Alderman's Case

Part the Eleventh

2007-05-20T10:43:00.000-07:00

The northerly wind that had brought the snow ceased overnight leaving clear, blue skies in the morning. It was still cold, but the fresh air and bright, but distant, sun was a definite presage of spring. Alderman was sipping slowly from a cup of coffee, overlooking the early tourists to the shops and market stalls beneath him. James approached, unshaven and weary.
     ‘I can’t stay long’ he said.
     ‘I couldn’t carry two coffees’ Alderman replied, apologetically indicating the one he was holding.
     ‘It’s ok. I had enough last night.’
     ‘So what do we know?’
     ‘We know that in one block in central London there are hundreds of things happening.’
     ‘And?’
James stared at Alderman for a moment, then took a piece of paper out of his case and began to read from it.
     ‘Next to the sushi bar there is a wine shop called Soho Wine Supply. Then there is a string of restaurants, a gallery and a tape shop. On the other side of the street there are two large office buildings. Tottenham Court Road itself is occupied mostly by electrical stores, interspersed with other shops. There’s an Odeon cinema not far away. A little further up there is the Church of Scientology, and then across the other side you get into university buildings, and below them the British Museum. There’s so much, Alderman, too much. I don’t see how we can get anything from this list. She could have been, or been going, anywhere.’
     ‘We can narrow it down. The spy was poisoned three weeks ago. That’s the best criteria we have.’
     ‘But there’s no way to know anything for certain about this woman, or why she was on that street.’
     ‘Then we have to make our possibilities into certainties. If we find nothing, then we’ve lost nothing.’
     ‘Except time, Alderman. We will have lost time. You forget the murderer is looking for her too. What if he beats us?’
James leant against the railing, his head hanging down between his shoulders.
     ‘We can do this, James. What places on your list would a woman visit once a month, or less? It can’t be her work. And it must have been in the evening, since that’s when the Russian went to the sushi bar. So we can rule out shops, or anything closed at night.’
     ‘The gallery could have had an opening .’
     ‘Yes?’
     ‘And the wine shop might open late.’
     ‘Then let’s go.’
     ‘I can’t. I have to go to work. My editor wants a story from me today.’
     ‘Tell him he’ll get one later this week – a better one than he could ever imagine. Time, James, as you said, is what we don’t have.’

The Story So Far

2007-05-15T15:39:00.000-07:00

Alderman is about to return to his case. If you can't remember what's happened, or are a new reader without the time to find out, here's a brief summary of the story so far:

A Russian spy has died, poisoned in a sushi bar on Piccadilly. In his last moments he seemed to realise something, and said a woman was in danger. Convinced the Russian government aren't responsible, Alderman has hired the help of a journalist named James to try to solve the case, and save the woman. This has led them to another sushi bar off Tottenham Court Road where they believe they've seen the murderer. Now, fully committed to the case regardless of the danger, Alderman and James are determined to find the woman before the killer does…

Part the Tenth

2007-02-10T09:37:00.000-08:00

Alderman joined James outside on the pavement, his hands were on his knees and he was breathing heavily.
     'I'm sorry, Alderman, I had to try something' he said in-between breaths.
     'It's ok. Did you get the license number?'
     'No, he had it obscured.'
     'Then we'll check with the Congestion Charge. He can't drive around London with a number plate like that.'
James stood up straight and looked back in to the restaurant. The manager and the waitresses were all looking at them.
     'We put on quite a good show for them' Alderman said, then turned to James. 'I'm sorry for being rude in there. I have... a lot of things on my mind. I'll tell you when this is over.'
     'I understand. It was a pretty tense situation. But we're almost there-'
Alderman cut him short.
     'Look, James. I think I'm going to do this on my own now. Thanks for your help so far. Well, I paid you, but thanks, and I'll handle it from here.'
     'What are you talking about?'
     'He's seen us, and we've seen him. This isn't safe anymore. I can't ask you to follow me down this path. This is where it gets serious. We are on the edge of an abyss.'
They held each other's gaze for a long while before James slowly replied:
     'You're not dropping me, Alderman. I don't care about writing a story anymore, and you don't care about paying me. This is serious, and I'm going to help, no matter the cost.'
Alderman looked away but did not move. Again they stood in silence. At length he took a step back from the restaurant and looked around.
     'We need to start finding out what happens in all these other buildings. Our killer has been waiting here for the woman, but he's had no luck. What if she didn't come to the sushi bar? What if she was merely passing? She could have been visiting anyone of these other places.'
     'I'll get right on to it.'
     'Then I'll see you tomorrow.'
     'Where?'
     'Covent Garden, the balcony' Alderman replied.
     'I know it' James said, smiling.
The two men looked at each other for a second more, shook hands, then walked off in different directions.

