‘No,’ Kennedy answered firmly, ‘Ammonium nitrate.’
A good for cities bomb favoured by the IRA, Tallis recalled, its main advantage that it could be driven hundreds of miles without the risk of detonation.
‘Method of delivery?’ Asim said.
‘Suicide bombers, except, in addition, at the Bull Ring they plan to use one of those street-cleaning machines as camouflage.’
Tallis immediately thought of the several bombers waiting for the signal. He was thinking in terms of cells, of sleepers, each individual assigned a specific role. He thought also of those past their usefulness ready to blend anonymously back into society again once the job was done.
Asim nodded, didn’t flinch a muscle. ‘The bombers, are they already in the country?’
‘Yes.’
How? Tallis thought. Which routes?
‘Recognise any of these faces?’ Asim said, producing a set of surveillance photographs.
Kennedy stared, scratched his jaw. ‘No,’ he said slowly.
‘Sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Tallis railed, ‘we need concrete, verifiable evid—’
‘Addresses?’ Asim said, shooting Tallis a back-off look.
Kennedy gave Tallis a long, slow stare.
‘Johnny,’ Asim said, his voice an order, forcing Kennedy to drop his gaze and oblige.
‘Thing is,’ Kennedy said, ‘it’s not only Birmingham they plan to hit.’
Asim’s eyes narrowed to two thin straight incisions. ‘What? You never said that.’
‘The Turks are also involved. That bloke, Tardarti…’
‘What about him?’ Tallis said.
‘It turns out he was the mediator. He had links to both Ahmed and Ergul.’
That turns everything upside down, Tallis thought. So Ergul was trying to frame Kennedy to cover his own duplicitous tracks. Rather than the other way round, Ergul and Alpi had been playing a clever game with the Americans.
‘It’s quite simple,’ Kennedy said in answer to Tallis’s stunned look. ‘Britain is perceived to be drifting by a significant section of the Muslim community. There’s a fear of further national, political and moral decline. A small, marginalised minority welcome the destruction of Western values.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Tallis said, having heard it all before. ‘They want to bounce us back to the seventh century.’
Asim let out an irritated laugh. ‘Please, we don’t have time for this.’
‘Well, you should,’ Kennedy barked. ‘You might learn something.’
Tallis glanced at Asim. He’d never seen the guy put in his place before, still less by a former top villain. Asim wearily signalled for Kennedy to continue.
‘You’ve also got a general population who feel oppressed by an increasingly prescriptive and dictatorial and isolated government…’
‘That’s only your take,’ Asim said, a surly note in his voice. ‘You’re not telling me that disaffected voters would like the implementation of Sharia law?’
‘Agreed, but what you have to admit is that while you guys are running around like demented football hooligans, a power vacuum is opening up.’
‘Step into the gap, organised crime,’ Tallis said.
‘Providing an opportunity for both terrorism and criminals to prosper in a joint, mutually acceptable venture,’ Kennedy finished with a dry smile.
‘Most illuminating,’ Asim said, visibly rattled. ‘But where’s the second hit?’
‘Manchester. I don’t know the location. It’s scheduled for Tuesday.’
‘How many?’
‘One, as far as I know. Presumably, it will prove more tricky as the whole nation will be on high alert.’
‘The new Turkish kid on the block, rumoured to take Ergul’s place, is a guy called Erol,’ Tallis told Asim. ‘Worth tracking him down.’ Folding his arms, Tallis turned back to Kennedy. ‘And Ahmed gave you this juicy information in front of all the other blokes?’
‘No.’
‘So it was one mate to another, man to man, on the quiet?’ He tried very hard to keep any hint of suspicion or sarcasm out of his voice. It was really, really important he got the facts straight in his mind.
‘We have a close working relationship,’ Kennedy said, icy.
‘Close? He’s taking one hell of a risk by shooting his mouth off to you.’
‘He trusts me.’ Kennedy’s eyes flickered. ‘He didn’t want me or my family getting hurt.’
‘He warned you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And there’s me thinking there was little or no honour among thieves.’
‘What the fuck do you mean?’ Kennedy said, testy.
‘I mean that when I was being interrogated by those two Turkish goons, they had a different tale to tell.’
