of Crawford, felt he had crossed it.

38

Kieran was parked up in Gooch Street waiting for him. ‘Crawford wants a personal word. Told me to run you up to the office. I'll bring you back to your motor. Return service.' The passenger door of the A7 swung open. ‘Hop in. I've been here an hour.'

As he drove Kieran drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music, American punk rock, loud and fast. He swung his head backwards and forwards, joined in with lines he knew, shouting them out.

Carrow had had enough. Any more of this and he'd throw up, or get a migraine at least. He reached out to the volume control and turned.

‘Don't you like it?'

‘It's crap.'

A finger on Kieran's left hand punched the stereo button, killing the music. ‘You got to hear it loud or not at all.'

Now there was just the comfortable hum of the car. There were more police cars in Chinatown. ‘Looks like they're closing the place down,' Carrow observed.

‘This one's got them worried.'

‘Seems like they're reckoning on the Chinese.'

‘Did they say that then? When they were questioning you,' Kieran asked.

‘No. Course they didn't. But if they're all over Chinatown? You don't have to be a genius to work it out.'

‘Or an ex-cop.' A touch of a sneer in Kieran's tone. ‘They're right anyway. It was the Dragons.'

‘Maybe. Maybe not. Crawford was interested in the place. You could have done it, Kieran.'

Kieran laughed. ‘Not me mate. That's well above my pay grade. Anyway, I've got an alibi.'

‘Well fancy that. I'm sure whoever pulled the trigger has one too. Woman, was it? You were on the job at the time of the crime?'

Kieran was still laughing. ‘Christ. You can tell you were a cop. You've still got the tone. Got it perfect. I'd be bricking it if it was me.' Now the laughter disappeared. ‘But you're not a cop any more, are you? You're one of us. On the payroll – just like me. Like the girls on the poles. Anyway, it
was
the Chinese. You must know that by now. Staff in the Norway saw the gunman.'

No one had mentioned this when they were all together outside Pinks. ‘Anyone can hire a Chinese gunman, Kieran – or pay someone on Stretton's staff to deliver a script.
I saw him. Lifted his mask to scratch his nose. Definitely yellow
. It doesn't mean anything.'

Kieran said nothing. Carrow wondered what Ruthie saw in someone like him. But that was stupid. Kieran was a good-looking bloke, well dressed, confident, lots of chat no doubt, the Irish charm – and he wouldn't be short of a few wads of cash to splash about. Definitely a plus in Ruthie's book.

*

At the Hippo, Kieran escorted Carrow to Crawford's office.

Crawford was more relaxed than he had sounded on the phone. ‘Craig, come in. Take a seat. I bet you could do with a drink. Whiskey?'

‘Thanks.' He needed a drink. He could always leave the car where it was for tonight. Get a taxi back.

Crawford poured two glasses and handed one over. Carrow took a hefty gulp and released a satisfied sigh. ‘Beautiful stuff.'

‘Aberfeldy. A favourite of mine.'

‘Right, at the kick-off,' Carrow started, ‘I need to make something clear. If there is any way this,
your
organisation, is involved, even to the extent of knowing something about Stretton's killing, let me go. Now. I know you can't go into it, can't
commit
yourself…' And here Carrow paused slightly, just enough to ensure his emphasis on the word was clear. ‘But if there is any sort of involvement, just say cheers, we'll clink glasses, finish our drinks and I'll be off. Because I know which side I'm on when it gets as serious as this – and if you mislead me and I discover you are involved in any way, or if you know who is, then all agreements of confidentiality are off.'

Crawford took his time to reply. Carrow couldn't be sure whether his little speech had stirred things up or if this was just the way the man was. ‘I appreciate you being so direct, Craig. I always like to know where I stand with people. And it's better for them if they know where they stand with me. Better for all concerned. I'll put it in your terms shall I? We could finish this bottle, go through another and we'd both be unconscious before we needed to clink glasses and say cheers. I know nothing about Stretton's death. Didn't see it coming. Know nothing about it. From what Kieran tells me it looks as if it was a Dragons job. Though I must say it surprises me. I wouldn't have thought anything quite as crude as this was their style, not these days. And it's shut the club down for a while.'

