Whacked in Whitechapel Page 9

  I didn’t stick around to see what happened next as everyone in the vicinity came over to have a look at what had happened. I pushed my way against the crowd and back to Violet, who gave me a nod of appreciation; looking back I saw that the second bartender had left his post to help clean up the broken glass that was now all over the floor.

  Violet and I quickly opened the door to the employees’ area and made our way inside, with no one having noticed.

  “You are quick at thinking on your feet,” Violet whispered as we made our way through the old, musty hallway. The soundproofing evidently extended to this part of the building as well; I could hear the light pounding of the beat from the other side of the door, but that was it. Seeing as it sounded like a fleet of jumbo jets taking off in there, that was impressive.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Although I have to say I took inspiration from when that actually happened to me once in undergrad. Except I was the one getting hit and taking out the poor waitress.”

  “I see you were not better with the high heeled shoes then either,” Violet said, and I laughed quietly. We passed a closed door; Violet opened it to find it was simply an alcohol storage room. The next room was just a supply closet, but as soon as we opened the door to the third room, jackpot! It had filing cabinets, a desk, an old lamp on the table, and while it wasn’t flashy by any stretch of the imagination, it obviously belonged to the manager.

  Just as Violet and I were about to step inside, however, we heard someone call out.

  “Hey, you two! What the hell are you doing here?”

  This wasn’t good.

  Chapter 15

  Violet stopped and looked at the man. He was short, but heavyset. He had that kind of attitude that made you think that despite his shorter frame he’d be willing to go all out in a fight.

  “I’m sorry,” Violet said, going back to her usual French accent. “Mon amie and I, we look for bathroom?”

  The man rolled his eyes. “Foreigners. Learn to speak English if you come to this country,” he muttered under his breath, but still loudly enough for us to hear.

  “No bathroom here,” he said loudly. “You go back outside!” he ordered, pointing to the door.

  “Ah, les toilettes, ils sont la-bas? The bathroom? Out there?” Violet asked once more. I had to admit she played the role of the clueless foreigner very well.

  “No! No bathrooms! No bathrooms here. You cannot be here. Go!” the man continued. He came closer to us, and when he was only a few feet away from where Violet and I were standing, she suddenly pulled a small black box from her purse and pointed it toward the man. A second later two wires spat out from the box toward him. When they connected with him his body went rigid, and a moment later he fell to the floor, the impact of his head hitting the ground knocking him unconscious.

  “Did you just tase him?” I hissed at Violet, and she nodded.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh my God. Why on earth do you have a Taser in your purse?”

  “In case of situations like this, in which a man bigger than us wanted us to leave. Now, come. Help me put him in the storage room.”

  “These are gangsters. Jesus. They’re probably going to kill us if they find out what we did.”

  “Relax,” Violet replied. “This man is not a gangster. The children of immigrants do not complain about people who do not speak English; often their parents do not speak it. This is the type of man who drapes himself in the Union Jack and votes BNP. He is an employee, nothing more.”

  “You’d better be right,” I muttered as Violet and I each grabbed one of the man’s arms and dragged him toward the storage room. I fell onto my butt at one point; this was not the sort of thing I was expecting to have to do while wearing heels. After about three minutes, however, we had the man in the storage room, hidden behind a couple boxes of extra glasses. I double checked his pulse to make sure he wasn’t going to die back there, then, satisfied that he was going to be fine, Violet and I made our way out of the room.

  “Hopefully they do not find him for a while,” Violet said as we made our way back to the office. “Given how hard his head hit the floor, I would not expect him to awaken in the next hour.” Without wasting any time, we slipped inside the office and closed the door behind us, locking the deadbolt behind us just to be safe.

  This time I got a better look around the room. The old desk in the center didn’t have much on it, just a few pieces of unopened mail that looked like bills and a couple haphazardly placed pens. The cabinet against the far wall had a dead plant sitting on top of it. To my right was an armoire the size of a closet, presumably because gangsters need a change of clothes as well. On the left was a mini fridge, which Violet immediately opened. Unfortunately, there were only a few cans of beer in it.

  “You’d think a guy who works fifty feet from the bar he owns wouldn’t need to keep a cache of beer in his office, too,” I noted, but even my joke had a tinge of sadness to it. As Violet had opened the fridge I’d felt my heart rate go up to dangerous new levels, but it was all for nothing. The Ebola vials weren’t here, either.

  “Sadly, I was not hoping to find beer in this fridge,” Violet said, frowning as she sat back on her haunches for a moment before closing the door to the fridge and making her way to the desk. I opened the large armoire and found a few shirts hanging on hooks, along with a woman’s jacket, when suddenly there was a sound at the door of someone trying to turn the knob.

  I looked over at Violet, my eyes widening in panic. Shoot! What were we going to do?

  “Damn it, I was sure I’d left the door unlocked,” I heard a man’s voice on the other side.

  “Do you have your keys, boss?” someone else asked, as Violet immediately stood up and walked over to me. She shoved me into the armoire and walked in after me, pulling the door closed behind us. The light disappeared, along with all my hopes of ever getting out of here unnoticed, when I heard the jingling of a set of keys outside. A moment later the deadlock clicked and the door opened. Violet and I were no longer alone in this office.

