by Tom Marcus
I nodded. ‘We could be in for a long night, then. You brought your knitting?’ After what had happened in the house, I needed to try and lighten the mood.
‘Duh.’ Alex put her fist to her forehead. ‘I knew there was something I’d forgotten.’
I shook my head. ‘Call yourself a covert surveillance operative.’
She smiled and we didn’t say anything for a minute or two. We’d done this enough times before to be comfortable just sitting in silence.
‘D’you want to have a kip for a bit? It doesn’t need both of us. You look like you could do with it, if I’m honest.’
I shook my head. ‘Nah. I’m good.’
In fact, a nap was exactly what I needed. But I had a feeling there was a big, fat nightmare with my name on it, just waiting to jump on me if I nodded off. The last thing I wanted to do was start gibbering like a maniac with Alex in the car.
‘Suit yourself. I might have forty winks, then.’
‘Go for it.’
Alex put the front passenger seat back and got herself comfortable.
We were parked up in a little lane just off the avenue, about halfway down, well out of sight of Shlovsky’s place, but close enough that if Weston headed south we could pick him up, and if he went past us going the other way, he wouldn’t spot us. The challenge was going to be keeping him in sight without making ourselves conspicuous, given that there wasn’t going to be a hell of a lot of other traffic around to give us cover.
That, of course, was if he showed his face at all. Most likely we’d be here all night with fuck all to show for it. And the next night after that. And the next.
And then?
We’d turn on the news one morning and find out the attack had already happened.
I didn’t want to think about that.
I looked over at Alex. With her biker’s jacket, scuffed jeans and boots, she looked like a tough cookie, but right now she was sleeping like a baby. I watched her hands, clasped together on her lap, gently rising and falling with her breath, and felt a stirring of envy. All right for some, I thought.
‘You look tired, Logan.’
My eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror. Sarah was sitting in the back. Joseph was fidgeting in his seat next to her, trying to undo his seatbelt.
‘Not you as well,’ I said.
‘Well it’s true. What you need is a good night’s sleep.’
‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ I said.
‘Bad dreams?’ she asked.
I suddenly remembered how the Daisy dream had begun, with the three of us sitting together in the church. And at the same time, the feeling came back: that I was dressed wrong or showing her up, somehow. I started feeling guilty.
‘She seems nice,’ Sarah said.
I frowned. ‘Who?’
‘Lucy, of course.’
‘Oh, right, yeah – you know about her?’
She smiled. ‘It was a good thing, what you did. She was lucky you turned up at the right moment.’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know if she felt all that lucky.’
‘Don’t be silly. And it’s nice you talked to her.’
‘I . . . I’m not . . .’ I suddenly felt tongue-tied. I didn’t even know what I was trying to say, but whatever it was stuck in my throat.
‘It’s all right, you know.’
I coughed, trying to get my voice back. ‘What is?’
‘Liking her.’
‘I don’t. I mean—’
‘It’s all right!’
Joseph stopped fiddling with the seat belt and looked up at her. He wasn’t used to her raising her voice.
I glanced over at Alex, but she hadn’t stirred.
Sarah kissed the top of Joseph’s head. When she spoke, her voice was quieter. ‘Look, Logan, I know you love us. And you always will. And one day we’ll all be together again.’
‘Sarah—’
I tried to butt in but she ignored me.
‘But even though it’s hard sometimes, you’re still here for a reason. To save people.’
‘I did save her,’ I insisted.
‘You stopped her from ending her life. But that’s only doing half the job. If you’re really going to save her, you need to help her to live again.’
‘How am I supposed to do that?’ I said, but I already knew what she was going to say.
‘And she can help you, too.’
I twisted round in my seat. ‘Look, Sarah—’
My phone pinged. A second later, Alex’s did, too. She snapped awake and reached into her jacket pocket.
‘Target on the move,’ she said.
I looked in the mirror. Sarah and Joseph were gone.
I breathed in, trying to focus. ‘Which way?’
‘South.’
I turned the engine on and nosed out onto the Avenue. Up ahead I could see a pair of red tail-lights.
‘Black Bimmer. That’s him,’ Alex said.
The trick now was to tuck ourselves out of sight while maintaining visual contact. Easy enough as we crawled up the road after him, but there was a set of traffic lights at the top of the Avenue and what we definitely didn’t want was to get stuck there together bumper to bumper. The lights were green as he reached the junction.
‘Come on, come on,’ I muttered under my breath as we started to close on him.
He made a right just as they turned red.
I pulled up at the lights. I wasn’t bothered about waiting until they turned green again. I was just waiting for another vehicle to be the meat in the sandwich. The seconds ticked away. Much longer and we’d be in danger of losing him before we’d even got started. We’d have to tail him without any cover and hope for the best.
A silver-grey Mercedes went past. Perfect. I pulled out and we settled in thirty yards behind him. Just as well: once we’d squeezed past the Spaniards Inn, it was a long, dead-straight stretch ahead, with nowhere to hide.
‘Is he alone?’ I asked Alex.
‘Alan said the picture quality wasn’t great, but yeah.’
I reckoned that was a good sign. ‘OK.’
