Yesterday's Sins

by James Green

  When the car reached the bungalow he got out and leaned down.

  ‘I don’t need a lift. You can go back to your boss.’

  As soon as the its door was shut, the car pulled away. For someone who didn’t speak English, Moustache understood it well enough. Charlie waited until the car was out of sight then let himself into the house. He took off his coat, hung it up and went into the kitchen. The garage was attached to the bungalow, on the other side of the far kitchen wall. The door through to it which the explosion had blown open was hanging drunkenly on the upper hinge. Charlie went into the garage. It was empty. Beyond the twisted, scorched, up-and-over door he could see the police tape across the bottom of the drive. A bit of tape wouldn’t keep anybody out and the garage door wouldn’t close so he would have to fix the door into the kitchen. Even in Denmark there were people who couldn’t resist an open door. Back in the kitchen a few things had been knocked off shelves. Some plates had fallen and the fragments were scattered over the tiled floor. Also splashed on the floor were the remains of his ingredients for Black Bread Pudding.

  As he surveyed the mess there was a ring at the front door. Lars was standing there looking concerned.

  ‘Inga saw you come home; she sent me round to ask if you needed anything. Something to eat, maybe? Someone to talk to?’

  ‘Thank you, that’s thoughtful and kind but I’m only here to pick up a few things for Elspeth. I must get back.’

  ‘They’re keeping her in?’

  ‘Yes, for observation. You were right about her wrist and of course she’s badly shaken up. She’s sedated, sleeping a lot. I want to be there when she wakes up.’

  ‘Of course, we understand. Go, and give her our love when you see her.’ Lars turned away then stopped and looked back. ‘Can I give you a lift to the hospital? The police took your car.’

  ‘I don’t think it would have been much use even if they’d left it.’ Charlie smiled and Lars looked a little embarrassed at his silly remark. ‘And thanks, but no. I’ll call a taxi. I know this may sound rude but I don’t want company at the moment. I just want to take a breather and then get back to be with Elspeth.’

  ‘Yes, I quite understand.’

  ‘There is something you can do, though.’

  ‘Anything, just ask.’

  ‘The door from the garage to the kitchen got blown in. After I’ve gone, could you make it secure? Anyone could walk in.’

  ‘Sure, glad to.’

  ‘Go in through the garage and then let yourself out. Thanks, Lars, thanks for understanding.’

  ‘It’s nothing. I’ll see to it as soon as you go. Ring our bell when you leave and it will be done before you’re back.’ And he walked away.

  Charlie went back to the kitchen and the remains of his Black Bread Pudding among the broken plate shards. He looked at the mess. Six eggs. It was too many, he’d known it all along.

  After he had cleaned up he went to the living room, made himself a stiff drink and sat down. He made a decision. He wasn’t going to run, whatever happened he wouldn’t run. He wasn’t going to start all over again, whoever it was that was after him.

  If he stayed, he would have to fight. And if he had to fight, he needed to know what sort of enemy he was taking on. Who wanted him to suffer before he died? Not any of the people he was hiding from. They wanted him dead and they didn’t play games. If they had found him and planted a bomb in his car, he would be splattered all over the inside of the garage. This was someone who wanted to make it personal. Not that it helped. If all the people who had a reason to kill him got together, they could start a small soccer league. But it had to be a professional, the bomb wasn’t the work of some clever amateur who got his information from the internet. The way that bomb was wired wasn’t something you picked up off the web, like how to make your own anthrax, and the components for it weren’t on eBay.

  Charlie sat and sipped his drink. He liked the view from this room at the back of the house, over the garden to the sea. He was looking east and the colour of the water was darkening as the daylight began to fade. His watch told him he had been gone from the hospital for nearly two hours. If Elspeth had woken up she would be frightened and wondering where he was. Well, that couldn’t be helped – he needed to begin working this out.

