Chapter 13
July 2002
Jon stood next to the officer brushing powder over the handle of Tom's garage door. Hearing a car slow down on the road behind him, he turned to see a bright yellow Porsche Boxter coming to a halt at the mouth of the drive, its way blocked by the police van. The car reversed back on to the street and Tom got out.
'How are you?' called Jon, striding across the small lawn, one hand held out.
His friend looked up and Jon was shocked at how washed out he looked.
As they shook hands Tom said, 'I didn't expect plain clothes to come out for a garage break in.'
'Well, anything for a mate, you know? How's tricks anyway?'
Tom sighed. 'I'm just about hanging in there — praying for these bloody Games to be over. It's been absolutely crazy at work.'
'You and me both. We've had to pull in extra officers from all the forces bordering Greater Manchester. Someone's worked out that the Commonwealth Games operation is equivalent to policing three premiership football matches every day for ten days.'
Tom nodded. 'I can believe that. Still,' he spoke out of the side of his mouth, as if sharing a secret, 'not long now until I pack the whole thing in. Then it's Cornwall here I come.'
'I must admit, it looks like all that corporate entertaining is finally taking its toll on you,' said Jon with a good-natured grin. 'Can you not delegate a bit of the wining and dining?'
Tom rolled his eyes. 'I wish. These marketing types, they feel like it's an affront to their status if it's not the MD personally taking them out. I never thought I'd say it, but I'm absolutely sick of restaurant meals. Unfortunately, I have another tonight.' He shrugged. 'Anyway, enough about me. What brings you out to something like this?' He nodded towards his garage. 'I didn't miss a dead body in there, did I?'
Jon smiled. 'No, you're fine there. Actually, the reason why I'm involved is this.' He placed a hand on the bonnet of Tom's Porsche. 'Was it parked in your garage last night?'
'No. I was entertaining clients, so I left it in town. I rang a cab to take me back in this morning and when I came out of the house I saw the garage door was open. I couldn't remember if I'd locked it or not, so I glanced inside and could see someone had been in.'
'Anything taken?'
'No, but I thought I'd better report it for insurance purposes at least.'
'Which is how I got to hear about it,' said Jon, leading Tom towards the officer who was now kneeling at the garage door's lock. 'Anything that looks like it could be the work of the gang stealing high-performance cars is referred to us.'
'But I don't understand. Why my garage?'
'Well.' Jon lowered his voice. 'I didn't mention it to Charlotte, but a car was taken off a driveway on the next street, so it appears they were in this area last night. They've obviously cased out your house before. Perhaps they saw your Porsche wasn't on the drive and thought it might be in the garage, with the keys.'
'Jesus Christ, Jon, you're saying that they're actively targeting my house?'
Jon weighed up how to play things. 'You live in an area they regularly drive around, that's all. But they're getting nastier with their tactics. One has gone into a couple of houses recently and threatened the owners. Single women so far. The last time he went up the stairs and into the victim's bedroom because she'd taken her handbag and car keys upstairs with her. Just be careful with your keys at night. You keep them on a hook now, don't you?'
Tom nodded. 'Ever since the Audi went.'
'Good. Keep them there. If they're on a hook, you prevent the fishing trick. But if they burst in anyway, at least your keys are there for them to grab.'
'What? You're saying if they kick in my front door I should just let them take the Porsche?'
'It would be the best way to resolve the situation without anyone getting injured.' 'Bollocks! The best way to resolve it would be to keep a baseball bat in my bedroom and brain the fuckers with it.'
Jon shook his head. 'Tom, it's just a car. What if you run down the stairs, trip in the dark, go arse over tit, drop your bat and end up with some very angry car thieves standing over you?'
Tom considered this and snorted in reluctant agreement. 'It's tempting to get a bloody gun.'
Jon looked at him. 'Don't even think about it. We're not the States. Not yet, anyway. Don't do anything stupid, OK?'
Tom was silent for a bit and then said, 'Remember that time in the Bull's Head? You said these people live in a different world from you and me. You said I didn't want them coming anywhere near my world. Well Jon, it looks like they're in it, doesn't it? It looks like they're wandering around just as they please. And it seems you can't do a thing about it, and I'm not allowed to.'
His words stung, and not just because they were pointing out how ineffective the police were. In Jon's mind they were also a statement of how he was failing to protect a friend. 'We'll catch these guys soon; they're getting far too cocky. You can make my job easier by not getting involved. OK?'
'OK.'
Suspecting that his capitulation wasn't genuine, Jon looked down at the officer. 'Anything?'
The other man got back to his feet. 'A couple of partials.'
Jon looked at Tom. 'We'll keep those prints on file. When we catch this lot we'll be able to link them to here and dozens of other places.'
As the uniformed officer loaded his kit into the back of the van, Jon said, 'Hey, talking of the Commonwealth Games, I put my name down for tickets to the rugby sevens and got allocated a couple for the quarter-finals. Fancy it?'
Tom thought for a few seconds. 'What day's it on?'
'Saturday the third of August.'
'Yeah, I'm up for it, cheers.'
'Nice one,' said Jon, walking round to the passenger seat of the van. 'I'll give you a bell nearer the time.'
As the van pulled out on to the road, Jon looked over his shoulder and saw Tom standing on his front lawn, one hand held in the air.
*
Once the vehicle had disappeared round the corner, Tom dropped his hand and looked at the garage door. The thought of people prowling round his property at night, lifting his letterbox and testing his doors, created a strange mix of fear and anger. And now he'd learned they were bursting in to people's bedrooms. He took his mobile from his pocket and dialled a number. 'Brain, it's Tom here.'
They went through the usual formalities before Brain said he had plenty of shopping in.
'Great,' said Tom, thinking how fast the bag of powder seemed to be disappearing. 'I'm also after something a little more unusual. It's to do with self-protection, if you know what I mean.'
Brain said he'd better call round to discuss it.
Tom arrived at his house a short while later. Stepping into the dimly lit front room, he saw three student types slouched on beanbags and felt totally incongruous in his suit. He took the armchair in the corner and declined the joint offered to him by the dread-locked white guy to his right.
'Last blasts anyway,' the other man replied, taking the final puffs for himself. He flicked the roach into the upturned metal bin lid that served as a gigantic ashtray in the middle of the room. 'Cheers Brain. See you around.'
All three of them rose to their feet and shuffled from the room. As the smoke haze began to thin, Brain tied his mop of straggly black hair back in a ponytail and turned his attention to the electronic scales and small mound of cannabis resin before him. 'So Tom, what are you after?' His voice sounded even closer to total disintegration.
Deciding it was appropriate to purchase some drugs first, Tom replied, 'Any more of that special powder you blended yourself?'
Brain looked surprised. 'You've nearly got through the last lot already?'