Chapter 35

The large pedestal fan wasn't really having any effect, merely shifting the hot, viscous air about the room in annoying waves. Dempsey was at the window, idly playing with the cord of the blinds as he watched the comings and goings in the car park below. The rasping of the green blinds was beginning to get on Harry's nerves and seeing Chas' P.A glance across at him, realised she probably felt the same. Catching her eye, Harry gave an apologetic shrug.

"Dempsey, come and sit down," she murmured.

With a sigh, he wandered back and dropped down beside her, sitting back and crossing an ankle over his knee. He checked his wristwatch and threw that arm across the back of the sofa, eyes travelling around the room until they'd done a full circuit and came back to meet Harry's stony glare.

"What?" he asked, innocently.

"For heaven's sake, sit still, can't you?" she hissed.

His foot stopped the incessant twitching on his knee.

"It's a quarter to."

"He's a busy man – he's doing us a favour by seeing us at all."

"I know that."

"Then what's your problem?"

"No problem."

And then Harry realised; it wasn't the waiting around that was getting to him, he was actually nervous about seeing Chas again.

Well, join the club, she thought with irony. What was Chas going to make of their re-acquaintance? It was hard to say – he'd always got on with Dempsey, admired him even, in his own quiet way and when he'd left, Chas had lost a friend. Harry had been instrumental in that although it had never really crossed her mind before.

They both looked up when the door to Chas' office cracked open. Muffled voices speaking in farewell tones spilt out and when a heavy-set, moustachioed gentleman in a suit stepped outside, they glimpsed Chas behind him.

"Probably see you on the green on Sunday, Malcolm," Chas was saying as he shook his hand.

The man left, leaving Chas standing in the doorway, staring in wonder at his next visitors.

"Dempsey and Makepeace ride again!" he exclaimed with unconcealed delight.

They both stood, Harry smoothing out the wrinkles in the beige linen shift dress she had changed into before they had come out.

Dempsey went forward, arms outstretched. "Hey, Chas! Was that the sound of a schmoozer, schmoozing that I just heard?"

They came together in a back-slapping embrace.

"Got to be done, my old son," Chas laughed, "got to be done."

Still staring at Dempsey, he held an arm out to Harry who quietly sidled up to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Afternoon, Chas."

"And you say you found him on your doorstep?" He returned the kiss and then stood shaking his head, laughing again.

"Been a long time, huh?" said Dempsey.

"Too bloody long."

"Don't remember the old mop bein' that colour," he grinned, eyeing Chas' close cropped steel grey hair. "Workin' upstairs gettin' to ya?"

Chas' hand came up to scrub through his short hair. "Went grey ten years ago," he grinned.

"Suits you, pal – gives you that 'don't mess with me' look."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, James," Harry tutted.

Chas looked over to his P.A who was watching the proceedings with a curious eye. "Bomber, can you send down for a pot of coffee?"

"Bomber?" Dempsey queried, drawn suddenly towards the middle-aged lady who had shown them in earlier.

"This is Ruth 'Bomber' Lancaster," Chas smiled.

Dempsey pointed a finger. "Ahhh, gotcha," he laughed.

"Bomber, this is Jim Dempsey and I believe you've met Harry Cavanagh before?"

"Yes, when you first got the appointment, Chas – at the drinks party."

The two women smiled at each other.

"These two used to be partnered together. We were in SI-10 at the same time. This is the first time I've seen Dempsey here for over twenty years!"

Bomber happily shook Dempsey's hand. "Very pleased to meet you, Sir."

"Likewise... Bomber," he grinned.

She picked up her telephone receiver. "I'll get that coffee ordered."

"And some of those chocolate digestives if you can get 'em," Dempsey added cheekily. "I'm starvin' like Marvin."

Harry rolled her eyes.

"He's an American," Chas informed Bomber and winked at Harry. "Right then," he told them in an overdone Welsh accent, "Bonnie and Clyde... in my office... NOW!"

After a quick catch-up conversation, they got around to their reason for being there and Harry found she hadn't really thought it through. It seemed a little awkward, explaining the details of her request and Dempsey's part in it but Chas being Chas took it all in his stride.

"Anything I say is completely off the record then. It may be your company, Jim, but you were still gaining confidential information under false pretences. If Harry's friend finds out he'd be quite entitled to press charges."

Harry sighed. "And I suppose I'm aiding and abetting."

"If your friend decided to see it that way, then yes."

"Guy's a creep anyways," Dempsey muttered.

"Oh yes," said Harry, disdainfully, "and you'd know that wouldn't you because you've met him ONCE!"

"And let me tell you, once was enough."

"Well fortunately, Dempsey, you're not my father or my brother or any significant factor in my life for that matter so he doesn't need to meet with your approval – DOES HE!"

Dempsey clutched a hand to his heart, scowling. "I'm wounded."

"I'm glad!"

Chas looked from one to the other in amazement. "Nothing changes, does it?"

They managed to look suitably chastised.

"Shall we move on?" asked Chas.

Dempsey immediately seemed to forget the antagonism and began to search for the file he needed on his laptop that he'd set up on Chas' desk.

"Just need you to get a look at this guy; see if you can put a name to his ugly mug."

There was a light knock at the door and Bomber entered carrying a tray of cups and saucers, a pot of fresh coffee – and a plate of chocolate digestive biscuits.

"Anyone ever tell you you're an angel?" grinned Dempsey, snatching one up before the tray had even reached the desk.

"Frequently, Sir," she replied without even looking up.

Dempsey chuckled.

"Thank you," Harry said politely and then added quietly, "Don't worry, we won't be here long."

