Nobody Gets Hurt

by R J Bailey

  There we go again. What did I say? That it was my job to make sure nobody gets hurt? I lied.

  I put the pistols in my pockets, the shotgun over my shoulder and flexed a hand that was busy swelling up. Two of my fingers were already as fat as chocolate eclairs. Painkillers could wait, too.

  I went to find what was left of Freddie.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Zürich

  ‘So this all goes back twenty years?’ The Colonel shook his head as if he didn’t believe a word of it. He had my notes in his hand and he shuffled them. ‘It was all about revenge for a murder?’

  ‘Two murders. Mother and unborn child. Marie, Corrigan and the others from FIL tracked Konrad down and, in revenge for blowing their little arms-dealing scam wide open, had planted a car bomb. A bomb made by Marie. It doesn’t forgive what he did,’ I said. ‘But it might explain it. Anyway, that’s all over now.’ Apart from a few nightmares about what happened in that derelict cherry processing plant in the Basque Country, and the sight and smell of the Peugeot after the bomb had done its work. But they would fade. They nearly always do.

  ‘Don’t these people ever forget?’

  It was a rhetorical question. He damned well knew the answer. Long memories formed part of his stock in trade. And in the history of Ireland’s troubles, two decades was the day before yesterday. But I said: ‘They never forget. And they never forgive.’

  ‘I am a great believer in truth and reconciliation.’

  First I’d heard of it. I thought he was an honours graduate of the University of An-Eye-For-An-Eye. ‘But you know there were two murders he was intent on avenging, although they were linked. To lose a mother to a bomb is bad enough. But then, almost twenty years later, his wife went the same way . . . I think it sent him over the edge.’

  Think? I knew it did. I wasn’t sure how I would react to anything happening to Jess like that. I was irrational enough now, when she was simply missing. We are all damaged, Konrad had said back when it all started. And some of us are more damaged than others. It was disconcerting to think that I was on a continuum with a man like him. But that didn’t make it any less likely.

  The Colonel frowned. ‘But why didn’t this Marie Ronan or Mrs Irwin recognise him? When you first picked him up.’

  ‘Why didn’t she know it was her old lover and betrayer? He was a changed man. He’d bulked up, he’d done some cosmetic changes and he nearly always wore those dark glasses. But most of all he was just a hired hand. She’d got used to having little people around her. She wouldn’t have looked at him too closely.’

  ‘And is Myles his son?’

  ‘The dates fit. I think we let sleeping dogs lie on that.’

  ‘You were lucky to get out of there in one piece.’

  I held up my two strapped fingers. ‘Almost in one piece. But I know. If she had accepted my offer to go with her, I’d be in a lot more than one piece.’ It made me sweat when I think of how I had tried to persuade her to take me along to Luxembourg. Thank God I’d pissed her off.

  He scratched at a mole on the side of his head. I had reminded him of something. ‘It is the first time we have lost a Principal,’ the Colonel said. ‘If it gets out . . .’

  I sensed an undertow of accusation. I wanted to slap his face for that. ‘Are you kidding me? It was you who sent the man who wanted to kill her as her bodyguard. What if that gets around the Circuit?’

  He said nothing, simply consulted my notes again. ‘You know your expenses on this are threatening to outdo our earnings.’

  It always came down to the bottom line with the Colonel. And the clear-up of the carnage in the Basque Country can’t have been cheap. ‘How is the boy?’ I asked.

  ‘Recovering. As is the woman, Siobhan. Both in a private hospital.’

  ‘Not in adjacent beds I hope.’

  ‘Not even the same hospital. Both have been visited by lawyers who have laid out some very stark choices for them.’

  ‘She is a murderer. Siobhan.’

  ‘Accessory to murder.’

  ‘She told me while we were waiting for your boys to turn up and bail me out. It was her who shot Ronnie Corrigan through the head. Anjel couldn’t have got close, but a pretty young woman? Isn’t that murder? It is by my definition.’

  ‘When was this?’

  I tried to recall the date on the cutting Anjel had shown me. ‘Five or six years ago, I think.’

  ‘It would be hard to find any forensics after all this time. And it’d just be your word . . .’

