by Dave Lacey
Richard hadn’t spoken to Caleb for weeks now. On the last occasion, they had argued over Caleb’s refusal to acknowledge his culpability in what was taking place. He steadfastly refused to admit that the deaths were his fault. He simply stated that it should not have been a secret to start with and that the whole world should know what was going to happen. Richard had lost all control and had finished the conversation by screaming down the phone at him. As he sat at his desk replaying the conversation over in his head, the phone rang. It was his secretary.
“Yes, Marva?” he said.
“Sir, I have a Mr Mechanic on the line?” She sounded puzzled. “He said you would want to talk to him.”
“Yes, please put him through, Marva. Hello?”
“Mr Home Secretary. How are you today?”
“Can we get the pleasantries out of the way please? What has happened now?”
“I have some bad news for you, I'm afraid.” His accent was starting to become annoying. Why they had brought him in was beyond his understanding.
“Yes? Out with it then.”
“I'm afraid that early last evening your brother was killed by a van driver, near his church headquarters in London.” The Home Secretary was stunned. He leaned forward in his chair and placed his elbows on the desk, running his free hand through his thinning hair.
“You bastard! Why did you do this?” His anger wasn’t very convincing; he felt numb.
“I assure you, Home Secretary, it was an accident. However, my man was planning on removing him anyway.” Thomas could tell the other man was enjoying this.
“Why? You have no right to do this. You’re nothing. I will have your head for this!” The Home Secretary snapped, his bunched fist hammering the desktop.
“No Richard, you will not. You will do exactly as I say. I have been given full remit now to do anything that is required to keep this situation quiet. Including, if I deem it necessary, removal of any serious security threat. You know what that means, Richard?” Thomas was dumbfounded.
“Yes, I think I do. If you think for even a moment–”
“Richard, let me stop you there. Do not threaten me, or the project. If I consider anything you say or do a threat, then I will not hesitate to have you taken care of. I am deadly serious when I tell you that I will feel nothing if I have to remove you. Do you understand this?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, the meeting you have taken with the two detectives?”
“Yes. I still don’t understand why you told me to see them?”
“That is none of your concern. You will not take the meeting. I will be there when the two policemen arrive. I will take the meeting.”
“But why? Why would you want to do that? What do they have to do with all of this?”
“I will tell you because it is of no importance to me. They are coming to ask you about your brother’s death, I assume, and they will want to know more, I think. They have been investigating the deaths that took place in Manchester, and they clearly will not let matters lie.” The Mechanic sounded irritated now. The Home Secretary laughed, with more than a hint of hysteria.
“What is so funny?” the Mechanic asked.
“I’m wondering why you don’t just have them killed, like you have with so many over the years?”
“That is none of your business, Richard, all you need to know is that I will be at your office at around eleven forty-five, so you have no need to be.” Now the Mechanic was more than irritated, he was annoyed. Good, thought Thomas, he was glad to have gotten under the patronising bastard’s skin.
“Where would you have me go then?” he asked with a little more dignity.
“I do not care where you go, just do not be there when I get there. I have no desire to see you at all for quite some time.”
Chapter 46
Jack and Smithy arrived at the office of the Home Secretary at eleven fifty, having been through security and signing some official looking paperwork. Feeling grumpy and a little tense, they waited outside the room for a further seven or eight minutes, before the secretary stood up and walked around her desk to grant them their audience. When they walked in, a man was stood facing them, leaning back against the desk with his hands supporting his weight on the edge of it. Neither of them recognised him as the Home Secretary. The man smiled and bade them enter.
“Please come in, gentlemen, and take a seat.” The man smiled again as he folded his arms across his chest. “I am sure you are wondering who I am and why the Home Secretary is not here?”
“At the very least,” Jack said flatly.
“Well, I must say, it is nice, to finally meet you. My name is Philippe Lemac, but I am known in the world that I inhabit as ‘The Mechanic’. May I offer you a drink? Some coffee?”