The woman kept her eyes averted but the modest smile was response enough.

Whilst Harry poured, on the other side of the desk, Chas and Dempsey watched the video footage. Barely thirty seconds had elapsed before Chas said with surprise, "That's Andor Kalivas! The other two are Davy Norton and Rack Soubrey."

Harry clicked her fingers. "Kalivas! Of course! Family owned a kebab shop or something. I knew I recognised him"

"Yeah, but I had to remind you that you knew you recognised him," Dempsey pointed out. He looked to Chas. "A restaurant somewhere in North London if I remember it right?"

"Mmm. Well now not only does he own three nice, respectable Greek restaurants in North London, he also 'owns' half the coke dealers in the area too."

"Drugs!" Dempsey exclaimed. "The guy's into drugs?"

"Big time – just can't bring him down for it, got too many flunkies willing to take the fall."

Both the men looked to Harry then who had yet to comment on this revelation. She shook her head vehemently. "No. Not Sam. I'd know if he was involved in drugs."

Dempsey fixed her with a narrow glare. "What, because he don't roll twenties in front of you he ain't scorin'?"

"I'd know," Harry insisted.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Yeah, right. That's a pretty naive attitude for an ex-cop, Harry."

Chas Jarvis looked concerned. "Andor Kalivas is a naughty name these days," he told her. "Twenty years ago it was a bit of weed along with his habitual breaking and entering; now he's a major player in the drugs game. Dempsey was right to be worried, sweetheart."

Harry had never thought of herself as gullible before, in any way, shape or form and having these two ganging up on her made her see red.

"I really don't appreciate this patronising attitude you both seem to have adopted," she said tersely. "There could be a dozen explanations for Kalivas being at Sam's place."

"Only you can't think of any right now," Dempsey said, sarcastically.

"Catering!" she plucked from the air.

"Ha!" Dempsey laughed shortly.

Then Chas asked, "Seeing as this is off the record, do you want to tell me who this bloke of yours is?"

Harry lifted her eyes resignedly. "His name's Sam Tate; he owns Carnaby-Luxe – I'm sure you've heard of it."

"Yeah, course – the girls shop there – costs me a fortune."

"You got three girls, right?" Dempsey asked with a half smile.

"Yeah. What with them and Alice, they've pretty much got me where they want me."

"Ah, daughters are foreign territory to me – just got the one son."

"A son?" Chas inclined his head, obviously a little surprised by the knowledge. "Well, let me tell you, teenaged girls are piranhas in human form, Dempsey and don't let anybody tell you otherwise."

"Only you wouldn't swap 'em for the world, am I right?"

"I doubt he's ever had the offer, have you Chas?" Harry put in dryly with a slight frown directed his way.

Chas glanced sharply at her. "Sorry, we're getting away from the issue." He cleared his throat. "So - Carnaby-Luxe, that's high profile. Any links with a man like Kalivas could potentially be explosive, illegal or not. I could make some discreet inquiries, possibly find out where the connection lies if it would set your mind at rest."

"And this over-the-top security system Dempsey's firm installed?" she queried. "Not looking too good for him really I suppose."

"Well, let's not go jumping to conclusions," he told her steadily, "only, tread carefully is my advice. Does he know you're ex-force?"

Harry shook her head. "Haven't mentioned it."

"Do it – see what reaction you get."

"Probably ask her to bring her uniform along," Dempsey mumbled.

Harry snapped back, "If you don't have anything constructive to say, Dempsey, keep it shut."

He was sitting on the corner of Chas' desk, eating his third chocolate biscuit. "Purely from a professional standpoint – uniforms are very 'now' I'm told."

But Harry was talking over him. "You know, it's coming back to me now; it was a restaurant in Finchley, wasn't it? All the family worked there, even the grandparents. Is it still there?"

"Hub of his little empire," said Chas. "Makes a nice base for his other activities. Quite upmarket now I gather and what with the other two restaurants, the business is sufficient cover for his extremely wealthy lifestyle."

Harry sipped her coffee. "I think the connection is with the restaurants," she said firmly. "Sam just wouldn't be involved in drugs, at least, not knowingly."

"Don't worry," said Chas as he ran the c.c.t.v footage again, "and I know that's easy to say but I'll put some feelers out and come back to you in a couple of days, okay?"

"Thanks, Chas – it's good of you."

"Sorry to open up a can of worms here, pal," Dempsey apologised although Harry knew full well he wasn't at all sorry – he was clearly quite smug.

Harry wrote out Sam Tate's address and phone numbers along with a website address where a photograph of him was available.

"Look Jim," said Chas, after they'd had a few minutes of reminiscing over their brief time at SI-10 together, "one of my girls is having a birthday party on the nineteenth; just a huge get-together really – family and friends. Be great if you could make it... erm... if that's okay with Harry?" he added, casting her an anxious smile.

Harry shrugged. "Rosie's party," she murmured, concentrating heavily on her coffee, "invite who you want."

"Saturday after next, right?" Dempsey confirmed. "Great, I'll be there. I'll get the details off Her Ladyship."

Harry just gave him a withering look. "You'd better drop me back at home now – we've taken up enough of Chas' time for one day."

...

They struck out across the car park, knocked back by the force of the early evening temperatures after the air conditioning of the modernized SI-10 building. The interior of the BMW was baking hot and they sat back gratefully for a few minutes as the air-con kicked in.

Keeping her eyes closed, Harry asked, "Is that dinner invitation still open?"

Without skipping a beat, Dempsey replied, "I was thinkin' we could go Greek."

"Funnily enough, so was I." Her eyes opened and she turned to meet his steady gaze just before he slipped on his sunglasses.