Campbell was shaking his head. ‘Not anymore.’
‘Come again?’ Slater finally broke his silence. ‘George, we’ve heard enough of this haven’t we?’
Campbell was still shaking his head but he was looking Gresham right in the eye again, level, confident. ‘You don’t. You don’t have a debt. This guy, Walker? He’s dead George. I saw some bloke sticking a gun into his chest.’
Gresham returned the stare, his eyes daring Campbell to even consider lying to him.
‘I saw the gun shoved into his ribs as we were running down the hall. They were fighting in the room and I saw the other guy with his gun on top of your man Walker. And I heard the shots. Two.’
‘You see him get shot?’
Campbell hesitated. ‘It was half a second after I turned my head George, a tenth of a second. He’s dead.’
Gresham turned his head slowly to look at Slater. Both men stared silently at each other for a long moment. Though they said nothing, Campbell sensed that they might actually believe him.
‘So what then? You trying to tell me you’re keeping the memory stick?’ Gresham said turning back to him.
‘You owe me one for Angie George. You owe me a favour.’
‘My favour will be to not give you a proper belting and stop him from tearing your head off.’ Gresham said jabbing a finger in Slater’s direction.
‘No George,’ said Campbell, staring over Gresham’s shoulder. ‘No, you can do me a little job.’
‘Are you fucking mad son?’
He looked back at George Gresham and smiled.
‘Hear me out. Just give me ten minutes.’
‘This better be really good.’
‘She goes home. OK?’ Campbell pointed at Sarah. ‘She’s got nothing to do with this and you lot have got no gripe with her. Take her home. Just me and you George. Ten minutes and I promise you, it will be worth it. We’ll be all square. Just me and you.’
Gresham stared at him for a long time, intent and thoughtful. He waved away a protest from Slater and then turned to Warren. ‘Do it. Take her home.’
Sarah looked frightened and turned to Campbell but he shook his head and looked her in the eye. ‘It’s alright. I’ll be fine. They won’t do anything. Not while we still have the stick.’
Warren stood and opened the door for Sarah who walked nervously through. Angie stood as well. ‘I’ll come along too if it makes you feel better. Jules is a pussycat anyway but still…’ Sarah seemed to appreciate the presence of the other woman and they all left the room.
‘Keano. Go home. It's late. Keith, you stay.’ Gresham said, his gaze still on Campbell.
Keane made to protest but Gresham turned and silenced him with a look. Keane trudged dejectedly out the door. Gresham turned back to Campbell. ‘Keith stays. You convince us both.’
So Campbell explained it all to them; how they were being used, why and by whom. He told them what he had learned since Cooper had landed bleeding on his kitchen floor and they listened intently, surprised and enthralled at Campbell’s tale. He told them how they would get paid twice over. How Drennan, or whoever else it was they had contact with, would pay them their money, that they could make much more for themselves on top of this, and exactly how they would do it.
Campbell told them all that he knew exactly what he was going to do next, exactly how this would all end.
IV
58
Tuesday. 12pm.
The first thing to do, Gresham knew, would be to call Walker. They would have to find out for sure if what Campbell was saying were true.
Had George not been so anxious himself, he might have noticed the sweat on Campbell’s brow as he dialled the Gangster’s number. It would not be unusual of course to get one of Walker’s men on the line instead given the late hour and the fact that as one of the capital’s foremost violent criminals, he might be attending to some other important business. Even so, Gresham was no more reassured by the fact that no-one answered Walker’s phone, despite what that signified and despite the fact that after what had gone on earlier that night at Walker’s safe house, Gresham was probably the first person that Walker would have called on.
They had no more joy when they instead tried to call Drennan.
Soon Gresham concluded that if Campbell was wrong and Walker was still alive then they would know soon enough when he got in touch again. The hour was not so much late now as it was early. It would be starting to grow light soon and Gresham was, like all of them, exhausted.
Campbell would sleep here it was decided, in Gresham’s spare room and Slater would be on the floor next to him, just to discourage any further thoughts of escape, which was far from his mind as it was.
Given the conversations they'd had, the things that Campbell had told them and the danger they all faced, Campbell felt almost safer here with these men, hard and cruel though they were, than had he headed off alone into the night once again. He was asleep as soon as he had phoned Sarah to check that she was OK; Warren had taken her to her sister’s place where she was safe and happy. The moment that he lay on the bed he was sleeping and Slater followed him into tired oblivion soon after.
The morning came sooner than anybody wanted but Gresham finally heard the news that they all wanted. Not from Walker though, whose phone still went unanswered, nor from Drennan, whose phone was evidently now switched off.
Warren it was who called them. He had gone home himself to get sleep after dropping Sarah off and on awaking the next morning it was one of the first things that he heard. Everyone was talking about it on the street, what had happened last night. A bust by the police gone wrong, or a turf hit by one of his gangland rivals. One idea even had it that an Eastern European group, who were expanding from people trafficking and prostitution into drugs and racketeering was responsible. Whatever the speculation was, they all agreed on one thing. Frankie Walker was dead.
With that phone call Campbell had his freedom but accepted it almost reluctantly. Here, beneath the umbrella of protection provided by Gresham and his men, Campbell had felt momentarily secure. This most unlikely of alliances gave him a group of ruthless and hardened bodyguards with a vested interest in his safety.
Even so, if they were to put Campbell’s plan into effect, he and Sarah needed to return to their homes and their lives and the fear and uncertainty that was part of the deal.
Gresham instructed Warren to watch them. He would take Campbell home and remain contactable at all times, on protection and surveillance detail. In this way Campbell and Sarah felt a little safer and more confident and Gresham got to make sure that they did what they said they would. On past experience he had little reason to trust Campbell but the things he said about his accidental involvement and his wish to be free of the danger and threat that dogged him Gresham knew to be true. The deal that he had proposed was good enough to take a chance. Warren was insurance and that kept everyone happy.
By midday, Campbell was heading across London again, to his home in the west of the city. Slater, Gresham and Keane sat down and began to make plans. They would have to move, quickly and carefully. It would have to be tonight and this time, there could be no mistakes.
59
Tuesday. 5pm.
Once or twice at University and occasionally at work Campbell had found himself giving presentations. He didn’t enjoy it. He didn’t like to be the centre of attention too much and his nerves and obvious discomfort had often let him down when faced with a crowd of expectant people.
He wouldn’t have to do that tomorrow he knew, but the preparation was the same, the reading and re-reading, the notes he kept scribbling as he tried to absorb the information so he could reel it off without reading it. He needed facts and figures in his head, he needed to know what it was he would be talking about. It was this parallel that made him uneasy because it invoked memories of what normally followed; standing up to speak, all eyes on him, the dry mouth, the quick pulse, the pressure. Tomorrow, he knew at least that his would be an audience of one. But what an audience.