Part the Ninth

2007-02-06T11:10:00.000-08:00

     'What do we do?'
Alderman and James stood still. The man in the car did not move.
     'Has he seen us?'
Alderman didn't turn his head to answer, but remained staring at the car.
     'Yes. He's seen us. He knows we're not police. That's why he hasn't left. He's trying to figure out who we are.'
     'Who's in the car? I don't understand,' the manager said. They both ignored him.
     'He must be waiting for the woman. He doesn't know who she is either.'
     'We have to run for him. We can get there before he drives away.'
     'No, we'll never make it.'
     'Alderman, that man has killed, and will kill again. We have to do something.'
     'Stay absolutely still, James.'
     'No, damn it, Alderman. We can make it. We can get him.'
     'Don't you dare move.'
     'We have to. I'm going.'
James began to run. The man in the car moved for the first time, leaning over the wheel. James flung chairs out of the way as he made a direct line towards the door, almost pushing a woman over. The car engine started and revved up. James leapt over a short row of plants in front of the door and slammed it open. The car clicked into gear and sped away, turning a corner before James had even made it onto the street.

Part the Eighth

2007-02-03T04:24:00.000-08:00

     ‘What can I get you?’
     ‘I’m not sure.’
Alderman continued to study the menu.
     ‘Would you like me to order?’ James said, ‘I can see you haven’t done this before.’
     ‘Yes, please do. I have no idea what I’m looking at here.’
Alderman put down his menu as James ordered. The sushi bar was beginning to fill up in time for the evening rush. They had found seats at a counter.
     ‘Is that everything?’ the waitress asked.
     ‘We’d like to speak to the manager’ said Alderman.
     ‘Is something wrong already?’
     ‘No, not at all. We just want to ask him a few questions.’
The waitress disappeared through a door and came back a moment later with the manager, a Japanese man who frowned when he saw them, then approached with a broad, false, smile.
     ‘Hello, gentlemen. Is everything ok?’
     ‘Could we ask you about the Russian spy who was killed?’
     ‘Oh, but you have the wrong place. He was poisoned in Itsu on Piccadilly.’
     ‘They told us he came here a lot.’
     ‘Well... yes, he did, a lot. He was here at least twice a week. Probably more. But he didn't die here. On Piccadilly.’
     ‘We know. Was there ever anyone else with him? A woman?’
     ‘He came with men mostly, after work, you know, 6 o'clock. He always seemed to talk business. No women. Not that I remember. Maybe once or twice.’
     ‘So there was nothing strange, nothing unusual that you noticed?’
     ‘Well, aside from that he was Russian, but that’s hardly unusual these days is it?’
     'No, not really.'
The manager turned away to talk with one of his waitresses. James looked at Alderman.
     'What are you looking for?' he asked.
Alderman sighed and shook his head.
     'The woman. The killer. To stop a murder.'
     'No, I mean, what are you looking for? What does it matter, and how?' He paused, and seeing that Alderman would not answer, continued. 'Why are we doing this? Trying to solve a murder that hasn't happened?'
     'We're trying to save a woman's life.'
     'Really? Is that really what we're doing here? Or is there something else?'
The manager turned back to them.
     'Were there any other questions, gentlemen?'
     'Well,' Alderman began, deliberately not looking at James. 'There must be something.'
     'What?'
     'Something new? Something different?'
     'I don't understand.'
     'Something that you have only recently begun noticing?'
     'Well... I mean. There is the car the waitresses complain about. A silver Ford. They say it is outside a lot.'
     'Probably just illegal parking, or abandoned. Have you told the police? Is there anything else?'
     'I thought you were the police. What?' The manager looked puzzled. 'I mean... I thought the car was them. In the car, you know. I mean, there's always that man, sitting in it and watching. Like police surveillance or something.'
Alderman and James exchanged worried glances.
     'What are you talking about?' James asked. 'The police wouldn't put a car outside without telling you.'
     'Then?'
Alderman and James stood up and turned slowly to look out the window. A silver Ford was parked directly in front of the restaurant. There was the silhouette of a man at the wheel. He was looking back, directly at them.
     'James...' Alderman began.
     'Yes?'
     'That's our murderer.'

