The End

by Dave Lacey

  ***

  After their meeting with the enigmatic Philippe Lemac, Smithy and Jack headed for the nearest hotel and took seats in the lobby. They ordered drinks, waited for them to be delivered then continued where they had left off earlier.

  “So, you feeling any better?” Smithy asked.

  “Slightly, I suppose. But as the anger has worn off it's been replaced by...fear and confusion. I’m really at a loss as to what this is all about, but I’m determined to find out. At the same time, I believe what Lemac said when he made those threats. They’ve killed six people that we’re aware of. Six people Smithy! I don’t think they’d baulk at a few more.”

  “I agree. But the problem they face is that the more they kill, the more obvious it is that they are killing, and the more likely it is that they get caught. They can’t simply just keep killing. You think we should try to speak to the Met, find out what they think?” he asked.

  “No, not at the moment. They might be in on whatever it is, and it could be our undoing. If what Paul Warwick said was true, if they all knew something they shouldn’t, then think about this. Caleb Thomas tells Anthony Meads, Meads tells Susan Warwick, who he’s sleeping with, she tells Paul her son, he tells Alphonse his partner...”

  “Yes, I–” Smithy interrupted, but was interrupted himself in turn.

  “No, wait! What if Caleb told all of his lieutenants? What if he told Siobhan Mullins?” Jack asked.

  “Then wouldn’t they have killed her too?”

  “Shit, yeah, you’re right. Okay, let me think.” Jack turned to look out of the window while he considered his next thread, hand on his chin, finger tapping at his cheek.

  “Jack, what about Edward Warwick? He must have known.” Smithy asked.

  “No, I think he was killed to make it look like he’d murdered the others then took his own life. There must be something we can check out.”

  “You think we should carry on then? With the case, I mean?”

  “I'm not sure that I can’t carry on, Smithy. I think it would haunt me, and I’m not sure I could forgive myself.” It seemed the decision was made. The two men sat for a few minutes more, locked in their own thoughts.

  “Should we call the boss then?” Smithy asked.

  “Yeah, I suppose we should, my friend.” Jack took out his phone and called Whittaker, a call that was long overdue. The conversation didn’t go too well. Whittaker was furious when Jack told him about the meeting with Lemac. Worse still, he was incandescent when he told him what happened at the end and Jack’s assertion that Lemac had been at the first murder.

  “You’re sure he was definitely there?” he asked.

  “I can’t be certain, as we never spoke about it. But the overwhelming feeling I got during our discussion was that, yeah, he was there at the first murder. And I think he knew that I knew too,” Jack replied.

  “You need to be very careful then, Sumner. We’ve no idea who he’s working for or with. But if he knows the Home Secretary well enough that he was in his office, then I would suggest he’s dangerous to you both.” The boss blew out a long heavy sigh.

  “What do we do now then, sir?” Jack asked him.

  “We need to tread carefully.” Jack was hugely reassured by the fact that his superior used the word ‘we’; it really made all the difference. “It's important we think our way through this. I think it’s also safe to assume that you’ll be watched and possibly listened to for the coming few days, if not weeks. If this enterprise is as far reaching as you think, then it’s reasonable to assume they’ve done it before and will continue to do it until they consider the threat handled. So, I’ll keep in touch with you by text, and I’ll provide you with a new number you can contact me on when I get it sorted.”

  “Thanks boss. Oh, and sir?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks for backing us up.”

  “Don’t be daft.” He was gone.

  “Was he okay?” Smithy asked.

  “He was more than okay, he was great, backed us all the way.” Jack had changed during the course of the call; he was more self assured now. “And now I know what we need to do.” He smiled at his partner.

  Chapter 48

  “Why are you calling me again so soon?” Lemac asked Clarence. Clarence was getting really pissed off with the little frog now, and was idly considering an unseemly end for him. He pondered suffocating him, making it look like he’d died whilst in the throes of auto-asphyxiation. It had its merits.

  “I’m calling you because Sumner and Smith have just called their commanding officer in Manchester. And it would seem they’re mulling over what to do next. I think they’re going to stay put and continue their investigation.”

  “You think so, eh? Why would you think that?” Lemac asked, becoming dismissive.

  “From the conversation, it just seemed they weren’t in a hurry to go back north. And from what their boss said, he’s going to back them up.” Clarence hated having to be subservient to this prick.

  “I see. Very well. What do you propose?” Lemac asked him finally.

  “I propose taking them both out,” Clarence said. “Car crash?” ,

  “No, I have told you before, we cannot harm Sumner. It is vital that he is kept alive. We wait, and when we know they are going to continue and are not going to back off, then we may have to pick them up. Once we have them, then we can deliver the very real threat against their families and see what reaction that gets. Until then, simply observe and report.”

  “Very well, whatever you say. You’re in charge.” Clarence spoke the words like an automaton.

  “Do we have a problem, Mr White?”

  “No, we don’t.” Clarence hung up, elated that he had had the last word.