The Mercedes was slowly gaining on Weston’s BMW, keeping us nice and tight. With a bit of luck, we’d hit some more traffic as we headed into town and we could add some more ingredients to the sandwich.
Weston turned left at Whitestone Pond, with the Mercedes right on his tail, then carried on down the hill towards Hampstead. It felt good to have a target under my control, instead of running round in circles trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.
So long as he didn’t make us, of course. I knew the longer we followed him the likelier he would. Even if he wasn’t actively taking counter-surveillance measures, he’d be trained to a high level and it would just be instinct. Somewhere his brain would be logging everything he saw, and if our profile popped up more than a couple of times, he’d know it wasn’t coincidence.
So the sooner he got where he was going, the better.
At the lights by the tube station, Weston carried straight on through, but the Merc turned left down the High Street, leaving us with another long, straight run down Fitzjohn’s Avenue but this time without any cover. I knew there’d be plenty of traffic and therefore opportunities to merge into the background again once we got down to Swiss Cottage, but by then I was sure our presence would have already been filed away.
I’d just have to make sure we stayed invisible after that.
‘You all right, Logan?’ Alex asked.
‘Never better,’ I replied. The truth was, following a target, I was like a pig in shit. Yes, the stakes were about as high as they could be, and I knew from experience that when you thought you had everything under control, that was when some random piece of shit usually happened to fuck things up, but at least I knew what I was doing. No more dreams, no more ghosts; just follow the bad guy in the car and see where he goes.
We’d joined the traffic going past the station, a steady flow even at this hour, and managed to keep him in si
ght as we skirted Regent’s Park and merged onto the Euston Road, heading east. Alex was looking at a map on her phone, trying to work out where he was headed, but I knew it was pointless. We’d know when we got there.
We carried on in the same direction, past Angel tube station and along City Road, like we were on a conveyor belt, sometimes with only one car between us, sometimes as many as three, but without any bumps along the road, until we turned south, towards Spitalfields.
He’s too relaxed, I thought. He’s not going anywhere. He’s just an insomniac who gets in the car and drives around aimlessly when he can’t sleep.
‘What are you thinking?’ Alex asked, seeing my knuckles tightening on the steering wheel.
‘I don’t know. It’s too easy. He’s too bloody casual. Either he’s going nowhere or he clocked us miles back and he’s just leading us on a wild goose chase.’
‘Or maybe he has no reason to think anyone would be following him?’ Alex suggested, but I could tell she didn’t really believe it.
It turned out it was me who was getting too relaxed, though.
At that moment, with only one car between us, Weston made a sharp left and I had to brake quickly so I didn’t overshoot. I hauled the wheel to the left and gave it some gas coming out of the turn, not wanting to lose sight of him before he got to the end of the street.
And then almost went into the back of him.
24
I just managed to swerve round and squeeze past him without clipping his wing mirror. Alex resisted the temptation to look back.
‘Did you see the number of the house?’
I shook my head. ‘That’s not his destination. I think he’s finally doing some counter-surveillance.’
‘Fuck. What now?’
‘Have a look at the map. Right or left at the end?’
Alex quickly scanned her phone. ‘Left – no, right. If that really is what he’s doing, he’ll be waiting to see if we turn round and come back. Then, if he’s still aiming to go in the same direction he was before we went on this little diversion, he’ll go round the block and back onto the main road.’
‘Got it.’ Unless he was being very sneaky, he’d turn right at the end of the street like we did, and then right again, before finally turning left. If we took the second right instead, we could wait at the end of the street until he went past and pick him up again.
And if he didn’t go past?
Fuck knows what we’d do then.
I drove on and took the second turn. I parked at the end, cut the engine and turned off the lights.
‘How long do we give him?’ Alex asked. It was a good question. How thorough was he going to be? Was he spooked or just going through the motions? Did he have plenty of time to get to his meet – if that’s what it was – or did he need to get a move on?
‘We’ll give him ten minutes. Then we go looking.’
‘And if we bump into him again?’
‘We say we’re tourists looking for Buckingham Palace and got a bit lost?’
‘At three in the morning?’
‘If you’ve got a better suggestion, I’m all ears.’
‘I’d say we take a look at the house he stopped outside of. Maybe he wasn’t playing games. What if he was picking someone up? In which case, maybe we should wait until they come back.’
I was sure it was a dead end, but I didn’t have anything better. ‘OK.’
‘No, wait. There he goes.’
Damn. I’d missed it. ‘Good girl.’
I turned on the engine and pulled out, then waited at the junction until another car went past before turning left. There he was. ‘Got him. Now, with a bit of luck he’ll think he’s clean and go straight to his destination.’
After a quarter of a mile he slowed and turned right down another gloomy Edwardian terrace. There were no vehicles in between us now so I had to make a quick decision: follow and risk another contact, or keep going and risk losing him. I delayed making the turn as long as I could, then followed. We were just in time to see his tail-lights disappearing at the end of the street. I resisted the temptation to put my foot down, cautiously making the same left turn as he had. The street narrowed, hemmed in by a housing estate on one side and a row of dingy lock-ups on the other. A couple of the street lights weren’t working. I scanned the road ahead, my eyes adjusting to the gloom.