‘Perhaps that's what they want.'

‘Maybe. Now, what do you know? Show me I haven't wasted my money.' The tone was friendly but Carrow knew the man was moving up a gear.

‘Maybe you have. I learned about the killing through a text from one of the blokes on the door. I'd been at the gym all day. Soon as I heard I headed for Essex Street. That's when I got your call. Can't get near the place though so I park up in Gooch Street – as you know, or at least as Kieran knew.'

‘Nothing sinister. I told him to circle the area, see if he could find you.'

‘A lot of Norway staff had made their way there. We were corralled into a little group outside Pinks, which is where they've set up a first stage incident room.'

‘Who's running the show?' Crawford asked.

‘Sean Dowd.'

‘Your old boss, eh? That could be handy.'

Crawford put his whiskey glass down on the table beside him, lifted his cigarettes, put one in his mouth, threw another to Carrow. Each lit up. As a column of smoke grew between them, Crawford leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. ‘When you were back in Jamaica, for your bereavement, did you see much of the place? Travel about?'

The sudden change of subject took Carrow by surprise. ‘Not really. A bit. Mostly I just hung around Santa Cruz. The Treasure Beach area a bit. I went up to Hanover to visit some relatives in Luces. Cousins took me fishing over at Belmont. Around Kingston a bit.'

‘You never went anywhere near Moore Town? Portland.'

‘No.'

‘No, I don't suppose you did. A bit of a backwater. A pretty poor place, apparently. That's where my family's from. Mom anyway. Originally. I've never been there.'

Carrow spotted the ash falling from his cigarette just in time to catch it in the palm of his left hand. Crawford rose and carried across the glass ashtray from the table beside him.

‘Cheers.'

‘Do you fancy a beer? This whiskey's nice but it makes me thirsty. Freshen the palate?'

‘Sounds good.'

‘Come on, we'll go downstairs for it.'

Although it wasn't yet nine there was quite a crowd in as Crawford led Carrow through the Hippo. It was too early for the pole shows but girls in spangled bikini pants with tassels on their tits were already at the tables, sitting on men's laps.

Crawford led Carrow past the long oval bar at the centre of the club to one of the smaller, more intimate ones, situated around the club, away from the main action. Later girls would bring blokes to these bars for cosy chats and get them to cough up for booze. It was too early in the evening for them to be manned, but when a barman saw where Crawford was heading he came across.

‘Couple of Prague Blondes, Darren.' The barman stooped to the cooler cabinet for the bottles of lager.

‘Here, Craig, look at this.' There was a dancer tattooed on Darren's thick bicep. Big tits with tassels. ‘Watch,' Crawford repeated, delighted. ‘Go on, Daz.' And as the barman flexed his muscles, the girl's breasts appeared to swing, the tassels with them. ‘Kills me every time. You don't want a glass do you, Craig?' Crawford asked.

‘Bottle's fine.'

The two men settled on barstools and Darren returned to his position at the central bar. A noisy group of young men arrived. Three girls rushed to greet them and accompany them to a table. Carrow noticed Kieran standing under a lamp near the entrance reading his phone. And she was back in Carrow's head – Ruthie Slayte; a message from her?

Crawford looked around. He waved over a good-looking redhead in a tight black dress.

‘Sadie love, looks like we're in for a busy night.'

‘I'd say so.' She caught Carrow's eye. Gave him the once-over – blatantly. Smiled.

‘Let's get an extra floor show on,' Crawford told her.

‘No problem. They're all in. Who do you want?' She was still looking at Carrow.

‘Tania. She'll get them warmed up. Get her on pronto. We don't want 'em moving on.'

‘No problem.' And Sadie ran her eyes over Carrow again before she turned to leave.

‘She likes you.'

‘I got that impression.'

‘You can have her tonight if you like.'

‘Oh, I don't know.'

‘She's a dirty little madam.'

‘You're speaking from experience?'

‘I've had 'em all mate. All the ones I want anyway. And Sadie – certainly top ten. Let me know if you're interested and I'll let her go early. Time off for bad behaviour.'

Carrow got his cigarettes out. Offered Crawford one, and lit both of them. There was certainly something about Sadie. Perhaps she would be good for him; an antidote to Ruthie. He took a slug of the lager.

