by Matt Johnson
‘Kev. Stop!’ I yelled. ‘It’s my wife. It’s Jenny.’
My desperate plea had the desired effect. The two adversaries lay back on the damp grass, breathing heavily.
I shone the torch at Jenny. She looked a mess. Her t-shirt was torn and her long hair was stuck to the sweat that covered her face. As she swept the hair away I could see a red swelling already starting to appear beneath her left eye.
‘What the hell are you doing here, Jen?’
‘Perhaps I should be asking you that question.’ She literally spat the words at me.
I crouched down for a moment, not quite sure what to say. Just what was she doing here? She must have followed me somehow.
‘Where’s Becky?’ I asked, stalling while I thought what to do, what to tell her.
‘With my mother. So what the hell’s going on here, Bob? Why are you meeting this … this thug, in the middle of a common at night?’
As she finished the question she aimed another kick at Kevin. He saw it coming and rolled out of harm’s way.
‘He’s in the job, Jen. Same as me. We had things to discuss. You met him the other day, when Monaghan called. Remember?’ I shone the torch in Kevin’s face.
‘Yeah, I remember him.’ She kicked out again. ‘Do you make a habit of beating up women? Bastard!’
‘Jenny. Cool it,’ I said. ‘In the dark, he didn’t know it was a woman.’
‘Well, who did you think it was? I might have been someone walking their dog. Why attack me like that?’
I had to be careful what I said. As I hesitated, Kevin got in before me.
‘I’m real sorry, Mrs Finlay. Thing is … your husband and me … well we have reasons to be a bit jumpy right now.’
‘So, you’re in on it are you? What are you? His alibi or something?’ Jenny turned to face me. ‘I know what you’re up to, Bob. I might not have caught you tonight, but I know what you’re doing.’
‘Jenny,’ I pleaded. ‘Hush it. We don’t want the whole world hearing us here.’
‘Quiet? Why the hell should I keep quiet? I know Bob, I know.’
‘What do you know Jen?’
‘You’re shagging some tart. It’s no use denying it. I’ve had you followed, I’ve got the evidence.’
For a moment I was stunned. She had me followed, got the evidence? Evidence of what? I wasn’t seeing anyone else. What was she talking about? I’d been taking precautions to avoid being followed. Surely not, I thought, she couldn’t have been?
‘You can’t have any evidence, Jen. You’re crazy. What do you mean you’ve had me followed?’
‘Explain why you’re always home late these days then? Explain the text messages on your phone? “We need to talk.”’ She quoted the message, her tone, sarcastic. ‘I bet you needed to talk, don’t take me for a fool, I know the signs.’
Kevin spoke again. ‘That text was from me, Mrs Finlay. It was me asking your husband for a meeting, not some woman.’
‘Well … what about the coming home late? … And you’re always too tired for me.’
‘My fault again,’ Kevin continued. ‘Finlay and me have had some things to take care of, work things.’
‘Look. I don’t know who you are, but would you kindly shut up. This is between my husband and me.’ Jenny turned back to face me again. ‘Well, Robert? Got a voice of your own or is your pet gorilla gonna do all the talking?’
‘What can I say, Jen? What were you expecting to find here? Me meeting another woman? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you.’ It was my turn to be angry now. I had enough to worry about without my wife racing round making accusations like that. I’d never known Jenny be so way off the mark. A part of me almost wanted to laugh; when would I have time to see another woman?
Jenny must have caught the drift of my thoughts because her facial expression changed from one of anger to one of embarrassment. ‘Look … can we talk about this at home?’ she said.
‘Have you really had me followed?’ I asked her.
‘No. I was bluffing. How the hell would I afford a private detective?’
I breathed a sigh of relief.
Jenny stood up and brushed herself down. ‘That doesn’t explain what you two are doing here though, does it? And don’t give me any more bullshit about police business. I’m not as green as I am cabbage-looking.’
I laughed and looked at Kevin. ‘What do you think, Kev?’