Part the Seventh

2007-01-20T08:50:00.000-08:00

     ‘There used to be a cinema along here.’
     ‘On Piccadilly? I don’t remember.’
     ‘I’m certain of it.’
They both had their coats pulled tight around them as they walked. The wind had grown in strength and was blowing east down the road towards them.
     ‘This is it. Itsu’ Alderman said, and they stopped walking. The sushi bar was temporarily closed, covered in a large wooden hoarding. There was a notice printed on it that began ‘An international espionage incident has…’.
Alderman and James had not finished reading when a small door, concealed in the hoarding, opened inwards and a tall, thin man invited them in.
     ‘You must be the journalists. I saw you out there in the wind and thought you’d want to come in quick rather than hang around. That notice isn’t worth reading. The director made us do it.’
     ‘The director?’
     ‘Yes, I’m just the manager of this restaurant. We are a chain.’
     ‘Oh, I didn’t realise.’
The man shut the door behind them and walked around behind a counter.
     ‘I’m afraid I can’t offer you anything’ he said, indicating the empty shelves and smiling. The restaurant was dimly lit. There was no food anywhere to be seen. The manager was clearly anxious.
     ‘I’m just sitting around here waiting for the police to allow us to open again. It’s been weeks now. They’ve taken all the evidence they need. That’s why I’m glad to show you guys around – I’ve nothing else to do.’
     ‘So there’s nothing left? No evidence?’ James asked, glancing at Alderman.
     ‘They’ve taken everything’ he said, shrugging and wringing his hands.
     ‘What we’re interested in is the man who died. Were you here?’ Alderman said, coming forward past James.
     ‘Yes, I served him. A nice enough man. Talkative.’
     ‘What did he talk about?’
     ‘He loved sushi. He was quite critical really.’
     ‘Of this place? So he doesn’t come here a lot?’
     ‘No, not at all. He made a point of saying this was his first and last time. He said he normally goes to a sushi bar off Tottenham Court Road. He said it was far better. He said he practically lived there.’
Alderman paused at the counter. He ran a finger through the dust that lay there.
     ‘What did the police ask you?’
     ‘The asked about Russians. Had I seen any others? They asked if I saw anyone put anything in his food. I said no. No to both questions. Really I don’t know how it could have happened, or who did it.’
James pulled Alderman aside and whispered to him.
     ‘This man knows nothing. This place is empty.’
Alderman nodded.
     ‘I’m sorry we’ve wasted your time’ he said to the man.
     ‘That’s ok’ he replied. 'Glad to do something, even if it is nothing. If you see what I mean' he said, moving toward the door to open it for them.
     ‘It looks like we have another sushi bar to go to.’
     ‘We do?’ asked James. The door opened and a fresh gust of wind rushed in blowing the dust off the surfaces.

Part the Sixth

2007-01-14T10:47:00.000-08:00

Alderman and James sat at a table in the corner, by a latticed window overlooking Hampstead Heath. The pub had low wooden beams overhead, and flagstones underfoot. It was filled with the smoke of late afternoon drinkers.
     ‘We need to go to that sushi bar’ Alderman said, before taking a sip of his beer.
     ‘The police have already been over it’ James replied.
     ‘I know. But they missed something. Don’t forget, they still think it was the Russians.’
     ‘And so did he. So did his best friend.’
     ‘That’s exactly what troubles me. Why would the Russians let him talk? If they wanted him to die, they would have killed him. Someone wanted him to die slowly, to talk.’
     ‘And they knew his first instinct would be to blame the Russians?’
     ‘Precisely. Whoever killed him wanted him to say that. It can’t have been them.’
     ‘What about the woman, Alderman? I thought she was our main concern.’
He did not reply, brought his glass to his lips, then lowered it again.
     ‘I know. I know. But we can’t seem to get near her. All we have is this spy, and how and why he died. We have to get past him. I think the sushi bar is the answer.’
James shook his head and look down into his drink.
     ‘We know nothing about her. We’re getting no closer. And I’m supposed to be back at the newspaper this afternoon.’
     ‘Why do people kill, James?’ Alderman asked. James laughed, and did not offer a reply. ‘I’m serious. Premeditated murder I mean. They kill because of information. That’s all.’
     ‘Then what does she know, or not know, about the killer?’
     ‘It should be easy.’
     ‘Well, how? What do we do? Where do we start?’ James asked, getting frustrated. Alderman finished his beer calmly, and then replied:
     ‘Fancy some raw fish?’

