The Darkfall Switch

by David Lindsley

  ‘You don’t mind being an old man’s darling.’

  She shook her head angrily. ‘I’ve never thought that age matters,’ she said. ‘You know that.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Anyway, the longer I spent away from you, the more I missed you. And suddenly, one night at Tina’s, watching them eating, living their separate lives, I realized that I needed you.’

  He shook his head, but further discussion was interrupted by the appearance of Worzniak in the doorway.

  The American’s bulk blocked out most of the daylight as he stood at the door and peered into the gloom. He spotted them and came over.

  ‘I’m normally glad to see people, Joe,’ Foster said, not bothering to stand, ‘but in your case I’ll make an exception.’

  ‘Ha, ha!’ Worzniak grunted bitterly before heading to the counter. He had worked out that Foster wasn’t about to buy him a drink. It hadn’t been difficult.

  When he returned with his drink and sat down, Foster looked at him carefully. Worzniak looked tired and dishevelled: his face was grey, his eyes bloodshot. His suit and shirt were crumpled and his tie was hanging partly open around his massive neck, low under his chin.

  ‘You know, Foster,’ he said, ‘you’ve really, really fucked up my life this time.’

  ‘We’ve been over this before, Joe,’ Foster replied in a bored tone. ‘Whatever mess you’re in, you brought it on yourself, all on your own.’

  ‘No. It was all goin’ real sweet.’

  ‘You mean, you were able to kill a couple of people – one just a boy – and all was sweet. And you tried to murder us as well: was that sweet too?’

  The American glowered at him. ‘I told you,’ he said, ‘I don’t know anything about those things. But you? You should have backed off at the beginning.’

  Foster shook his head in amazement at that denial before countering the accusation. ‘Come off it, Joe,’ he said. ‘You know and I know that young Luke Proctor’s fate was sealed as soon as you found out about him. I guess, in the sense that we told your people about him, that we were in a way responsible. But that’s no reason to murder him. And then, to suggest that it was our fault – my fault – that’s crazy.’

  Worzniak picked up his cup and took a long noisy drink. ‘Let’s move on,’ he started. He’d clearly decided not to counter any more argument.

  ‘Yes indeed,’ Foster agreed.

  ‘I’m in a fuckin’ awful mess,’ Worzniak said. His voice was quiet and he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the cup in his hands. ‘They’ve suddenly cut me off. All the things I’d started – they’ve been stopped. And then I saw the light: if I stayed in the States any longer my life wouldn’t have been worth a nickel. Give it time and it won’t be any better here.’

  ‘How come?’

  Worzniak looked around at the other tables. A few more people had entered the café, but it was by no means crowded. All the same, he clearly felt unsafe and said, ‘We can’t talk here. Let’s go somewhere safe.’

  ‘I’ve brought the tender down,’ Foster said. ‘We can talk there.’

  ‘Tender? Down?’

  Foster decided it would be too complicated to explain about the flow of the Thames downstream from Kingston so he merely said, ‘A boat. It’s outside.’

  *

  As they motored away from Richmond half-lock, Foster eased back the throttle. Worzniak, standing beside him, looked interestedly at the passing trees. ‘Jeez,’ he said, his earlier worries momentarily forgotten. ‘This is great!’

  ‘It is,’ Foster agreed. ‘And it’s as secure as anything. We’ll easily spot anybody who tries to follow us.’

  He looked back at Janet and winked. She responded with a smile. Then she pointed at a pub on the bank to their left and said, ‘Isn’t that the London Apprentice?’

  ‘Yes it is. Know it?’

  ‘Use to be one of my favourites, when….’

  Her voice tailed off, leaving Foster to guess that she had frequented it in her wild, post-marriage days. That would be about right; it was a lively place.

  ‘It looks very different from down here,’ she commented.

  Foster turned to Worzniak, for whom boating was clearly an entirely new experience. But it was time to move on with the work in hand. ‘All right, Joe,’ he started, ‘tell me all about it.’

  ‘Not now,’ Worzniak said. ‘I’ll tell your people about it when I’ve got cast-iron guarantees for my future.’