‘What the hell. She was going to find out anyway.’
‘Find out what?’ Jenny interrupted. ‘You’re not gonna tell me you two are gay or something?’ She looked at me and took a step backward. ‘Oh, Christ. You’re not are you? That’s it … oh fucking shit … I was right.’
‘Whoa, whoa, hold on there.’ I laughed at the irony of the situation. ‘No, it’s much worse than that.’
‘Worse … what could be worse than finding out my husband is having it off with another bloke?’
‘I think we’d better sit in the car.’
I opened the passenger door for Jenny. She climbed in without making any further comment. I shut the door, walked around the car and joined her in the front.
As Kevin opened one of the rear doors, Jenny turned to me. ‘Not him. It’s you I want to hear, not him.’
‘Just be patient, Jen. Kevin, tell her will you?’
Kevin sat in and closed the door behind him. ‘Did you watch the Iranian Embassy siege on the telly?’ he asked Jenny.
‘Before we go any further, what’s your mobile phone number?’ Jenny twisted around in her seat to face him.
‘What do you want that for?’
Jenny smirked sarcastically. ‘I trust in God, everything else I check. Remember that one, Bob?’ She turned and the look in her eyes told me there was no humour behind her question.
As Kevin related his number, Jenny pulled a piece of paper from her trouser pocket and appeared to check it against another she had written down. ‘OK,’ she sighed. ‘Perhaps it was you sending the texts. Now what has the Iranian Embassy siege got to do with this?’
Kevin continued. ‘Remember the SAS entry team – the guys that went through the windows to take out the terrorists? That’s how your husband and me are connected.’
‘One of them got burnt, I remember it. We all watched it on TV. So what connection have you two got to that?’
Kevin remained silent as what he had said sank in.
‘Wait on,’ said Jenny. ‘You’re not gonna tell me that you two were involved in that?’ Jenny turned to me in disbelief. ‘I thought you were in the artillery.’
I smiled. ‘What can I say?’
‘You could start with the truth.’ Again, her tone was sarcastic.
‘That is the truth.’
‘You’re trying to tell me that you were one of those guys in black suits? No way … no way.’
Kevin spoke again. ‘Monaghan, the man that contacted you a week or so ago? He was our Commanding Officer. Mr Finlay here was in charge of planning and logistics. I was on the entry team. Bob Bridges, the policeman that was blown up outside Selfridges. He was another one of us.’
‘So, you weren’t actually one of the men on the ropes?’ Jenny asked me.
‘No,’ I replied. ‘There were no officers on the entry team.’
Jenny turned to face the windscreen. ‘You’re telling me the truth, aren’t you? You guys really were in the SAS. I can’t believe this.’ Turning back to me she asked, ‘But why have you never told me before?’
‘I wanted to. It’s just … well, things like that are sometimes best kept secret … even from family.’
‘Any other little secrets you want to tell me?’
‘Such as?’
‘Such as why you two are here? Why this man Monaghan has suddenly appeared?’ A light seemed to switch on in Jenny’s brain. She took a deep breath. ‘You’re not here to talk funeral arrangements, I guess?’
‘Where’s your car?’ I asked. Even as I did so, I was aware of a sense of relief that my past was
no longer a secret between us. Every time I’d lied about it, I had felt uncomfortable and fearful that Jenny might recognise the signs of my dishonesty. Now, due to a perverse misreading of my behaviour, my secret was exposed. And even with what we were facing, that still made me smile.
‘Over there somewhere.’ Jenny nodded in the direction of the nearest road. ‘I hid it behind a lorry so you wouldn’t see me following you.’
As I started the engine, Kevin tapped me on the shoulder. He’d decided to walk back to his car.
‘Leave you with it, boss. Call me,’ he mumbled as he climbed out into the lane. He appeared to guess this was going to be the emotional bit and that Jenny and I were probably best left alone.
