Philip Kerr - January Window

‘Yes, you’ve made that clear before.’

‘And with good reason. He’s never had a decent word to say about this football club. Not ever. You think I’m exaggerating, boss, but I’m not. He hates us. Even before Zarco came back here he hated us. Every time he was on MOTD he was giving us stick for this and bad-mouthing us for that. I’m surprised he’s got the nerve to show his face in this ground.’

And then Detective Inspector Neville could be seen leaving Reilly’s home in Coombe Lane without answering any of the reporters’ questions.

‘Hold up,’ said Maurice. ‘That’s the copper who was here earlier on today.’

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘Detective Inspector Neville.’

‘Blimey, maybe it really was Reilly that topped Zarco,’ said Maurice. ‘I mean, why run away if you’re not guilty?’

‘I can think of a few damned good reasons.’

‘Christ. Who’d have thought? Ronan Reilly a murderer.’

‘We don’t know for sure that’s what it’s about.’

‘What else could it be? They don’t arrest you for nothing, boss.’

‘That’s certainly not been my own experience.’

We waited a moment and then the Sky reporter mentioned the fight Reilly had had with Zarco at the BBC SPOTY and started to speculate that Reilly’s arrest might have something to do with the Portuguese manager’s death.

‘See?’ said Maurice. ‘He thinks so, too.’

‘Believe me,’ I said, ‘I’ve been there. Where Reilly is now, I mean. People jumping to conclusions. No smoke without fire. Guilty until proved innocent.’

‘Talk about Super fucking Sunday.’

‘You don’t know the half of it.’ I told him about the UKAD officials and how Christoph had narrowly escaped being busted. ‘What is tina, anyway?’

‘Crystal meth. Methamphetamine. Popular with PnP boys having a chem session.’

‘PnP?’

‘Party and play. Crystal meth’s a gay drug, popular in the clubs.’

‘How long would that stuff stay in your urine?’

‘Up to five days, I reckon. Ninety days if they were to use a hair-follicle test to look for it. Which they can, of course. Provided you’ve got a bit of hair — unlike him.’

Maurice nodded at the TV and laughed cruelly as Sky re-showed the footage of a handcuffed Reilly being led to the police car. It couldn’t be denied: Ronan Reilly was a bit of a slaphead. It was hard to connect him with the mop-top and babe-magnet who’d once played for Everton and was married to a former Miss Singapore.

‘You just made picking the side for the game against the Hammers a lot easier.’ I picked up my phone and started to type a text to Simon. ‘If Christoph can test positive for drugs today then he could test positive on Tuesday night. Ayrton can play instead of the German lad.’

‘Ayrton? I thought he was on his bike, to Stoke.’

‘Not any more. I asked him to stay on.’

Maurice nodded. ‘That was smart. We need his experience. It’s the one thing that Mr Sokolnikov — for all his millions — can’t buy.’

I spent the remainder of the afternoon in my office avoiding the police, fielding calls and texts, drinking tea, and studying the previous Hammers match on my iPad. I’d always liked the Thames Ironworks, as we used to call them at Arsenal — that was their name back in 1895 when the team was formed. I’d nearly signed for them myself, once. You always had the feeling that the Premier League was never quite the same without West Ham, like in 2011. There were plenty of other sides who never looked right in the Premier League, but the Hammers weren’t one of them. It was always a tough game when we played West Ham and thanks to the likes of Harry Redknapp and Frank Lampard senior, they’d always had a pretty good Academy — one that had produced nine England internationals, including Bobby Moore — which meant that we were probably in for a few surprises on Tuesday night.

Just before five, when I was getting ready to go home, Viktor put his head around my office door. He was wearing a long brown Canali coat with a fur collar and in his hand was a beautiful Bottega Veneta briefcase.

‘How’s it going?’ he asked.

‘Viktor. What are you doing here?’ I asked.

‘I came to see that woman,’ he said. ‘Detective Chief Inspector Byrne. To tell her what happened at the lunch yesterday.’

‘And what did you tell her?’

‘That everything seemed normal. Zarco was his usual ebullient self. I had no sense that this was a man who thought that someone was going to beat him to death. He was in a good mood.’

‘You asked me to investigate his murder underneath that copper’s high heels. With respect, it might help if you were to afford me the same opportunity to question you a little. After all, you were one of the last people to see Zarco alive. Maybe I can learn something useful I didn’t know before. Something you overlooked when you talked to the police, perhaps.’

He glanced at his cheapo watch and nodded. ‘Sure. Good idea.’

That was Maurice’s cue to make himself scarce again. As he opened and closed the door I caught a glimpse of a couple of Hulk-sized bodyguards outside in the corridor. I thought it best to keep my questions very respectful indeed.

Viktor shrugged off his coat and sat down on the sofa.

‘Did you see the news on television?’ he asked me. ‘About Reilly?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you think he killed Zarco?’

‘I honestly don’t know, Viktor.’

‘If you’re innocent, why run away?’

‘I’ve been wondering that myself.’

‘They used to be friends, he and Zarco. Did you know that? Long before all that stupid business at the SPOTY. When Reilly and Zarco were still playing, back in the early nineties, there was an incident on the football pitch, during a match. Reilly used to play for Benfica. This was at the same time Zarco was playing for Porto. Anyway, words were exchanged and Zarco elbowed Reilly in the face, which almost cost him an eye and ended his season. Indeed, it almost ended Reilly’s career.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘It’s in Reilly’s book, which is long out of print so I don’t suppose anyone really remembers it now. But I do. I remember it because I remember everything I read. I don’t say I have an eidetic or photographic memory. Frankly I don’t believe they exist. However, my memory is exceptional.’

‘Since you remember so much, tell me more about the lunch. About Zarco and how he was the last time you saw him.’

‘Like I say, he seemed himself,’ explained Viktor. ‘Dry and funny, as he always was. And confident about the match, of course. Always confident. Sometimes too confident. He had steak for lunch. And a glass of red wine — just the one. What else? Yes, he had a hat with him, and a pair of sunglasses.’

‘A hat? What kind of a hat? Malcolm Allison, Roberto Mancini or Tony Pulis?’

‘Malcolm Allison, I don’t know. I’ve never heard of this man. A Roberto Mancini, I think. A woolly hat. Well, yesterday was a very cold day.’

‘City colours?’

‘Actually no. The orange ones make your head look like a flower pot. A black one. He was wearing the hat and a pair of scary-looking motorcyclist’s gloves. With black knuckle armour.’

‘He was scared of you, did you know that?’

‘Sophocles says that to him who is in fear everything rustles.’ Viktor smiled. ‘Believe me, Scott, around me there is always a lot of rustling. Everyone seems to hear it. Everyone except me. It’s said — mostly by people who are my enemies — that I have ties to organised crime. This is not true; but what is true is that this was not always the case. When I first started doing business in Russian and Ukraine it was more or less impossible not to make deals with so-called Russian Mafia figures. But let me tell you, if I may, something about the Russian Mafia. It does not exist. It never did exist. It was convenient for the racist government in Moscow — Boris Yeltsin’s government — to blame all of the country’s problems on so-called ethnic gangs: the Georgians, the Chechens, the Tatars, the Ukrainians and the Jews. Always the Jews. But you know mostly these were just businessmen who saw an opportunity and took it in a country where opportunity had not existed in almost a hundred years. Were they greedy? Yes. Were they ruthless? Sometimes. Was I one of these men? Undoubtedly. Did I make a fast buck after the collapse of the USSR? Certainly. Did I do it by means that would not satisfy the SEC or the FSA? Perhaps. Did I ever have anyone killed? No, I did not.’