  ‘So she walks?’

  ‘We’ll see. But the lad certainly is a murderer, if what you say is true.’

  Why did he have to throw doubts in like that? Now he sounded like a lawyer. ‘It’s true, Colonel. It’s all true. I wish it wasn’t. The boy killed Konrad, Anjel, whatever you want to call him. I think we can get self-defence on that.’

  ‘If it ever comes to court.’ He said it in a way that suggested the carpet was already lifted, the broom ready to go. ‘They have to find a body first.’

  ‘True.’ I didn’t ask for any details. Best not to know.

  ‘Of course, if all goes well for him, Myles will be a very rich young man in a year or so.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘If he can prove the account in Luxembourg was his mother’s.’

  ‘The NOP? The same one where the account manager suffered a hit and run?

  ‘Yes. That one. If he can prove it, he will be due the contents of that account.’

  ‘There’s no justice in this world,’ I said wearily. I now knew, from a long call with Nina, what she had originally told me about the boy and the frat parties. The manipulation charge for Mrs Irwin – Marie – might have been trumped up, but his one was 24-carat. And if I found out he really did squeeze my tits, as soon as he recovered from his gunshot wound I might just shoot him again.

  And then I thought of what the desire for revenge had done to Anjel and Siobhan and countless others. As I had said, best let it lie.

  But there was something nagging at me, like a stone in my shoe or grit in my eye. Something that hadn’t yet clicked into place.

  ‘Can we get back to Jess?’ I said impatiently. I’d had enough of debriefing. ‘Apparently you have recovered a photograph.’ Something else I had no recollection of from my conversation at the chateau.

  ‘Yes. And, you will be pleased to know, we have more news.’

  I waited. He pressed a button on his old-fashioned intercom. ‘I’ll let Henri tell you. Coffee?’

  ‘No thanks.’

  Henri came in a couple of minutes later, with a red folder in his hands. ‘Miss Wylde,’ he said, giving a little bow. ‘I am pleased to say Herr Gorrister made some progress. With the original photo.’ From the folder he slid out an 8×4. It was a blurred picture of an ankle, with some writing above it.

  ‘Poobag,’ I said.

  ‘Pardon?’ asked Henri, adjusting his glasses as if that would make him hear better.

  ‘It is a nickname. Saanvi told me. It says Poobag in Sanskrit or Thai.’

  Henri reddened a little. ‘No, it doesn’t. It says . . .’ He cleared his throat. ‘White slut.’

  There was a moment of tension before I gave a little laugh. ‘Well, that serves her right. I just hope it’s not true.’

  ‘There is more,’ said the Colonel.

  ‘There was some information in the picture, down at pixel level. A code identifying the cameraphone used. Gorrister did a search for images with the same unique alphanumerical sequence.’

  ‘What, around the world?’ How good was this guy? Or how many people did he employ?

  ‘No, he was initially able to narrow it down. Because the tattoo isn’t written in Sanskrit or Thai, Miss Wylde. It is in Balinese.’

  ‘Balinese?’

  ‘From Bali.’

  ‘Yes, I gathered that,’ I snapped. ‘Jesus. She’s in Bali?’

  ‘She certainly was at some point.’ Henri passed me several other photos, one taken
in a bar that was clearly the one that had gone across on Snapchat to Saanvi. Jess with a young boy, a surfer type, with his arm round her, dangling over her shoulder, as if heading for . . .

  It hit me like a baseball bat around the head, in a way just the ankle shot couldn’t. That was abstract. This was my Jess, out there in a world where people like Myles existed, across the other side of the world. A world of hook-ups and date-rape drugs and lost memories. I had known all along that was the slalom course of modern life she would have to navigate. But here was the pictorial evidence that she was already out of the starting gate.

  The noise in my head was like water gushing down a pipe.

  ‘Sam?’

  I managed to say, ‘Yes?’

  ‘You all right? Please, Henri, fetch Miss Wylde some water.’

  He went out and came back with a paper cup of water that I tossed back. ‘Another, please.’