  It had to be someone based locally who could watch their movements and knew their Sunday routine, especially that Elspeth didn’t get into the car until it was out of the garage. He smiled to himself. Someone who wanted him dead but was careful not to put Elspeth in harm’s way. A professional with compassion, now there was a novelty. And it had to be someone new, someone who had arrived not very long ago and recognised him, or someone who had found where he was and had come to kill him. He was looking for a new face, somebody who could watch him without being noticed. Someone new who had a good reason for being there, who fitted in. It wouldn’t be someone acting as a visitor or tourist. Nyborg was a small place and the tourist season was over, so a new face should help him, if the face was in Nyborg. But whoever it was could just as well be based in Copenhagen or Odense. Odense would be his bet, one stop up the line from Nyborg, only fifteen minutes on the train and big enough to hide in if anyone came looking.

  Whoever was after him had slipped into the local woodwork and would take some dislodging. Charlie took a drink. Remember the rules, be careful and thorough and don’t make any mistakes. You know what has to be done, so do it. OK, whoever you are, you can watch me, maybe even try to frighten me once more if you’re quick. But then I’ll kill you. He stood up and finished his drink. Now, what was it Elspeth had asked for?

  SIX

  ‘I brought your things.’

  Elspeth was sitting up in bed nursing her strapped wrist with her good hand. Charlie put the bag he had brought on the foot of the bed and sat down beside her. She didn’t ask him why had he been so long or tell him she’d been frightened when he didn’t come straight back. She didn’t need to, it was in her eyes and he’d seen it as soon as he walked into the room.

  ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so long but the police insisted on taking me to the police station and asking me a lot of pointless questions, and when I got home I had to do some cleaning in the kitchen and sort out the door through to the garage. It was blown open, it was just hanging there. Anyone could have walked in. I asked Lars to see to it so that I could get here to you. I’m sorry, I came as soon as I could.’

  Elspeth’s eyes immediately forgave him. She should have known he wouldn’t leave her alone if he could help it.

  ‘What cleaning was there?’

  ‘The Black Bread Pudding finished up all over the floor with some plates that had fallen, it was a mess, I couldn’t just leave it.’

  There was a silence. Charlie was waiting for the question and Elspeth was getting ready to ask it.

  ‘Charlie, now can you tell me what this is all about?’

  ‘Yes, I can tell you, but it’s hard to know how to begin.’

  ‘It’s something from your past, isn’t it?’

  Charlie nodded but remained silent. Don’t speak, let her take her time to get where she wants to go.

  ‘I was thinking about things when you weren’t here. About what I really know about you, from before we met, and I realised I know nothing about you except what you’ve told me. You were in the Air Force but you never told me anything much about that, just that you did a tour of service in England. I’ve never met any family or friends. I’ve never even met anyone who ever knew you.’

  Charlie waited. She was about ready to ask her question.

  ‘Charlie, is anything I know about you true?’

  Fear of the answer was clear in her voice. Charlie put on his puzzled look. He wanted to do this well, for her sake as well as his own.

  ‘Of course, dear, everything you know is true. What do you mean?’

  ‘It was a bomb, wasn’t it?’ Charlie nodded. ‘And it’s something to do with your past, something I know nothing about, something you’ve
hidden from me?’ Charlie nodded again. She was doing very well. Elspeth made the final effort. ‘Is your name really Charlie Bronski?’

  ‘It is, except that there used to be a Stanislaus in front of the Charles and Bronski’s my mother’s maiden name. But it’s been the name on my passport from before we ever met.’

  ‘So am I really Mrs Bronski?’

  ‘Yes, you really are.’

  ‘And were you ever in the American Air Force?’

  ‘Yes. I was in base security. But security is a young man’s game and eventually I lost my confidence and that made me dangerous, so they retrained me. I became an accountant.’

  ‘An accountant? Do they have accountants?’

  ‘Sure they have accountants, lots of them. I became a very good accountant and by the time I retired I headed up a whole department of them. When I left the Air Force, being an accountant made it easy to get a job. I got a very good one with a small investment bank. Its main office was in Italy, in Milan, but it had two branches in the US. I worked at the branch in Miami, the other one was in New York. They didn’t have a whole lot of clients but those they did certainly had the stuff. The bank moved it around so the money made money. I kept track of some accounts. Unfortunately it turned out my clients weren’t simply hard-working businessmen or pension funds.’

