Barry Maitiland - Spider Trap

‘What about his friends, someone called Walter and another, older man? They called themselves the . . .’ Brock checked his notes,‘. . . the Tosh Posse.’

‘Oh, after Peter Tosh, yes?’

Brock looked puzzled.

‘He was one of the three original Wailers, with Bob Marley in Trench Town. But no, I didn’t know Joseph’s friends.You think they could be the other bodies?’

‘It’s possible.’ Brock described the physical characteristics they’d been able to establish, and for a moment he thought that something registered with Grant, then faded.

‘No, I’m afraid I can’t be of much help with Joseph or his friends. I’m sorry. And what about the murders of the two girls? Has there been any progress there?’

‘DCI Savage believes they were killed because of something that happened in Harlesden, where they came from. He’s quite optimistic about some leads he’s following up there.’

‘I see.’ Grant looked carefully at Brock. ‘You don’t sound entirely convinced.’

‘I’m keeping an open mind. We’re still trying to trace their movements after they arrived in Cockpit Lane, and find the people they made contact with. It’s a slow business, but it usually brings results in the end.’

‘Good.’ Grant paused, looked back over his shoulder at the people working, then leaned towards Brock and spoke more softly. ‘Father Maguire mentioned to me that you were asking about Spider Roach. Can I ask, do you think he was involved with the bodies on the railway land?’

Brock hesitated.‘What would your interest be in that?’

Still in the same quiet voice,but stabbing the table with a finger to emphasise his points, the MP said,‘When I arrived in Cockpit Lane I thought it was paradise compared to where I’d come from. But I quickly learned that there was a nasty serpent in paradise. Spider Roach and his gang had an iron grip on that part of the city, and everyone was terrified of him. I saw what he did to people. Abigail Lavender’s husband had both legs broken because he threatened to go to the police with something he’d seen. They told him the next time they’d take the hammer to Abigail.’

Brock nodded.‘I was a detective in the area then.I remember Mr Lavender. The hospital reported his injuries, but he wouldn’t say a word.’

‘Then you know what I’m talking about. But do you know that Spider Roach is still there, still sucking the life out of those people like a predatory leech?’

‘Still there? I thought he’d moved away?’

‘Oh, you won’t see him on the streets any more, or his sons, but they’re still operating there, through their agents, behind the scenes, intimidating, destroying our young people with drugs.’

Brock looked sceptical.‘Do you have any evidence of this?’

‘I have evidence enough to know I’m right, but not enough to interest the police. Perhaps you know of the reluctance in some quarters to pursue Spider Roach. But if you have some new evidence against him, it may be that I can help you. I have a strong constituency network, including people who were around in 1981.’

Still Brock hesitated, weighing the risks. In the end it was the strong impression that Michael Grant had made on him, his passion and conviction, that persuaded him to open up.

‘Joseph Kidd disappeared on the night of April the eleventh, 1981, the night of the Brixton riots. He told a witness that he was going to the Windsor Castle, which was burnt down that night. He appeared to be in fear of his life, and was apparently being pursued by two white men. A witness thought they might be Roach’s men. I’d be very interested to know if Joseph and his friends had upset Roach in some way, if they did jobs for him, or were ever seen in the company of Roach and his sons. I’d also be interested in finding anyone who was in the Cat and Fiddle in Angell Town that night, or between there and the Windsor Castle, and who may have seen Joseph or the two men.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘But very discreetly, please, Mr Grant. As you say, plenty of people around here never want to hear Roach’s name mentioned again.’

‘I understand. Thank you for being so open with me, Chief Inspector.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Now, I must dash. I have a committee meeting. Home Affairs Committee, you know it?’

Brock caught the gleam in Grant’s eye.‘I don’t think so.’

‘You should. It’s a Departmental Select Committee, charged with scrutinising the operations of the Home Office, the Attorney General’s Office, the Crown Prosecution Service and the Serious Fraud Office.You lot, in other words.’

He grinned and got to his feet, shaking Brock’s hand.

When he returned to his office Brock put a call through to Keith Savage. The Trident detective spoke with a renewed confidence. Things were going well, he said, and arrests were expected shortly. Several sources had confirmed that Dana and Dee-Ann had stolen drugs from a powerful underworld figure in Harlesden, and Savage hoped their murders would provide the opportunity to close him and his operations down for good. And this time the team was going to do the job properly, at their own pace. Brock told him what they’d learned about the bodies on the railway land and asked if the Trident records might throw any light on them.

‘They don’t go much further back than 1998,’ Savage said, ‘when we were formed. There were earlier operations, of course, going back to the “Yardie Squad”, Operation Lucy, in 1988. Before that you’re talking ancient history, I’m afraid. Things have changed a lot since those days. For a start, most of our villains today aren’t Yardies at all-they were born here.’

‘While other things never change,’ Brock said.‘The guns and the crack are still concentrated in the poorest boroughs.’

‘True enough.’

‘So you don’t think you can help us identify our three victims?’

‘Sorry, it’s all too long ago. Ancient history.’

‘Right. Incidentally, I came across a little quirk of ancient history that may intrigue you. That name that Michael Grant gave you-Roach.’

‘Yes?’ Savage was cautious.‘What about it?’

‘It seems that Mrs Ivor Roach was hurt one day last week in a robbery.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘Her car was stolen as she was getting into it, by two unidentified black kids. I’m wondering if there could be a connection.’

Savage was silent for a moment, then said, ‘Million to one, I’d say.’

‘Yes, you’re probably right.’

Kathy’s phone rang precisely on seven. Icy rain was battering the window.

‘Hi, I’m downstairs.’

‘I’m ready, be down in a minute.’

‘I’ll meet you at the door. I’ve got a brolly. By the way, I, er . . . I have someone else with me.’ He sounded uncharacteristically hesitant.

‘Okay, fine,’ she said, slipped on her coat and grabbed her bag. She took the lift down to the lobby and saw his car parked directly outside under the lights. In the rear window she could make out the pale face of a small figure.

Tom wrestled his umbrella open. ‘Hi.’ He offered her a smile and an arm, but no kiss.‘What a night!’

Kathy smiled back.‘Hello.Who’s your passenger?’

‘It’s my daughter, Amy. I’m sorry, I’d forgotten that I’m supposed to feed her before I take her back to her mother’s.’ He looked acutely embarrassed.

‘That’s fine,’ she said, sounding more enthusiastic than she felt. ‘I’d like to meet her. How old is she?’

‘Nine.’

They scurried across to the car together and Kathy slid into the passenger seat and turned around to meet the eyes of the young girl staring at her from the back.

‘Hello, I’m Kathy.’

‘I’m Amy.’ Her expression was grave, and Kathy couldn’t quite shake off her first impression of a little old lady.