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Paul Cornell

London Falling

ONE

Costain entered the service station and stopped when he saw Quill standing there, not even pretending to look at the chocolate bars displayed in front of him. Costain headed for the toilets, and Quill immediately followed, as if he didn’t care who noticed. Costain made astonished eye contact with him just before the door, turning to take in the SUVs he’d left on the forecourt outside, with Mick and Lazlo currently filling up the first two vehicles with diesel. No, nobody was watching. He closed the toilet door behind them.

They stood in the cubicle, with the door bolted: the seat gone, the toilet bowl blocked, everything smelling of shit, a single bulb making it all ghostly white. The cold made their breath bloom around them.

‘What the fuck is Toshack doing?’ asked Quill. He was speaking too loudly.

‘I don’t know. ’

‘“I don’t know, sir!”’

‘I don’t know, sir. Do you want me to recite my rank, nick and surname, too, in case Lazlo pops in for some fags?’

Quill looked affronted, as if a detective sergeant had never talked back to him in his entire life. He seemed to choose his next words carefully and, thankfully, they were closer to a whisper. ‘You know how long it’s been for us lot on Operation Goodfellow? Four years now, from you first getting in with Pa Toil’s gang. And maybe you ought to have stayed in the Toil, because now you’re in Toshack’s sodding Chelsea tractor, leading this convoy or whatever it is, and him looking as if he might run for an airport any second. ’

‘He’s not going to do that. ’

‘How do you know, if you don’t even know what he’s doing?’

‘’Cos he’s looking for somebody. He said we’ll be going house to house. ’

‘So you do know what he’s doing. But earlier you said you didn’t.

‘I meant that I don’t know what he’s doing in the wider sense, Detective Inspector. I don’t know who he’s looking for — or why. He went off on his own, and couldn’t find them, came back to the Bermondsey house, decided to take us lot with him. He’s off his head tonight, playing with his guns. He’s been at the supply. ’

‘What?’

‘Chisel. Crack. ’

‘What, now — as a little treat on New Year’s Eve?’

‘His first time. Ask the second undercover, if you want. ’

‘I don’t want anything unpredictable tonight. ’

‘Well, what you want-’

Quill put a finger to Costain’s lips. ‘The top brass are pushing Superintendent Lofthouse to end this right now, understand? Right now, you are the lead UC in the least successful operation SCD 10 has ever mounted in the capital, and that, my son, is a fucking highly contested honour. The boom is going to come down tonight, or tomorrow or the day after. We have run out of money and good will, so the bastards are going to settle just for the small fry. Toshack will laugh his arse off at us again, get off any charges brought against him again, and just a few of his soldiers and toms and lads down the chop shop will get put away, but none of the fucking terrifying ones. The risks you and Sefton have taken for the last four years, and all the working hours of your comrades back at the nick, will have been basically about nothing. And if that happens, I will make sure that you burn. Now, what do you have to say to me?’