Neil White - LOST SOULS

Sam wanted to say, ‘Drunk most of the time’, but he resisted. Instead, he smiled and shook hands, felt King’s other hand wrap around his. Sam could feel the control in the man’s grip, like a statement of intent, so he shook back hard, tried to feel the crackle of his fingers. King’s smile flickered for a moment and he gripped back. Sam felt Jimmy’s rings press against his own hand, the gold bands thick and bold. Sam had won the first skirmish.

‘Good morning, Mr King,’ Sam said simply.

Jimmy King regained his smile and patted Sam lightly on the back. ‘Jimmy. Call me Jimmy.’

Sam nodded politely. He sat down and crossed his legs, tried to figure out the reason for the meeting. He knew one thing: he didn’t trust Jimmy King. Despite being Harry’s friend, Sam knew of Jimmy’s reputation, and he saw how the rest of the staff became jumpy whenever Jimmy called into the office.

In the eighties, Blackley had tried to sweep away its past by clearing the slum terraces. Many stood empty, boarded up and derelict. They were sold off at a bargain price; Jimmy King had bought streets of them. He renovated them and rented them out, and was credited with saving communities. Those he couldn’t save were bulldozed and sold to developers.

No one mentioned how he treated his tenants. The houses were damp and cold, created health problems, asthma and respiratory illnesses. Some tenants tried to take a stand and threatened court action. The visits from Jimmy’s men came in the night, when Jimmy was somewhere visible. Not many complained for long.

Sam didn’t see a landlord rescuing communities in Jimmy. He knew Jimmy’s background, but Sam’s wasn’t so different. The law had been Sam’s way of escaping a derelict council estate: his edges were still rough, his accent strong, maybe his eyes lit by a little more fire than most lawyers. Sam had met the Jimmy Kings of the world many times over, and he saw just another gangster, ruthless and selfish, who used the ordinary people of the town for his own ends.

Sam looked at Harry, who seemed impassive. That was always Harry’s way. He would sit and stare, let people talk, so that he made them nervous and they talked when they should really stay quiet.

‘A girl was murdered last night,’ said Harry eventually, ‘on the Daisy Meadow estate.’

Jimmy King sat down and nodded in sympathy.

‘It turns out that a car belonging to Jimmy’s son Luke was near the scene,’ Harry continued, ‘so it will help the police concentrate their efforts better if they can eliminate him from the inquiry.’

Sam looked past Jimmy and at the nervous-looking young man. He had a vague recollection of an awkward teenager at Harry’s fiftieth birthday party, who’d sat in a corner all evening and watched the girls dance. Adulthood hadn’t changed him too much. He was in his mid twenties, his face pale, his eyes heavy under a small blond flick. He was wearing a suit that he couldn’t fill, the shoulder pads hanging slack over his lanky frame. He looked at Sam once and then quickly looked away, twitchy. His cheeks looked raw from a shave he hadn’t needed.

Sam turned back to Harry. There was a look in his eyes Sam hadn’t seen before. Harry Parsons was never nervous. Not ever. But he was now.

‘Just elimination?’ asked Sam, watching Jimmy King.

Jimmy smiled. His son just looked at a spot on the floor.

‘What else?’ said Harry, trying to drive the conversation. ‘We want to be discreet.’

‘Who’s in charge of the investigation?’

Sam thought he saw Harry’s mouth curl slightly.

‘DI Egan.’

Sam realised now why Harry might be nervous. Sam had dealt with Egan a few times, and the DI’s big problem was that he wasn’t nearly as clever as he thought he was. The son of Jimmy King might get him a press conference, make him a hero with the officers who wondered quietly where Jimmy King’s money really came from. Sam looked at Luke again. Egan would sacrifice anyone for exposure, and Jimmy King’s son was small bait.

‘You haven’t been arrested,’ said Sam. ‘If you’re just a witness, make him come to you.’

He said it like a challenge, and watched Jimmy shift in his seat. Luke still looked at the floor.

‘Civic duty,’ said Harry, ‘and Jimmy doesn’t want his goodwill turned into a media circus.’

Sam noticed a quick exchange of looks. It felt like there was something he was missing.

‘How do you know all of this?’ asked Sam, curious.

Jimmy’s eyes narrowed. ‘Let’s just say that I know people who know people.’ He turned his charm back on, flashed his teeth at Sam. ‘It’s important that this stays quiet. If Luke’s involvement becomes public, everyone will know about it, and he will never live it down.’

‘What involvement?’ asked Sam.

Jimmy paused for a moment, uncertain. ‘What do you mean?’

Sam glanced at Harry. He was still staring, letting him talk.

‘Mr Parsons said “elimination”’,’ said Sam. ‘You said “involvement”’.’

Jimmy King twiddled with a ring on his little finger, a cluster of tiny diamonds glinting. ‘Semantics, Sam.’

‘Semantics convict people.’

Jimmy smiled, but Sam could see that the warmth had gone. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘If I agree to do this, the only people who go are Luke and myself

Jimmy was quiet again, flashing looks at Harry, waiting for guidance. Harry exhaled and then nodded.

‘Wait downstairs,’ said Harry to Jimmy. ‘Ask reception to let you wait in a side room. I’ll just have a talk with Sam first.’

When Jimmy stood up, he looked at Sam and then said quietly, ‘I give my lawyers some leeway because a rude lawyer is often a good lawyer. But I’ll warn you now, if I find out that you are just plain rude, you have made an enemy, whoever your wife is.’ He smiled thinly, his stare hard and direct. ‘I wouldn’t recommend that as an option.’

Sam didn’t say anything as Jimmy left the room.

Harry turned to Sam. ‘What are you playing at?’ He looked angry, his brow furrowed.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Sam.

‘You were rude to an old friend of mine. He has been good to this firm, and good to Helena. I expected better.’

‘If I deal with a client, I am in charge. That’s the rule. You taught me it, Harry. If Jimmy King hangs around, he will want to run the case his way.’

‘There isn’t going to be a case.’

‘The parents are always best left out. That’s the right way, isn’t it?’

Harry was quiet. He knew that was his motto. Control. It was all about control. The lawyer had to be in charge, because the line between lawyer and criminal can be a thin one. If the criminal is in charge, he can pull the lawyer over the line with him. No client is worth your career. That had been Harry’s mantra throughout Sam’s training. Don’t run errands, don’t pass on messages, don’t take anything to them. Stay professional and distant.

And parents were the worst of all, because they controlled the client as well. It didn’t matter how old they were, children didn’t tell the truth in front of their parents.

Harry turned away to look out of the window. ‘At least be polite. For your own sake.’

Sam nodded and then turned to leave the room.

Blackley police station was next to the court, so Sam had to run the gauntlet of courthouse drunks and crooks to get there, Luke King tucked in behind him. Sam tried to make conversation, asked him what he did with his life, but Luke didn’t answer.

Sam shrugged and gave up. He had just to advise him, not like him. And the day was getting weird. The old man had been outside the office again, staring at him as he left. If he was still there later, Sam would call the police.