Free Blood Brothers by Patricia Hall Page B

tapped. They still have him down as likely to try to try to get Georgie off somehow because he’s his brother. They don’t seem to realize the brothers are not exactly devoted, and haven’t been for years. In fact they hate each other’s guts. Do you think you could track Ray down at the Delilah – very discreetly – and ask him to call me at home from a number he’s not connected with? I really need to suss out what he thinks is going on. And with Vic Copeland sitting on my tail it’s almost impossible.’
    ‘He’s not following you now, is he?’ Kate asked, glancing out of the steamy window anxiously.
    ‘No, he went with the boss to some meeting at the Yard about the murder case. I wasn’t invited. I’m seeing them when they get back.’ It was obvious from his expression that this was not a prospect he was looking forward to.
    ‘I’m not booked for anything special this afternoon,’ Kate said. ‘I could drop into the Delilah on my way home.’
    ‘Great,’ Barnard said. ‘And not a word to that weasel from the
Globe
you’re working with.’
    ‘Of course not,’ Kate said. ‘Trust me.’
    ‘When are you seeing him again?’
    ‘Saturday,’ Kate said. ‘He wants some pictures of football fans.’
    ‘Chelsea, I hope,’ Barnard said with a grin. ‘Though they’re a dead loss this season.’
    Kate finished her sandwich, feeling uneasy at the subterfuge she was being pushed into. ‘I’ll pass on your message to Ray,’ she said.
    Barnard pushed his chair away from the table explosively. ‘Thanks, Katie. You’re a doll.’
    ‘Maybe,’ she said.
    It was mid-afternoon before DS Harry Barnard was summoned to the DCI’s office, where he found Keith Jackson ramrod straight behind his immaculate desk as usual and DS Vic Copeland lounging in a chair opposite with a satisfied look on his heavy features. The DCI waved Barnard into another chair and steepled his hands in front of his face, his pale blue eyes more than usually chilly.
    ‘We had a very productive meeting at the Yard,’ he said. ‘Information has come to hand that the liaison we suspected between Ray Robertson and Reg Smith is developing rapidly and that major criminal activity is planned. It seems that the murder we are investigating at Tottenham Court Road is intimately linked to what is going on between these criminal gangs, which is what I suspected all along. We don’t have a formal identification yet but I am anticipating that very soon we’ll pin down who that poor devil is and which of the gangs he either belonged to or annoyed in some way. But as another line of investigation AC Amis feels that it would be fruitful to use your long-standing relationship with Robertson, Sergeant Barnard, to uncover something of what he is planning with the south London gang.’
    Barnard drew a sharp breath. ‘I’m sure Robertson wouldn’t confide in me if anything major was going down,’ he said. ‘It’s not as if we’re bosom buddies these days. We were kids together twenty years ago. Since then I’ve arrested his brother, for God’s sake. And if Reg Smith is as ruthless as he’s cracked up to be, he’ll be watching his security like a hawk. If what you say is true about their plans I reckon I might be the next one to end up without my fingers and toes.’ There was a guffaw from Copeland at that.
    ‘Pull the other one, Harry boy,’ he said. ‘We all know you’re still thick as thieves with Robertson. Always have been. What Mr Jackson fancies is you and me making use of that and doing this together. You go in and have a chat with him at the Delilah, wired up to eavesdrop, with me listening in and providing back-up if it all goes pear-shaped. What’s wrong with that?’ Barnard shrugged.
    ‘We could try that, I suppose. But I think you’re wasting your time. If he’s really hitched up with Smith he won’t be telling me anything about it.’
    ‘We could bring him in for a little chat, then,’ Copeland said, with a look of