Agyeman spotted him, finished the set. Dropped down, ripped off his gloves. They slapped palms. ‘Strict form,’ grinned the big man. ‘That’s the secret.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’ Boateng wasn’t much in the mood for banter. He’d thought very carefully about what he was going to ask. Considered it from all angles. Repercussions for himself, for Agyeman. The doorman had already done him a favour to locate Optikon, whose introduction to Froggy meant Boateng was close to meeting someone from Two-Ten proper. His feeling of vulnerability had crystallised into a desire for protection. That’s what he told himself.
They wandered over to the high perimeter fence, stood alongside a brick wall. Boateng briefly felt as if the cartoon faces on its street-art mural were watching him. Kept his voice low. ‘I know I’ve asked a lot of you, Sammy, but there’s one more thing I need.’
‘Name it.’
‘A gun.’
Agyeman emitted a high-pitched laugh, clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Zac! Please, you’re talking crazy.’
‘Nine-millimetre pistol, ideally a Glock. And a box of ammunition.’
‘Are you on drugs?’
Boateng produced a wad of fifty-pound notes. ‘I’ve done my homework. Here’s two grand.’
The smile faded as Agyeman realised he was serious. ‘What the hell are you thinking?’ He sucked his teeth, pushed Boateng’s hand away.
‘I need to be safe where I’m going,’ replied Boateng. Wasn’t sure if he believed himself. ‘You’ve helped me enough already, so you can tell me to piss off. Wouldn’t want to cause any trouble for you.’
‘Why don’t you get a replica? People can even make those with 3D printers these days. They look good. If we just ask—’
‘Sammy.’ Boateng jabbed the money at him. ‘It’s got to be the real thing. Can’t go into another situation like I did before without backup.’
‘Then take me along with you.’
Boateng gestured towards his bulging arms. ‘Sometimes that’s not enough. Anyway, I can’t put you in danger. I’ll take that risk myself, but I won’t bring it to anyone else. It’s your call if you want to do this for me. No problem if you don’t.’
Agyeman was silent.
‘Look, Sammy, I can’t trust my colleagues. I’ve got to bring this guy in alone. I can’t live knowing that I walked away when I was so close to finding Amelia’s killer. The man who took my daughter from me. I’m not about to let him take me down too.’
The big man gave a long breath, fixed Zac with a stare. ‘Tell me the truth. When you find this man, are you going to kill him?’
Boateng kept eye contact, swallowed. ‘No,’ he said quietly.
‘Swear?’
‘I swear.’
Agyeman nodded, made a discreet beckoning motion with one hand. Zac handed him the cash.
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘Alright, guys.’ Boateng strode into the office, clapped. The action was as much to marshal his own focus as to get the team’s attention. He had to be back in the zone now, put aside his conversation with Agyeman. All the way home he’d thought about it, tormented himself. Was there another way to achieve his aim? A safer approach with greater chance of success? There was no denying that when Agyeman accepted the money, he’d got a buzz. Boyish excitement of which he was instantly ashamed. It piled on top of guilt at the lies he found himself telling to everyone now. If he carried on ruminating like this he’d go insane. Had to find some distraction, concentrate on the matter in hand. He cleared his throat. ‘Gather round. Thanks for cancelling your Sunday plans, whatever they were.’
‘Just a lazy morning speaking the language of love to my French beans,’ replied Connelly. ‘Best way to make ’em grow.’
‘Not sure I wanna know, Pat. Great work this morning by everyone.’ Jones passed him a coffee and he nodded his thanks. Malik and Connelly wheeled chairs around. ‘If you thought last week was tough, we’ve got two murders on our hands now. You can expect to see Parker in the news pretty soon – Wallace’s face out there again too.’
‘And gone from the headlines by tomorrow morning.’ Connelly slurped his mud-brown tea.
‘You’re a cynic, Pat,’ said Boateng.
‘Not me, boss, I’m an optimist. I’ll take a beating for two-and-a-half rounds and still believe I can knock the other fella out. It’s just the way news is these days. Story’s up there for five minutes then gets replaced by some celebrity’s arse.’
‘Never know. We might catch a lead. Krebs is all over the media stuff anyway. She’s briefing the press now. How’s your optimism helping with the facial recognition? Any luck?’
Connelly shook his head. ‘Nothing so far. I’ll keep trying, work outwards from the murder scene last night. General CCTV too.’
‘OK.’ Boateng turned to Jones. ‘How about Harvey Ash?’
‘All our previous database searches drew a blank. But there might be something in Parker’s mobile. We’ve got a quick-and-dirty from forensics on his phone. Nas and I have run the numbers already.’ She smiled at Malik, who did his best to look modest. ‘Eliminated all but one. Unregistered mobile called three times by Parker since Wallace got out of prison but not before that. Our guess is it’s Ash. We know they colluded to put Wallace away; makes sense they’d be in contact the last two weeks.’
‘I agree. So what’s your plan?’ He already knew, just wanted her to reason through it.
‘Request cell site data, find Ash from above.’
‘I know he’s meant to be a large fella,’ said Connelly. ‘But that’s a long shot.’
Jones shrugged. ‘So’s a public appeal.’
‘True.’ Boateng didn’t need convincing of that. Scratched his jaw. It was the best lead they had right now. ‘Know how to do the form?’
Jones nodded. ‘I put one through in Cyber Crime.’
‘OK. Start filling it out and I’ll work on Krebs. She’s gonna complain about the cost, always does.’
‘Grand a pop, right?’ Malik reached for a doughnut.
‘Yeah, not to mention there already being a list long as your arm of requests from terrorism cases. And it’s a Sunday. I’ll do my best but we might be back of the queue.’
‘Back?’ exclaimed Jones, wide-eyed. ‘The guy’s a double murderer! Ash is probably his next victim. And it’s back of the frigging queue?’
‘Middle then.’ He took a swig of coffee, amusement at her incredulity fading quickly as he wondered what his own cell sites might reveal about the little private investigation he’d been running over the past week.
‘Boss is right, Kat.’ Malik spoke through a mouthful of doughnut. ‘Sounds weird but murder isn’t top priority. I mean, not like anything’s gonna go bang, is it?’
Jones wasn’t smiling. ‘It might.’
* * *
Wallace peered in the caravan window. Couldn’t see much, but looked like no one was inside. This is where the friendly old dear said ‘Danny’ was staying. He took out the new hammer he’d bought that morning from the elderly Pakistani man. Stuck its claw in the flimsy door lock, popped it open. Glanced around. No one paying attention. He stepped up and in.
Empty.