  I was fighting being sick, struggling to keep from screaming and absolutely determined not to break anything, although I felt like taking an axe to the desk.

  I began to sort through the other photos.

  ‘Sam, do you think that’s a good—’ the Colonel began.

  ‘I want to see her. I want to see what she looks like.’

  And I did, lying on a sunlounger next to a pool. At the beach, holding a surfboard. It was heartbreaking. Although at least there were no priapic boys draped over her.

  I took the next cup of water and sipped. ‘Any of these have a GPS tag?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘This one with the pool. Look at that background. And there’s a monogram on the towel. Blow that up and we should be able to ID the hotel.’

  ‘It is possible,’ said the Colonel.

  ‘Which might give us the location on the island.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll get on to it,’ said Henri.

  ‘You know, the Red Notice and the EAW still bothers me,’ I said.

  The change of gear took the Colonel by surprise. ‘What?’

  ‘The EAW that was served on the woman we thought was Mrs Irwin. How did you know about that?’

  Henri, sensing his work was done, started to excuse himself.

  ‘No, stay here,’ I said firmly. ‘You might be able to help me with this. How do you get notified about a European Arrest Warrant?’

  ‘There is a daily bulletin. It goes to all national police services across Europe. For a small fee, we get to see a copy,’ said the Colonel.

  ‘Every day?’

  ‘Yes, it is emailed across to me. Well, to Henri.’

  I looked up at Henri. ‘How difficult would it be to intercept the bulletin and add an item of your own. Imitating the style and format? Like phishing?’

  ‘I . . .’

  ‘Not difficult for a man like Gorrister?’

  Henri looked offended. ‘Gorrister? Are you suggesting—’

  ‘No, I’m not suggesting anything. I just mean any man with his skill set.’

  ‘Not too difficult, I suppose.’

  ‘What are you driving at?’ asked the Colonel.

  ‘Anjel told me that there had never been a warrant out for Mrs Irwin. But you thought so. She thought so . . .’

  ‘Because we told her,’ said the Colonel wearily.

  ‘Because it was on the bulletin. Right?’

  I looked at Henri, who indicated with a curt nod that it had been.

  ‘Who is going to doubt an official Europol release?’ I said, trying to make him feel better. ‘Can you check the original bulletin against the one you received? To see if they are identical or if one of them has been, um, expanded? Tampered with in some way?’

  ‘I suppose.’ He didn’t sound too thrilled about it. The thought that he might have been duped clearly rankled. Me, I was getting used to it.

  ‘Ask Dujardin at the National Crime Agency. He owes me a favour,’ suggested the Colonel. ‘See if they match. See if they had Mrs Irwin down for this charge.’

  When Henri had gone, he put his head in his hands. ‘It just keeps getting better.’

  ‘You know the next question, don’t you?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Who suggested George Konrad as the bodyguard for Mrs Irwin? Because whoever it was failed to perform the proper background checks. And I suspect that wasn’t you, Colonel.’

  He sniffed. ‘The same person who brought the Red Notice to my attention.’

  We both glanced at the door. ‘Henri,’ I said softly. ‘Who suggested me?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘When we first met, Konrad said he had been expecting to fly solo. I had a feeling I was a late addition to the party.’

  ‘It was my idea. I thought it was a two-person job.’

  ‘Did Henri agree?’

  I thought it was impossible for more wrinkles to appear on that face, but as he grasped the implications of what I was saying it crumpled a little, creating more crevices. ‘No. He argued you were an unnecessary cost.’

  ‘So we can assume that Henri was working for Konrad. He slipped in the phoney EAW and the Red Notice. He set it up so that Konrad was the only security. But first I turn up, and then the son. So Konrad is forced to improvise. He doesn’t want to kill us, not at first, so he sets up the chateau and dumps us there. Agreed?’

  I stared at the Colonel until he nodded. I went to rise but he shook his head. ‘Please, Sam. Sit down. He’s my son.’

  ‘I won’t hurt him.’

  A flicker of pain crossed his face. ‘You have a habit of hurting everyone, Sam.’

  I sat back down, shocked at the thought. And perhaps recognising the truth of it. ‘Did he do it for money?’ I asked.

