Roberts and Bradley Casebook
Flesh and Blood
Solomon Carter
Great Leap
Table of Contents
Title Page
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Prologue
The security men ran like devils, chasing them from the vast grey building toward the noisy queues of taxis and buses outside. A trio of police ran with the security staff. The police wore helmets and carried powerful automatic weapons like the soldiers they had faced in the Middle East. The security guard with the silver hair led the chasing pack – he was the one had who spotted them.
They had been standing in the middle of the coffee area like ordinary passengers waiting for a flight. But they had felt the eyes of the silver haired man upon them the whole time. