The Robert Finlay Trilogy

by Matt Johnson

  ‘Her lover? I find that hard to believe,’ I lied.

  Grahamslaw scowled. ‘As you wish, Finlay. But something tells me that you may know more than you’re letting on and, I can tell you, that hacks me off a great deal.’

  ‘I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to sound flippant.’

  ‘The fact that I understand your need to keep things close to your chest doesn’t mean I like it, Finlay. Shall we turn to you and Mrs Monaghan?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘There was a passport in the briefcase together with a plane ticket. It was in a false name, giving every indication that Monaghan planned to leave the country. We also found other correspondence which suggested that he thought you were also his wife’s lover at one time.’

  ‘Incredible…’

  ‘Were you her lover, Mr Finlay?’

  ‘No … but I heard recently there were rumours … and I’m going back nearly twenty years to when I last saw Mrs Monaghan.’ My heart was slowing, my voice becoming steadier. ‘You’re saying Monaghan was behind Skinner’s and Bridges’ deaths … and it’s all been about vengeance over his late wife?’

  Grahamslaw didn’t answer my question. ‘We also found a small list of targets,’ he said instead, ‘you included, and a list of safe houses that the terrorists have been using. There was a contact number for someone called SY. We presume this to be an Arab, Selahattin Yildrim. It appears, Mr Finlay, that, as I originally warned you, this whole episode is a bit more complicated than IRA bombers blowing up London coppers.’

  ‘So who got to Monaghan?’ I asked. My confidence was returning. The line of questioning was informative, not confrontational. And they hadn’t searched me.

  ‘Initially we thought it was you, Finlay. Perhaps that’s why you are here, who knows?’

  ‘No, it wasn’t me. So you do think Monaghan was behind the bombings?’ I pressed for an answer. I needed to know if I’d been right.

  Grahamslaw sighed. ‘I think we will find that your Mr Monaghan, for some reason, chose now to settle old scores. He tried setting you up, maybe he wanted to humiliate you. If that didn’t work, the bombers would get you. Now, I’m hoping that we’ve seen the end of this mess.’

  I smiled and nodded my head. ‘I hope so, too, sir.’ God, did I hope he was right. He had to be right.

  ‘One thing I will tell you.’ Grahamslaw sat forward in his chair. ‘But I want something in return.’

  ‘Ask away.’ I was feeling generous. It was if a load had been lifted from my shoulders. Monaghan had been behind it all the time. The story of the files had to have been a lie and now the perpetrator of that lie was dead. Life could get back to normal. As if that was ever going to be possible.

  ‘What was the part played by the Arab in all this?’ asked Grahamslaw.

  ‘I don’t know.’ I answered. ‘A link between Monaghan and the bombers, perhaps?’

  ‘Perhaps. But if you didn’t kill Monaghan, who did? And why?’

  I didn’t know the answer to that question, but I could have taken a guess. Monaghan had told us where to find Yildrim. The Arab would have known he’d been betrayed. Perhaps he took his revenge. I couldn’t give Grahamslaw an answer without telling him it had been me at the hotel, me that had thrown the grenades at his SO19 boys.

  ‘What was it you were going to tell me?’ I asked.

  ‘Your files – Monaghan had them all the time. Thing is, they weren’t ROSE files. They were copies of your police files. Seems there never were any SAS files stolen from Castlederg.’

  The two detectives didn’t search me. As I climbed up the steps to the street, the muzzle of the Beretta still dug into the small of my back. It was another hot day. The heat of the sun warmed my weary body as I walked. For the first time in days, I relaxed.

  It was time to call Jenny, time to give her some good news for a change. I switched on my phone. Almost immediately a text appeared on the small screen. It was from her. A short and clear message, it read ‘Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves’.

  She’d guessed why I had already left the house before she reached home. She was so right. What had I been thinking? If it hadn’t been Monaghan in the car then I might well now be a fugitive from the law, running from the very people who employed me. It was time to head home, to be grateful to ‘Lady Luck’ and, once more, to put the past to bed.