  ‘Blackmail, perhaps. I can’t say I know everything about him. Henri, I mean.’

  ‘Who can say that about anyone?’ I stood up and gathered the photos into the file Henri had brought. ‘But he’s a bad apple.’

  ‘He’s also flesh and blood. My flesh and blood.’

  That was no excuse as far as I was concerned. ‘Who almost got me killed. And is indirectly responsible for the deaths of both Marie Ronan and Konrad.’

  ‘You will let me deal with this? I like to clean out my own stables. I’ll get to the bottom of it.’

  I let him sweat for a minute and then shrugged. ‘If you wish.’ I grabbed my bag and put it over my shoulder.

  ‘Thank you.’

  For a second I was looking not at the man who was at the centre of a web of operatives across Europe, but at a heartbroken old man. A father. ‘I’m not going to touch him,’ I said eventually. ‘I promise. But you and he need to have a long talk. And let me know the upshot.’

  ‘Thank you. Where are you going now?’ he asked.

  I looked at him like he had lost his mind. ‘Where do you think?’

  ‘Ah, yes. I’ll be in touch, Sam. I promise. I’ll give you chapter and verse.’

  ‘I look forward to it.’

  I left, closing the door behind me, leaving him to his crushing disappointment. I padded on springy carpet past Henri’s office on the way to the lift. That door was also closed, the blinds down. I thought about kicking it down and dragging him across the desk by his Hermès tie, but I doubted that would achieve anything. Professional pride would mean that the Colonel would get to the truth, that much I was certain of.

  For my part, I was going to Bali. I was going to find my daughter. And with a bit of luck, I wouldn’t be alone on this one, if I played my cards right. I took the lift down to the ground floor. She was waiting for me in the café round the corner, face turned to the sun.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Wednesday

  I’m trying not to think too much about what happened at the house the other night. It’s enough to give me nightmares, worse than I get from The Walking Dead. I REALLY don’t want to imagine what would have happened if Dad and Sarah hadn’t had a row on the Saturday afternoon. He stormed out of the hotel and caught a plane back home. Went to the bar, found it closi
ng. Putu told him Dieter had come to see me after a stonking argument with Aja.

  Matt came home and found that Dieter was buzzing out of his mind and he BEAT THE SHIT out of Dieter. I had to pull him off the guy before he killed him. I’m not even joking.

  I have never seen Matt like that. It helped that Dieter had done so many drugs and so much booze that he must have been seeing triple. Still, I’m proud of Matt, because even shit-faced Dieter was a bit of a scary guy.

  Anyway, Matt panicked because Dieter has some even scarier friends, apparently. Like that cop from the bar. So we had to leave Bali real quick. There, I can say it now. We were in Bali, down near Jimbaran Bay, below Kuta. But we had to get out by BOAT, can you believe. Vomit. Well, I didn’t, but almost.

  But we are on dry land, now. We’ve got some moving on to do. We have to cover our tracks. Dad says Dieter is bound to come after us. I think he might just be being paranoid. But as he said, better safe than sorry. So it’s back to hush-hush again. Off to a ‘secret location’, as Matt says.

  Matt says we might not be away too much longer. Mum is getting better, the court case is nearly over and we should be back home soon – Hurray!! Be good to see Mum again – and the Poobags.

  But it’s Bye for now.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Zürich

  I explained what had just happened in the office. Freddie couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. I couldn’t blame her. ‘His own son?’

  ‘That’s my best guess,’ I said.

  ‘That’s a pisser all round. If you are right, what will the Colonel do about him?’

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to be in Henri’s shoes. But I think we should move on. Leave and close the door behind us. Or, at least, I should. Tell me, do you think Konrad would have fooled me a year ago?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The Basque phrases he used. Neska something. And bloody velvet swimming crabs – you don’t get them in Hungary.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  I had been obsessing on this. ‘When I was at my best, I would have smelled a rat about Konrad from the off. The gourmet gunman? The considerate killer? Do me a favour. But I didn’t. You know why? Jess. Part of my brain has been disengaged from the job, worrying away about her. It’s cost me my edge.’