I found Jenny’s car easily. She was starting to shiver so I left my engine running to get us warm.
‘I’m sorry, Bob.’ Jenny gently rubbed my thigh as she spoke.
‘For what?’
‘Not trusting you. Thinking you had another woman. The last few days have been hell. I was convinced, completely.’
‘No. It’s not another woman. I’m real sorry, Jen, but it’s far worse.’
And so I explained. Just as I had rehearsed it. The call from Monaghan. His theories about the murders. I told her about the ROSE office, about Mac, Skinner, Bridges and about the evidence that linked the attacks to missing files that were apparently in the possession of the IRA. I also told her that we now knew where the terrorists were hiding out.
Jenny nodded and blinked as she listened, but made no attempt to interrupt or question me. All the time she continued to stroke my leg. She only stopped when I reached the point about us having to consider hiding until it all blew over.
‘But how could we hide?’ she said. ‘If they can find that man in India or wherever it was, they could find us.’
‘It’s not a simple decision, Jen. I’m responsible for you and Becky.’
‘That man Monaghan is right. Someone has to kill the killers.’
‘That’s just what Kevin says. I’m just not sure I’m up to it. I’m too old, for one.’
Jenny’s stroking hand now gripped my arm. I was surprised by her determination. ‘Too old to save your family, save your friends? Too old to save yourself?’ she said.
I found it hard to believe what I was hearing. It was as if Monaghan was sitting in the seat behind us silently willing the words into Jenny’s mouth.
I took hold of her hand. ‘What if I get killed? It’s a young man’s job.’
‘And what if I get killed because you failed to protect us? What about protecting our daughter? How are we ever going to be safe unless you do what has to be done?’
‘We can run … hide,’ I said.
‘Three of us? And for how long? There’s nowhere we could hide forever. You want us all looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives? Do you want to watch your daughter growing up never knowing when someone is going to come round the corner to kill her or me or all of us, for a job you once did? You can stop this, Finlay, you know you can, I believe you can. I want to live a full life with you and Becky, not a half life. Or do you want me to start learning how to use one of your guns in the hope I’m lucky enough to be able to shoot the bastard that finds us?’
Christ, I loved her. I reached over and we hugged. As our cheeks touched I could feel the tears on Jenny’s face. We agreed to continue our discussion at home. She got out, returned to her car and I followed her back to the cottage.
On the short journey, I thought about what had just happened. I knew she was right. I was trying to avoid the inevitable. I’d seen the effect that a life on the run can cause families. With the army, I had been in charge of protection duties at a time when we had looked after an IRA supergrass. He had informed on people who would have happily seen him dead. The kids were the worst affected. They didn’t understand the need to constantly move away from friends they had made, to change and remember new names and to get used to new surroundings. Fear and uncertainty caused rows, which would upset the kids even more. No, life on the run was not an option for me, Jenny or Becky.
My wife, the most important person in my life, was backing me every inch of the way. If it was a fight they wanted, a fight it would be.
The decision was made.
Chapter 43
Our conversation continued when we reached home.
It turned out that Jenny had taken Becky to her mother’s and then waited near the police station in her car for me to head home from work. She had then followed me. I was horrified that I hadn’t spotted her.
She’d also been going through my coat pockets, where I had left some receipts and a cash-dispenser slip. It had been for £30. When she’d checked the date it had been for the previous Sunday, a day when I had been late home. I’d been catching up on paperwork, but to Jenny it was another clue.
When I’d stopped leaving my phone on the work surface in the kitchen, ready for the next day, that had rang alarm bells. On one occasion, when I’d been in the shower, she had found it in my trouser pocket. I had set it to ‘silent’ mode. Jenny had been unable to resist rooting through my messages, and that was when she found the ‘Call me, we need to talk’ text from Kevin.
The next day she’d again gone looking for my phone as I slept. After creeping quietly into our bedroom, she found it in the bedside drawer. It was still set to silent and this time it was showing two missed calls.
