‘Your words not mine,’ said Arthur as he pulled out a packet of Nicorette gum from his pocket and popped a piece into his mouth.
‘He’s a court clerk. He must know that only a prosecutor can make that decision and not me?’ said Henley. ‘And to be honest, he’s in this up to his neck. There’s no way—’
‘Those are my instructions,’ Arthur said, holding his hands up in defence.
‘Tell him that the best I can do is put the offer to the prosecutor once he’s charged.’
‘I will pass on the message, but I will be repeating my advice to him to answer no comment to any questions that you put to him.’
‘We’ll see how long that lasts,’ Ramouter muttered as Arthur went back into the interview room. ‘I can’t believe he’s asking for immunity.’
‘That’s because he knows there’s no way out for him,’ said Henley as Arthur poked his head out of the door and waved at them to return.
‘You push him,’ Henley said. ‘And make sure Elliot Fonseka breaks.’
53
‘Ez, are you sure you don’t want a lift, cuz?’
Ezra adjusted his rucksack on his back. ‘Bruv, you make absolutely no sense,’ he said. ‘We both live ten minutes away and you’re driving.’
‘Don’t start on me,’ said Zyon. ‘Acting all sanctimonious about my little car’s carbon footprint.’
‘The last time I checked, a Land Rover Evoque wasn’t a little car,’ said Ezra, playfully shoving his cousin.
‘It’s electric.’
‘What do you want, a medal?’
‘Nah, a gold star would do,’ Zyon laughed, stepping aside to allow a couple to enter the gym. ‘All right, suit yourself. Message me when you get home.’
‘Great,’ Ezra said to himself as the first raindrops splashed against his forehead and Zyon drove away. He pushed his AirPods into his ears, turned the volume up high and walked quickly down New Cross Road. Ezra’s plan for the evening was simple: go home, jump in the shower, eat whatever experimental dish his sister had cooked, and then go to bed. He was three houses away from his front door when the first blow connected with his head, the force ejecting his AirPods out of his ears like a projectile.
A second blow landed in Ezra’s stomach, and he fell back into a trio of wheelie bins. His chest muscles seized as he struggled to breathe. He opened his eyes to see the orange glow of the streetlamp bouncing off the dull steel of the standpipe that was being held aloft. Ezra willed himself to turn over, his hands reaching for the low crumbling wall in front of him. The sounds of speeding traffic and trains pulling into New Cross Gate station drowned out Ezra’s screams as the third blow landed on his back, swiftly followed by a kick to his head.
Ezra cried out as the force of a kick to his back propelled him along the pavement. He rolled over twice and ended up with his face flat against the wet pavement. The smell of mouldering leaves and a blocked drain filled Ezra’s nose. He yelled again as he was roughly turned over onto his back. There was a tight pressure on his chest as his attacker straddled him. Somewhere in Ezra’s head, he heard an instruction, and he scratched weakly at his attacker’s hands.
‘You little fuck,’ his attacker said as he punched Ezra in the face and smashed his arm against the ground. Ezra tried to open his eyes, but he was blinded by the glow of the streetlight and then another blow to his head. Ezra wanted the high-pitched ringing in his ears to stop. He wanted the pain to stop. A final blow to his head gave him his wish.
The sharp sound of Henley’s phone pulled her forcefully out of sleep. She pushed Rob’s arm off her chest and turned over, scrambling in the dark for her phone on the bedside table.
Henley reeled the charging cable in like a fishing line and pulled the phone onto her chest. She squinted at Pellacia’s name on the screen and then the time, silencing the phone as she did so. It was 2.13 a.m.. She scrambled out of bed and pressed accept.
‘Anj,’ said Pellacia. The pain in his voice was clear. ‘Anj. Are you there?’
‘I’m here,’ Henley said. She closed her bedroom door and sat down on the top step of the stairs. ‘What’s going on?’
‘It’s Ezra.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘This is all my—’
‘Stephen! Where is he?’
Henley got up and opened the door to the spare room, grabbed a hoodie and a pair of leggings from the pile of clean clothes on the bed. She put the phone on speaker. She could hear Pellacia taking a breath, steadying himself.
‘Lewisham hospital,’ he said. ‘He’s been attacked.’