  He had no idea why Sumner had to stay alive; he didn’t care either. He just longed to be able to blow his brains out, and those of his partner. They were always there, always poking their fucking beaks into whatever it was he was doing, and they had no idea who he was. He was a legend in the dark world he inhabited, the alternative universe populated with spies and politicians, mercenaries and diplomats. These people had no idea of the things he did, had done, in the name of his country for the last fifteen years. The screams he had cut short, the begging he had ignored and the pain he himself had endured. Well, if matters did not proceed as he wished, if they didn’t back off and heed their warning, Clarence would introduce them to his world.

  ***

  For the following two days, the two detectives tracked the comings and goings of the Home Secretary from a distance, a distance great enough that they were certain they were not observed. It was important they didn’t spook Richard Thomas, or those working for him. The way they saw it, he was their only source of further information regarding the case, and what investigation into that case might reveal.

  By following him, they were really looking for another opportunity to speak with him that didn’t involve barging into his office and holding him prisoner until they got what they wanted. It wasn’t going to be easy. His security detail was comprehensive, and they looked to be of unimpeachable quality. The only time it relaxed was when he was in his office, and of course that presented its own difficulties.

  “We could always dress up as workmen. You know, the way they do in films?” Smithy offered.

  “That’s a great idea, you should make a note of it, and add it to the other great ideas you’ve had since we’ve been on this stakeout. Then I can possibly recommend somewhere you can keep them all.” Jack spoke without looking at Smithy; he was watching the various people come and go from the front of the Home Office, squinting through the dirt on the windscreen.

  “You’re no fun when you’re like this,” Smithy mused.

  “Do you have anything useful to contribute? Anything at all?”

  Smithy, at that precise moment, cut a loud fart, then turned slowly to his partner, smiling and angling an eyebrow in question.

  “Impressive. That’s quite a contribution.”
Jack looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

  “Hmm, it does look like we’re going to have to do it the same way as before doesn’t it?” Smithy muttered finally.

  “It does, but I still don’t know how we play it. If we call ahead, Lemac will be there. If we try to barge our way in, we won’t get past security. It's really fucking annoying.”

  “What if I create a diversion in the lobby, then you slip past and go visit him?”

  “Are you serious?” Jack asked, finally looking at his friend.

  “On this occasion, yes, completely. I’ll go in, demand to see him, kick up a fuss. They’ll call security. I’ll fight with them as much as I can, really go for it. You could slip through the gate and up to see our new mate.” He was completely serious, Jack could see that.

  “What a load of bollocks. That would be really stupid. Monumentally stupid!” Jack spluttered.

  “Why? Why would it?” Smithy demanded, grabbing the dash as support as he turned in his seat.

  “Because... it just would, it's a crap idea. You could end up getting a firing squad!”

  “What, for trying to get in to see the Home Sec? And don’t forget, I actually am a police officer.”

  “I know, I still marvel at that even now. There must be a better way.” Jack turned away and thought on it. It was a terrible idea, and so unlikely to work. But then, they had sat around for two days and had yet to come up with a viable solution, except for the going in as workmen suggestion.

  “Well? I’m not hearing anything else that sets my spine tingling, Sumner.” The two looked at each other while they both thought along differing paths. Smithy considered the implications of the plan he had proposed to Jack, whilst Jack tried to think about whether there was any way that they could pull it off.

  “At the moment, I guess we have nothing else in hand,” Jack answered finally.

  “And?” Smithy asked.

  “And so, maybe we could give it a whirl.” He still couldn’t believe he was talking about it.

  “I knew you’d come around in the end. My talents are often overlooked.”

  “Shut up now, Smithy, there’s a good boy. We have to be absolutely certain of what it is we’re going to do.”

  They headed back to the hotel and sat in the lobby for a couple of hours, while they picked the bones out of Smithy’s plan. So many things could go wrong, but they were pretty certain the very worst thing that could happen was that they would be taken into custody by the security service, or MI5 as it’s more commonly known. Jack would go in first and sit in the lobby as if waiting for an appointment. Smithy would follow him in around five minutes later and start to make a ruckus.

  Once it had reached fever pitch, Jack would make his stealthy move and slip over the turnstiles that barred the way, hopefully without being seen. Once security was alerted, the building would likely go into lockdown and there would be nobody in or out, so Jack had to do it at the right time. By the time they were certain of the timing, it was late. They both leaned back in their seats, Jack letting out a long breath and Smithy rubbing his eyes.

  “You think it’ll work?” Smithy asked.

  “No, I don’t. But I don’t think we can get into any serious trouble. We’re involved in a murder investigation, and we’re trying to follow a line of inquiry.” They ordered a bottle of wine, and the pair drank the first glass quickly, then settled down with a second.

  “Have you heard from Sel in the last few days?” Smithy asked airily.

  “I’ve had a few texts, but I’m not looking to rush things,” Jack answered.

  “No, there’s no point is there. In the words of the late great Lance Armstrong, ‘You have all, the time, in the world...’” Smithy laboured, hopelessly out of tune.

  “One, don’t ever do that in public again. And two, it was Louis Armstrong, not Lance.” Jack smiled into his glass.

  “Are you sure, I could have sworn it was Lance. Who’s he then?”

