Dan turned to Brodski. “I told you to listen, didn’t I?”
Brodski looked drawn and pale. Georgiev was in shock. “Your bloody conspiracy, boys. It’s all there. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? That Eva was some kind of pawn in the Russian crime game? Well, congratulations. There it is. I only get one small crumb, one pathetic shitty little crumb of comfort out of all that. Do you know what that is?”
Georgiev nodded, but Dan didn’t wait for his answer.
“That bastard Henry, screwing the hell out of the Russian bitch. He’s a turncoat. I think we’ve just uncovered a double-agent. The man is working for the British secret services, but we heard more gents. His priority is reporting on Dobcek’s progress to Russian top brass. Call it what you will, boys. This conspiracy is out to destroy Eva. It killed Maggie Gillespie first. You heard what they said. They want to build a critical mass. For what?”
Dan asked the question, but at the back of his mind, an answer was already there. The others didn’t speak. Dan started the engine and made a sharp U turn in the Tower Hamlets’ street. As he drove, Dan avoided looking at the others. He drew inwards to process everything he had heard. It was too much to bear. This was a war on the status quo, a mixed up war of gangs and spies, with Eva Roberts caught up in the middle. He’d been there once. He’d stood in her shoes, and it was hell. But Dan felt like this was an even worse scenario. Damn it, it was. How could it get any worse for Eva? The scale of the situation was monumental, but at least there were new parameters, and maybe potential new allies. Dan considered the enemies now ranged against them: Russians, Travellers, Joleen Riley, the double-agent… who else would be waiting? It seemed as if the whole world was turning against them. What could they do about it? Even the dissidents with their wild imaginations had fallen silent.
It was a half hour before they reached Georgiev’s South London flat. They had been in shock the whole way through, yet Dan was grateful for the silence because now he had a plan. In their battle plan the enemy had made Eva pivotal. But Dan saw another pivot in the opposition. At present, their plans all revolved around the female assassin. Dan decided he would track her, and he would stop her. She was key. Even if he was taken out in the process, Dan had to stop her first.
Eleven
It was late. Eva guessed Dan would report his findings any time now. Eva sat in a Range Rover beside the big man who was assigned to protect her. Part of her also guessed when the time came he would be assigned to kill her. But as they negotiated the chaotic London streets on their way back to Holloway, Eva realised she wasn’t in the least scared of him. She would have to stay alive a long time yet just to make it far enough to be killed by Trevor. Her head was full of wine, but her brain was still working. The only evidence left of the wine was that occasionally she found her plight ridiculous. And then she laughed. Trevor looked at her and shook his head.
“I just can’t believe how all this happened. I was sorted. I had my own business, then Dan returned and it just went belly up, but we survived that. But after he went AWOL, my life just fell off a cliff. Trevor, I’m not the sort of person who ends up with a contract out on their head. That’s for important people. Gangsters. Politicians. Terrorists. I’m just me.”
“One thing I’ve learned in life, Miss...”
Trevor was a quiet man. Eva looked round at him and waited for his rare wisdom.
“Yeah?”
“Shit happens, and it keeps happening, no matter what you do.”
Eva nodded. “Thanks Trevor. I can die happy now,” Eva smiled. Then her phone trilled and she stopped smiling.
“What took you so long?”
Trevor pointed at the mobile phone dock above the gear stick. She planted the phone onto it and Trevor put the call on loudspeaker.
“That woman has had us on a wild goose chase across London. From Docklands to Tower Hamlets.”
“That’s not far.”
“But she took her time with both appointments. You heard about the first one.”
“Dan? You’re talking too fast.”
His voice was loud and strained and pouring words down the line quicker than she could process. He seemed almost manic.
“She went to see a guy in Tower Hamlets. We tracker her, and Brodski did his James Bond thing and stuck a microphone on the woman. We heard her meet with this guy. He was English. He started talking about the British secret service, like he was an insider. First of all it sounded like he was going to turn a blind eye and let you get killed...”