“No, thanks. French?” Jack asked.
“Oui, for my sins.” He gave a fruity little chuckle.
“Why is a Frenchman standing in the office of the British Home Secretary, talking to two British detectives?” Smithy shrugged. “If you don’t mind my asking?”
“Not at all, not at all. I am employed by your government on a...consultative, is that the right word?” Jack nodded. “On a consultative basis. My government also works closely with your government on many occasions, so I was thrown across the Channel to help out with a few things.” He still looked highly amused by the whole meeting, but then, he was holding all the cards. Something was niggling at Jack, something deep within the recesses of his mind, a sensation that a link had been made, but he just couldn’t quite reach it.
“Like what?” Smithy asked.
“Oh, I'm afraid that is way above your pay grade, gentlemen, and not something that I wish to discuss with two...grunts, is that the right word?” He smiled as he looked from one to the other. Smithy hadn’t moved, but Jack placed his hand on Smithy’s arm all the same.
“I'm pretty certain you know the propriety of that word, Mr Lemac.” Jack paused.
“Please, call me Philippe.” And he smiled again. Jack knew now what the smile reminded him of – it was a shark, as it came in for the first bite.
“If it's all the same to you, I’ll stick with Mr Lemac. Where is the Home Secretary, and why isn’t he here to see us?”
“Jack, Tobias, the Home Secretary would have liked to have been here, but he was unavoidably called away on business. Now, how may I help you?”
“We came here today to discuss a case that we’ve been involved in with the Home Secretary, which we believe may have involved a member of his family. Surely that’s important enough for us to be able to talk with him?” Jack asked, choosing to ignore the fact that the man knew both their first names. Smithy had said nothing for a few minutes now; he just sat glaring at their host.
“I'm afraid not. He was informed of the death of his brother a little while ago. He took it very badly, I have to say. I presume that was what you were referring to?”
“I suppose it was you who told him?” Jack asked, ignoring the question, trying not to show any surprise.
“Yes it was.” He was smiling again.
“Well, in that case we’ll be leaving now. I guess we can speak to him another time.” Jack moved as if to stand. Lemac spoke again.
“Oh, why would you need to do that?” For the first time, the Frenchman looked alert and maybe even slightly worried.
“Oh that’s none of your concern really, Philippe, it’s just police business. Come, Tobias, let’s leave this gentleman to his work, whatever that may be.” Out of Lemac’s eye line, he looked at Smithy and winked.
“Detective Sumner, you will not be able to see the Home Secretary at any point in the future, I'm afraid.” He spoke now as if talking to small children. “It is simply not going to be possible.”
“Philippe, I really don’t think that’s anything for you to worry about, we’ll take it from here.” Jack nodded to underline the fact that they had nothing further to say to each other and turned again to Smithy. They were at the door when Lema
c spoke again.
“I know the case you are working on.” Jack and Smithy froze, noting the slightest hint of desperation in Lemac’s voice. They paused, and turned back slowly to face the Frenchman.
“Do you?” Jack asked in a light tone, belying the tension he felt throughout his body.
“I do.” As if to provide confirmation, which Jack was certain was not the motive, Lemac shook a cigarette out of a pack and lit it, inhaling deeply. He continued to hold Smithy’s gaze through the smoke. It wasn’t the lighting of the cigarette, or even the fact that in all buildings across the UK smoking was banned, it was the memory that the smell evoked. It was, without doubt, a French cigarette, and without looking Jack would have put money on the brand. The synaptic superhighways had connected, providing clarity of memory.
“You know, I could arrest you for smoking in here, Philippe? You’ve been a bad boy.” Smithy looked bemusedly at Jack, but now Jack’s entire focus was on The Mechanic. For a moment, Jack was certain that Lemac knew exactly what he was referring to, even if Smithy didn’t. An emotion flickered across his features, and then he merely looked at Jack with something bordering on respect.