  Chapter 84

  Grahamslaw and Parratt remained silent while they watched from a window as Finlay walked down the street away from the club. Only when they had left the building and closed the doors of the SO13 Range Rover did Parratt speak.

  ‘That man is close to breaking point.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Grahamslaw. ‘He’d already worked out what’s been going on and, if he thought Monaghan had murdered his friends, the unpalatable truth is that he wasn’t here to have a nice little chat about it.’

  ‘You didn’t buy the “unfinished business” bit, then?’

  ‘Not in the slightest.’

  ‘And he also knew more about the Arab than I expected.’

  ‘That surprises you?’ Grahamslaw replied, as he clipped in his seatbelt.

  ‘A little. I think I half-hoped to find that it wasn’t them in that taxi. Shall I have him and this Jones character brought in?’

  Grahamslaw thought for a moment. As he did so, a call on his mobile telephone interrupted the conversation. It was the Special Branch Commander, Tom Williams. Checks that his detectives were doing on hotel booking-in registers had produced a name. A man known as Hassan Al-Tikrit had checked into a low-class Bayswater hotel the previous day. The Branch database had revealed it to be an alias used by Selahattin Yildrim. Arrangements were already in hand to place the hotel under observation.

  Parratt listened in.

  ‘They’ve housed Yildrim?’ he asked, as Grahamslaw ended the call.

  ‘Looks like it. With that in mind, we’ll leave Finlay and Jones for now; they’re not going anywhere. It looks like we might be on the verge of capturing a major player.’

  Chapter 85

  The journey home was a lot easier than the one into London had been. Not only was the traffic lighter, I was feeling a lot better in myself.

  It was confirmed. Monaghan was behind the attacks. I could hardly believe it of my old friend. I knew everything had pointed to him but to hear it confirmed by Grahamslaw had hurt almost as much as it had given me relief. And, most importantly, I had been saved from myself. If someone hadn’t got to Monaghan first, by now I would be a murderer and fugitive, my life and family in ruins.

  I smiled to myself. Yes, I had a lot to feel grateful for.

  But, there were questions, things I wanted to ask of my former CO. Why had he gone to such lengths to kill his wife’s lovers? Why not simply do it himself? Why all the melodrama, the meetings, the abduction attempts? It didn’t make sense. Why had he involved Arab and Irish terrorists? Had he been trying to distance himself from the murders so that he wouldn’t get caught? I had no idea. Truth was, I would probably never find out.

  The more I thought about what had been going on, the angrier I became. Like all innocent people accused of something they haven’t done, I wanted that fact known. I wanted to tell Monaghan about me. Wanted to tell him I had never touched Victoria. Wanted to tell him how a little girl had nearly lost her dad because of a stupid rumour. I slammed my hands onto the steering wheel, in frustration. I wanted to tell Monaghan just how much I hated him.

  As I continued the journey home and my temper subsided, I realised that I hadn’t given a thought to the surveillance Grahamslaw had revealed. Now, although I looked, I still saw nothing. They were obviously very good.

  Quite what made me do it I don’t know but, suddenly, almost for a laugh, I did a U-turn on the A10 and, as I passed the oncoming cars, I waved at the drivers. It was stupid, but it gave me a perverse pleasure to make them think I had sussed them, even if I hadn’t.

  When I arrived at the cottage, there were two
cars in the drive, a Volvo belonging to Jenny’s mother and Kevin’s Audi.

  I stepped from my car just as the cottage door flew open. Jenny ran straight at me. She screamed out my name and threw her arms around my neck. The tears on her cheeks were still fresh, her eyes red and sore. She held me so tight that I could hardly breathe.

  As I held her, Kevin appeared in the doorway. I looked toward him and managed a weak smile. Like an idiot I realised I should have called earlier. They would have been sat here all this time, thinking the worst and waiting for the call to say that I had been arrested, or worse.

  With Kevin’s help, I led Jenny into the kitchen. The kettle was already boiled. In silence, Kevin made tea and put a hot mug into her trembling hands. She was unable to utter a word that made any sense.

