Honey Trap

by JJ Marsh

  “Hi, Beatrice, we’re still waiting ... no, we’re on the street outside ... we can see the kitchen door from ... oh hang on, here he comes. OK, we’ve got him. See you in a few minutes. Bye.”

  Suhail crossed the street and shook their hands. “Thank you for meeting me.”

  “Pleasure,” said Will. “Let’s go.” He took the side of the pavement next to the road and strolled off, Suhail at his side.

  The pavement wasn’t wide enough for three abreast, so Adrian had to walk just behind. He was disappointed at the lack of performance involved. Surely they should put more effort into persuading Suhail to join them for a drink?

  “Hey, guys, how about a beer?” Adrian said, adopting a hearty, masculine tone.

  “I don’t drink alcohol,” mumbled Suhail.

  “Great! All the more for me!” Adrian replied, bumping his fist against Suhail’s shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” asked Will, without looking back.

  “Just in case we’re being followed,” Adrian hissed through his teeth. “I’m making it look authentic.”

  “Well, don’t. Suhail is teetotal and we’re not on a stag night in Brick Lane. If you want to be useful, when we get under the next street light, drop your keys or anything that makes a noise. Then stop and pick them up. Give me an excuse to turn around.”

  Adrian fumbled in his jacket pocket for some loose change and pulled out a tissue, releasing the coins onto the pavement. He cursed and bent down to retrieve them. “Hang on a second, guys!” he called. Will and Suhail stopped walking and turned to wait for him. He knelt under the pool of light, while they stood in the shadows.

  “Sorry about that,” said Adrian, as he caught up with them.

  “Right.” Will spoke in a low voice. “Do not look round. There’s a guy about ten or twelve metres behind us who just crossed to the other side of the road. My guess is that he’ll speed up and pass us. He’s probably got a colleague further down who’ll let us go by and then start following. Don’t let them know we’re aware we’ve got a tail. Just continue with a normal conversation and I’ll keep watching him.”

  Adrian resisted the urge to check over his shoulder and followed Will’s instructions. “How was your day, Suhail? Was it busy?” His voice came out louder than he’d planned.

  Suhail, on the other hand, spoke softly. “Every day at Ecco is busy. We are always fully booked. People are curious about the guest chef and her British desserts.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Adrian was aware of a young man in a white T-shirt walking briskly down the other side of the street, paying them no attention.

  “So the experiment is a success?” asked Will, his gaze on a shop window beside Suhail, watching the man’s reflection.

  “Certainly. The reviews are very good. This has been an education for us all.”

  The lights of Il Capitano glittered ahead and Adrian’s nerves increased. “How exciting for you!” he exclaimed.

  “That is great news!” said Will, then dropped his voice. “When we get to the restaurant, I will gesture for you to go in ahead of me while I fiddle with my phone. Adrian, you lead the way straight through and out the other side. Don’t run or hurry, keep all movements casual and get into the cab as normally as you can. I’ll join you a few seconds later, after I’ve checked if anyone clocked what we’re doing. OK?”

  Adrian’s confidence rose a notch as they approached the doorway. If Beatrice had managed to secure them a taxi, they could easily lose a juvenile pedestrian follower.

  “You go ahead,” Will said, his voice normal. “I just need to answer this.”

  It was the big moment. Adrian pulled back the tarpaulin ‘door’ and said in an equally natural voice, “No problem. We’ll get the beers in.”

  With Suhail on his heels, he strolled along the length of the restaurant, projecting confidence and calm. There was no sign of Beatrice but the family they had met earlier were still at the same table. He gave them a friendly nod. Before he’d even opened the door at the other end, he could see the lights of the idling cab. They emerged onto the street and saw Beatrice’s face pressed up against the rear window. They got in beside her and as soon as they had closed the doors, the passenger door opened and Will got in. He twisted to address Beatrice.

  “The driver knows where to go?”

  “Yes. Her name is Daria and I already told her what we want.”

  “Ciao, Daria. Grazie mille. Andiamo?”

  The driver, who must have been in her sixties with curls every bit as unruly as Beatrice’s, nodded and put the car into gear. They drove away from Il Capitano in a state of high tension.

