The Fear Within Page 23

“And with that and the money it brought in, they slowly took over everything else, too. They went from being sailors earning a bit of extra cash and spending it on beer and women, probably squandering the rest, to being a serious criminal organization.”

  “So they’re a gang?” asked Dan.

  “Not really. These guys use all ex-military muscle and security, ex-forces logistics guys, ex-forces communications guys. They’re massively secret now, but only one of the original group that set it all up survived the growing pains. There were five in the inner circle at the beginning, but the one everyone knew was the only Royal Marine in the group, Jimmy the Teeth.”

  Dan leaned back and looked unimpressed.

  “Master at Arms Granger, are you telling me fairy stories?”

  John laughed.

  “No, and you wouldn’t find it funny if you knew him. He did have a big old set of munchers, though, could eat an apple through a tennis racket, but his surname was Nash, and so he became Jimmy the Teeth.”

  “Okay, you’ve still got me listening, but I’m hoping this is going to get somewhere pretty soon.”

  “I thought you were going to be a new, patient Danny. A new woman who listens more.”

  “You said you wouldn’t like her, so I decided to just stick with Get-to-the-Point Danny.”

  “Okay, to the point. The last of William Knight’s known victims was a young lady named Victoria Nash.”

  Dan’s mouth dropped open as she thought about that.

  “So you think…”

  “Hold on,” said John, “let me finish. Victoria Nash was found near the woods, up on Portsdown Hill, and it was horrible. Jimmy wanted to tear the city apart. He used every ounce of influence and fear, trying to find who’d hurt his little girl. Put money up as a reward, hired private investigators to try and get the guy first. The police knew it, too, I bet there were some coppers on the take who would’ve happily tipped him off, but the rumors were that once Knight was identified, and at some point between the police identifying him and the military police getting to HMS Nelson, which wasn’t very long at all, Jimmy had managed to have Knight snatched, and as we know, he wasn’t ever seen again.”

  Dan sat back and exhaled.

  “And the police?” asked Dan.

  “Nothing. They knew the rumors, but Jimmy’s not some small-time crook, he’s all over the south coast, major links into London and the north. He isn’t going to get nailed for something like that. He’d have been nowhere near it—even assuming he had anything to do with it at all.”

  “But if he didn’t, then Knight could be on the run,” said Dan.

  “That’s true,” said John.

  “And he would’ve been around at the same time, so Hamilton could’ve known him. Felicity even said so.”

  “I guess so.”

  Dan leaned her head back against the bulkhead.

  “So we need to find out if this Jimmy Nash did take Knight, or if he’s still out there,” said Dan.

  “Jimmy won’t help you,” said John. “I doubt you’d even get near enough to speak to him.”

  “He won’t speak to the police,” she said, “but might he speak to some of his navy buddies.”

  “He won’t,” said John, “trust me.”

  Dan was already on her phone.

  “Jessie, it’s me. Can you speak to the NCA? They’re digging around into a guy named William Knight, ex-navy. Can you offer whatever we have, but can you also send me a digest of it—career history, what jobs he did, where and when? Anything you can, really.”

  Dan waited a second, listening, and then hung up.

  “What were you saying?” she asked.

  “I’m saying he won’t help you.”

  “How do we find out for sure? How do I talk to him?”

  “You don’t talk to him,” said John. “You stay away from people like him.”

  “But I need to talk to him.”

  “No, we just need to pass this information, which is likely not even relevant, along to the people who’re dealing with it, though they’ll already know that speaking to Jimmy Nash will be an utter waste of time.”

  “I’ll go speak to him myself, then,” said Dan.

  Dan turned away to leave the ship. She had her phone in her hand, thinking through how she could get face-to-face with Jimmy Nash.

  “Look,” said John, jogging to catch up with her. “I know Jimmy. I worked some of the doors for him back in the day, so I know him of old, and—”

  “Brilliant. Why didn’t you say so? Let’s go,” said Dan.