“Our own government are in on this? You have got to be kidding, Dan?”
“Hold on.”
“You’re not joking. Shit.”
“Eva, listen. The guy said he could pull some strings with the UK secret service to protect the killer woman from Dobcek’s people, because if she fails to make the hit on you they will kill her.”
“What the hell for? To get some of what Dobcek got from this assassin?”
“No. The British agent is already getting that, and then some. We heard everything loud and clear on the mic. Eva. This is the key part – the guy said if Dobcek tried to pin the failure on the assassin woman, the British guy - someone called Henry - would report over Dobcek’s head.”
“What are you saying, Dan?”
“Eva, we are involved in some deeply serious shit now. This Henry guy is a double-agent. He can influence the British secret service – MI6 or whatever – and he reports to people in Moscow who are higher up than Pyotr Dobcek. He works for Moscow.”
Eva’s lips formed words, but her brain couldn’t fill the gaps.
“Dan? I’m going to die, aren’t I?”
“We’re not going to let that happen.”
“Thanks for saying that.”
“I’m not just saying it, Eva. I mean it. You must stay strong. Where are you?”
“We’re headed to Boneyard Lane to see Gillespie. I was going to discuss the update about Dobcek with him.”
“Everything just changed, Eva. Hold fire. Don’t say a word until we get there. Gillespie must hear the full story, uncut.”
“Dan, I think I can die if I need to. I think I can handle that.”
“Stop it, Eva. Don’t say that. That’s not going to happen.”
“But I don’t deserve it, really. That’s the worst thing about all this. The injustice. It’s maddening. They are just using me and I hate that. What are they trying to use me for? It doesn’t make sense.”
An Eastern European voice changed the tone of the entire call. It was Georgiev on the line.
“It does make sense, Eva. You are and Maggie Gillespie are the catalysts. They intend to make martyrs of you to enable them to engineer a just war on the streets of London. A gang war.”
“That’s just another crazy one of your Russian dissident theories, right?”
“Have you got any better ones to explain any of this? British spies, assassins and Russian gangsters… what do you think?”
Georgiev had a point, but Eva was still left dumbfounded.
“How long will it take you to get to Holloway Road?” said Eva finally.
“Forty five minutes across town, maybe less.”
“Okay. Call me when you’re there.” Eva shut down the call. She needed time to work it all out.
Trevor turned around and gave Eva a wafer thin smile.
“You okay?”
“No. Should I be? You heard that whole damn thing. This is madness, total madness. I can’t be caught up in anything like that.”
“Think about it. They heard what they heard, don’t you think?”
Eva turned her head to focus on the streets by night, with their reassuring normality, darkness and noise. She could face death now if she had to. But she didn’t deserve it, so she had no choice but to fight. If she had done something wrong to deserve being a part of the conspiracy it might have been easier to let herself get killed. But she hadn’t. All she had done was help the wrong person in order to save her business. Was this kar
ma? Was this all to do with being involved in Kendra’s death? Maybe. But that was a matter for her own conscience – it had nothing to do with Dobcek’s businesses or anything else. If she was going to fight, she would need every resource on her side to do it. Brian Gillespie wasn’t going to like the fact that Dobcek was implicated in hiring the assassin. Now the direction of blame for Maggie’s death was pointing squarely at Pyotr Dobcek and White Star Gazet. And from Gillespie’s point of view, if you boiled it all right down, this would have nothing to do with espionage. This was all about gang warfare; Maggie had been killed because his men had killed Dobcek’s predecessor, Victor Marka. Now they had taken their revenge. But even if they never attacked anyone ever again, how could Bad Boy Brian ever let it go? They had struck at his very heart. Whether he loved Maggie or not, they had killed his wife. Eva Roberts knew Gillespie well enough by now, no matter who was implicated, there was no way on Earth Brian could ever let this go. Eva needed some help to survive and she hoped more than a little of it was going to come from the ruthless old gangster.