Part the Fifth

2007-01-11T04:53:00.000-08:00

He pushed the doorbell, and it rang somewhere deep within the house. Silence followed. Alderman leant closer to see if he could hear noises of someone approaching to open the door.
     ‘I was told he was in’ James said. 'Anyway, how did you find this place? We didn't publish his address.'
Alderman ignored the question, and raised his finger to push the doorbell again, when the door swung open.
     ‘He will see you now. He is busy. Please come in and wait.’ The man who had answered ushered them in. He was not a butler. His accent was Russian.
     ‘Thank you’ James said, moving forward.
They were let into the hallway and told to wait. The man disappeared upstairs. Alderman and James looked at the pictures on the walls in silence. The house was quiet and cold.
     'What will we get from him that other reporters didn't?' James whispered.
     'Since they never asked the right questions' Alderman replied, 'how could they possibly have got the right answers?'
     'Hello, gentlemen', a man said, coming down the stairs towards them. He had a thick, black moustache. 'What can I do for you? I thought I had spoken to your paper already.'
     'Yes, well, my editor just wanted a few more words, if that's ok' James said.
     'It's about the words he said an hour before he died' Alderman added.
     'They were very strange, I must admit. Perhaps it was the effects of the drugs.'
     'But what prompted them? Tell me what happened immediately before and after. What was the day like?'
     'Like any other. I'm sorry, I know who James is, but I didn't catch your name?' he asked.
     'My name is Alderman.'
     'Well, Mr Alderman,' he continued 'the day was like any other. I woke and went to the hospital and sat by his bed, hoping he would recover. The doctors told me the same vague news - we don't know, maybe, perhaps... I sat by his bed through the morning. He hardly spoke. And then, about 12 I suppose it was, he sat up in his bed and asked for the police. He seemed a little better. There was something new in his eyes - not anger anymore, and not health, but a realisation.'
     'A realisation?' Alderman stepped forward, closer to him.
     'Yes. I suppose of death.'
     'And that's when he spoke those words to the police?'
     'Yes. It was almost the last he could say. He was so weary by then.'
     'So he was too weak to say anymore?'
     'I suppose. Except goodbye to me and his wife. Was there anything else?'
     'Did he often go to sushi bars?'
     'What?'
     'Were there any other women?'
     'I'm sorry, Mr Alderman, your questions are very strange. I am busy preparing for the funeral.'
     'Please, sir, humour him' James added, before the man could turn and leave.
     'Very well. Yes, he loved sushi. He always chose it when we went out. And no, there weren't any other women.'
The man began ascending the stairs.
     'Thank you very much, sir' James said. 'We'd better go. I'm sure he'll call my editor. That was a waste of time.'
     'Quite the opposite, James, we have learned everything, and much more, than we ever could have hoped from him. Let's have a drink.'

