Chapter 13 – "Lightning McQueen"
As she walked around the corner towards Tanya and Jack's house, Alex Eames hoped this wasn't going to be a wasted errand. She had tried to call Tanya and Jack twice, but there had been no reply from either of their cellphones, and she had a nasty feeling that they were out of their house. Then again, she didn't have their landline number, and it was always possible that they were in their house and had turned their cellphones off.
She could, of course, call MI5 and tell them that Jack and Tanya were probably out, and perhaps that would be the sensible thing to do… but she was enjoying the fresh air and the sense of purpose, and she really didn't want to go back to Thames House with her tail between her legs without having at least tried the door. As she rounded the corner, she saw that a light was on, and her spirits lifted, only to drop a few minutes later, when after repeated knocks on the door, and a quick peer through the window, she was forced to conclude that they were not at home; perhaps they'd left the light on just to fool potential burglars.
So, now what? She couldn't just hang around waiting for them to show up, and in any case MI5 would want to know what was happening. She could just call them and let them solve the problem, if problem it was, but Detective Alex Eames of the NYPD did not enjoy being someone's errand girl, and tracking down two people whom she knew personally was hardly the biggest challenge to her skills she'd ever faced.
If she were going to try to find them, she thought, she could start by calling the office of the newspaper Jack worked for… wait a minute. Didn't Tanya mention that Duncan Ampirelli lives somewhere near here? She tried to remember what Tanya had actually said. He lives with some friends, it's just round from where Jack and I live. It's handy because it's on the same street as the Red Lion…
She stopped a passer-by and asked: "Excuse, do you know where the Red Lion is?"
"The pub, love?" He thought for a minute, then pointed to the street behind them. "It's just down there, on the corner at the end, you can't miss it."
"Thanks." She set off in the direction he'd indicated. She vaguely remembered what Ampirelli's house looked like anyway, from when she, Bobby and Davenport had visited it earlier that summer, so that Davenport could persuade the younger man to "lend" them a van to run a surveillance operation from. As she walked along the street, her confidence grew. This looked like the right place, and she thought she could see the house in the distance.
As she neared it, she heard encouraging sounds of occupation, and as she arrived there, she saw that there was a scruffy-looking van propped up on blocks in what would have been the front garden when the house was originally built. It had a familiar-looking pair of large brown work boots sticking out from underneath the engine.
She thought about yelling, but decided that Ampirelli wouldn't thank her for making him bang his head on the underside of the van, and instead positioned herself where he would be able to see her feet. The motion apparently caught his eye, as he wriggled quickly out from beneath the van.
"Oh! Hiya!" He smiled widely, apparently not in the least surprised to see someone he had met briefly nearly six months ago suddenly standing outside his house. She returned the smile. It was refreshing to meet someone who actually seemed pleased to see her for herself, rather than as an errand girl or potential bait for a sting operation.
As Ampirelli pulled himself up to his full height and removed the grubby hat he'd been wearing to keep his hair away from his face, she reflected that he seemed to be one of those rare human beings who was genuinely happy most of the time and seemed to like people. Certainly Tanya trusted him a lot, treating him as a sort of honorary family member-cum-errand boy, since his good nature meant that he would usually help her out… Duncan, could you drive us to the hospital… Duncan, could you pick me up?
Duncan, could you drive this van full of bootleg DVDs? she reminded herself astringently, recalling that Davenport had been able to persuade him to lend them the van in return for the fact that he'd intervened to stop the younger man from going to prison after several members of his family were arrested for selling pirate DVDs. Then again, she thought, Tanya clearly trusted him, and it wasn't hard to see that he might have been led into trouble by his family – she'd seen it happen before.
He smiled and glanced down at his hands, which were covered in oil and grease. "I'll not shake hands. How are you?"
"Good, thanks. Uh, listen, can you help me? I'm looking for Tanya, and I can't find her…"
"She's at the hospital, I dropped her off an hour or so ago."
"Oh. Is it…"
"Oh, it's nothing serious," Ampirelli rushed to reassure her. "It's just a check-up sort of thing, but Jack couldn't take her 'cause he's working, and she says she doesn't like to drive right now because it hurts her back. She's probably gonna be there for a while, they always have a huge queue."