Twelve
This time Gillespie knew they were coming. Fitzpatrick House was ready. The short guy was waiting outside smoking like a chimney. He looked cold, shivering in a shirt and jeans. Trevor was Gillespie’s, so whatever Trevor had seen, the old man would soon know about. But Trevor didn’t protest when Eva insisted on waiting in the Range Rover half way back down Boneyard Lane. Sooner than promised, the black Jag showed, hurtling along Boneyard until it swerved into the driveway at the side of the building. The little guy approached the car, and Dan got out waving the short guy’s smoke out of his face. Eva watched the man point down the alley towards the courtyard, and then Trevor started up the deep roaring engine, and the Range Rover ate up the short road until it reached Fitzpatrick and turned down the driveway after Dan. Eva was focussed – totally focussed. Whatever Dan’s ideas were now, Eva needed Brian Gillespie on board. It was the only way to turn this thing, she was sure of it.
The iron gate at the side of the wide building opened. They drove their cars in and parked. Before the engine was silent Eva was out of the Range Rover heading for Dan.
“Eva. I’m with you all the way on this. I’ve seen this woman, and now we know her motives and movements. I can stop her.”
Eva smiled. It was something like old times, only with added extra insane levels of danger. “It’s good to have you back.”
“It’s good to be back,” he said.
“But we need more than knowledge, Dan, don’t you think?”
Georgiev had been standing to one side and was listening with a grim face. “She’s right. We’re just a rag-tag crew of nobodies. I can summon a few more of the Russian community to help us…”
Eva tried not to make a face. They were good people, but really, what help could they offer?
“But if you are to survive, you need real power to take these people on. They have the authority of Russia behind them.”
“I like those odds, Georgey. You should know that by now,” said Dan.
“That’s not wisdom speaking, Dan. That’s lunacy.”
Touché. Georgiev was sounding sane.
The door of the house behind the office block was opening. Joleen Riley emerged, a long cigarette in her hand. She tapped the ash onto the cobbles of the old courtyard.
Eva hurried to make her point. “Georgiev is right, Dan. We need power, and these people have it. Numbers. Fire power, money and good motivation not to let Dobcek win.”
“Listen to you…”
She knew it was crazy, but so was being on the run from a killer. Once you knew a hired killer was after you, Eva found out she could take everything else in her stride.
The old woman cut through their hoarse whispers.
“You came back. That’s a shame.”
“Where’s Brian?” asked Eva.
“Here.” The old man threaded past the woman down onto the cobbles. His suit jacket was off, his shirt collar unbuttoned. He was wearing red braces like some kind of city banker morphed into an old troll.
“What’s the story? Trevor, you first.” The old man sipped from a glass of amber spirit.
“Those crazy bastards over there, the Russians have been surmising this is the work of the KGB or something. They keep comparing the situation to a war.”
“You don’t buy that, Trevor?”
“It sounds nuts. They mean a real military war, not gang war.”
“That does sound crazy,” said the old man with a smile. “We don’t need any more craziness in our business, do we Joleen?”
“Never,” said the woman, sounding like a gangster version of Margaret Thatcher.
“Sum it up for me, Trev.”
“They decided to risk getting the girl killed so they could set up a trap for the woman.”
“And?”
“It worked. Within forty minutes the attempted hit came. A woman and a guy, a spot and attack. I stopped the hit by smashing the woman in the face. She’s seen me now. If they strike again, it won’t be easy to stop.”
“Tell me about the hit.”
“Professional class. Good diversion and a great location to set it up. These people are good. Later one of our mad Russians tracked the woman back to an address in Docklands. One of them claims to have seen the assassin sucking Pyotr Dobcek’s dick by way of apology for failing on the hit.”
“Your view, Trev?”
“It sounds far-fetched but it could be true. White Star do own the penthouse at City Pinnacle, the block where this took place.”
The old man turned to Eva and sipped his drink. He pointed at her with his glass.
