Better the Devil Page 5

  Seven

  One detail had escaped her attention at first but when it reappeared, she knew it was pure gold. Jess had listened carefully to everything the Asian off-licence owner had said but this detail slipped by. Yet somewhere Jess’s subconscious had still been recording… because later the detail came to her like a name spoken in a dream. After the interview she’d left the off-licence and walked to the seafront. She went to Dan’s old bedsit address, above the bookmakers half way along the seafront’s trashy golden mile, where the arcades were desperately flashing their wares in the wintry evening. She buzzed the doors around the side of the bookmakers and had waited for Dan to answer but it didn’t happen. Eventually, Eva had buzzed at a neighbouring flat, and a foreign voice replied curtly. “That man is gone. Gone last week,” was all the neighbour said before he abruptly closed the conversation on his intercom. Nobody else answered. The path of least resistance was a dead end. Jess now had to use all of her wit and guile to work for a quick result. Eva needed Dan like the desert needed the rain. Jess wondered how the woman had ever got through that year while Dan was in prison… but Eva was different back then. She was resourceful and smart. But times had changed.

  Jess trudged back up the steep Pier Hill back towards the hustle of the High Street. Before she reached the top, the missing detail returned. There was a radio in his pocket. The vigilante – Dan – was using a police radio. Of course he was. Could he have heard about the off-licence robbery on the High Street security network? They would have all known about it as it happened. All the shop security guards shared information with each other about shoplifters and vagabonds roaming the shops in search of an easy theft. Yeah, that made sense. The police carried walkie-talkie type radios too. The vigilante liked to be on the scene when crime happened. For the vigilante gig to work, the man only had a small window of time in each crime. There was the time of the incident, and there was the arrival of the police. If he was quick, the vigilante could beat them to it. The radios would have been a huge help to someone whose interventions had to be very quick and very precise. It didn’t explain the previous attacks, but the map also showed that the vigilante was developing his work and changing his strategy. The direction of the vigilante incidents were also telling. If you mapped them and their dates and joined the dots, they were moving closer to the centre of town with each episode. The latest off-licence appearance was a stone’s throw from the High Street. Assuming he was carrying a police radio in his pocket, and charting the trajectory of his movements, Jess felt she had an insight into the vigilante’s mind. The man was a vigilante training on the job, fitting perfectly with her notion about Dan. For the last two weeks the vigilante had been testing himself on the outskirts of the town, beating on sad-sack criminals who had robbed people’s homes. The other previous attacks were carried out on a mugger and a shoplifter. They didn’t get the profile of the Shoebury and Southchurch robber bashes, but they were still a part of the deal. The vigilante had been working up to the main event, and he was getting nearer to the town. Now in the town, Jess guessed the man wanted to test his mettle against criminals on the main stage.

  Shopwatch, was the name of the radio network. Some quick research on her iPhone told Jess just about every town in the UK operated a Shopwatch system. Shopwatch meant that every shop, pub and business, as well as some road sweepers and police were connected to one another by this two-way radio network. It wasn’t as hard to research as Jess had imagined. Right there on the world-wide-web was all the info you ever needed to know. It worked just the way you would guess – security guards in each shop called in news of shoplifters or yobs moving down the street for other shops to prepare for, and the police were never far away if needed. Jess kept researching the topic on the net, drilling down for more info. There was even a thread on UKradioscanning.com which even provided the frequency codes for every Shopwatch network in the UK. The rest was a doddle. Especially for a girl as determined as Jess. She was never going to be able to buy a radio set. Not on her money. So Jess did the next best thing. She spent a half hour touring the shops until she found the most suitable looking male security guard. Bingo. In Superdrug there was a big hill shaped man with a young pudgy face and blond hair which didn’t seem to fit his head. He looked friendly, the kind of big boy who probably hadn’t had any real female attention in at least ten years. Without a clue how to play it, but desperate to get access to a radio set, Jess walked in to the shop and made a bee-line straight for the soft bodied guard. He watched her approach all the way.