Tallis felt Asim’s eyes bore into the side of his face. Screw that, he thought. He’d made a decision to trust Johnny, to put his faith in him. Something about Johnny’s story was off, and even though he had no evidence to support it, he was seriously beginning to think that his trust was misplaced. ‘They said you were inciting the rest of the bosses to violence, to terrorism to be precise…’
‘Bollocks.’
‘Or were you intending to provoke hostility between them,’ Tallis needled, ‘ to trigger a turf war and provide a nice big cloak for terrorist attacks?’
‘You going to let him talk to me like that?’ Kennedy snarled, looking at Asim.
‘And judging by that hashed-up piece of Western philosophy you just treated us to thirty seconds ago,’ Tallis continued, unappeased, ‘I’m inclin—’
‘Right,’ Asim said. ‘Paul, we’ll be taking over from now. Your part in the operation’s finished.’
‘But—’
‘We need to close the net on Ahmed and bring him and his co-conspirators in.’ Don’t call us—we’ll call you, Tallis thought bitterly. He found himself identifying with Shaw and Napier. Now he knew how they must have felt after being so unceremoniously axed from the operation. He had images of people being picked up at airport terminals and on motorways, arrested at their places of work, offices and garages searched, computers seized. It would probably all be carried out with a minimum of fuss, the public unaware that yet another attempt at terrorism had been foiled. Asim continued speaking. ‘As for you, Mr Kennedy, we’ll make suitable arrangements for you and your family to go into hiding.’
‘What about my son?’
‘We can take care of him.’
‘But—’
‘We don’t have much time,’ Asim said, brusque.
‘What if I don’t want to go?’ There was a glint in Kennedy’s eyes, belligerence in his voice.
‘Johnny,’ Tallis said. ‘You’d be a fool.’
‘What’s it to you? You don’t believe me, anyway.’ Kennedy was white with anger. His eyes burnt with reproach and hurt.
As Tallis looked into the older man’s eyes he felt unaccountably small for doubting him, and immediately regretted his outburst. ‘It’s not that,’ Tallis said gently. ‘I’m paid to look at alternatives, that’s all.’
‘Not any more, son.’ Kennedy flicked a cynical smile. ‘This bloke…’ he gestured towards Asim ‘…has just given you the chop.’
34
* * *
BEFORE he left, Kennedy offered him a job. ‘I need protection. You can give it.’ Tallis refused. Kennedy begged.
‘Sorry,’ Tallis said, handing him back the keys to the Aston and patting him once on the shoulder. ‘Good luck, Johnny. It’s been good knowing you.’
He turned on his heel and walked down the stairs and out of the guesthouse, the middle-aged woman nodding at him briefly in the hall before he made his final exit. For a moment he stood alone on the pavement, rootless. The sky was the colour of chalk dust, the day losing light. The mission was over, he told himself. The informer had finally delivered and was about to fly. Unprofessional of him, but even now, and in spite of all, Tallis knew
that he would miss Kennedy. A flash of car headlights caught his attention. It was Lavender, parked opposite, a little way down the road.
‘Want a lift?’
He smiled warmly and crossed over, slid into the seat beside her. ‘Nice,’ he said, admiring her suit, which was white and hand-stitched at the collar. Legs, long and lean in her heels, were fabulous. His eyes travelled to her face. Her hair was tied back. She was wearing earrings—gold oblong-shaped with a single diamond. Her perfume filled the car. It smelt expensive. For the second time since he’d met her, she was wearing make-up and looked terrific, more womanly than before. ‘You look like a suave city executive.’
‘I nearly died when I heard we were diverted to that farm. Luckily, I had a change of clothes in the back.’
‘You what?’ Tallis said, in amazement.
‘Parked a mile down the road, changed and hiked the rest of the way in my jeans and wellies.’
‘Bloody hell, Lavender, do you never do as you’re told?’
She threw her head back, the laugh issuing from her mouth drowned out by the engine’s roar. He couldn’t help but laugh, too.
‘That’s better. You looked absolutely shattered standing there on the street.’
‘Probably because I haven’t had more than a few hours’ sleep in the past two weeks.’