  “Lance is a cyclist, won the Tour de France seven times. Louis is Satchmo, the trumpet player who sang?”

  “Ah whatever.” Smithy drained his glass and recharged it.

  ***

  “What are they still doing here?” Lemac asked Clarence.

  “I don’t know yet, I’m working on it.” Clarence answered through gritted teeth. He really didn’t like the man, but he was enjoying the work so needed to restrain himself. But he vowed that at the end of the assignment, he would gut the frog.

  “I pay you to know, so remind me once more why I’m paying you, if you don’t know?” Lemac demanded.

  “They’re still here, which we know. If they’re still here, then they obviously plan to continue with their little project. Of that much I am sure,” Clarence answered.

  “Are you? Are you sure? How can you be when you don’t know what they are doing? They could be sightseeing!” Lemac was losing control.

  “They aren’t sightseeing. I’ve told you, they’ve been watching the Home Secretary, both at the office and when he’s travelling. I’m certain that they plan to speak with him again, so sure that tomorrow I’m going to hang around the building and see what happens.”

  “They must not speak to him, do you hear me? They must not speak to him. It is imperative that they give up their crusade and head back home, for their own and their families’ safety,” Lemac instructed.

  “Let me kill the little one,” Clarence suddenly begged. Lemac didn’t answer immediately, although Clarence could hear him breathing down the line.

  “No,” he said finally. “If they do not take heed, then maybe, maybe, I will let you kill him. But not until I am certain there is no choice. Do you understand me? Only when I give you the go ahead.” Lemac spoke clearly and concisely.

  “Yes, I understand. Can you advise the Home Secretary and his security detail that I’ll need access to the building, and will possibly need to spend the day shadowing him tomorrow?”

  “Yes, I am certain I can arrange that. What do you think they will do?” Lemac asked.

  “I'm not sure yet, but I think it’ll happen tomorrow. I can’t see how they will wait longer than that. And I intend to be ready when they make their move.

  “C’est bon.”

  Chapter 49

  Both detectives woke feeling leaden the next morning, the red wine having inflicted its usual poisonous effect. After showering, however, things improved to the point where they both considered breakfast. They took the lift down to the ground floor and strolled through to the restaurant, gave their room number and took a seat near the window. A waitress smiled and flipped open a notebook.

  “What can I get you gentlemen to drink, tea or coffee?”

  “Tea please,” they answered in unison. She twirled and was gone.

  “She’s chirpy,” Smithy mumbled.

  “Don’t take it out on her, just because you can’t handle your drink,” Jack answered, already feeling much better than he had twenty minutes ago. They got up and helped themselves to the buffet, starting with cereal then working their way up to a full English. It was typical hotel fair, but it would keep them going until lunchtime, by which time they hoped to have seen the Home Secretary and uncovered more information than they had so far.

  Jack had no idea what would happen today, and, even if they were successful, part of him wondered if they would like what they found. Until now, they had just assumed they needed to know, but in reality maybe it was better for them to go on, blindly ignorant of the truth. It would certainly be safer, for them and their families. But, and it was a big but, if it was something the public had a right to know, if it was something that was being kept from them for no obvious reason, then that was another matter entirely. If there was a cover up, and people were dying simply to protect the reputations and careers of others, then it was their responsibility to blow the whole thing wide open and expose the perpetrators for what they were.

  “Hello, Sumner?” Smithy was trying to get his attention, waving his hand
in front of his eyes.

  “Sorry, yes?”

  “I said, shall we make a move?”

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  Ten minutes later they were turning the corner onto the road that housed the entrance to the Home Office. They pulled into the kerb, and Smithy killed the engine. It was raining again, so within a few minutes the interior of the car became fogged with condensation, which they decided didn’t hurt them too much. Twenty-seven minutes later, Richard Thomas’s chauffeur driven car pulled into the kerb opposite them and the Home Secretary stepped out onto the pavement. His security detail, two of them, climbed out also and flanked him as he made his way to the front doors of the building. They waited five minutes to allow him to make his way to his office, then Jack opened his door, preparing to cross the road.

  “Take it easy, Sumner, there’s no reason why this shouldn’t work.” Smithy smiled tightly.

  “Timing is everything though.”

  “Yes, I know that. See you soon.” Jack gave him a brief grin and closed the door, crossing the road at a run. He reached the doors and pushed open the left hand one, stepping in out of the rain and walking directly to the seating area to the left hand side of the entrance turnstiles and front desk. Managing to remain inconspicuous, he took a seat and picked up a newsletter that lay on the table. He flicked through as if reading it, but was so nervous that reading was impossible; time seemed to have come to a standstill.

  The entrance hall was quite busy with a steady stream of people brushing rainwater from their clothing and shaking out umbrellas. He was trying hard to keep from looking around the foyer nervously, which he was finding immensely difficult, when he noticed his partner enter through the swing doors. Feeling nervous and tense already, Jack felt another bolt of adrenaline mainline its way into his system. He realised after thirty seconds or so that he had not taken a breath for a while, so he tried his best to slow down and get rid of some of the tension.