  “Hi, hon. Do you know where I can find vitamins?”

  She made a smile at him in profile. Her best side, of course. The guy nodded and blushed. His radio burbled in the background. It was held in his hand like a young kid with his favourite toy.

  “Sure. I’ll show you.”

  He smiled at her and walked her round to the vitamins aisle. He kind of waddled from side to side. As soon as they got to the vitamins, Jess had a coy little look on her face, and shook her blonde hair girlishly. “Look. I’m sorry. This is so embarrassing. I didn’t really want to buy any vitamins. I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Excuse me? You wanted to talk to me?”

  Jess nodded. “Yeah. You see, I’ve seen you before. I noticed you a couple of weeks back.”

  The guy looked dumbstruck. He looked past Jess, checking no one was watching them.

  “You’re kidding right?”

  “No. I’m not.” She was lying. It was easy and Jess didn’t feel bad about it. Funny how easy it was to lie like that. “I was wondering. Do you want to have a coffee after work?”

  “Um. Yeah, sure. That would be great.” The big man put an arm up behind his head and scratched it in an aww-shucks style.

  “The shop closes at?”

  “Half past five.”

  “Okay. I’ll meet you at five thirty at the coffee shop across the street. Just one more thing.”

  “What?”

  “Bring your radio. I love your radio. It’s so cool.”

  “Um. I can’t do that.”

  “Yes, you can. Bring your radio, okay, honey?”

  Jess did her best smile and gave a little swish of her hair as she turned away. When she got outside, she looked back and saw the big pink man looked proud and excited. She pointed across the street towards the coffee shop, and gave him a little wink. Yes, he’d be there all right. Jess looked at her watch. She was losing time, but she needed that radio.

  After the coffee date with the security guard called Henry, Jess was able to entice the big guy to risk lending her his work radio for the price of a kiss on his cheek. Jess guessed the date was going to be Henry’s last for another ten years, because nice as he was, he was still twenty stone too heavy, sweated like a horse in the summer, and snorted when he laughed. Poor guy. And now he was missing his radio too. Without remorse, Jess spent her evening listening to the radio inside the frozen yoghurt café which was built into the local student halls of residence. The yoghurt café opened for the student crowd but in Jess’s experience it never seemed to do any business, which suited Jess just fine. She kept the radio on low volume. She was ready. All she needed now was an incident. But come on, this was Southend, and a serious incident was never very far away. Nursing a cooling café latte and a giant chocolate chip cookie for dinner, Jess sat idly jotting a mind map the way she’d learned from Eva. She was mind mapping all the possible ways to save Eva’s backside. And at nine-forty-seven, with enough coffee inside to keep her awake for two nights solid, the voices on the radio suddenly changed. From bad jokes and polite banter, the voices switched to hurried and urgent. There were only two ideas on the mind map. She dropped her biro onto the page, donned her coat, downed her coffee and moved off. Her heart began to thud faster and faster. This was it. It had to be. As she moved, she pressed the radio close to her ear. The voice of the security guard was high and rapid with stress.

  “…there were only three customers inside when this nutcase turned up.
We thought he might be on drugs or he could be mental, I don’t know. He’s not ordering any food, he’s just standing at the counter shouting at people. The manager took some of the staff out through the back, but everything we’ve said about calling the police… this guy just isn’t listening. Hang on. What’s he doing now? Shit. Shit. Shit. He’s just pulled a knife. We need the police here now! Police! Burger King, Southend High Street, right now!”

  Jess increased her pace to a canter as she reached the top of town. Burger King was just around the corner. Jess wasn’t sick, she wasn’t blood thirsty, but she was excited all the same. She knew this was a perfect opportunity for the vigilante to strike. She needed to be quick to be on the scene before the police turned up and finished off any chance she had. Now she ran, with the radio pressed to her ear, ignoring the people staring at her as she passed them by.

