To Kill For by Phillip Hunter Page A

Paget,’ I said, ‘that’s all. He’s frightened, making a lot of noise.’
    â€˜Bollocks. They were onto us half-hour after I made the first call. This cunt knew my kids’ names, where they go to school, when my wife’s birthday is. Said he’d hit the kids first then come for my wife. That’s heavy shit.’
    Glazer had clout, then. Or Paget did.
    â€˜And it wasn’t Paget, neither,’ King said. ‘He had a Manc accent.’
    â€˜You sure?’
    â€˜My brother-in-law’s from Salford. I know the accent.’
    â€˜It doesn’t matter. It’s a bluff.’
    â€˜I don’t give a shit. I don’t get my family involved.’
    â€˜Who was it?’
    â€˜I don’t know who. And I don’t fucking care. Tone got the same message.’
    â€˜Did you get a number?’
    â€˜No. Fucker blocked it. I’m not going to say it again, we’re out. Keep your fucking fifty grand.’
    â€˜Who did you call?’
    â€˜Fuck off, Joe. Seriously.’
    â€˜Who?’
    â€˜Nat,’ his wife said. ‘Get rid of him.’
    He glanced back at her.
    â€˜Get packed,’ he told her. To me, he said, ‘We’re taking off for a while.’
    King’s wife unfolded her arms, gave me a last lingering stare and marched off. She knew what the score was. You couldn’t be married to a man like King without days like these. He turned back to me.
    â€˜I called three people, but the third I called only ten minutes before I got the message, so I reckon whoever grassed me up comes from the first two. Ben Green and Harry Siddons.’
    I knew Ben Green, a small-timer out of Bow. He was into fraud, receiving, fencing, that kind of thing. Nothing heavy. He was someone you went to if you needed some information, new documents, bits and pieces like that. He was one of those blokes who knows lots of people. I suppose he was what they would call sociable, chummy. I didn’t trust him, of course, but I’d never heard anything against him.
    Harry Siddons I didn’t know.
    â€˜Tell me about Siddons.’
    â€˜He used to do jobs, but then they diagnosed him with something, epilepsy I think. Now, he fixes jobs. Knows a lot of people. Me and Tone used him once when Ricky pissed off to Amsterdam and left us in the lurch.’
    â€˜Where is he?’
    â€˜Works as a salesman in a garage in Collier Row. The Ford place, off the A12. Know it?’
    â€˜I’ll find it.’
    â€˜Right, now clear off.’
    He slammed the door in my face.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    I finally tracked Green down to the bakery in Stepney where he worked. I hadn’t seen him in a few years. In that time he’d traded his hair for weight. He worked for the bakery as a delivery man, hauling boxes of bread and bagels to local restaurants, pubs, that sort of thing. When he saw me, he was red and sweating. He told the boss he was taking his tea break, and we went out back into a walled yard. He lit a smoke and wiped some sweat from his brow, leaving flour there instead. He sucked on the cigarette.
    â€˜Haven’t seen you in ages,’ he said. ‘You alright?’
    â€˜Fine.’
    â€˜You hungry? Want anything to eat, bagel or anything?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜I get as many bagels as I want. Fed up of the bloody things.’ He dragged some more on his fag. ‘Been hearing a lot about you lately.’
    â€˜Such as?’
    He shrugged.
    â€˜You know, rumours.’
    â€˜Go on.’
    â€˜I heard Cole hired you and Beckett to knock off his casino in some insurance job. Heard that Beckett was in with Paget and Marriot and that they decided to keep the money and make like you’d nicked it. Then I heard you didn’t like that idea and went and got it back and somewhere in there Marriot and Beckett got themselves killed. That’s what I heard, but I don’t listen to rumours.’
    So, he didn’t know