  “And we should stay away from him,” John finished, reaching out and touching Dan’s arm to stop her.

  “Are you coming or not?” said Dan.

  They looked each other in the eye for a long moment, Dan looking at the swelling around John’s eyes, noting it had begun to expand again, looking soft and puffy.

  John looked away first, his chin dropping to his chest.

  “Of course I’m coming,” he said.

  “Attaboy. I can almost certainly promise that no one will punch you in the face on this trip. Though I do understand why people might want to.”

  John laughed and walked beside her.

  “I’ll make a call,” he said.

  32

  Tuesday, February 3

  John was silent as they pulled up outside the glass-fronted building in a newly remodeled industrial park on the outskirts of Portsmouth. The trees and shrubs looked young and sparse, not fully developed, and they were taking up space in the parking lot that Dan was fairly sure would be cleared out for more cars before they ever bloomed.

  She checked her phone. Josie had e-mailed her the digest on William Knight, and she scanned through it in the car while John waited in silence.

  “Did you know that Knight had worked as a driver for Vice Admiral Cox?” she asked.

  John frowned. “I may have known at some point, but I hadn’t remembered that, no.”

  Dan read on, thinking about Knight and about Hamilton.

  “I want to help you,” Hamilton had said, and now she wondered whether he’d actually tried to do that, without her, or anyone else, realizing.

  “Look, just be careful in here,” said John suddenly, as though he’d been building up to this for a while now. “This guy Nash, he’s no joke. He’s a serious villain, so try not to…”

  Dan looked at him.

  “Try not to what?” she asked.

  “Try not to do what you normally do. That thing where you piss everyone off; don’t do that.”

  “You cut me deep, Johnny Boy,” said Dan, getting out of the car. “You cut me real deep.”

  The parking area was block paved, and Dan’s leather-soled boots clicked and echoed as she walked toward the building.

  “McDermott Sporting Goods?” she said, turning back to John.

  “Yup. They specialize in minority and growth sports, ones where existing technology can be brought over from other mass sports and used to produce high-end niche equipment. I think they made a killing on some kind of judo fabric a while back, and they make equipment for mixed martial arts, hockey, cycling, and triathlon, and a load of other things. All relatively specialist and expensive, selling to the serious enthusiast.”

  “Sounds villainous,” said Dan.

  John stopped and looked at her. He wasn’t kidding, his face set hard and bordering on angry.

  “Look, you might think his name is cause for amusement, and that it’s all a bit laughable and cloak-and-dagger, but if you do, you’re wrong, Danny. He’s serious, and all this”—John waved his arms up at the building—“should tell you that more than anything else. He was working doors for cash and a cut of the drug takings fifteen years ago. Now I think he does over a hundred million a year just in his legitimate businesses and clubs alone.”

  “Are you frightened?” asked Dan, only half joking.

  John paused and looked at her.

  “I know him, so yes, I am, because I’ve seen him do thi
ngs and be responsible for things that…” He paused. “Bad things. He’s a violent man. You don’t get to the top of his game without being just that. Jimmy didn’t just run the business back in the day, he lived it. Working the doors, front and center when the violence started. And the others, the ones who didn’t make it, they weren’t soft, weak, or stupid men, it’s just Jimmy was harder and smarter.”

  “Okay,” said Dan. “Ease to a frenzy. I was only kidding.”

  “Well, if it’s all the same to you, please don’t,” John said and walked to the glass door, which opened silently as they approached.

  Inside Dan saw the second most enormous person she’d seen in years.

  The woman behind the security desk was huge, bigger than most men. Her muscles rippled and stretched the sleeves of her branded polo shirt, and her jawline was square and hard. She was tanned to within an inch of her life, almost a deep orange, and she took a sip of something white from a sports bottle next to her workstation. She looked up as soon as they came in.

  “Hi,” she said, her voice squeaky, taking Dan back a bit. “Can I help you, please?”

  She smiled broadly and stood up, showing the rest of a covered but clearly ripped physique.