  I didn’t know how to start. Jenny grasped her drink in one hand and gripped my hand with the other.

  ‘Where’ve you been, boss?’ Kevin finally asked.

  ‘Monaghan’s club.’

  ‘I got here not long after you’d left. Jenny’s told me that you thought that car bomb was me. Did you kill him?’

  ‘No. No, I didn’t.’ I looked down.

  Jenny gasped. ‘Oh, thank God, thank God. I tried to ring you … you’d switched off your phone.’

  ‘I got your text message.’

  ‘It stopped you?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ I said.

  ‘What happened?’ Kevin asked.

  I paused for a moment, calibrating my words. I gripped Jenny’s hand and looked up at Kevin.

  ‘Grahamslaw was at the club waiting for me. The car-bomb victim was Monaghan.’

  Kevin was momentarily struck dumb. He fell back against the kitchen counter. ‘But who, how?’ he asked as he found his tongue. ‘I don’t get it … if he was the one trying to kill us … who killed him?’

  ‘He certainly wasn’t expecting to get killed. He had a false passport and plane tickets in his car when he died. There was stuff about you and his wife as well, letters, that sort of thing.’

  ‘So, he was about to do a runner?’

  ‘He had the ROSE files, Kev. Not only that, they weren’t army files. They were our police files. All that stuff about files being stolen from Castlederg was bollocks. Whatever was stolen, it wasn’t anything to do with us.’

  ‘So everything Monaghan told us was crap. Fuckin’ bastard.’ Kevin banged his hands on the surface behind him.

  ‘Everything. Remember when we were supposed to grab Yildrim? Monaghan was going to join us at the safe house? I reckon he was going to kill the Arab and then pin it on us. Yildrim was the only one who could point the finger at him.’

  ‘So Yildrim killed him first. And everything else was bullshit? Monaghan probably wasn’t even in MI5!’ Kevin’s anger was building.

  ‘I’m not sure, but that may explain why he couldn’t tell us if the kid from the embassy was still in prison or not.’

  ‘And I was a mug and always have been.’ Kevin shook his head and looked at the floor. ‘All this for a quick shag with the CO’s wife.’

  Jenny listened in awe. She hadn’t touched her tea. It was time for me to give her my undivided attention.

  I followed Kevin out of the front door and onto the drive. His shoulders were slumped and he had a forlorn look on his face.

  ‘So what do we do now?’ he asked.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘SO13 aren’t idiots, boss. If they hadn’t worked it out already, you turning up at Monaghan’s club will have made it quite clear that it was us at Alma House and in the taxi they chased.’

  I thought for a moment. ‘Yes … you’re right. For now, all we can do is make it hard for them. Hide the kit … and do it well. Give your skin a forensic scrub to get rid of any gun residue. In the meantime, I’ll have a think about what we can say to them.’

  ‘I’m surprised they didn’t nick you at the club.’

  ‘So am I,’ I said. ‘And that might mean they don’t plan to.’

  ‘And what about this Arab you say was Monaghan’s link man?’

  ‘Well, if what Grahamslaw told me is right, he now has no reason to hang around. Both he and Costello will have lost their paymaster.’

  ‘So, it’s over.’

  ‘I guess.’

  Kevin offered me his hand. ‘Thanks, boss.’

  As I walked my old friend back to his car, I noticed that the familiar spring to his step had returned.

  And yet, as I watched his car disappear into the distance, I knew that our problems were far from over. We may have survived the threat to our lives, but persuading the ‘powers that be’ to forgive our questionable methods was going to be a very different kind of challenge.

  I turned and walked slowly back towards the cottage to face the music. Jenny would be waiting, and I knew that she would have many questions of her own.

  Chapter 86

  Costello brought the car to a halt and switched the engine off.

  The lane was deserted. He checked his map.

  ‘This is the place?’ asked Yildrim.

  ‘This is it.’

  ‘Where is his house?’

  ‘Along the lane, about two hundred yards.’

  ‘It is being watched. Pull back about half a mile. I will need time before dark to work out where the police have hidden their spies.’