  Will spoke. “Suhail, Beatrice, it would help me if you got your heads down. Just so I can see what’s behind us. Our tail has a mate on a moped that would have a certain advantage in this traffic.”

  Suhail leaned into the corner, shrinking himself into a hunch. Beatrice lay sideways, her head resting in the crook of Adrian’s arm.

  “But they’ll still be waiting outside the front of the restaurant, won’t they?” asked Adrian. “How would they know we’ve already left?”

  Will’s eyes scanned the scene behind them as the taxi waited at a T-junction. His voice was grim. “They know. They’re right behind us.”

  They drove in silence for several minutes, Will constantly twisting to check out of the rear window. Adrian looked too but couldn’t differentiate between the various headlights and mopeds that changed lanes and wove between the traffic at every stop.

  Daria flicked her eyes at the rear-view mirror and then to Will. “Problem?”

  Will’s head snapped around. “Sì. Gli uomini ...” He stopped. Apparently his Italian vocabulary was not up to explaining the circumstances. He indicated their tail. “Non sono buoni.”

  Even Adrian understood that one. Those men were not good indeed.

  The driver gave Will a searching look, then nodded. “OK.”

  When the lights changed she took off at such a pace the force almost gave Adrian whiplash. He clutched the door handle as the taxi lurched from lane to lane, taking corners at speed and inciting a volley of car horns. Beatrice grasped Adrian’s forearm so tightly it pinched. The taxi driver turned into a tiny alley, which Adrian feared might be a dead end, and switched off her lights. They crawled along in darkness, both Will and Adrian peering behind to see if anyone had followed.

  The alleyway remained empty. The taxi driver pulled up the handbrake and waited. Nothing.

  Will lifted his hand up for a high five. “Brava!” he whispered.

  Daria flashed her teeth and reached up to smack his palm. Several seconds ticked by and nothing moved ahead or behind. After a nod from Will, the driver started the engine and turned left into an even smaller alley, little more than a footpath, so that the car shunted bins and cardboard boxes as it progressed towards the lights of a main street. Someone shouted from a balcony above and Daria wound down her window to flip the finger.

  They emerged onto a normal street, quieter than the main drag, but well lit and populated by frequent vehicles. Daria switched the lights on, indicated right and eased into the traffic. Will surveyed the area while Adrian patted Beatrice’s shoulder.

  “She lost them. We’re OK.”

  They had travelled no more than half a mile when Daria released a vicious curse. Adrian recognised none of the words but the tone was unmistakeable. Her eyes were fixed on the wing mirror. Will spun round and stared past Adrian.

  “Shit. They’re back.”

  “Ci sono due!” spat Daria. “Due!” she repeated.

  “Two? Two what?” asked Will, his eyes scanning the street behind them. “Oh, I see. The moped and the black sedan. Hellfire, we’re popular tonight.”

  Adrian peered out at the dazzling blaze of headlights, completely bewildered how anyone could see who was trailing whom. As he watched, Daria changed lanes and one headlight did the same, immediately followed by a much bigger car, street lights reflecting in its black bodywo
rk.

  Without indicating, Daria swung into the right hand lane. The moped did the same. But this time, the big sedan stayed in the left lane, pulled level with the bike, overtook and swerved right in front. The bike slid sideways, throwing both riders to the ground. “Oh my God!” Adrian gasped.

  “What is it?” asked Beatrice, elbowing her way to a sitting position.

  “That car just rammed the moped! Who the hell would do that?”

  Will’s voice was urgent. “Daria, go!”

  The taxi took off at speed and Adrian could see nothing but the commotion of people running from the café tables to help the stricken motorcyclists. The sedan had stopped but no one emerged to check the damage.

  After several minutes of switching, doubling back and racing through back streets, Daria brought the cab to a halt behind some large steel gates.

  Will leapt out. “Adrian! Here, use this remote and open the car park. Take Suhail and Beatrice inside. I will drive another block with Daria and then pay the woman with a handsome tip. You three get inside and shut the gates behind you. I’ll come in the front door. Go, quick!”