  “He’s demanding money now, shouting. It’s a robbery! Can you hear that? He says he’s going to kill people if he doesn’t get some cash. This guy is insane.”

  Jess could hear the shouting in the background, but she couldn’t decipher any words. She rounded the corner now, and saw people going about their shopping, the usual crowd simply oblivious to the drama unfolding in Burger King. She scanned the street and immediately Jess began to pick up different shapes in the crowd. Smartly dressed figures. Uniformed figures moving quickly through the crowd further on. And maybe the first wail of sirens breaking in the distance. How much time did she have? Maybe a full minute, but probably less. Jess looked around, taking a complete three-sixty, but she didn’t see the one she hoped for. Wait. She saw something different. A figure not moving with the crowd. Past the banks, past the groups of smoking women and Eastern European men standing around laughing at foreign jokes. There. This figure was dark, and he moved with purpose and poise. She couldn’t make him out for sure as yet, but she knew it was him.

  “They’ve given him some money. They had to give him something. He’s moving. He’s waving that knife and backing out. He’s leaving. Shit. I’m staying back. The man is nuts. Oh shit, he’s coming for me!”

  The radio was filled with a desperate squawk and movement. Jess arrived and pressed herself close to the glass.

  She could see the full scene now in the well-lit Burger King. The restaurant was empty but for a couple of people at side tables, looking frozen and strained. The security guard, of no more use than a commentator, stood in the nearest corner by the big windows and the exit doors. A middle-aged man in a green parka coat with tufty grey hair and a surprisingly small knife, passed the security man without touching him, then galloped towards the double-door exit. The security man did nothing but talk to his radio. He let the man walk without challenge. And Jess didn’t want to end up as a hostage, so she peeled away from the restaurant windows and moved back into the High Street crowds as the man emerged. The man looked left and right. The police and other uniforms were closing in from the middle of the High Street. The man seemed to notice them and turned left to head back in the direction Jess had come from. As he passed Jess close by, she saw his glistening skin was full of wrinkles. His clothes were dirty and unkempt with old food stains and mess all over them. Jess took a lungful of his sweaty odour as he moved by. There was panic in his movement, his feet working overtime as he stumbled through the crowd. The security man in Burger King was ranting down the radio line, but his usefulness was over. Jess turned it off then moved quickly, turning back and checking the crowd as she moved. “Come on, hero man. Where the hell are you?” she muttered as she walked. Maybe she hadn’t seen him after all. Damn. If the vigilante didn’t show this was going to get awkward. The man had moved off the pedestrianised zone, back onto the road by the cinema which was lined with restaurants and banks. Eva looked at them as she passed their windows. Security men looked out and spoke into their radios. Shopwatch was everywhere, and until now Jess had barely noticed it. The Sirens were getting louder. The man in the parka coat sped up his walk but didn’t run. He made it to the end of the block, and turned left again. He was moving away from the eyes of the shops and security toward a quieter street. Did he have a plan? She didn’t want to risk getting trapped. Jess moved quickly, turning past the frozen yoghurt shop. The guy inside stopped cleaning and looked at her in recognition. Jess offered a thin smile and moved on hastily. “Come on! Please!” But there was still no sign of the one she had come to find.

  The parka man was being clever. She saw it now. He’d led most of the shops to believe he was going to dart straight on down the main London Road. But instead when he’d passed almost all of the radio linked bars, he’d taken the left hand turning and doubled back. Jess followed. When the man reached the residential road behind the High Street, the man pulled off his parka and rolled it up into a tight little bundle in his arm. He was wearing a tatty brown suit jacket underneath, blemished with old food stains. It gave him a new look. Jess stayed back, but eyed him afresh. He was not a nutcase, not on this evidence. The man was smart, and definitely dangerous. She followed him along the back of the library building towards the college, slow and purposeful. He was still not far from the site of the robbery, and now he looked like he had a plan. Jess had switched off the radio. She looked at it and considered her next move. She was not ready to give up. “Not quite yet…” she muttered and followed the man further… towards the car park beneath the college building. He moved into the top of the concrete slope. Jess got to the top and peered down. There were lights below, but also darkness and danger. She looked at the radio once again, and her thumb began to press the on-switch, but something stopped her. A man in dark clothing breezed straight past her as if she was invisible. He was in a hurry, maybe his ticket had run out. Jess kept looking at him. Dark trousers, maybe black. A black bomber-style jacket. She hadn’t seen his face, but there was no mask. His hair was short and dark and the man was thin. And half way down the slope, the man pulled something from his pocket.