"Oh." She considered her options. He continued, "I mean, if you wanna speak to her, I've got a spare key to their house. I could run you round there and we could wait there for her, if you like. I've just got to finish up here. Do you wanna go in, get yourself a…"
His words were interrupted by a loud shout from behind him. "Hoy! Lightning McQueen! Get your arse in here, now, we're opening the booze!" A young man with an Australian accent had appeared in the doorway behind him, clutching a can of beer.
Ampirelli bawled back: "I'm trying to have a conversation, bugger off, you daft Aussie git! Sorry about that," he apologised to Eames, "we're having a bit of a house party before that lot fly back down under to visit their mums and dads."
"Uh, well, I don't want to interrupt…"
He snorted. "Oh, you won't be, honest. The party's not gonna finish before tomorrow morning, I've got time to drop you off if you want me to do that. Tell you what, if you go in and get yourself a cuppa, I'll finish up here."
She decided that a warm drink would be a good idea, and wandered into the house. She immediately felt very old. Ampirelli's housemates all seemed to be in their early twenties, like him, and predominately Australian. They didn't seem in the least surprised to see a strange older woman wandering into the house, but instead cheerfully offered her a beer.
When she politely declined, the oldest person present (a young woman of about 24) found the kettle behind a pile of grubby plates, then went about unearthing the cleanest mug. Whilst she waited, she chatted to the young woman, whose name was Abby, and who was "on a visa, you know, I kinda didn't plan on staying this long, but it's fun, you know? Never a quiet night round here, God no."
"Has Duncan lived here long?"
"Duncan? Oh, you mean Amp? Oh yeah, he's been here for a year. It's dead good, 'cause he's really good at fixing things. The landlord's a lazy shit, but they usually are, right? Do you want sugar?"
"Yes, thanks…"
"No worries." She handed over the mug. "Tell you what, if you're a mate of Amp's, you're welcome to stay for a bit. We're just having a quiet night in tonight, have a few bevvies before everyone buggers off for Christmas."
A loud whoop came from the front door, and she smelt pizza. Eames was suddenly and irrationally tempted to accept. Why not stay in a warm house and eat pizza with friendly youngsters rather than wait in Tanya and Jack's empty house, then return to Thames House to be involved in yet more intrigue with cold-faced strangers?
But no, duty called. "Thanks for the invite, but I've got things to do…"
"Yeah, Christmas is a busy time, innit?" Abby suddenly yelled through the doorway, "Save some for me, you greedy buggers! Yeah, no worries, but take care of yourself, yeah?" She pushed past and into the front room of the house. Eames sipped the welcome hot tea, and went back out to see if Ampirelli had finished whatever he was doing with the van. He seemed to have done, as he was having a loud conversation with someone on his cellphone.
"…yeah, yeah, look, mate, it's buggered. It's basically lying on its back with all four legs in the air… no, not like that, you pervert! Look, the engine's knacked, all right?"
He listened impatiently to the loud squawking from the other end of the phone. "Well, you can take it round every garage in bloody West London, see if I care! They'll just tell you the same thing and charge you more. Look, the engine's knacked, you've buggered it up, and you need a new engine, and that's my last word. Oh yeah, you owe me twenty quid for having a look at it… yes, you do owe me, it's bloody freezing and I've just spent an hour on my back under your van when I could have been having some beers with the nutters in the house. Yeah, yeah, I'll see you later, okay?" He broke off the call.
"Do you speak to everyone you fix vans for like that?" she asked lightly.
He grinned. "Only the ones I'm related to. That was my cousin. Daft git. Who buys a van and doesn't put oil in it?"
"Is that the problem?"
"Yeah. Twenty-quid can of oil shoved into it three months ago and he wouldn't be looking at a new engine now – the bearings are completely gone. Silly bugger." He shook his head. "Anyway, I'm off in to get changed."
At that moment, her cellphone rang. It was DI Maldon. "Um, listen, I don't mean to pry, but… have you decided…? Will you have time?"