  They scrambled out into the night air and slipped between the gates as Daria’s cab rattled off down the street. Adrian fumbled as he inserted the key to the back door, his nerves jangling and on edge.

  Once they got inside, Beatrice heaved a huge shuddering sigh. “I need a large glass of something pungent and a lie down,” she said, leading the way upstairs.

  Suhail’s voice floated up the stairwell. “Beatrice, this is not acceptable. I have brought fear and danger to your doorstep. That is wrong of me. I thank you for all your kindness, but tomorrow I will find somewhere else to stay. I cannot put you and your family at risk. I am ashamed and I apologise.”

  Much of Adrian’s tension lifted as they approached the apartment, which already seemed like home. He tried to reassure their guest. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow. This evening was scary, I agree, but tomorrow we’ll be much more organised. Come on, I need a drink and so do you. Even if it is only a peppermint tea.”

  Beatrice opened the apartment door, marched in and dumped her bag on the nearest chair. “He’s right. I don’t have the energy to argue with you tonight, but we are a team and we must stick together. Adrian, put the kettle on. All we need now is DS Quinn to get home in one piece and we can ... Luke?”

  Adrian heard the catch in her voice and rushed out of the kitchen.

  In his pyjamas, tear-stained and exhausted, Luke stood at the end of the corridor. “Where have you been?” he sobbed.

  Beatrice knelt to embrace him. “Luke, Luke, what is it? Did you have a nightmare? Where’s Matthew?”

  Through hiccupping sobs, Luke managed to say, “Granddad’s not very well. He fell over and I couldn’t wake him up.”

  Suhail was fastest and rushed down the corridor ahead of Adrian, Beatrice hot on their heels. In the doorway of the bathroom, Matthew lay on his front like a fallen tree. Suhail pressed two fingers to his neck and put an ear to his mouth.

  His eyes met Adrian’s. “He’s breathing, but his pulse is weak. I think he’s had a heart attack. You get some aspirin and I’ll call an ambulance.”

  Beatrice crouched beside Matthew, her throat swollen tight as she stroked his hair. “Matthew? Matthew, my love, wake up. Please wake up.”

  Adrian ran for the aspirin, eyes flooded with tears. At the end of the corridor stood Will, white-faced and holding a weeping Luke in his arms.

  Chapter 28

  The corridors of the University Hospital were bright but silent. Beatrice sat in a low chair, staring at the array of highly-coloured magazines on the table in front of her. Her thoughts flew around her head, as black, uncontrolled and malevolent as a flock of Hitchcockian crows.

  She hadn’t been paying enough attention. She knew he was having chest pains. They should have taken him to a specialist the first time he’d complained. Had they taken out health insurance? Ten past four. They must have finished the tests by now. Why had she not listened when he wanted to discuss making a will? Him lying on the floor, Luke trying to rouse him, the idea was unbearable. If she were to lose him now, just after starting their retirement together ... she couldn’t think like that. Matthew was the most important person in the world to her, the love of her life. He was her anchor, the only thing she could depend on. He was as strong as an ... older man who probably ate and drank too much, while doing very little exercise. If he pulled through, no, when he pulled through, she would personally take charge of his diet and exercise. Twenty-five past four. This was entirely her fault.

  She got up and poured some water from the dispenser into a paper cup. Her mouth was dry and her breath stale. She drank it all and was refilling the cup when a nurse came along the corridor.

  “Signora Stubbs?” She beckoned Beatrice with a gentle smile. Beatrice couldn’t tell if her expression was one of deepest sympathy or nothing to worry about. She picked up her bag and followed the woman along identical corridors until they stopped outside a white door. The nurse knocked, listened for permission and gestured for Beatrice to enter.

  The doctor sat behind a desk, typing notes into her computer. She looked up at Beatrice’s worried face.

  “Come in, please, sit down. My name is Doctor Farooqi. Your partner is resting. After we talk, you can go and see him.”

  Beatrice sat, not trusting her voice to express her relief.