As far as she was concerned, it all added up to one thing.
And she’d been right – it just wasn’t the ‘thing’ she expected.
We started by making plans to move Jenny to join Becky at her mother’s. As she was going to be there for some time, packing took longer than it would for a simple holiday. I wasn’t much help. My mind kept wandering off into a void of hopelessness. I hated the situation we were in, a state of affairs that I had caused. As I stared at the suitcases waiting to be closed, I kept wondering if there was some way this could have been avoided.
Jenny seemed more focussed. My concerns that she would be angry or feel betrayed were unfounded. She was seeing me in a new light and she asked a lot of questions. We chatted as she packed. She asked, and I explained about SAS training, the embassy and operations I’d been on. It was a relief to be able to talk after having been so secretive for so long.
When we got onto the subject of our current danger, Jenny came into her own. She acted out a role as facilitator. She probed me, questioned me, and challenged me to come up with options and ideas. And she wrote things down. Putting my thoughts on paper seemed to help me to focus. She knew I had the ability to solve this problem if only I could apply my former skills. Even though I felt overwhelmed, she at least appeared to trust me to get things sorted.
Jenny’s face was going to be our first problem. Where Kevin’s fist had struck, her cheek was now swollen and bruised. No matter what she said, arriving home at her mum’s, bags packed and with a black eye was only going to imply one thing.
We tried ice to reduce the swelling and make-up to cover the mark. Nothing worked. In the event, we resigned ourselves to the inevitable.
The following morning, Jenny loaded the bags into the Audi and settled Becky into her safety seat. I did my best to appear cheerful. As I waved goodbye, my mind was already preparing for what lay ahead.
It was time to dig up some old friends.
Chapter 44
Costello tapped three times on the door to the flat, rang the bell twice and then knocked twice more.
They changed the sequence daily. The previous day, he had forgotten it and had walked straight into the barrel of Dominic’s Browning.
The door opened. Dominic led the way through to the living room, where he leaned over the table and returned to the construction job he had been working on, his hands moving slowly and methodically as he soldered wires to a mercury tilt switch.
On the table sat the working components for another car bomb. Timer activated, it would go live about an hour after being planted. Then, w
hen the car went up a steep enough incline, the mercury in the small glass tube would roll onto the electrical contacts and bang, off she’d go, leaving the car and everyone in it in pieces.
Costello watched Dominic in silence for a spell, but couldn’t contain his foul mood. ‘We fucked up big time, Dom,’ he said in a flat voice.
‘How’s that?’ Dominic didn’t look up.
‘The bomb meant for Finlay, it hit the wrong bloke. Finlay wasn’t at work.’
Dominic stopped working and stood up. Now Costello had his attention. ‘But their control said he was the Duty Inspector that night.’
‘Well, he fuckin’ wasn’t’
‘You’re feckin’ joking.
‘Nope. And now the brief is to have another go at him.’
‘You don’t get two chances at a copper,’ Dominic scoffed. ‘He’ll be waitin’ fer us.’ Costello understood his friend’s concern. He didn’t much like targeting policemen either. But, although every cop in London would be looking for them, they had a job to do.
‘You’re not chickening out on me, are ya, fella?’ Costello slowed his voice, adopting the deliberate and sinister tone he employed when he wanted to instil fear.
Dominic, however, had heard it before. ‘No, but tell that Iranian that his information had better be good this time. I’ve only enough plastic for two more bombs.’
‘I think this is the last one,’ said Costello. ‘He’s gonna try and get us the cop’s home address. That little package on the table will go under his car.’
‘When you meeting him?’ asked Dominic.
‘In a few days, near Euston. I’ll stay at Michael’s tomorrow night before I deliver this package, then I’ll hole up in Kilburn for a couple of days.’
Dominic nodded. ‘And when do we get what we’re owed?’ he demanded.
‘Soon enough. For now, we just do the job and then get home. Now get on and finish the bomb.’