Part the Fourth

2006-12-20T05:39:00.000-08:00

The Covent Garden market was full of the noise of an amateur opera singer attempting Nessun Dorma backed by an orchestra on cassette. She sang from somewhere beneath the crowd of Christmas shoppers and the buskers trying to entertain them. A man dressed as a Roman centurion stood as still as he could in the cold, waiting for someone to give him money. Someone shouted, and no one listened. James had circled the market twice and could not find a way up to the balcony. He refused to ask anyone the way. Alderman saw him, but did not want to shout down. James felt his phone vibrate and ring.
     ‘Yes?’ he answered.
     ‘Go through the pub, the Punch & Judy’ Alderman said.
     ‘Ok.’ He put the phone back in his pocket and searched for the sign. Finding it, he made his way in and up to the balcony. Alderman was leaning against the rail, sipping from a glass of glühwein. James joined him. They acknowledged each other’s presence but did not exchange words.
     ‘Fucking outrageous,’ they heard someone near them say, ‘these Russians think they can come over here and kill a guy. I don’t care if he was a spy. This is fucking England.’
Alderman looked at James and smiled, saying in a hushed tone:
     ‘I don’t think it was the Russians at all.’
James sighed and looked around the market before replying.
     ‘But he said it was them himself. He said it was Putin that had killed him.’
     ‘We need to talk to his friend, the man who was with him in the hospital until the end. Can we get to talk to him?’
     ‘Why?’
     ‘Because I think, in the hour before he died, our spy realised something. He realised it wasn’t the Russians at all.’
     ‘And he was too weak to communicate it?’
     ‘Exactly.’ Alderman paused. ‘Want a glass of glühwein?’
     ‘No, why are you so cheerful?’
     ‘Because we’re getting closer.’
     ‘But everyone else thinks, everyone else knows, it was the Russians.’
     ‘It isn’t.’
     ‘How do you know, Alderman? How do you know?’
     ‘I have a good feeling’ he said, looking at his watch and tapping the dial with his finger. ‘We need to see this man. Can you do it?’
     ‘I’ll try’ he said. Alderman drank the last of his drink and smacked his lips satisfactorily. ‘And the woman?’
     ‘I'm not sure, James' he said, suddenly more sincere, 'I'm just not sure. She is in enormous danger. We have to find her soon. We can't let her die - that has to be our only aim.’ He began walking back towards the stairs. ‘I’ll see you in Hampstead later.’
     ‘Why Hampstead?’ James asked.
     ‘It’s where our spy’s friend lives.’
     ‘But I don’t even know if I can get us an interview yet.’
     ‘I believe in you’ Alderman said, nodding, before disappearing downstairs.
James waited a minute, looking out over the shoppers, until at length he too turned, and left by a different exit.

Part the Third

2006-12-10T11:56:00.000-08:00

     ‘I don’t think she knows.’
     ‘Who is this?’
     ‘It’s me, Alderman.’
     ‘I told you not to phone me at the paper. The editor records all our calls.’
     ‘Ok, get outside and ring me back. I’ll be waiting.’
James put the phone down, stood up from his desk and looked around. Everyone else was busy working. The room was full of noise. No one had noticed his phone ring, but still he felt guilty receiving the call. He grabbed his jacket from his chair and made for the back stairs. Over halfway there, and beginning to relax, he heard the familiar threatening voice of the editor.
     ‘James, where the hell are you going? Haven’t you got a thousand words for me?’
     ‘Yeah, I sent them down already’ he said without turning.
     ‘James.’
Reluctantly he stopped walking, and turned slowly to face the editor.
     ‘Yes?’
The editor stared at him for a moment, shook his head and then said.
     ‘Nothing. I want you at your desk by the end of the day.’
James turned without replying and reached the door in a few steps. He hurried down the back stairs, pushed open the fire exit and turned on to the main road. Looking back up at his office windows to check no one was watching him, he then turned off the main road down an alley and into a private car park. There he took out his phone and dialled. It was answered after the first ring.
     ‘Alderman.’
     ‘It’s me.’
     ‘Everything ok? Does your editor suspect?’
     ‘No. Not yet. But never call me there again. Now, I’ve found out there are four female Russian spies operative in the UK. Zara–’
     ‘Wait a moment, James. I don’t think she knows.’
     ‘You don’t think she knows what?’
     ‘I’m not sure. But, listen. Why would he tell us there’s a woman? Why would he warn us, unless she didn’t know she was the next target?’
     ‘Maybe she can’t help herself. What does it matter?’
     ‘It matters because if she doesn’t know she’s a target, then maybe she doesn’t know him?’
     ‘What?’
     'Maybe she’s not a spy at all. Maybe she and him have never met? Why else would he tell us about her, unless she was unaware of the danger she was in?’
     ‘Look, Alderman, I just spent four hours researching female Russian spies in the UK.’
     ‘Can you come to Covent Garden now?’
     ‘Yes.’
     ‘Our case might have just got a thousand times harder.’

