with the man, for Regan to trust him.
‘I know one thing about you, Mr Regan, and that is this. You’ve never been arrested for anything other than a few heists, and, of course, the murder of Scottie Harman, but I also understand you believed he had kidnapped your son.’
Stoneham watched Mike’s chest rhythmically move up and down as he breathed evenly.
‘I may have done the same if I had believed that he had kidnapped my daughter.’
Mike sniggered. ‘Come on. Don’t fuck with me. You’re the Filth, and I’m not. In your tiny mind, you would want whoever kidnapped your daughter, God forbid, dead. But would you do it yourself? Nah, not in a million fucking years. Why? Because the law runs through your veins and you would believe that your boys in blue would have the power to catch the person who did your family wrong. Me, all I have is my own blood running through my veins. You don’t believe in an eye for an eye, but I fucking do.’
‘And so, it appears, does your mother!’ exclaimed Stoneham, with a sharp tongue. He stared straight into Mike’s eyes and looked for just a hint of anxiety, but, again, there was nothing.
‘We have a good enough reason to suspect she was responsible for Tracey Harman’s murder.’ He hoped that would stir some emotion and he could then barter Regan’s mother’s liberty.
‘If you suspected my muvver, you’d have had her down the nick, but, as far as I’m aware, she’s at home pruning her roses. Now, I suggest you get to the point or fuck off.’
Stoneham could see that there was no point in trying to use emotional blackmail with Regan. ‘I need you and your men back on the outside working for me, and before you laugh it off, take note. Last week in Bromley, we had two knifings. One was an old lady, who was attacked as she stepped off the bus, and the other was a twelve-year-old kid, who was similarly attacked on his way home from school. Seventeen pensioners were held at knifepoint – robbed and battered in their own homes. Luckily, none were killed. And a baby in a pram was snatched and held with a knife to his throat, all for eleven pounds fifty. These are just a few examples of what I’ve come to talk to you about, and, believe me, they are off the top of my head. Crimes like these are soaring.’
Stoneham clocked Mike’s lips turn down at the corners. He thought he may have hit a nerve, so he paused and waited.
‘And this meeting between us is your idea, is it?’
Lowry coughed and wiped his brow: the room was stifling.
Stoneham turned to Lowry. ‘Could you wait outside? I think Mr Regan may feel more comfortable with just myself present . . . and before you question my safety. . . ’ – he turned to Mike – ‘I think I am pretty safe. Do we agree, Mr Regan?’
Mike held up his huge hands and sighed. ‘Of course you are. I’m not a fucking caged bear, ya know!’
Lowry looked somewhat miffed by his boss’s request.
‘And, Lowry, ask one of the officers to bring us some coffee, please.’ He watched as the detective begrudgingly rose from his chair and left the room.
‘Right, yes, you surmised correctly. The initiative isn’t mine, and I won’t pretend otherwise because you’re a clever sod, and I won’t waste your time or mine.’
Mike suddenly smiled. ‘Good. I was wondering when the fuck you’d get to the point.’
‘Mr Regan, I need you on the outside. This gang contains real low-life, total scum. Muggings, shoplifting, and even the odd bit of drug dealing is pretty normal on a day-to-day basis, but what’s going on now is a whole new ballgame. I’ve got kids, and I mean kiddies, on a new drug called Flakka, old ladies are being murdered for their pensions, and gang-rapes of young girls are prevalent as well.’
For a moment, Mike seemed unfazed. ‘I want to know who initiated this meeting.’
Stoneham was quickly gauging the influence of the man. ‘The local MP, Rebecca Mullins.’
Mike laughed. ‘So, then, some toff has asked you to clean up the streets by using me as a vigilante?’
Feeling uncomfortable with those words, the Commissioner swallowed hard. Whichever way he dressed this up, the plain fact was that Regan would clearly spot bullshit a mile off. He knew he would have to speak Regan’s language for him to get anywhere. ‘Yes!’
Mike raised his brow and smirked. He hadn’t expected that reply. ‘So why would I put myself on the line for you or this Mullins bird?’
Stoneham knew he was getting somewhere at last. ‘Your freedom for starters. We will turn a blind eye to your own business in exchange for cleaning up the streets.’
As Mike chewed the inside of his mouth, he calculated the risks and whether he could even contemplate working for the Filth.
Stoneham read his mind. ‘I know it goes against the grain, I get that, but I also believe that you and I are on the same page when it comes to these sorts of crimes. Old-school gangsters have a moral code I believe. It’s thou shall not hurt women, children, and pensioners. Am I right?’
Mike laughed louder this time. ‘Jesus, you’ve been watching that film The Krays.’
‘No, actually, Mr Regan, I listened to my father. He was a detective in South-East London, and he learned the code from the likes of your father, Arthur Regan. So, like you, I’m also not what you assume.’
‘Fair play, Mr Stoneham.’
Mike’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and Stoneham could almost see the sternness in his eyes melt away.
‘I don’t want an answer now. Please think about it before you make a decision. But the deal is this. You, your son, and your firm – and, yes, of course, I know your associates are tight, as I’ve done my homework – will be released within a week. Your businesses will not be watched, the deaths of all the Harmans will be placed in the solved case file, and all I want in return is for my streets to be cleaned up. I would prefer the scare tactic and not more bloodshed, but we will cross that bridge when necessary. I will give you everything I have on these gangs and the rest is up to you. Now, I will be back next week for an answer, and, as I said, please would you keep this confidential? I mean, between us and your firm.’
Mike nodded. ‘Of course. I can see your problem, and I’ll keep schtum, so don’t worry on that score.’
Stoneham sat back, surprised that Regan was not playing games. He really was a straight-up person.
Lowry opened the door, holding two hot coffees on a tray. He watched in amazement as the Commissioner and Regan rose to their feet.
‘Sorry, Lowry. Our meeting is over.’
***
Brooke Mullins pulled the bed cover over her head as soon as she heard her mother entering the room.
‘Come on, sweet pea, you have to eat something. Hettie has made a wonderful chocolate cake with sprinkles on it.’
Just the shrill tone of her mother’s sickly, over-the-top voice grated on Brooke. At nineteen, she was annoyed with life in general, but the last three weeks had been sheer purgatory. The normal emotional