  “Mr Bailey had a minor heart attack and suffered a concussion as a result of his fall. We did some tests – an ECG and an angiography – and discovered he has a form of unstable angina. We need to keep him under observation for at least twenty-four hours, as much for the concussion as the heart issues, and we would like to perform further tests. There is a serious risk of further attacks or even a stroke unless we can ensure better blood flow to his heart. We injected him with blood-thinning medication and will watch how he responds. If that doesn’t work, we may need to consider surgery to widen the problematic artery. His condition is treatable, I can assure you. I would like to know a little more about his medical history and lifestyle. Could you tell me how long he has had chest pains?”

  With an overwhelming sense of shame, Beatrice told the woman all she knew. She was completely honest about Matthew’s (and her own) fondness for rich dishes with buttery sauces, red wine, cakes and pastries and his only exercise being a stroll with the dog or a potter round the golf course on a Sunday morning. It all seemed blindingly obvious now and the more she continued, the more foolish she felt.

  The doctor made no judgements but advised Beatrice to read up on the condition and take appropriate steps. Finally she permitted her to see the patient.

  His eyes were closed when she entered his room. She sat in the chair beside his bed and watched his chest rise and fall. Some of his colour had returned, banishing that awful ashen look. She itched to reach for his hand, to feel warmth and life, but did not dare to wake him. Light seeped through the curtains as the first signs of dawn broke over the city. The terrors of the night retreated and for the first time since arriving back at the apartment the previous evening, tears welled in her eyes. Her beloved Matthew was still with her.

  She sent Adrian a reassuring message and turned off the sound on her phone so his reply would not interrupt the peace. Then she gazed at Matthew’s face, recalling his typical expressions of concern, amusement, exasperation, contentment and intense concentration. She patted a tissue to her eyes to stem the leaky tears.

  By the time he woke up almost an hour later, her eyes were dry and itchy, the sun had risen and the usual street noises permeated the room. He gave her a weak smile and stretched out a hand. “Hello, Old Thing. Sorry about all this fuss. Must have given you a bit of a fright.”

  “That is an understatement.” She clasped his hand, trying not to squeeze too hard. “How are you feeling now?”

  “Fragile. Could I have some water?”

  She lifted a glass to his lips and he levered himself gingerly
up onto his elbows to drink. Once finished, he lay back on the pillow and smiled at her again.

  “Thank you. This is all rather disconcerting.” He blinked up at the ceiling. “I know I’m getting on and the chassis is a little worse for wear, but the engine has served me well for nearly seven decades. For the first time in my life, I’m not sure I trust my body. What if it conks out on me again?”

  Beatrice dismissed the thought with a shake of her head. “You’re staying here till the doctor is sure that it won’t. Once they let you out, you and I are going to make some lifestyle changes,” she said, a bossy note in her voice.

  He wrinkled his nose. “Can’t say I like the sound of either of those things. I would vastly prefer to recuperate at home. Am I all right to fly, do you suppose?”

  “Let’s wait and see what the doctor says. Meanwhile, you get some rest and I need to get a few hours’ kip before work. Would you like me to call your daughters?”

  “I’d rather not worry them. Let’s keep it quiet for now. Are you going back to the restaurant today?”

  “Yes.” Beatrice took a deep breath. “I’m near as dammit to solving this case and while you’re in good hands, I’m going to tie it up. Please behave yourself. I’ll be back to see you later this afternoon. Would you like to see Luke? I think he’d be reassured to see you’re all right.”

  “Poor old Small Fry. Must have scared the wits out of the little chap. Please do bring him, if he wants to come. I shall make amends.”

  “Will do. Now be good and don’t flirt with the nurses. I know what you’re like when you start speaking Italian.”

  When Beatrice returned to the apartment to prepare for work, she expected to find everyone still in bed. Not so. Adrian and Luke were fully dressed and washing up in the kitchen.

  “Beatrice! How is he?” Adrian dried his hands on a tea towel and embraced her.

  She hugged him back, grateful for the contact. “He’s awake and talking, but feeling a little delicate. They need him to stay in for tests. If you want to visit later today, he’d be thrilled to see you. Luke, you can go too.”