“Come on, come on,” he said as a bus slowed in the lane ahead of him.
“Yes. I’m here . . .” Eve listened, then, “Oh my God. Are you sure? Do not let him die. We need him.”
Tex whipped around the bus, too impatient to wait. “What happened?” he asked, glancing over at her, then back at the road.
“I’m still trying to figure it out. Just get us there.”
“I’m trying.” He turned off of the Edgeware Road, hoping to avoid the traffic, instead turning onto Kendal, a much quieter street, before making a left on Portsea Place. But when he reached Connaught, he saw that the police had the square cordoned off and were redirecting all traffic away from the area. When Tex reached the blockade, he rolled down his window as an ambulance, its siren blaring, came in from the other side. The officer waved it through, then turned to Tex. “You’ll have to turn back around, sir.”
“One of our agents was involved in the shooting.”
“Do you have some identification, then?”
He did not, and just when he wondered how they were going to get past the blockade, the officer answered to someone on the radio. “Apparently they know you,” he said, then waved Tex through.
He pulled up behind the ambulance, leaving plenty of space for them to work. When they got out, Eve saw the car riddled with bullet holes. “Jesus.”
He looked around, saw Sheila talking to an officer, clearly shaken.
“About time you two got here.”
Tex spun around, saw Carillo beside the ambulance. “You stole a taxi?”
“Stole is kinda a harsh word.”
“I’m sure everyone at Scotland Yard will agree. What happened?”
“The passenger pulled a gun as they came around the corner. I think the officers took offense.” Carillo looked back to where the medics were covering a body with a blanket to shield it from view.
“That him?”
“Yep. The driver got lucky. Took a couple in the arm.”
“He say anything?”
“Can’t shut him up. Almost like his life flashed before his eyes. The way I see it, when MI5, then MI6 gets done debriefing him, you two are going to be very, very busy.”
“That almost sounds like you’re not planning on sticking around.”
“Soon as we clear up the little misunderstanding about the taxi, we’re outta here. Maybe even a real vacation. The kind that consists of a six-pack of beer and my couch.”
“You sure? We could use you.”
Carillo nodded in Sheila’s direction. “I need to get her back before she completely loses it. But do me a favor? When you get that little weasel Trip in your clutches?”
“Done.”
Tex and Eve walked into the conference room at New Scotland Yard to meet with Detective Inspector Whitmore of the City of London Police, who was assigned to the murder of Marty Blanford, and Detective Inspector Talbott of the Metropolitan Police, who was handling the shooting at Connaught Square. Because the cases were related, they were now combining forces, and the two DCIs had just returned from interviewing their suspect at the hospital, who confirmed that the weapon found at the scene of the shooting in front of the prime minister’s residence was the same weapon used to kill Marty out at Blackfriars Bridge.
“Actually the news gets even better,” Talbott informed them. “This Trip you’ve been searching for? According to our suspect—a man named Willis—Trip is sitting in some locked room trying to save his hide with this Barclay fellow, by sending him here and there for this missing book that is likely to shut down Barclay’s entire operation. They don’t seem to realize you’ve recovered it already.”
“Maybe,” Tex said, “we can use that to our advantage.”
“How so?” DCI Talbott asked.
“Somehow get word to Barclay about the location of that DVD. See if he takes the bait. Comes after it.”
“Brilliant,” Talbott said. “If we could come up with a workable plan.”
“Trip’s sister,” Tex said.
To which Eve replied, “Trip is slimy, but he’s not that slimy.”
“He did, however, throw Sheila out there as bait . . .” They exchanged glances, and Tex smiled as he took out his phone. “Gentlemen, I think we have a plan.”
Carillo’s emphatic no echoed in Tex’s ear.
“C’mon. It’s not like she has to be here. You can even have her call from your hotel room.”
“You really think he’s going to believe anything Sheila tells him?”
“Yeah, I do. Because he’s desperate.”
“So what’s this great plan of yours?”
“She tells him that she’s going to have you find it for him. After all, you’ve saved the day for them how many times? Is there really anything you can’t do?”
“Regular Superman.”
“Exactly. All Sheila needs to do is play the concerned girlfriend, doing the thing she does best—”
“Getting me to do her dirty work.”
“Bingo.”
“And then she calls him to say you’ve figured out where it is. Only one problem with that, Sherlock. Sheila’s not that good an actress.”
“You telling me you can’t get her to believe that you’d actually do this for her?”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not that good of a liar.”
“C’mon, Carillo . . .”
Tex heard him take a deep breath, then, “Where’s the setup going to take place?”
“I think the sister’s house.”
“Fine. I’ll figure a way. Let me know when you want her to make the call.”
“Trip? It’s Sheila.”
“Sheila, love, you’re okay?”
“Yes.” She glanced at Carillo, who nodded, and then she leaned over the cell phone, talking just above a whisper, something Carillo decided would be best to hide any inconsistencies that Trip might hear in her voice. “I—I needed to talk to you.”
“Is something wrong? You sound funny.”
“I don’t want Tony to hear. He’s in the other room. But I heard him talking about this . . . this book you’re looking for?”
“What about it?”