  Foster shook his head. He was keeping a wary eye on the waters ahead as they went under Kew Bridge. They were now in the full tidal reach of the river and it was just before high water, so they were still going against the weak incoming stream. There was always a risk of hitting driftwood here and he didn’t want to risk any damage to the tender’s propellers.

  ‘So what’s happened now?’ he asked. ‘Why the change of mind?’

  ‘It was that kid,’ Worzniak said. ‘When the London thing happened it made everybody jumpy. Then your people – you – tracked it down to the kid. We had to take out the possibility of you finding out about it before we had time to deal with the situation.’

  Foster shook his head sadly, remembering the frightened youngster and his bewildered parents. ‘You know he left a note?’ he said, ‘For me?’

  ‘So that’s it!’ Worzniak exclaimed. ‘We wondered how you got on to it so fast.’

  The tide had now reached its peak and the water was slack, enabling them to make good progress towards the city. The tender sped along, bucking and bouncing where it encountered the occasional eddy in the stream. They rode along in silence for a considerable time and were at Chiswick Bridge before Worzniak spoke again.

  ‘My bosses have decided to pull the plug on the whole thing,’ he said. ‘I was told to stall you while it was all buttoned up. Then that idiot Matthews gave you the disk.’

  ‘With the evidence.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So you decided to try and kill me,’ Foster said.

  ‘No comment! I’d just wanted us to back off, deny everything. But my bosses said that we couldn’t, not while there was any evidence to incriminate us.’

  ‘OK, though you deny it we all know that somebody tried to kill me – us, Janet and me. But it went wrong.’

  ‘That’s when the shit really hit the fan. Now I’ve found out that some bastard’s decided they’re goin’ to blame it all on a mad maverick and get him permanently out of the way.’

  ‘You!’

  ‘Yes, me. I was going to be made the fall guy. Of course, nobody told me, but when they tried to kill me I worked it out pretty damn quick.’

  ‘Kill you?’ Janet exclaimed.

  ‘Yes. Twice. First time it was dressed up like an accident. Someone tried to shoulder me off the highway – on I-95 for Chris’sakes! He’d come up behind real fast and when I pulled over, was when he did it. Turned me right over. Miracle that I got out.’

  ‘And the second time?’ Foster asked.

  ‘That clinched it for me,’ Worzniak said. ‘An auto crash I could just about accept as a random action of some joy-rider, but then they used a sniper to try and pick me off in my apartment.’

  ‘Slightly more direct than your try at me,’ Foster observed sourly.

  ‘I said I didn’t know anything about that,’ Worzniak grunted. ‘But you were a problem; a foreigner, and one with high-level connections. I can see that if anybody wanted to stop you they’d have to go very carefully. It would have to look like an accident. When you went horseback riding it was ideal; an accident, your bodies not being found for months or years. It would’ve been perfect!’

  ‘But it failed.’

  ‘Yes. And then everybody suddenly backed off. Denied being responsible for any of it….’

  ‘Like you’re denying it now.’

  Worzniak shrugged. ‘Either way, they left me sticking up on the horizon, like a patsy. And now I’m in real deep shit.’ He looked around in silence. They were passing Barnes, and the trees that
had formed a backdrop earlier were now being increasingly replaced by buildings. The occasional splash as their bow bounced into the water and the subdued burble of the outboards’ underwater exhausts formed a background to all their thoughts.

  ‘So you decided to cut and run,’ Foster said, breaking the impasse.

  ‘Yeah. I was a goner back in the States, so I thought I’d see what you could do for me.’

  Foster stared at him. ‘Me?’ he said. ‘Why should I help? Anyway, what on earth do you think I could do?’

  ‘You’ve got connections, Foster,’ the American said, looking distracted. ‘And I can give your people something they want.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  Worzniak took a deep breath and stared back along the river, watching their wake spread across the water and gently lap the banks. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts again.

  ‘OK,’ he said finally. ‘Here’s the deal: your people give me a safe place here, and in return I tell them everything. I’ve got written stuff too. Believe me, Foster, I’ve got enough to blow the whole thing wide open: names, everything. And there’re some real surprises for your people.’