  “We’re here to see Mr. Nash,” said John. “I’m John Granger, and this is Danielle Lewis. I called ahead.”

  “Sure.” The woman was smiling again. “We’re expecting you, Mr. Granger. And you, Ms. Lewis,” she said, slightly overdoing the z sound.

  She pulled out a couple of visitor badges that had been preprinted with their names and then showed them a plan of the building.

  “You’ll be escorted,” she explained. “Mr. Lowe will be on his way down to get you, but if you look here”—the woman pointed a finger at a building map—“you’ll know where you are, where you’re going, and where the fire exits are along the way. Just in case you get separated.”

  Dan couldn’t help but look over at John, who ignored her as he listened to the brief.

  “That’s it,” said the woman, whose name badge identified her as Tina. “If you’d be okay to take a seat over there”—she pointed to a few comfortable-looking chairs among plants and a water cooler—“I’ll hustle Mr. Lowe along to come and get you.”

  Dan followed John over to the chairs.

  “The underworld’s really working on its customer service and health and safety, eh?” Dan whispered, looking away before John could shoot her a warning glance.

  Dan picked a chair but had only just bent her knees when she saw a man approach them, already smiling, already extending his arm toward her.

  “Danielle, John,” he said, “I’m Marcus Lowe, Mr. Nash’s assistant.”

  He smiled at Dan again. “We’ve already met, of course.”

  Dan nodded, recognizing Marcus instantly.

  He’d been outside her house only a few days before. He’d been looking for the house that was for sale near hers and had stumbled into her close by accident.

  “He’s ready for you, so if you’re both good to go, I’ll take you straight up.”

  Dan nodded and followed Marcus along the corridor past Tina’s reception desk.

  “Thanks, Tiny,” said Marcus as they passed, and Tina smiled and gave them all a thumbs-up.

  A few paces on, Marcus pointed to a picture on the wall.

  “That’s Tina there,” he said.

  Dan looked at the picture of the woman from reception. She was on a stage, the lights beaming down at her and showing every sinew of her granite muscles. She was wearing a bikini that looked as though it would’ve been small on Dan, and she was posing, her back tense and broad.

  Dan nodded; it took a level of dedication and confidence to do that kind of thing, a level Dan wasn’t sure she had.

  “She’s one of our level two community outreach sponsored athletes,” Marcus said, walking on. “She works here, but we sponsor her equipment, nutrition, gym membership, and coaching. We also support Tiny to take time off for precompetition and the like. It’s a great program. It’s been really popular. If she wins the nationals later in the year, then she may become a level one, fully sponsored, and wouldn’t have to work, though I think she likes it here too much, to be honest.”

  “Is she ex-forces?” asked John.

  Marcus nodded. “She is.” He paused. “She’s okay with being called Tiny, by the way, we wouldn’t use it as her stage name otherwise: Tiny Tina Trathen. Anyway, yes, we do sponsor people without a military background, but usually only if there’s a strong link, a parent or sibling, for instance. Tiny was an army dental assistant for seven years before she moved to Civvie Street.”

  They entered the elevator and traveled up, exiting on the top floor.

  “You’d be eligible, Danielle,” he said, smiling. “I know your dad quite well.”

  Dan nodded, hiding her surprise and saying nothing as they stepped out of the elevator. She could see her reflection in the dark sheen of the floor tiles, and all around her were offices, visible through large glass panes, all with just the right amount of greenery to make them look spacious and welcoming. If Dan had been asked to describe what she thought an organized crime boss’s lair would look like, she couldn’t have gotten it any more wrong.

  “This way, please,” said Marcus, and led them down to their left and into an area that wasn’t glass-fronted.

  A young woman sat at a very large oak desk outside an equally large oak door. She looked up and smiled, bustling round the desk to meet them.

  “He’s ready when you are,” she said to Marcus. “I’m just getting him a tea.” She turned to Dan and John. “Would you like one?”

  “Do you have green?” asked Dan.

  “We do indeed. Mr. Nash is a committed green tea drinker.”