  “Yes!” whispered Jess, almost leaping into the air. He stomach suddenly burned with excitement. She moved hastily to the edge of the slope and half-ran down it. Her footsteps were noisy. At the bottom she watched the parking man sitting in his brightly lit booth, calm as a cucumber. His eyes were down as if he was watching a movie or reading a very engrossing book. Straight ahead of Jess and to the right, beyond two bays of cars leaning in the artificial lights, were two very different men. One was closing in on the other, and now the new arrival wore a black balaclava over his face.

  Jess checked the area. She was shaking now. There were only a few people dotted at the edges, going about the business of parking or leaving their cars. So far no one was paying any attention. All that would change any second now.

  Jess walked to the walls of cars and slid through the gaps.

  “Thief. You’re the man who held up Burger King just now.”

  The voice was gruff and hard edged. It sounded like the voice of a long term smoker, or maybe someone trying to disguise their voice. Jess heard everything he said as clearly as if he were standing next to her. The man with the parka in his arm turned.

  “What?” the first word the man uttered was hard. The second word was soft, and within it was fear. “Who are you?”

  “Me? That doesn’t matter. What matters is what you did. What you are. And what we are going to do about it…”

  The parka man dropped his coat, and the knife appeared, reflecting the electric lights with a flash.

  “Whoooooo. Big man. Knives. Scary.” The parka man was backing towards the edge of the darkness, into an area he couldn’t see or could turn to check on without leaving himself exposed. Jess looked at the vigilante now, side on. He was the right build. Sleek, toned, in black denim and a bomber jacket. He showed no fear, advancing on the knife man in a half-ready combat pose, legs poised to run or kick maybe. His hands were gloved. And he wore a thin black balaclava which clung to the shape of his face.

  “I’m not scared of going to prison. I’ll use this knife if I have to.
I’ve got nothing to lose. Nothing at all.” shouted the man. Now the man in the booth would have heard. Surely he had access to the Shopwatch radio network too. Now the noose was closing in on all of them.

  “You’ve got plenty to worry about before you get to prison.”

  The vigilante surged forward, closing down the space between them. The parka man swiped his knife across the attacker’s midriff, but the gesture lacked power and conviction. The masked man grabbed the knife arm at the shoulder and pushed it all the way around so the man span half way round on himself. Totally exposed, his back facing the vigilante, the masked man delivered a firm punch into the older man’s lower back, then he curled a hefty punch around the man’s thin hips and the side of his gut. The man folded up like a deckchair and collapsed onto the floor.

  “So, how much did you get? Come on. You can boast.”

  The man groaned.

  The vigilante moved and stood over him. “Tell me.”

  “Thirty…”

  “Thirty. Do you mean thirty pounds?”

  The man coughed and nodded.

  “Thirty pounds. You threaten to kill people for thirty pounds?”

  The man groaned again. The vigilante bent over and seized the man’s jacket collar and pulled him to his feet. “Give me that thirty pounds.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Give me that thirty pounds, or I’ll see to it that you won’t make it as far as court, let alone prison.”

  “You bastard.”

  “Don’t give me an excuse, I’m already planning where to snap you.”

  The man slid his hands hurriedly into his pockets, and some notes and coins slid out, fluttering and clattering to the floor.