  My heart beat in my chest so hard I was sure the two men who had just entered the office would be able to hear it. Surely they were going to walk straight over here, open the doors, find Violet and I, and our bodies would eventually be discovered in a shallow grave somewhere, or washed up along the Thames.

  I tried to force the images of my dead body out of my head and focus on what the two men were saying when they started talking.

  “Bloody women, I tell you, Dragan. Never get married. They’ll take over your life.”

  “Yes, boss,” Dragan replied, and the first man laughed.

  “You know, you can call me Filip. Everyone else does.”

  “If it’s all the same to you.”

  “Now, I can’t remember where the bloody hell I put the thing. This is ridiculous. The vials are being moved tonight, I should be there overseeing things. I had one foot out the door when Mira comes out and asks me to go out and get that stupid watch of hers that she left here the other day. I tell her I’m doing something important, she tells me doing what she wants is more important than anything I have to do. So now I’ve had to delay the shipment of the vials so I can get her stupid watch.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at the conversation. I knew this guy was the head of a gang, and yet one word from his wife and he was actually changing his plans to move a deadly virus that his gang had killed someone over just because she wanted her watch back.

  “Yeah, speaking of that, do you really think it’s a good idea to move the vials tonight? I mean, literally everywhere is talking about it. The BBC had someone from MI5 on earlier talking about how they’re working with the London police to find the missing vials. MI5. That’s some James Bond shit.” I could practically feel Violet rolling her eyes next to me.

  “Mate, look, I love you, but there’s a reason you’re the second in command,” Filip said to Dragan. “You get up, you go get your slice of pizza from that frankly awful place b
y your flat, you come here, and you manage the club better than anyone else could. But the thing is, you don’t have that natural risk-taking ability that you need to really get ahead in our business. That’s why I do the big transactions. Yeah, it’s risky. But you don’t even have to do anything and when we pull this off you’re getting a half a million quid. So relax, ok? It’s going to be fine.”

  “Look, I get that. But the downside of this sort of thing is just huge. I saw on the TV they found Ed Harding’s body today. You said they weren’t going to. You said everything would be finished before they even knew he was dead.”

  “Yeah, so they got a copper who’s slightly smarter than those other morons on it. There’s literally nothing linking us to Harding. I searched his apartment before I left. Trust me. There’s no chance we’re getting caught here.”

  “Fine. So find your wife’s stupid watch and we’ll get over to Aleks’ place before they make the move without us. They can’t wait forever, you know.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m on it. Listen, check and see if it’s in the closet, will you? I think she might have left it in one of her jackets that’s in there.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face instantly. As the footsteps came toward where Violet and I were hiding, I felt her hand touch my shoulder softly.

  “You take Dragan,” she whispered into my ear. “I’ll take care of Filip.”

  Great. How on earth was I supposed to “take care” of Dragan? I had no idea, but I figured I’d better think of something fast, because the door to the armoire was about to open. At the last second, I thought I may as well use the element of surprise that I had at my disposal.

  As soon as the armoire door began to open, I rammed into it with all the strength I could muster. There was a shout of surprise from Dragan and then a loud crack as the door hit him in the head. Instantly he crumbled to the ground as I heard the sound of Violet’s Taser once more. I looked up to see Filip’s eyes wide open as he was zapped, and I shook my head. When Violet finished Filip writhed on the floor. Violet took the lamp off his desk, ripped the cord from the socket and clocked him over the head with it. Filip stopped moving. It was only then that I realized in the pandemonium I’d broken the heel off one of my shoes. I’d never felt more like a superhero in my life; I’d broken a heel while taking out gangsters. I was basically Batman.

  “You better not have killed him,” I warned Violet as she made her way toward Filip.

  “Relax,” Violet replied. “It was a light blow. He is unconscious, no more. Same as Dragan.”

  I double checked to make sure she was right. “What do we do with them?” I asked. Violet pointed at Filip’s size ten Adidas runners, and pulled a handful of cable ties out of her purse.

  “I guess that is more useful than a lipstick top-up,” I told her, grabbing a couple ties from her and making sure Dragan’s arms and feet were secured. I turned him onto his side in case the hit from the armoire had concussed him, which might cause him to vomit when he woke up. Just because he was a gangster linked to a murderer didn’t mean he deserved to die in a pool of his own vomit. I hadn’t taken my Hippocratic Oath yet, but I still considered that ‘first do no harm’ applied to me as well.

  “Come on,” Violet told me. “Help me get them into the closet.”

  Together we dragged the two men–with much effort–into the closet and closed the door behind them. By the time we were done the thin sheen of sweat on my skin showed me just how much I needed to make exercise—beyond moving the unconscious bodies of criminals—a part of my daily routine.

  “I have the cardio skills of a potato,” I panted as Violet, looking as perfect as ever, smiled at me.

  “Well, you should try to exercise more often than your current schedule of ‘never’,” she replied, and I stuck my tongue out at her as I sucked up air.