  ‘They were gangsters?’

  ‘Not all of them. The bank was very good at what it did so it picked up some genuine clients – not a lot, but enough. They provided window dressing and gave the bank an air of respectability.’

  ‘And you found out?’

  ‘Me? No. I didn’t suspect anything. It was all too well done, it all looked perfectly straight to me.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘Have you ever heard of the Witness Protection Programme?’

  ‘Yes, it hides gangsters who give evidence against other gangsters, doesn’t it? It gives them new lives.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Elspeth paused. She didn’t like to say it but ...

  ‘Were you some sort of gangster, Charlie?’

  Charlie grinned. ‘No, dear, I was an accountant like I told you. It was the FBI who told me what was going on.’

  ‘The FBI?’

  ‘Sure. They knew it was a front for Mob money. They wanted me to help prove it and get the guys who were running the thing. Actually I found they didn’t give a shit ...’ Elspeth winced. ‘Sorry, dear, that’s how I used to talk. This is all bringing old times back. Times I want to forget.’

  Elspeth smiled and put her good hand on his arm. ‘That’s all right, I understand.’

  ‘Later I found what they really wanted was for the government to get the money. If they got the bad guys, fine. But what they really wanted was the money.’

  ‘So you agreed to help?’

  ‘Like hell I did. The Mob kill people, especially people who take their money off them.’

  ‘So where does the Witness thing come in?’

  ‘Once the FBI told me what was going on, I knew, and if the Mob found out I knew then I was dead. If I suddenly left the bank without any good reason it would look suspicious and I might as well save everybody time and effort, go somewhere quiet and blow my own brains out.’

  ‘But couldn’t you have gone on for say six months and then leave, making it look natural?’

  ‘I didn’t have six months. If I said no, the Feds made it clear someone would tip off the bank that I knew what was going on and that I had been approached by the FBI.’

  ‘But they can’t do that. That’s blackmail. It’s worse than blackmail, it’s ...’

  But she couldn’t think what it was.

  ‘Look, dear, the Feds are the Mob with badges, they do whatever it takes. To them it’s a war and wars have casualties and sometimes the casualties are innocent bystanders. In the military we called it collateral damage. It was either help, or become a piece of collateral damage. Anyway, the FBI had me where they wanted me and I knew they were the only people who could get me a new life where the Mob wouldn’t find me, so I did what they wanted and then went into the Programme. Everything you know about me is true. You just didn’t know the bit between leaving the Air Force and coming to England as Charlie Bronski.’

  Elspeth thought about it. Then she gave a slight shudder. ‘Is it the Mob, Charlie, did they try to blow you up? Is the Mafia after us?’

  ‘Absolutely not. If they had found me, you would have had to collect me from all over the garden.’

  ‘Oh don’t, Charlie. It’s too horrible to think about.’ She paused. ‘But if it’s not them, then who?’

  ‘My guess is somebody has recognised me and thinks they see a way of making money.’

  ‘By selling their information to the Mafia?’

  ‘No. I think this will turn out to be nothing more than old-fashioned blackmail. Pay me or I’ll tell the Mob where you are.’

  Elspeth let it all sink in.

  ‘But we don’t have a lot of money, do we?’

  ‘You have what your Aunt Anne left you but that’s all tied up. You get the income during your life but the capital goes back to your family when you die. I have my Air Force pension and we’ve got some savings. There’s the house and there’s the money from the books. We have all we need but we’re not rich. We certainly couldn’t afford any blackmail. Once it starts it doesn’t stop.’

  ‘Do we go to the police then?’

  Charlie put plenty of urgency into his voice. He needed Elspeth to trust him totally.

  ‘No police. Definitely no police.’

  ‘But why, couldn’t they ...’

  ‘What the cops know today the Mob would know tomorrow and the day after that I’d be dead. Somebody would sell me out.’

  He watched her. She didn’t like it but she believed it.