Part the Second

2006-12-05T01:19:00.000-08:00

     ‘And just what is Spidermas?’ he asked, ‘other than today?’
     ‘It’s a festival an old, old friend of mine invented. On the first of December the spiders celebrate because people bring Christmas trees into their homes.’
     ‘I see. Quaint.’
     ‘It meant something to us, if no one else, and that was all it needed to do.’
They began walking up the hill towards Covent Garden, and did not talk again until they reached Henrietta Street.
     'What does it mean?’ Alderman began. ‘Is she a spy as well? Are we to assume he thinks it is the Russian government that will kill her too, although they deny everything?'
     'The police don't know, that’s for sure. He was too weak to talk again. They asked him for the name of the woman but he could only shake his head: either because he didn't know, couldn't, or wouldn't tell them.'
     'Those were his exact words? There is another. A woman?'
     'Perhaps she is dead already. That's what I've been told.'
     'Who's your source?'
     'The same as before, reliable, from inside the department. You know I can't tell you.'
     'Yes, fine, fine.' Alderman looked down at his feet as they walked.
     'So you'll help? I mean, you'll continue paying me for my help?'
     'Yes, yes. As long as she's alive, I won't give up. Can you go back to your newspaper and try to find out about her? Try your police source again. We need to know the name of every female Russian spy, of every woman he has ever known. We must keep trying.'
     'There’s only a certain amount I can achieve. I think the police know as little as us, and our records at the paper are limited.’
They reached Covent Garden. The square was full of Christmas shoppers. A street performer sang as he juggled.
     ‘But what will you do?’
     ‘I will look in to my own sources. Will you meet me back here this afternoon? I’ll call you when.’
     ‘Yes. Where?’
Alderman pointed up, towards the balcony of the market. ‘There.’
The other man nodded. Alderman reached in to his jacket, pulled out a brown envelope, and handed it over. The other man took it, started walking away, then turned back.
     ‘Alderman, I will keep accepting your money without hesitation, helping you as you help me, but one day I will ask you the questions you have forbidden me to ask, and I will expect an answer.’
Alderman acknowledged what he said with the slightest nod.
     ‘And, Happy Spidermas’ he added, ‘whatever it means’, then he turned, heading East back to Farringdon Road, and disappeared amongst the shoppers.

Part the First

2006-12-01T15:38:00.000-08:00

     'Dead.'
Alderman did not look up from his newspaper to reply.
     'Happy Spidermas. What did you say?'
     'You wanted to know how he was doing. I answered. What is Spidermas?'
     'December the first.'
There was a pause between the two men. The noise of the coffee bar dimmed momentarily. Alderman turned to the next page of his newspaper. The man standing above him frowned.
     'Well, what shall we do?' he asked.
Alderman slowly folded his paper over and put it on the edge of the table. He looked up for the first time. His face was caught briefly in the light, stern, un-smiling.
     'I'd say there is very little we can do. The man is dead. I'd say our job is finished.'
     'But our job is just beginning. Now, more than before, we must pursue the case until its very end, until we find out who did it.'
Alderman picked up the paper again and pointed at the headline. It read: 'Poisoned spy near death in hospital.'
     'We know who did it' Alderman added. 'It was the poison.'
     'That's not who, that's what. We still don't know who gave him the poison.'
Alderman drank the last sip of his coffee and stood, pulled his jacket around him, and buttoned it up.
     'The man died. What difference does it make if we find his killer? Who benefits?'
     'His family?'
     'Will it bring their son, their brother, back?'
     'No.'
     'Then who will benefit?'
The other man could not answer. Alderman began to walk out of the coffee bar.
     'Perhaps you will say society at large will benefit? A murderer will not be allowed to murder again. People will know they cannot get away with such things. But these reasons don't interest or won't motivate me.'
He opened the door to leave.
     'There is something you have not asked me, and something I have not answered.'
Alderman stopped in the doorway. Cold air blew in to the room. A flutter of snow drifted in at their feet.
     'Hey, shut the fucking door, you moron', someone shouted from across the bar.
Alderman stepped outside.
     'What haven't you told me? James, what's happened?'
     'An hour before he died he spoke to the police.'
     'And what did he say?'
     'I've been told he whispered, as faint as a child: "There is another. A woman. Perhaps she is dead already".'
Alderman looked at his watch and tapped the dial, pausing before replying.
     'A Happy Spidermas indeed.'