rear-view mirror. He adjusted it so he could watch her face, unlined, beautiful, cold. ‘I didn’t say anything about Albert Woodville. I just said I
wanted to meet up.’
She laughed and looked out of the window into the gloom. ‘Except it was on the news that a man was murdered, the TV showed the block of flats where it happened, and we know that Woodville
was a paedophile, on the register, visited regularly by your lot.’
‘You’d know all about that,’ said Harry.
She shot forward in her seat, an action so quick her breath was on the side of his face before he could react.
‘Don’t fucking come it, Harry. You want our help or not?’
It was Greg’s turn to speak up. ‘It was you who contacted us. I never thought I’d see the day that you sought out the Volunteer Army.’
Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘The Volunteer Army. That’s what you’re calling yourselves, is it? Aren’t you worried that people will confuse you with the
Salvation Army and wonder where the brass band is at Christmas?’
‘Your piss-taking is all very well,’ said Martha, ‘but we’ve got better places to be on a Friday night than sitting here in a police car at the back of Wholesale King,
being asked to grass up a murderer.’
The sound of the door opening behind him forced Harry to turn round and face Martha straight on. She was not only the brightest of the pair by far, but for reasons that he had never fully
grasped, she was the one in charge. She might have been the one who had driven them to the meeting point, but it had been Greg who had been sent out into the cold November night to sneak around the
industrial estate on foot, creeping through the shadows to appear at Harry’s window as her car pulled up, checking out the enemy in the dead of night.
One day, he would find out exactly what hold she had over Greg. The important thing for now was that Harry had something on Martha, and it was probably the only reason they were all huddled
inside the ageing Skoda with over one hundred thousand miles on the clock.
‘Close the door, Martha,’ Harry said. ‘This is important. If someone’s going around killing paedophiles, it impacts on you too.’
They stared at each other for several seconds, Harry safe in the knowledge that she wouldn’t get out of the car and drive off into the night, all the while willing her to tell him what she
knew.
‘OK,’ she said.
He let out a breath.
‘Despite your mickey taking,’ she said as he held up his hands, ‘we’re trying to make people feel as safe as they can about living with sex offenders around them, and we
want to work with the police.’
Martha gripped the back of the headrest of Harry’s seat. ‘We have meetings, open meetings, so anyone can see what it is we’re doing. We have a website and a newsletter, but
most of all, when we find someone online grooming children, we turn them in to the police. We’re not taking the law into our own hands, you know that. We’re trying to do our bit to
help.’
He mulled this over for a moment before he said, ‘You, Martha, I get why, in a twisted way, why you do it. What I don’t understand is your involvement, Greg.’
Harry turned to Greg as he spoke, catching him unawares. The look of complete adoration on his acne-marked face as he gazed at his fellow vigilante gave Harry some sort of insight into how
Martha Lipton had the ability to lead grown men astray.
‘Because it’s the right thing to do,’ said Greg, not taking his eyes off her.
‘Greg,’ she said, ‘why don’t you wait in our car for me?’
He opened his mouth to say something. Martha made a pre-emptive strike by thrusting the car keys at him.
He took them, glared at them for a moment and then threw a similar look in Harry’s direction before he got out of the police car and into the driver’s seat of the VW Golf.
‘Nice lad,’ said Harry when Greg was out of earshot. ‘You’ve got him well trained.’
‘You
wanted to meet up.’
She laughed and looked out of the window into the gloom. ‘Except it was on the news that a man was murdered, the TV showed the block of flats where it happened, and we know that Woodville
was a paedophile, on the register, visited regularly by your lot.’
‘You’d know all about that,’ said Harry.
She shot forward in her seat, an action so quick her breath was on the side of his face before he could react.
‘Don’t fucking come it, Harry. You want our help or not?’
It was Greg’s turn to speak up. ‘It was you who contacted us. I never thought I’d see the day that you sought out the Volunteer Army.’
Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘The Volunteer Army. That’s what you’re calling yourselves, is it? Aren’t you worried that people will confuse you with the
Salvation Army and wonder where the brass band is at Christmas?’
‘Your piss-taking is all very well,’ said Martha, ‘but we’ve got better places to be on a Friday night than sitting here in a police car at the back of Wholesale King,
being asked to grass up a murderer.’
The sound of the door opening behind him forced Harry to turn round and face Martha straight on. She was not only the brightest of the pair by far, but for reasons that he had never fully
grasped, she was the one in charge. She might have been the one who had driven them to the meeting point, but it had been Greg who had been sent out into the cold November night to sneak around the
industrial estate on foot, creeping through the shadows to appear at Harry’s window as her car pulled up, checking out the enemy in the dead of night.
One day, he would find out exactly what hold she had over Greg. The important thing for now was that Harry had something on Martha, and it was probably the only reason they were all huddled
inside the ageing Skoda with over one hundred thousand miles on the clock.
‘Close the door, Martha,’ Harry said. ‘This is important. If someone’s going around killing paedophiles, it impacts on you too.’
They stared at each other for several seconds, Harry safe in the knowledge that she wouldn’t get out of the car and drive off into the night, all the while willing her to tell him what she
knew.
‘OK,’ she said.
He let out a breath.
‘Despite your mickey taking,’ she said as he held up his hands, ‘we’re trying to make people feel as safe as they can about living with sex offenders around them, and we
want to work with the police.’
Martha gripped the back of the headrest of Harry’s seat. ‘We have meetings, open meetings, so anyone can see what it is we’re doing. We have a website and a newsletter, but
most of all, when we find someone online grooming children, we turn them in to the police. We’re not taking the law into our own hands, you know that. We’re trying to do our bit to
help.’
He mulled this over for a moment before he said, ‘You, Martha, I get why, in a twisted way, why you do it. What I don’t understand is your involvement, Greg.’
Harry turned to Greg as he spoke, catching him unawares. The look of complete adoration on his acne-marked face as he gazed at his fellow vigilante gave Harry some sort of insight into how
Martha Lipton had the ability to lead grown men astray.
‘Because it’s the right thing to do,’ said Greg, not taking his eyes off her.
‘Greg,’ she said, ‘why don’t you wait in our car for me?’
He opened his mouth to say something. Martha made a pre-emptive strike by thrusting the car keys at him.
He took them, glared at them for a moment and then threw a similar look in Harry’s direction before he got out of the police car and into the driver’s seat of the VW Golf.
‘Nice lad,’ said Harry when Greg was out of earshot. ‘You’ve got him well trained.’
‘You
Similar Books