“So, the assassin belongs to Dobcek, Victor Marka’s replacement. Is that what this is? It sounds neat and tidy. Far-fetched says Trevor. I’d agree.”
“It happened, damn it. What happened next verifies it,” said Dan, giving Trevor a hard eye. Trevor shrugged it off.
“Your turn, big man,” said Gillespie to Dan.
“The girl left City Pinnacle, and we tracked her. Brodski here is into gadgetry. He set up a mic so we could hear her. We followed her to an address in Tower Hamlets.”
“Well, this is a glamorous business.”
“Almost as glamorous as Holloway Road, Brian.” Brian Gillespie had amused himself. He seemed a little drunk and waved for Dan to carry on.
“This is a great story, Bradley. Carry on.”
Dan recounted everything that happened at Tower Hamlets. The guy saying he would get British help to protect her, and then saying he would inform Dobcek’s superiors about his failings.
“Espionage? Double-agents? You people been watching too much fucking James Bond? Don’t be ridiculous. We don’t need to turn this into a fantasy. There’s already enough drama in this with you fools in my face. Trevor, give me some common sense.”
“They say they believe it, Mr Gillespie. I think they do. They swear to one another that this is what they heard, and they have no reason to lie to one another.”
Joleen Riley snorted with derision.
“So, at first you thought this was nuts, a crackpot story. But now you believe it?”
“There’s too much at stake for these people, Mr Gillespie. They’ve already weighed this up. There’s some truth here. I believe this thing could have state involvement.”
“Well, I always said the government were the crookedest bastards of them all, didn’t I?”
Brian looked around, like the person he was looking for wasn’t there, and he looked momentarily confused.
Eva sucked a deep breath and stepped forward.
“Mr Gillespie. This is a plot to kill me and there was the plot to kill your wife. The same killer has undertaken both tasks. The job seems to have been handed down by the highest Russian authorities in the land...”
Georgiev spoke. His distinctive accent seized everyone’s attention.
“We believe Pyotr Dobcek, and Victor Marka before him, have been acting as proxies for the Russian govern
ment. It is probable that Russian authorities have sanctioned a takeover of crime syndicates in the United Kingdom as part of a longer term strategy to destabilise this country from within.”
“You’re telling me The Kremlin wants my business?”
The old man blinked at Joleen Riley and chuckled. Joleen didn’t say a word.
“Well, what do you think Joleen? Are we going to let any of them have it?”
“Over my dead body.”
“Nobody is taking what’s mine without a bloody fight. And when they fight me, they’re fighting the toughest their bloody is.”
“So you’ll help us?”
“They want to kill you, right. They’ve pinned the murder of my own wife on me. Nobody but the Police believes Maggie was killed by that vigilante. They’ve pinned the murder on me, my own wife. So why you, Miss Roberts?”
“I didn’t get it at first, but it’s simple. If I was involved in helping your wife work against you, who do you think would have the biggest motivation to hurt me?”
“Good point. And to be honest, right up until five minutes ago, I was going to have the lot of you killed, wasn’t I Joleen?”
The woman made a non-committal nod.
“Yes I was. I was even going to shoot a couple of you myself, just to keep my hand in, you know – practice.”
The old man drew a small pistol from his pocket and it shone in the reflected light from Fitzpatrick House behind them.
“So now what, Mr Gillespie?” asked Eva.
“Now, why would I give them exactly what they want? You never ever do what your enemy wants, and you never ever do what they expect.”
“So you’ll help us stop this assassin?”
“Uh-uh. You’ve got it the wrong way round, sweetheart. You’re going to help me stop Dobcek and the assassin.”
Eva didn’t like the sound of that at all. Gillespie was exactly like his deceased wife, a manipulator, a liar and a killer. But with Gillespie’s help she had a chance. A slim chance, but it was all she had. She looked at Dan for his support, but he was busy fishing his mobile phone from his coat pocket. He answered a short call.
On Borrowed Time Page 8
