London Falling Read Online Free Page A

forehead on the stroke of midnight. Only, instead, we’ll be there to hear his confession.’
    Harry coughed a laugh. ‘At least then we’ll get him for possession of a firearm.’
    They got into one of the waiting cars. As police officers in Metvests came running out of Gipsy Hill police station to start filling up the other vehicles, Quill waved for his driver to join the
convoy.
    Costain watched as Rob Toshack stepped slowly down from the cab of the SUV. His last hope had gone with that final house. ‘What would you do if you were me, son?’
the boss asked.
    The question you could never answer. You started making suggestions, saying hit them here and here, and a jury would start to wonder if these fine gentlemen would have done any of that without
you egging them on.
Run for the airport, Rob. Take me with you. The fuckers who’re after you, you’re worth ten of them.
‘I don’t know what the problem is,
boss.’
    ‘I’m just going upstairs for a minute.’
    Rob went inside, and Costain walked quickly after him, aware of Sefton catching up, but he didn’t look back to check on him. Upstairs meant Rob was going to lock himself into his den.
They’d searched that room in the past, and Rob only kept it locked when he himself was inside. He’d spend hours up there, and come down looking elated, telling some new story of how a
certain someone either wouldn’t be getting in their way much longer, or had been persuaded over to their point of view. Or that would be the moment he’d choose for sorting and then
sending out the supply. As if having the supply in his own home wasn’t a risk at all; it had proved not to be. Costain followed him upstairs, and heard the other boys switching the telly on
down below, their laughter rising; crisis over, they thought. Sefton had stayed down there, too, thank Christ.
    ‘Rob,’ Costain said, ‘what’s wrong?’
    But Rob just shook his head and went on into his den. He locked the door behind him.
    Costain waited a few moments, then put his ear to the door.
    He didn’t hear Rob talking to anyone. Instead he was fumbling with something. The den was actually quite a big space, obviously a spare bedroom from the days when that meant showing off
some square feet. Rob had lined it with shelves stacked with cardboard boxes, most of which – as the two UCs had discovered on that day of blissful hope when they’d made a search in
there – were empty. Nor, Costain was sure, having had a look at the plans and done some tapping on walls, was there enough room in the house for a hidden den or passage.
    There was a sudden noise, and for a moment Costain thought something must have fallen. But then there was silence again. Very aware of time rushing past, Costain kept listening. It was twenty to
midnight when he heard another sound from inside, and he had to stand up quickly and get away as Rob’s footsteps approached the door.
What had the man been doing in there? What did he ever
do in there?
    Rob emerged from the den looking as if he’d had the last tiny bit of hope shaken out of him, but his dignity seemed to have returned as a result. ‘Having earlier sampled a bit of
what we sell, Blakey,’ he said, ‘I find I don’t like it very much. So, in the next ten minutes, I’d like to get as pissed as humanly possible.’
    The pair of them sat in an empty bedroom, London cloud glowing dull-orange through the window. From downstairs Costain could hear the sounds of the party getting raucous.
Sefton would be sweating now, aware that, just for once, he had to let his colleague make the play.
    ‘When Dad died,’ said Rob, ‘my brother Alf was left in charge. He was older than me, and he was shagging the proverbial deer with no eyes – literally had no fucking idea.
All these vicious kids, with their crack and their guns, were sprouting up around us. We had no resources to match that. We had community, yes, but community don’t mean a thing when it gets
in the way