When she didn’t respond, Carillo slid the paper closer to her. He’d written a script of sorts, and she glanced at it, then shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks.
Great. He reached over, ended the call.
“I can’t do this,” she said. “I loved him. He loves me. Or he did.”
“The only person Trip loves is Trip.”
“I just think he’s confused—”
God help him, because the only one confused in this room was her, and when her cell rang and he saw Trip’s number there, he realized he had just a few seconds to straighten her out. “Sheila. He never loved you.” Her lower lip trembled as he said the words. “I may not like you at times, and God knows you don’t like me, but I’d die before I ever let Trip or any other bastard hurt you. That, Sheila, is love.”
He slid the ringing cell phone toward her.
She took a deep breath, sat up straight, and he saw a spark of anger, whether directed at him or not, he didn’t know. But she answered the call. “Hello?”
“Sheila? Why’d you hang up?”
“Tony walked into the room. I didn’t want him to hear.”
“Smart thinking. You said he was talking about the book?”
Carillo saw her hesitation, and he nudged the script closer, but she shook her head, saying into the phone, “Yeah. They were talking about what Marty said right before— Right before he was shot. He told them he’d hidden it in a Kipling story.”
“Kipling?”
“Yes. So they went back to the house, looking for books by Rudyard Kipling.”
“Did they find it?”
“No. But don’t you get it?”
“Get what?”
“He never said a book. He said story.”
“I don’t get it, Sheila.”
“Kipling wrote The Jungle Book.�
�
“So?”
She leaned closer to the phone, then lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper. “There was a Jungle Book DVD case at your sister’s house. I saw it. What if he copied it to a DVD and that’s where he hid it?”
There was a stretch of silence on the other end, then, “My God, Sheila. That’s brilliant. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. I say, you haven’t told Tony about this, have you?”
She looked at Carillo. When he shook his head, she answered, “No. Should I?”
“No. No. I’ll have a look first. What if it’s nothing? I do have to get going, love. If I find anything, I’ll ring you up.”
When Sheila heard the beep, signifying the call had disconnected, she held up her middle finger toward the phone, saying, “Ring this up, you bastard.” Then, to Carillo, she said, “I can’t believe how blind I was.”
“Sheila, you did great. Amazing, even.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he said, taking out his phone to call Tex. When he answered, Carillo said, “It’s done.”
“We’re setting up on the place now. Can’t wait to nail the little weasel.”
Eve heard the click of the lock, then a faint squeak as the front door opened. Tex tapped her shoulder, pointed, then moved toward the light switch, ready to turn it on when the time was right. They were in the far corner of the darkened kitchen that stank of charred wood and smoke, the damage mostly confined to the stove area. A swath of moonlight fell across the carpet from the window near the TV stand. Sitting right on top was the case to Disney’s The Jungle Book. There were a few other children’s movies on the kitchen counter. Eve heard some static coming from her earpiece, but the radio seemed to be cutting out. There were two officers in the house across the street, watching from the neighbor’s front window, as well as two agents parked down the block in a van. She assumed someone was trying to radio them that Trip was on his way in, and she glanced toward Tex. He didn’t seem concerned, so she assumed it was only her radio that wasn’t working.
A floorboard creaked in the front hall, and then a figure stepped into the living room, seemingly unaware that they were watching from the kitchen. More static. And this time she saw Tex adjusting his earpiece. A moment later he gave her a thumbs-up and flicked on the light.
Trip, the DVD case in his hand, turned toward them, his eyes going wide. “Eve?”
She gave the DVD a pointed look. “The Jungle Book? Seems a little juvenile. Even for you.”
“This? It’s, uh, for Emmie.”
“You’ve found her, then?”
“No. But when she returns. You know, give her something to do.”
“He’s quite the devoted uncle,” Tex said.
“Isn’t he?” Eve replied. “So what’s on the DVD, then, Trip? What’s so important you’d risk coming out in public, especially after having the nerve to sic Barclay’s thugs on Sheila and her husband?”
“That?” He laughed, taking a step toward the door. “That was a misunderstanding. And I did call to warn them.”
“Or call to see if they’d been killed yet?”
“You’ve got it all wrong.”
Eve stepped forward, eyeing the DVD. “Aren’t you going to look at it?”
He snapped open the case and his face drained of color when he found it empty. “Where is it?”
“Ah, geez,” Tex said. “Did Sheila forget to mention that we found it the afternoon you left her to burn all alone upstairs? All that evidence against Barclay and A.D.E. scanned onto one disc. Amazing how much stuff you can fit on those things.”
“And it’s worth millions,” Trip said. “Barclay will do anything to get it back.”
“Is that all it was to you, Trip?” Eve asked. “A bargaining tool to extort money?”
“Not at first. But there’s still a chance we can get something.”
“You’re an idiot, Trip,” Eve told him. “It’s too late. We’ve turned it in.”
His face drained of color. “It’s not here? Do you realize what you’ve done? Barclay’s going to kill me.”
To which Tex said, “Only if he can get a gun into prison, since that’s where you’re both going.”
“Eve,” Trip said, taking a step toward her. “You said you’d help me.”