"I might have." She explained about the situation with Jack and Tanya, then glanced at her watch. "How near are the people you want me to question to where I am now?" She was tempted, no point denying it, but there was no way she would risk the success of the sting operation that evening on what could be a fool's errand, if she couldn't get back to Thames House later that day in time to play her part.
"Uh… give me the address?" He listened, then said: "Oh, that's not very far away at all. In fact, it's just round the corner from one of the people we have on the list. Shouldn't take too long. So, would you mind? Sorry to keep asking."
"It's okay." She decided on impulse that she would do it. She had the time, and she might as well use it productively instead of hanging around waiting for Tanya and Jack. "Yes, I'll do it – just give me the address."
"Of course!" He sounded hugely relieved. She scribbled down the address. "So, listen, how are you going to get there? If you want to get a cab, I'll cover the expense."
"I'll do that. Thanks."
"You're the one doing me a favour."
"Seems to be my day for that. I'd better call MI5 and tell them I'll be a while longer-"
"No, don't bother, I'll take care of that for you. No point you wasting your time repeating everything you've just told me to them. Now, let me tell you about who I need you to talk to."
Five minutes later, she was still looking at the details she'd rapidly jotted down. Maldon had given her an address in a local housing estate, for a woman who was distantly related to one of the students who had been in the Newcomers organisation. They didn't really expect that she'd know anything, he explained, but they just wanted to be sure. She was to go round there, explain that she was with the police, then ask if the woman in question had any contact with her errant family member in the weeks leading up to the attack on the stadium.
Eames thought it likely that at that point she would probably get the door slammed in her face, but she was okay with that. It would be good to do some real, old-fashioned police work – and to do something that she'd chosen to do, rather than being pushed around as she had been for the past few days.
Amp reappeared behind her. He'd cleaned the grime off his face and hands, tied his long ginger hair back into a ponytail, and changed into a black t-shirt, jeans and an old leather jacket. "So, do you want me to drive you round?"
"Actually, Duncan, do you know of any good taxi firms round here? I need to run an errand."
He listened to the details, then shook his head. "You'll not get a taxi to take you there."
"Why not?"
"It's kind of a rough area. I mean, it's not that bad – they've not had any shootings or owt – but it's a bit chavvy, you know, lots of rough kids hanging around. A lot of the taxi drivers won't go there because, well you know, they're Asian, half of them, and the kids sometimes chuck things at them. What do you want to go there for?"
"It's just some police work." And it would have been nice if Maldon had mentioned that, but never mind. Maybe he didn't know the area well. "Hmm…"
"I could take you," Ampirelli offered. "It's not that far."
"Are you sure? I don't want to take you away from your friends…"
He shrugged. "Oh no, like I say, the party's gonna be going on for a while. Listen, I don't like to ask, but…"
"I'll cover your time and gas- petrol." Or at least the Metropolitan Police can.
"All right then. Tell you what, we'll take my van." He gestured at a small blue van parked outside the house. "Be a bit easier to park it there than a car, they'll think we're just there to fix the water pipes or something."
"Let's go." They headed to the van, and Duncan politely unlocked the door and opened it for her, then hopped into the driver's side. It was a little scruffy, but not too dirty or messy inside, and the seat was quite comfortable. As he turned the key, there was a sudden blast of sound, "LIKE A BAT OUTTA HELL, I'LL BE GONE BEFORE THE MORNING COMES…" before he turned the stereo off with a slightly embarrassed expression and put the heater on.
She gave him the address, and it occurred to her suddenly to wonder if MI5 were keeping tabs on her. Hadn't they mentioned having Jack and Tanya's house under surveillance? But no, they surely wouldn't bother to tail her for some routine police work, and in any case her cop instincts hadn't picked up any signs of anyone following her (unless they were extremely good, to the point of invisibility). In any case, John Durham had been explicit about the fact that he'd told the criminals he was working with that Bobby and Sienna were his real targets.
I'm there to make up the numbers, she reflected drily. As Duncan pulled away into the traffic, she felt a surge of excitement. Finally, something to get her teeth into, some actual investigative work, something that she could do to help.