  “You’re supposed to be supportive, not confirm it for me,” I replied. “Now let’s get out of here.”

  Violet nodded and we left the room, making sure no one was following us. Carrying my broken shoes, we made our way back to the street, and walked to Shaftesbury Avenue to meld in with the crowds a little bit better.

  Violet took out her phone. “We have to call DCI Williams.”

  I wondered how on earth Violet was going to explain what we’d done without admitting to any crimes.

  Chapter 16

  “This had better be important, it’s almost midnight,” DCI Williams said as soon as he picked up. Violet had put the call on speakerphone so I could listen in as well.

  “If it was not important, I would not call you.” I heard DCI Williams sigh on the other end of the line.

  “What is it, Violet?”

  “Well, for one thing, the man who killed Edward Harding is currently, shall we say, indisposed, in the club that he owns on Rupert Street.”

  “What? Are you serious? Of course you’re serious, you’ve never made a joke in your life. Jesus, how on earth did you figure that one out?”

  “It does not matter right now. You will have all the answers for your police report eventually. That is not all. I need you to send a hazardous materials team to the home of a member of the gang Serbian Dragon named Aleksander to find the Ebola virus.”

  “What’s his last name?”

  “I do not know yet. We only discovered this information minutes ago.”

  “And how, exactly, did you get the information?”

  “We overheard a conversation between the leader of the Serbian Dragons, Filip Petkovic, and his second-in-command Dragan. They said that the Ebola vials are at the home of a man named Aleksander, who presumably is a part of their gang, and that they will be moving the vials shortly. I do not have time to explain everything, but you need to get a warrant for the place right now.”

  “Christ, Violet, it’s the middle of the night.”

  “If you tell the judge that should a terrorist attack occur because he wanted to sign warrants during business hours only he will be responsible for whatever happens, I am certain that he will be significantly less upset with you, and significantly more inclined to sign your piece of paper.”

  “I’ll try,” DCI Williams said. “But I can’t promise you anything. You know that.”

  “I am aware,” Violet said, hanging up the phone. “We need to find a computer,” she said suddenly. “There is an internet café only one hundred meters from here, the Candy Café, but it closed at eleven thirty.”

  “So what are we going to do?” I asked. Violet suddenly began practically running down the street until we reached a certain apartment block. When we reached the front door she buzzed one of the numbers, holding her finger down on the button for a good thirty seconds before finally a sleepy-sounding female voice came through the loudspeaker.

  “If this is a prank, I’m calling the police.”

  “It is not a prank,” Violet replied.

  “Damn it,” the voice on the other end said. “What do you want, Violet?”

  “Let me up, I need your computer.”

  Without any more conversation, a moment later the door buzzed, letting us in. We went up the old, rickety stairs to the second floor and to apartment eight. Violet knocked and a moment later the door opened. Standing in front of us was a rather annoyed-looking woman in her forties.

  “It’s the middle of the night, Violet,” the lady said to us. She was wearing only a thick terry-cloth bathrobe.

  “I only came here because it’s an emergency. I need to use your computer. Go back to bed, we’ll let ourselves out.”

  “Good,” the lady replied, closing the door behind us as we entered her apartment. It was fairly bare-bones, a one bedroom with a small couch and coffee table in the living room, a TV on a stand and a computer at the desk in the corner. A couple of cheap art prints lined the walls, but it was obvious that the woman didn’t put much effort into keeping the place neat and tidy. Violet immediately made her way over there while the lady went into the bedroom and closed the door.

 
“Who is she?” I asked Violet quietly as she booted up the computer.

  “Valerie was a client once. She wanted my help, and I gave it to her. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t happy with the result. In the end, the person attempting to take her life was her ex-husband, and she has not forgiven me for sending him to prison. However, she is aware that she owes me a debt, which is why we are now using her computer.”

  “Wow,” I replied. “That’s crazy.”

  “It is not crazy, statistically a woman is most likely to be murdered by the man with whom she lives.”

  “Well yeah, I know that, but still. I’ve never met someone whose husband tried to kill her.”

  “Most likely because most of them are successful. Her husband was a coward and a moron. He did not want to be arrested for her murder so chose to do so through poisoning her food–he was a chef. He was so bad at it that it did not kill her, it only made her sick. It gave me the time I needed to prove that her husband was the murderer-to-be, and have him arrested.”

  At this point the computer started up, and Violet’s fingers flew across the keyboard. She opened up a window in Google Chrome and straight away opened about ten tabs; I noticed Facebook and Instagram to name a couple. She began to scroll through things at a rate faster than I could make out before finally, about twenty minutes later, she let out a triumphant “aha!”

  “Did you find out where Aleks lives?” I asked, and Violet nodded.

  “Yes.” She pulled out her phone and called DCI Williams once more. “I know where Aleksander lives,” she told him.

  “Yes, well, it doesn’t matter,” DCI Williams replied. “The judge we woke up won’t give us a warrant to search a man’s home based on your word alone.”

  “Did you tell him that it may result in the prevention of a terrorist attack on British soil?”

  “I did, but the reply was that we cannot simply ignore our laws to suit us.”