‘I didn’t mean like that,’ she said, a serious note creeping into her voice. ‘You looked lost, somehow, bereft.’
‘Stop, you’ll have me crying in a minute.’ He flicked a smile.
She flashed him a grin that managed to be both cheeky and admonishing. ‘You always so flippant?’
‘Only when I’m in the company of beautiful women.’
‘Smoothie,’ she said laughingly, a pink glow cresting the top of her cheekbones. In profile, she had great bone structure, Tallis thought. For no joined-up reason he wished he hadn’t eaten the samosas on offer. He reckoned his breath reeked of garlic. ‘So where were you exactly?’ he said.
‘At the foot of a hedge about four hundred metres away.’
‘You saw the players?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Including Ahmed and Kennedy?’
‘Sitting at opposite ends of the table.’
Not so close, then. ‘Did you see them confer in private?’ he said, his eyes never leaving her face.
‘They wandered off to another room for a couple of minutes.’
‘That all?’ Was it enough? he thought.
‘I’d say so. Why?’
Tallis told her, watched as her eyes widened. ‘Christ, tell me these maniacs are going to be picked up.’
Tallis confirmed that they were.
‘And Kennedy?’
‘He’s supposed to go into hiding with his family but he’s resisting tooth and nail.’ He wondered what would happen to Kennedy’s boys—Justin, and Rex and Pat, and the others.
‘Why?’ she said, incredulous.
It was a good question. ‘Search me. He’s a dead man if he doesn’t.’
‘Talking of dead men, you still think Kennedy played no part in your friend Morello’s murder?’
‘I don’t see how. Kennedy had enough going on without ordering hits on investigative journalists.’ He briefly wondered whether Crow had managed to find out the answers to some of his more off-the-wall questions. He imagined her leaving message after message on his answering-machine at home. Then another thought crossed his mind. Was it safe to return? What about the men who’d followed him, the tall, fair-haired guy?
‘You hungry?’ she said, puncturing his thoughts.
‘Ravenous.’
‘Good. There’s a place I know en route.’
It turned out to be a restaurant with rooms off the beaten track near the town of Northampton. He liked the place on sight. The bar was modern, the seating area rustic with lots of wood, low lighting and squashy leather sofas and chairs. In one corner was a baby grand piano with a young musician, a good-looking, blond-haired bloke, accompanying a dark-haired girl perched on a bar stool, singing a medley of old jazz numbers. The adjoining dining room flickered with candlelight and tables buzzed with chatter and conversation. Front of house was run by a shiny-eyed Polish girl. She asked if they were dining.
‘Haven’t booked, I’m afraid,’ Lavender said. ‘Could you squeeze us in?’
‘Sure. Would you like a drink at the bar first?’
Lavender looked at Tallis. ‘Great idea,’ he said. The cocktail of painkillers was starting to wear off. Given a choice, he preferred a pint of beer to its chemical counterpart. They ordered drinks and took them to a corner table.
‘How’s the wrist?’ Lavender said, taking a sip of wine, Argentinean, dry and white. She had taken her jacket off. The sleeveless top revealed impressively toned arms, slim and brown, the muscles smooth, unknotted. She had tiny wrists, unlike her breasts. A hint of bra strap, thin, lacy and white, winked at him.
‘Throbbing.’ He smiled winsomely.
She looked at him over the rim of her glass. She really was quite a looker, less heart-stoppingly beautiful than Belle but still a head-turner. He immediately hated himself for making such comparisons.
The waitress came along to take their orders. Tallis plumped for chorizo and pork meatballs with linguine in a tomato sauce, easy to eat one-handed. Lavender chose sea bream on a bed of roasted Mediterranean vegetables. He ordered a bottle of wine because he liked the accompanying blurb on the wine list. It was, apparently, mostly Merlot with a little bit of Cabernet Sauvignon, no Cabernet Franc. The conversation was light. He discovered that she had two brothers and had always been a bit of a tomboy.
‘Hence the fascination for fast cars.’
‘Motorbikes are more my thing, actually.’
He also discovered that she’d joined the police because her dad was a police officer.