“You could, Detective, but what would be the fun in that? It would certainly be an end to our friendship.” He waved his cigarette hand airily.
“You must find it difficult to find those over here?” Jack gestured at the cigarette in Lemac’s hand.
“Not as difficult as you might think, Jack.” He winked as he took another drag.
“They’re quite a litter hazard though – you should be more careful.” The two men were staring at each other without so much as a blink now, and suddenly the air was charged. Smithy had no idea what was happening, but he knew it was serious.
“I am usually very careful, very careful indeed.”
“Not careful enough it would seem. What, or rather how, do you know of the case we’re working on?”
“Do you really think I or the Home Secretary would just let two lowly detectives walk into this office without doing our homework? Now you’re simply being naive.” He took another long drag on his cigarette.
“Well, I still don’t see it's any of your concern. We’ll continue with our investigation, and we will get to the bottom of it, I assure you. And when we do, I guarantee we’ll get those responsible, you can assure the Home Secretary of that.” Although he had made it sound final, Jack never moved from the spot.
“I am going to say just one thing, Detective, and I will say it only once. The general consensus, even here in the seat of power, is that your case was closed just a few days ago. It should stay that way.” He stubbed out his cigarette, and stared at them hard, leaving no room for misinterpretation.
“Is that so?” Jack asked softly.
“Yes, it is. It could be dangerous for you…but not only for you. For instance, you both have families, I imagine, and with a mad killer on the loose, what if he were to take an interest in them?” Lemac gave the quintessential Gallic shrug. “The results could be...catastrophique, non?”
“But I thought you said the case was closed, Philippe?” Barely controlling his anger, Jack spoke through clenched teeth. “Why would there still be a mad killer on the loose, if the case was solved?”
“It is up to you, Jacques, I just offer friendly advice.” Another shrug; the man was becoming more French by the second.
“Well,” Smithy cut in, “we’ll be going then. Thanks for your time, Phil.” He nodded, opened the door, grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him through the door with him. The door closed behind them, and neither spoke until they were out into the main corridor with its marble floor and high ceilings.
“What was that all about?” Smithy asked out of the corner of his mouth, as they walked side by side, heading for the main stairwell. Jack, his lips compressed into a thin line, was almost panting, and looked as angry as Smithy had ever seen him.
“I’ll tell you when we’re out of this place,” Jack said.
“I know I missed something meaningful, but, shit, I thought you two were going to go at each other. Jack, it was really intense.” Smithy had half turned toward him now.
“I’ll tell you in the car. This is not the place to discuss it. Obviously, the Home Secretary has bigger things to think about than his brother being dead, to the point that the creepy Frenchman tells him what to do and where to be.” His bad temper was in no way dissipated when they reached the car and got in. Neither made any move to fasten seatbelts; they were not moving any time soon.
“Okay, so tell me.” Smithy turned in his seat and looked earnestly at his partner.
“Didn’t anything in there trigger a memory? You know, your sense of smell is supposed to be the sense that instantly places back inside a memory. Although, having thought about it, we didn’t smell it first time round, we saw it. But for me, it reminds me of all my holidays with the family in France, an unmistakable smell really.” He looked at Smithy expecting a reaction; instead he got confusion.
“That’s great, but do you think we could cut to the chase and you could share with me what it is you remember?”
“Gauloises. He was smoking Gauloises cigarettes.” Jack thrust his head forward and raised his eyebrows.
“What’s your p...” The penny had dropped. “Oh shit, no. Really, he was there?” Smithy stared without seeing now, his mind’s eye was back at the scene of Alphonse Ngwenye’s murder.
“Yes, he was there. He was the watcher. And he knew I’d made him in that room, he knew what I was thinking, and that’s why he made the threat on both our families. It was a warning, Smithy, clear and concise. Stop digging further into our case, or there will be trouble. And from the way things have panned out up till now, I wouldn’t think they would baulk at getting rid of both of us and members of our families if required.” Jack finished and looked out of the windscreen, suddenly feeling frustrated and a little scared.