  ‘So who else is there? Is there anybody who can help us?’ Charlie nodded.

  ‘Yes there is. The people who got me into this. The FBI. I’ll get in touch through the Protection Programme.’

  ‘Will they help?’

  ‘They’ll have to. What good is a Witness Protection Programme if it can’t keep its witnesses alive after they’ve testified? I’ll make sure they understand that if I die, everyone is going to know why and what it was all about.’

  ‘Isn’t that a bit like blackmail? Like the way they treated you?’

  ‘It’s exactly what they did to me. That’s why I’m sure it will work.’

  There was a soft knock at the door. It opened. A big man with short grey hair, a black jacket and shirt topped off by a priest’s collar, half came in.

  ‘May we come in?’ The accent was German. Elspeth looked at him past Charlie.

  ‘Good evening, Father Mundt. Please come in. Charlie, get Father a chair from somewhere.’

  The priest came into the room, followed by another man. ‘You know Mr Costello, Jimmy. He is on a placement with me, getting parish experience.’

  Charlie went and shook hands with Fr Mundt.

  ‘Sure, Father.’ Then he turned to Jimmy, ‘We’ve seen you serving at Mass on Sundays.’ Then back to Fr Mundt, ‘I’ll go and get a couple of chairs.’

  ‘No, don’t bother. We won’t stay. I just wanted to be sure you were both all right. The doctor I spoke to says no real harm done but I thought I’d pop in and see for myself.’

  Charlie stood aside as Fr Mundt headed for the bed. ‘We came as soon as we heard, Elspeth.’

  Charlie studied Fr Mundt’s back while he talked to Elspeth. He looked just like a Catholic priest should look. He was a priest, and that was all he was.

  ‘A terrible thing. Thank God neither of you is badly hurt.’

  ‘No, Father, we’re fine, but it was good of you both to come.’

  Don’t bother the priest, don’t make a fuss. Somebody blows you up and you’re in hospital but don’t bother the priest. She was a little girl again. In the close presence of any priest she couldn’t find a way to be more than ten years old. She sm
iled. You always had to smile. Unless, of course, you were crying. Crying was all right too. Priests could deal with crying, they got a lot of it.

  ‘It must have been a terrifying experience for you both.’

  Charlie turned his attention away from the bed to the other man, the placement. This was no fresh-faced young seminarian. In his late fifties, thick-set and badly dressed, he had a crumpled look, a lived-in face, short grizzled hair. But it wasn’t his appearance that concerned Charlie. It was the way he had looked at him when they shook hands. His eyes seemed to say, you mean no more to me than the furniture.

  It wasn’t the sort of look you expected to see in the eyes of someone thinking about becoming a priest, it belonged to people like Moustache, and it registered with Charlie.

  As Elspeth talked to the priest, Charlie’s mind kept running. Up close, the man now standing quietly by the door looked very much like another Moustache and that had set an alarm bell off in his head.

  Here was a new face, a face that fitted in and got no questions asked. Charlie hadn’t thought of him because he had the perfect cover story, a placement with the priest who just happened to say Mass for the Catholics in and around Nyborg. Charlie wondered how hard it would be to set up a phoney placement. Maybe not so hard – I’m thinking about becoming a priest, could I have a placement to help me decide? But why Copenhagen? He hadn’t given it any thought before. Now he did. This guy was English, why come to Denmark? He walked over to him.

  ‘How is the placement going, Mr Costello?’

  Jimmy didn’t try to smile, he knew he was no good at smiling.

  ‘Fine.’

  Not a chatty type, thought Charlie. Neither was Moustache.

  ‘How long is it for?’

  ‘Sort of open-ended.’

  ‘Isn’t Denmark an unusual choice for an Englishman?’

  The man shrugged. ‘Fr Mundt agreed to take me so I came.’

  ‘Must be a big decision, thinking of becoming a priest. I mean, at your age.’ The man didn’t answer so Charlie pressed on. ‘What did you do before?’

  The man looked at Charlie and when he finally answered he obviously chose his words with care.