There was no sign of him.
‘Keep going,’ Alex whispered, sensing my hesitation. I carried on past the housing estate. I slowed to a crawl as we passed a left turn, squinting down the narrow street, then drove on. Next right: same thing. Still no sign.
Suddenly a pair of red eyes appeared in the middle of the road, caught in my headlights. It was a fox, his snout deep in a black bin bag he must have dragged there. He raised his head and looked at us.
‘Come on, which way now, Foxy?’ I muttered under my breath.
Alex looked at me. ‘What was that?’
‘Nothing.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not natural. He should be out in the country eating chickens, for God’s sake.’
‘Maybe he prefers them coated in the Colonel’s secret recipe,’ I said.
She sighed. ‘Come on, get out of the road, you silly animal. Shoo.’
He showed no signs of moving. In fact, he’d gone back to rooting around in the bin bag. I skirted round him, my wheels almost scraping the kerb. He didn’t even turn his head.
There was a little alley on our right. I peered down it as we passed.
‘Where now?’ Alex said. ‘He can’t have just disappeared. How the fuck did we miss him?’
I shook my head. ‘He’s better at this than we thought. He’s taken us for mugs.’
We got to the end of the road. Right or left? I went right, knowing it was pointless. Once you’d made one wrong turn, the chances of picking up your target again were already receding fast. Two and it was a hopeless cause. Before you knew it, you were just going round in circles for the hell of it.
I saw a dark shape up ahead, then a rusting sign wonkily fixed to a lamp post: St Saviour’s Church.
As we got closer I could see the church itself wasn’t in much better shape than the sign. There was tarpaulin stretched across part of the roof and a row of windows along the side had been boarded up, like it had been stripped of all its lead and stained glass. But the big, arched front door was showing a sliver of light, so it looked like it was open for business. I’d only ever been in a church for weddings (well, one) and funerals, so I couldn’t really imagine what anybody would be doing in one at three in the morning. A Black Mass, maybe? Some kind of Satanic orgy? Or was it just a bunch of lads scraping the last bits of copper off the wiring?
I slowed to get a proper look.
‘Don’t stop,’ Alex hissed, nudging me with her elbow.
I gave her a look, but put my foot back on the gas anyway.
‘He’s parked up, opposite the church.’
I felt a little surge of adrenaline. ‘Is he still in the car?’
‘Nope. I couldn’t see him, anyway.’
I carried on. The road curved round to the right, and then stopped at a fence with a spool of barbed wire at the top. On the other side I could see the wrecks of rusting cars and heaps of other junk. To the right was a low warehouse with most of its windows smashed. It looked like gentrification hadn’t made it to this part of town yet.
I made a U-turn and parked up behind an abandoned van sitting on its wheel rims. Weston’s car was out of sight, but we had a good view of the church.
‘You’re sure he’s not in the car?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’
‘You didn’t see him get out?’
‘Nope.’
‘So we don’t know where he went.’
Alex pointed at the front door of St Saviour’s. ‘Have a bit of faith, Logan.’
I grunted and settled myself in my seat. Nothing to do now but wait. I focused on the target and tried to get my mind into that halfway state
where I was relaxed but alert. I’d decided he was a tricky fucker and I was determined I wasn’t going to let him slip through our fingers again.
After twenty minutes I started to lose my grip on consciousness, like I was treading water and something was trying to pull me down into the depths. I powered down the window and took a big breath of the cold night air.
Then the door of the church opened wider and a figure slipped out. He was dressed in jeans and a dark windbreaker, but the military bearing was unmistakeable. He did a quick scan of the street and I instinctively hunkered lower in my seat, even though we were hidden by the van. Then he turned back to the church. The sliver of light had been extinguished and a second man was now pushing the heavy door shut. The two men exchanged a few words, then nodded to each other, before Weston turned his back and walked briskly towards his car. The other man stood for a few moments, looking after him, an unreadable expression on his face, allowing me to take a mental snapshot. Medium height, thinning blond hair, glasses. Difficult to see his build under the loose chinos and baggy grey pullover, but somehow I got the impression of physical frailty. There was an intensity, though: something I couldn’t put my finger on. Like there was a flame burning inside him. Finally he turned and went in the opposite direction, down an alley running alongside the church.
I looked at Alex. ‘Heads or tails?’
She nodded towards the alley. ‘The contact. No point tailing Weston back to Shlovsky’s.’
‘What if he has another meet? What if this bloke was just the set-up man?’
She chewed her lip for a moment. ‘I don’t think so. This is our guy. I can feel it in me waters.’
‘You don’t want to split up? You take the car and follow Weston and I’ll go with the contact?’
Alex blew out her cheeks. ‘This is where we could do with some more bodies.’ She shook her head. ‘Sorry, wrong word. But you know what I mean. What if the contact has a car round the corner?’
‘Let’s take that chance.’
She nodded. ‘OK.’
We heard Weston starting his car, then we caught a glimpse of his tail-lights as he did a sharp three-point turn and started back the way he’d come.
‘If he acts twitchy, just let him go,’ I said, opening the door and stepping out.