  Foster thought about it. Suddenly, when he’d just given up hope, here was a windfall, a chance to win after all. But there were still hazards ahead. For a start, he didn’t know if Ballantyne and his peers would agree to helping the American. They might just prefer to hush it all up, to avoid endangering the special relationship between the two countries.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It’s not in my hands. But if I can get help for you, what’ll happen then? You certainly won’t ever be able to return to your own country.’

  Worzniak’s response was merely to shrug his shoulders.

  Janet, sitting in the stern of the boat, had been listening to the dialogue. Now she spoke. ‘What about your family?’

  Worzniak glared at her. ‘What family? I’ve got an ex in Washington. The bitch took me for everything I had when we divorced.’

  ‘No children?’ Janet asked.

  ‘Nope. That was the….’ He tailed off, looking at her suspiciously. Then he continued ruefully, ‘Fact is, there’s nobody back home who’d give a fuck. Sorry, lady.’

  ‘Property? House, car?’ Foster asked.

  ‘Nix. Apartment’s rented and the car belongs to the DoD. I’ll trade anything else I own for the chance to live, and I won’t last more’n a day or two back in the good ol’ US of A.’

  ‘Money?’

  Worzniak grinned. ‘I learned a thing or two in my job,’ he said. ‘Made a couple of useful contacts. All my bank accounts have been cleared out. All offshore now.’

  ‘You can trust these contacts?’

  ‘You betcha!’ There was an evil grin on the American’s face as he gave the answer, making Foster believe that he must have had a very firm grasp of his contacts’ balls.

  The long silence that followed was finally broken by Foster calling Janet to take over the wheel. She came over to it, but looked nervous. ‘Dan, I’ve never driven a boat before!’ she protested quietly.

  He smiled and put her hands on the wheel. ‘Just keep us heading down the river, right of centre if you can. The throttle’s here. No brakes, I’m afraid; if you want to stop you have to put her in reverse – from the control column here. But don’t worry, I’ll be watching out for you.’

  She did as instructed and gradually relaxed as she began to enjoy the experience. Worzniak took her place in the stern and settled down near the outboard motors.

  Foster put his arm round Janet. ‘OK?’ he asked.

  ‘Super! I’m enjoying this.’ Her excited smile spoke volumes.

  ‘You’ll be able to open her up a bit soon. There’s an eight-knot restriction here but we can go faster once we’re past Wandsworth Bridge.’

  ‘How far’s that?’ Worzniak asked.

  ‘Three or four bridges to go yet,’ Foster replied.

  ‘For Christ’s sake!’ the American grumbled. ‘How many fucking bridges are there?’

  ‘A couple of hundred, in all,’ Foster said and enjoyed the amazement on Worzniak’s face before letting him off the hook. ‘But most of them are upstream of here, behind us.’

  Janet broke in to ask, ‘How’ll I know when we get there? I haven’t recognized any of them so far: everything looks entirely different from the river.’

  ‘I’ll tell you,’ Foster replied.

  They travelled on in silence and when they reached Wandsworth Foster opened up the throttles as promised. He watched the pleasure appear on Janet’s face as the boat surged forward, bouncing and slapping against the water. She gave a small turn to the wheel and they felt the boat sway as it responded.

  ‘That’s better,’ Worzniak said, confirming the signs of impatience he’d shown earlier. ‘Felt like we were on a joy-ride back there.’

  The little boat sped downstream. The tide had turned now and was assisting their downward progression.

  ‘Can you park anywhere in London?’ Janet asked.

  Foster smiled. ‘Boats moor, or tie up,’ he corrected. ‘It’s cars that get parked. And yes, there are a few places we can use, but I’ve got a pal who’s in the RNLI. He’s based at the Embankment. The authorities are pretty wary of strangers hanging round anywhere near the Houses of Parliament these days, ’specially on the river. But I’m sure he’ll let me moor up for a while.’

  ‘RN what what?’ Worzniak queried.

  ‘RNLI – that’s the Royal National Lifeboat Institution,’ Foster explained. ‘They provide lifeboat services around the coasts and on this part of the river.’

