Undercover by Joe Carter

Author:Joe Carter
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Random House

Twenty-seven

The journey back with Ray was arduous and testing to say the least, as we talked for the entire journey. I cannot recall a single awkward silence or a pause for breath. The conversation was continuous and the vast proportion of things we talked about were nothing to do with criminality – in fact I would say only about 10 per cent related to anything other than innocent chat.

This is the type of situation where your skills are tested to the extreme. I find it far easier to deal with direct confrontation than having to carefully recall minute details of forgettable conversations that took place over a protracted period of time. It’s the subtle conversations and harmless questions and spontaneous replies that can lead you into danger. You have to remember exactly what you have said at previous meetings and during innocent conversations.

I dropped Ray off at his house and Chloe came out to say hello. He thanked me and told me that he owed me proper for the last couple of days. He said he’d ring me tomorrow. I drove off but stopped in the car park of the first pub I saw. I felt drained by the journey. It seems crazy to say, but five hours of non-stop chatting when you are pretending to be someone you’re not is exhausting. I just wanted to enjoy five minutes’ peace and quiet before I got home and had to tell Emma everything. For some reason, as I closed my eyes, my mind focused on a job that I had done many years before.

It was the 1990s and I was meeting a lovely East End villain in the Cumberland Hotel in Marble Arch. He was about sixty years old and he had a twinkle in his eye. He was already sat close to the huge piano that was the centrepiece of the bar. He had a pint of light and bitter in front of him, and a copy of Sporting Life. His name was Billy, and he was smartly dressed, with a spotted handkerchief in the pocket of his burgundy blazer. He had an open-neck black shirt on, and a huge gold belcher chain with a heavy pair of gold boxing gloves hanging from it. He had been expecting me, and he stood up and shook my hand, and insisted on me sitting down whilst he went to the bar and got me a drink.

I looked at the Sporting Life that was open at the greyhound-racing pages. He brought my drink back and asked me if I liked a flutter. He then educated me about the dogs for at least half an hour. He advised me never to bet on anything other than the longest dog races. He explained that even the best dogs can get bumped on the first two bends, but in the longer races there are enough bends for the best dogs to survive a bump and come through and win. I loved a bet, but stuck with the horses unless I had a tip.

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