‘Like me,’ Tallis said. Except unlike him in so many respects. When Lavender talked of her father there was softness in her eyes, pride in her voice. She clearly adored the man. ‘And you enjoy the job?’
‘I love this job,’ she said, eyes shining. ‘You don’t think you’re the only maverick in town, do you?’
Tallis let out a laugh. ‘Now I understand how you got to drive a Ferrari. You’re working for Asim.’
‘Pushing the envelope. Seconded to him is nearer the mark.’
‘Wonder why he didn’t mention it.’
‘Didn’t consider it important.’ She shrugged.
Different levels of secrecy, more like. ‘Is Lavender your real name?’
‘It is. About the only bit of me that’s real,’ she said provocatively.
‘Oh, yeah?’ He was intrigued.
‘All this,’ she said, waving a delicate hand in no particular direction, ‘you and me, it’s play-acting, isn’t it?’
‘Is it?’ He wondered which bits. She gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘I guess I’m a frustrated actress at heart.’
‘I suppose it would be uncool of me to ask about other jobs you’ve done.’
‘This is my first time,’ she said. ‘Like I said, I’m only borrowed. You?’
‘Lost my virginity a while ago, I’m afraid.’
‘I’d never have guessed.’ She smiled, nose cutely wrinkling.
They went through to the dining room to eat. He told her about his brief career in the army followed by a stint in the firearms unit as an undercover police officer, and his involvement in a fatal shooting following false intelligence before leaving West Midlands Police a disillusioned man. Lavender was an easy listener and whether it was wine or exhaustion, the need to talk to someone, anyone, Tallis found himself telling her about the terrible relationship he’d had with his father, the wonderful relationship he’d had with Belle.
‘Sorry,’ he said as the plates were cleared away. ‘Not very cool of me.’
‘Don’t be so silly,’ she said, resting her hand over his, the sudden warmth of her skin against his like a burn. ‘It helps me understand.’
‘Understand what?’
‘Why you do what you do. It’s easy to embrace loneliness when your heart’s broken.’
‘So what’s your story?’ he said, wanting to lighten the tone.
She shook her head and laughed. ‘There’s isn’t one. After this, I’ll probably return to my old stamping ground.’
‘Shame,’ he said, meaning it, sliding his fingers in between hers. ‘Just when things were getting interesting.’
‘I didn’t think you were like that,’ she said, playfully arching an eyebrow.
‘I’m a bloke, Charlie. We’re all like that.’
They booked the last available room for the night. The bed was enormous, demanding Olympic-league sex, Tallis thought, sitting down gingerly, bouncing a little, testing the mattress. Charlie came and sat on his lap, took his face in her hands, kissed him long and slow and whispered in his ear that she was going to take a shower. Tallis lay on the bed feeling heady with wine and lust and panic. Something in his chest suddenly froze. What if he saw Belle’s face when he was making love? What if he couldn’t do it? Jesus, couldn’t get it up?
Charlie came out. She was wearing one of a pair of white towelling robes that hung on the back of the bathroom door. Her hair was loose and wet. Water glistened on her skin. He could see the neat curve of her collarbone, dark shadow at the top of her breasts. Her calves were smooth and lean. She wore deep-cherry nail polish on her toes. He felt an urgent stab of lust, as if he wanted to rip the robe off, crush her and do it there and then.
‘Just taking a shower,’ he said, bending down, his chest inches away from her, kissing her softly on the mouth, imagining her naked beneath the towelling. In the sanctity of the white-tiled bathroom, his panic assumed terrifying proportions. He stripped off, showered as best he could, trying to keep the cast on his left wrist dry. Next he turned his attention to his face. He really needed another shave. What was he thinking? She’d be flayed alive with this amount of stubble on his chin. As for his teeth, he flipped open a small complimentary tube of toothpaste and, using his index finger, cleaned them. By the time he returned, towel around his waist, he was dripping not with water but with something akin to dread. Then he saw her beautiful smile, the way she was lying on top of the bed facing him, the robe falling from one shoulder, one leg seductively turned towards him. He lay beside her, propped himself up on one elbow. ‘Hello.’ He smiled. ‘Look, it’s been a long—’
The Mephisto Threat Page 29