‘So what were your plans for the Norway?' Carrow asked Crawford as they drank.

‘Keep it as it was. A very healthy business. Well run. Good profit. You can't take it away from Stretton—'

‘Someone did.'

Crawford smirked. ‘That's a bit of a sick joke, ain't it, Craig? He won't be cold yet. But yes, you're right, somebody did take it away from him.'

‘But not you?'

‘Definitely not me. I wanted to. Intended to. But not in that way. Force if necessary, but not deadly.'

‘Yet?'

But Crawford didn't run with it. ‘What this does mean, Craig, my old son, is that you're out of work.'

‘It means that all right.'

‘Come and work for me. You'll be well paid.'

‘As what?'

‘Start on the door. Do bits and pieces for me. Look, I'll be straight with you. I've been thinking a lot about Jamaica recently. It's where our roots are, ain't it? I'd like to expand over there. Strictly legit. I've done very well in this city since taking over from the Lopez brothers. I've got a lot of resources to invest right now. And I'm thinking I might do it over there. A couple of high-class clubs in Kingston. Supper clubs with a bit of gambling, some good live music. A restaurant or two. Kingston's underdeveloped in that way. There's a lot of money. A business community. But all the investment goes into a few coastal resorts. I'd like to change that. I suppose I see it as a sort of retirement plan. And in the medium term, perhaps in six to twelve months, if you and me hit it off all right, you might be the man to be my agent over there. Investigate what's available. Make connections. Set things up.'

Darren came over. ‘Need another drink, Mr Crawford?'

‘Ta, Daz. Two more Pragues.' Both men watched the tattooed girl on the barman's biceps do her dance as he took the lagers from the cooler and snapped off the tops.

‘And in the six months before? What do I do for my topof-the-range salary?'

‘Like I said. Learn the business. Start as door. That's easy to explain with the Norway shut. I'll take on a few of the other blokes as well. Matty Fallon used to work here. And the big Guyanan bloke, Toga is it? And as I said little jobs for me. Learn the business. And – decide on the line.'

‘The line?'

‘You're ex-blue, Carra. We both know there's shady areas in this business. So you have to decide if you're comfortable with the tightrope, given the opportunities it presents. Like you had to decide with the Holland job.'

Carrow picked something up he didn't like in Crawford's tone of voice, some insinuation. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘The kid that was taken.'

‘That was nothing to do with me.' The lights went up on the central stage, filling it with a crimson glow.

‘Weren't you looking the other way when he went?' Carrow was jolted back to reality. Crawford was a nasty bastard, ruthless, and he was letting it show now. If Carrow was going to work for him he needed to see it. ‘I'm not suggesting you had anything to do with topping the kid, I never heard that off no one. But the general impression – over here anyway – was that you were on the payroll somewhere. Weren't you on police bail for ages?'

Carrow put down his bottle and made to leave. What he really wanted to do was hit the man. Crawford grabbed his arm. ‘Hold on.' Carrow saw Kieran look over. There was Pricey, another of Crawford's men, standing beside him. ‘Sit down for a minute.' Crawford pushed him back on to the barstool.

Sadie walked into the spotlight. ‘Good Evening Gentlemen! I would like to welcome you all here to Spotted Hippo tonight, home of Birmingham's most beautiful girls. We're already filling up, if you'll pardon the expression, and so we are going to start our entertainment a little earlier than usual. Are you all in the mood? You will be soon, for the fabulously talented and very beautiful Tania is going to get our evening off to an exciting start.' And with a flourish towards the pole nearest to her, Sadie left the stage. Music started, the spotlight narrowed to a circle around the pole, and to a loud cheer from the audience Tania walked into it.

Crawford now leaned very close into Carrow's ear, shouting above the music. ‘Look. I'm making you an offer of work. A very good offer.' He nodded towards Kieran and Pricey. ‘Those blokes over there would kill for it.'

‘No pun intended?'

‘I'm just being clear with you. You must know the kind of rumours that circulate when you get into that sort of business. All I am saying is that over the next few days I would like you to continue to earn the money I've already paid. There's a little bonus I will put your way for keeping me in touch with the Stretton case and—'