“Why would the government want to kill all those people? What could possibly be so important that they would mount a cover up of these proportions? And what the hell do we do next?”
“We take our time and decide whether to continue or not I suppose. And we really do have to give that some thought. Maybe we should just stop and leave it be? Who knows, but I do know one thing, there’s something rotten about a foreign national occupying the office of the Home Secretary for any amount of time, even if only to see us off.”
“We can’t just walk away from it, can we? I mean, surely we have find out what’s going on here, and at the very least let the public know what it is?” Smithy implored.
“That’s what we have to decide, Smithy, and we aren’t only deciding for ourselves are we – we’re deciding for our families too. A chat with the boss wouldn’t hurt either.”
“Jack, I don’t know what we should do from here. This is unknown territory for me. I just know that you’ll decide to do whatever is right, for everybody.”
“Smithy, it’s not just my decision, you know that. I just hope that whatever we do, we make the right choice.
Chapter 47
“What’s our next move?” Clarence asked on answering Lemac’s call.
“There is no ‘our’, there is no ‘we’. I will decide what happens, and you will do what I tell you. Do you understand?” The Mechanic was harsh, still rattled by his meeting with the two police officers.
“Of course I understand. I simply meant, what would you like me to do next?”
“I don’t know at present. I will have to ponder this predicament for a little while. I was not anticipating the outcome of the meeting I have just had, it did not go very well. Also, I am not entirely convinced I am happy about the work you have done. Our friendly detectives did not follow your trail of breadcrumbs to their false conclusion. Instead they have come to their own conclusion, which led them here, to London. If you had done your job properly, I would not be in this situation.” Now Lemac felt angry. He knew it was not the killer’s fault; he knew the blame was appor
tioned long before they got Clarence involved, but he took it out on him all the same.
“I was only able to do so much after the hand I was dealt. Well I’m sorry you feel that I’m to blame, but I don’t think that’s the case. If you feel that strongly about it, maybe you should get somebody else?”
“My dear Clarence, if I felt that strongly about it, you would already be dead and I would already have somebody else, wouldn’t I?” Lemac had regained some of his smug arrogance. Clarence grunted in response, then snarled.
“What do you want then?”
Philippe Lemac thought for a moment before giving his reply.“For the time being, I want you to follow our intrepid detectives. Watch what they are doing and where they are going. I have a feeling they will not give up so easily though. A more radical solution may have to be sought,” Lemac added softly.
“I see. Very well. What about those further up the chain, the HS as we discussed previously?” The killer at least had the good grace not to say the title out loud.
“Not yet. I have a feeling that would tip the balance too far and we might struggle to keep a lid on things then. No, I think we will wait and see. I don’t imagine he will be in a hurry to divulge to anybody else.” Lemac had to remind himself that his hired gun who didn’t know the secret they were keeping. He had to be careful not to give away too much.
“We are done for now. Update me when you have information.” He did not wait for a response, but hung up and returned to his thoughts. He leaned back in the deeply luxurious swivel chair the Home Secretary had had installed in his office. Lemac found himself in a troubling cul de sac, and at the moment could not think his way out of it. In truth, it was probably not as bad as he thought; Detective Sumner did not know that Lemac could not kill him. He had no idea of his future value, and so any threat would carry the same gravitas as if he were indeed able to kill him.
Still, the problem grew in complexity if the detectives chose to ignore his warning. If they did so, Lemac might have to follow through on his threat against the families of the two policemen, from which he would not derive any great pleasure. Not because he lacked the stomach, but rather because it would multiply the ramifications to the point where it would be impossible for the enterprise, those who knew, to keep their secret. It was quite a bind he found himself in. The good news, though, was that he couldn’t think of anybody other than the Home Secretary who was left for them to question, and therefore nobody left to ‘spill the beans’ as the English were so fond of saying.