“I did help you. You were tied up in that warehouse and I cut you loose.”
More static in her earpiece, followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing.
She turned to see who had come in, expecting one of the officers from across the street.
Barclay stood just inside the door, a look of surprise flashing across his face when he saw Eve.
Apparently he wasn’t expecting to see her alive—and she might have relished the moment, had he not been pointing a gun at her.
61
“My sources told me you were dead.”
The voice came from down the hallway, and Tex, still in the kitchen, couldn’t see who it was. Even so, he held his gun at a low ready position, and with his other hand keyed his radio, then tapped at his earpiece. Where the hell was their backup? Something had gone wrong, because he’d heard nothing but static since they’d gotten here.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Barclay,” Eve said, slowly lifting her hands, undoubtedly to warn him, without giving away his presence, that not only was her boss from A.D.E. there, but he was armed. “They probably lied to you so they’d get paid. It seems your little kidnap plot on the Somalian border didn’t quite go off as planned.”
Trip stepped to the side, away from her.
“Don’t move,” Barclay ordered. “Either of you.”
Tex edged his way toward the living room, then stopped when he realized he could see the hallway and Barclay’s reflection in the window. Barclay’s gun was pointed toward Eve and Trip, and he raised it, asking, “Where’s the DVD, Trip? You promised me it was here.”
“I—I thought it was.”
Tex knew he either needed to get Eve out of the line of fire or get Barclay into it. He looked around, saw one of the kid’s DVDs on the counter, and an idea struck. “I have it,” he called out, walking over to the counter, grabbing the DVD, then moving back to where he could see Barclay’s reflection. “Do you hear me?”
A burst of static on the radio sounded in his ear, and he realized the backup team could hear him. They must have realized there was a problem with the communication and were letting him know. To be sure, he said, “You do hear me, right?”
A second burst of static came through and he hoped it was a confirmation.
Trip, apparently thinking Tex was talking to them, nodded, pointing in Tex’s direction, probably eager to shift attention away from his sorry ass. “He told me he’d found it when I got here.”
“Who are you pointing to?” Barclay asked. “Who’s talking over there?”
Eve, holding very still, said, “A friend of mine.”
Tex unsnapped the case, removing the DVD with one hand, then holding it up, shiny side out. “Look in the window to the right of the television, Barclay.” Tex angled the disk back and forth several times. “You see it?” He heard a double click of static on the radio.
“Who are you?” Barclay demanded.
“Eve hired me. To help her find this,” he said, moving the DVD back and forth. “Heard it’s worth something to you.”
“It is.”
“Good. Because if anything happens to Eve, I’m gonna make a million copies of it. Front page news.”
“And you think you’ll get out of here?”
“Yeah, I do. Like you, I’ve got a gun. And a side door for a quick getaway. So here’s how it’s going to work. Eve is going to walk over here, get the DVD, toss it to Trip, and then she and I are going to leave out the side door. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Barclay said.
Trip turned a frantic eye toward Eve as she stepped toward the kitchen. “You’re not going to leave me here, are you?”
If Trip suspected the DV
D was fake, he could ruin it for them. Tex pointed his gun at him. “Zip it, Trip.”
As Eve cleared the hallway, Tex, knowing that Barclay could see them, held out the DVD. He waited until Eve was close enough to reach it. But instead of letting her take it, he threw it toward Trip, grabbed Eve’s arm, then pulled her behind him.
“It’s fake!” Trip cried.
Barclay aimed his gun toward Trip.
A loud explosion sounded and the front and side doors burst open. Tex and Eve were pushed out of the way as uniformed officers carrying shields ran past them, storming the room.
Tex caught a glimpse of Trip diving to the floor, covering his head with his hands, and then Barclay being pushed to the ground as an officer screwed a gun in his ear, ordering him not to move.
He looked at Eve. “You okay?”
“I am now.”
Alice walked in, eyed the two of them. “Sorry about that bit of a radio problem.”
“Bit? Huge.”
“You managed to get past it, and in the end that is what counts, right?” She smiled, then stepped past them to where Barclay lay prone on the floor. “Bring the two of them out to the car. I believe MPS wants to interrogate Mr. Barclay about the spate of shootings in the area.”
One of the officers lifted Barclay to his feet, then walked him outside, another following with Trip.
Tex and Eve waited until they cleared before walking out to join Alice as they proceeded to advise both men of their rights.
“Quite the operation,” Alice said. “They’re serving search warrants on Barclay’s offices here, and I understand they are concurrently being served in the U.S.”
Barclay apparently heard, and he halted in his tracks, refusing to get into the police car, so that he could face them. “Serving a search warrant? On my offices? For what? Because a few people get hurt? That happens all over the world. It’s collateral damage. What we’re doing is for the greater good.”
“And what?” Tex said. “You’re so blinded by your goodness that you send hit men out to kill anyone who gets in your way?”
“As I said, the greater good.”
“Well, greater good this, asshole,” Tex said, helping him into the back of the police car. “Don’t sleep too soundly at night. Wouldn’t want to find yourself being dragged out of your cell to be resettled in another country that has the death penalty.”
The Black List Page 28