  Dan looked at the young woman and couldn’t help but be surprised again. She’d expected the women to be attractive, short skirts, high heels, low tops, maybe some red lipstick so they could be seen to smile as one of the gangsters patted their rump on the way past, but this wasn’t like that, not at all. The woman was as stylishly dressed as Marcus, both professional and classy, and Dan wondered if she’d just watched too much television.

  “And you, Mr. Granger?” the woman asked.

  “Tea please, NATO…”

  “NATO standard,” finished the woman. “Tea, white, two, coming right up.”

  John smiled.

  “Lots of us are former military around here,” the woman said over her shoulder.

  Marcus knocked on the door but didn’t wait. He opened it a crack and looked in, then opened it the rest of the way and showed Dan and John inside.

  Dan steeled herself for what she might see this time. A baseball bat on the wall maybe, some golf clubs strategically placed for beating confessions out of people. What she got was just an office, a large and spacious office, with oak furniture that matched the door, and a television on one wall, the volume completely down, that was set to a twenty-four-hour news station.

  The man behind the desk stood up. He wore a deep blue three-piece suit and he moved quickly round the table to meet them.

  “Irish John, how’s it going, mate?” he asked in an accent that sounded like cockney.

  He shook John’s hand vigorously, smiling, and Dan could see that he did have big teeth, but even that part of the story had been overdone—the naval service was not known for understatement when it came to stories and nicknames. He was a handsome-enough man, though stocky and hard-looking.

  Dan would have placed him in his early fifties but got the impression he might look younger than he was.

  He turned to her.

  “Danielle,” he said. “Is it right that you like Dan better? What should I call you?”

  “Dan’ll be fine, thanks,” she said, shaking his hand and smiling. She could think of fewer places she’d been where she’d been greeted more professionally or warmly.

  “Dan it is, then,” he said, walking back round to the other side of his desk, then stopping and
gesturing them to a collection of chairs near the window. “You’ve got some of each parent in you. More of your old man, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  Dan smiled, felt awkward at not having realized that she’d be known here, that her mum would be.

  “I bet we’ll be more comfortable ’ere,” he said, dropping the h. His accent was strong and he made no attempt to hide it.

  He pulled up his trousers at the knee before he sat down, but he sat like a boxer between rounds, his legs stretched out and spread wide.

  The tea arrived and Dan noticed that hers was in a small, clean, branded cup, whereas Jimmy Nash’s was in an old chipped mug with the Globe and Laurel, the crest of the Royal Marines, on the front. Their motto, PER MARE, PER TERRAM—by sea, by land—was just visible, faded through use.

  “Well, it’s been years, Johnny Boy,” he said, once he’d thanked the woman who’d brought the tea. “How you doin’?”

  John nodded and smiled.

  “Good, Jimmy, thanks. I’m really good.”

  Jimmy looked at Dan. “I could tell you some stories about this geezer,” he said, smiling broadly, his lips pulling back over his gums as he did. “I won’t, ’cuz I know you’re all police and stuff now, but by God, I could.” He reached across and patted John on the knee.

  “How’s Taz?” he asked Dan. “It’s been years and years. He okay?”

  “He is, thank you,” replied Dan. “I didn’t realize you knew him.”

  Jimmy laughed and looked over at Marcus.

  “Not many people in the corps that don’t at least know of him,” Jimmy said, showing her his teeth again. “I did my commando course a few weeks ahead of him, and we worked together on operations a few times.”

  At any other time, she’d have been keen to know more, to understand how Jimmy and her dad had met and how good friends they were. It just didn’t seem appropriate to ask at the moment. She nodded.

  “So, what can I do for you two, then? Always a pleasure to see serving personnel come down ’ere. Is it sponsorship? We’re already doing a lot for the ships’ sports funds and some of the squads, navy as well as the corps.”

  “It’s not that, Jimmy, but thank you,” said John. “We need to ask for some help, about something from a while back, something you might not want to talk about.”