  Worzniak gave a grunt and then lapsed into silence again. His silence lasted until they passed under Chelsea Bridge, when he repeated his earlier question, ‘How many of these bridges to go?’

  Foster was reminded of children in the back of a car constantly asking, ‘How much further to go, Daddy?’ He thought about it, mentally counting them off before replying, ‘Another four, I think.’

  ‘Christ!’ Worzniak swore, before adding a grudging comment, ‘Still, this was a great idea of yours, Foster.’

  ‘What, using a boat?’

  ‘Yeah. Our people….’ He hesitated, as though he was just realizing that his old employers were now his enemies. ‘The opposition … they won’t be finding it easy. They’ll have worked out that I’m running by now.’

  ‘You think they know you’ve left the States?’ Foster asked.

  ‘Sure! Bound to.’

  ‘Do you think you were followed from Heathrow?’

  ‘Don’t know. But even if they did, they’ll have had to stop when we got on this thing.’ He patted the gunwale beside him and grinned approvingly. ‘How long’ll it take them to hire a boat?’

  Foster laughed. ‘A long time’ he answered. ‘If ever. It’s not too difficult to get a rowing boat up there, at Richmond. But something with an engine? I just don’t know. It’s past the summer tourist season, so even if they do manage to find a boatyard open they still won’t have an easy time of it. It’ll take an hour or so at least, probably much longer. Fact is, they might not be able to get one at all.’

  ‘Great!’ Worzniak said, smiling broadly.

  Foster frowned at him as he said, ‘Quicker for them to get a helicopter.’

  ‘Christ!’ Worzniak swore, suddenly looking at the sky behind them. ‘Could they do that?’

  ‘I think it would be easier than finding a boat,’ Foster said. ‘And quicker to find us.’

  Foster pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and started to key in a number when Worzniak leaped to his feet and snatched the instrument out of his hand. ‘What’re you doin’?’ he barked.

  ‘I need to speak to my contacts.’

  ‘Not on that you don’t,’ Worzniak said acidly.

  Worzniak’s alarm indicated that Foster’s calls were being monitored. He thought about it: he had to tell Grant about this unexpected development. Then he remembered the American’s call from Heathrow.
‘You said you’d bought a new mobile,’ he asked, ‘have you got it with you now?’

  Worzniak nodded and reached for his phone. ‘Yeah’ he said. ‘That’s an idea: I don’t know if they’ll have tracked it yet. They’ll have started the process when I called you, but I don’t think they’ll have had time to do it so far.’

  He handed the phone to Foster and said, ‘OK, use this. But first turn your own phone off. Don’t want them tracking us. And, listen here, when you speak to your handler don’t say where you are: just arrange for us to meet somewhere. Somewhere real safe. And keep it short and snappy. You can say I’m in London, but don’t say I’m with you. Just say you want to meet. Right away.’ Then he returned to the seat.

  Foster thought furiously as he keyed in Grant’s number. Just where would be ‘real safe’? He was also bemused by Grant being identified as his ‘handler’: this was the stuff of spy novels; he’d never thought of Grant, or his predecessor Forsyth, as being handlers. This was a strange world to him. When the call connected he explained the unexpected new development of Worzniak’s defection and arrival. He said they were on a boat on the Thames and could be at the office in minutes.

  ‘Good God!’ Grant spluttered at the end of it. ‘Worzniak? Himself?’

  ‘Yes.’ Foster gave a quiet smile. He had remembered that the title ‘Himself’ was an archaic euphemism for the Devil, Satan. It seemed particularly apt in this case. ‘So what do I do now?’

  A long silence followed, during which he could visualize the Scotsman spreading his hands in indecision.

  Eventually Grant said, ‘I’ll call you back. Where are you?’

  Foster ignored the question. ‘No. Don’t call me. It’s too dangerous. Come down to the IET at Savoy Place. Right away.’

  He was hoping that the reference to ‘the IET’ would be like code to any American listening in. They couldn’t be expected to have heard of the Institution of Engineering and Technology, or know its location.

  ‘IET?’ Grant asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Foster answered. ‘Don’t ask. Your driver’ll know.’ Then, as an afterthought, he added, ‘By the way, there’re three of us to collect.’