  Costello re-started the car, reversed into the gateway to a field and turned back in the direction from where they had driven.

  The Iranian hadn’t spoken during the whole journey from Enfield. With only a couple of minutes to go before they parted company, Costello figured now was the time to try and get answers to some questions.

  ‘Something’s been bothering me,’ he said, as they sped along between the greens and browns of the late-summer hedges.

  ‘What might that be, Declan?’ Yildrim asked, so calmly they could have been discussing dinner plans.

  Costello kept the speed of the car high. Something had to thaw this man’s coolness. ‘When we met last,’ he asked over the sound of the engine, ‘the police turned up just a few moments later. It’s like they knew where to find us … and the latest target, you left it very late to change it from one copper to the other one. Is something else going wrong that I should know about?’

  Yildrim shrugged as he glanced out of the passenger window. ‘Nothing is wrong. As to the target, it is my choice when, not yours. As to the police, I am known to them. They have been following me since I arrived in the country,’ he said, dismissively.

  Costello slammed his hand on the steering wheel. It angered him to think that the Iranian had shown such a casual regard to the dangers of being compromised. ‘You knew you were being tailed? You knew … and you still took a risk?’

  ‘Do not worry. You are not the only one able to monitor the police. I knew when they were close and we needed to be gone.’

  Costello eased off on the accelerator and the car slowed. ‘Jesus. You’re either real good or totally crazy. How do we know they haven’t followed you tonight?’

  ‘They haven’t, trust me. I have taken new precautions to make sure that I am now free to do what I came here to do.’

  ‘To kill this copper you mean? The one that we missed?’

  ‘Yes. In some ways I am glad that you didn’t succeed in killing him.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘I would have been denied the … the pleasure.’ Yildrim hesitated over his words, seemingly searching for the best way to describe his motivation.

  Costello glanced across at his passenger in time to see a curious, sadistic grin fading from his face. ‘Keeping your hand in, I suppose?’ he asked.

  ‘Something like that, yes.’

  ‘So why not earlier? Why leave Finlay until now?’

  ‘There were … difficulties.’ Yildrim seemed to falter over his words now, as if he were being careful what he said. ‘They have now been sorted out.’

  Costello found the way that Yildrim talked in riddles inf
uriating. It was almost as if he were enjoying the ‘clue and guess’ game, as he hinted but wouldn’t reveal this recent change in approach to dealing with their targets.

  Just ahead, Costello spotted a small lay-by. ‘Will this do?’ he asked, bringing the car to a stop at the side of the road.

  ‘Perfect. Do not wait for me. Get on with your final job.’

  ‘After which I get paid?’

  ‘Correct. The money transfer is authorised. It will go through automatically even if I do not return from my mission.’

  ‘You make it seem like a military operation. What can be so hard about killing a simple cop?’

  ‘A simple cop? You surprise me, Declan. I imagined you would have wondered why we target these particular policemen?’

  ‘I had given it some thought, yes. Dominic reckoned there might be some kind of connection between you and them.’

  ‘Your friend is right, not that it will do him any good now.’

  From a bag sat in the passenger well, Yildrim produced a small machine pistol. Costello recognised it as an Uzi. He was familiar with the weapon. Of Israeli origin, its firepower, reliability and ease of access to ammunition made it a favourite of many terror groups. In the bottom of the bag sat several bottles of water and chocolate bars.

  ‘Christ, you mean business,’ said Costello.

  ‘It may be a long wait … Finlay is no ordinary cop,’ Yildrim answered, as he checked the weapon and slipped a spare magazine into his jacket pocket.

  ‘So what’s special about him … or is it something personal?’

  ‘It is personal. I want this man to suffer as I have suffered. I will kill his family and then him. It is … a debt … to old friends.’ Yildrim paused for a moment. He stared into space, his eyes distant and unfocussed. It was as if he was recalling something, an incident intimately remembered.

  ‘You ask if Finlay is special?’ he continued. ‘Yes, he is special. A special kind of man … a soldier, in fact. One who once specialised in killing.’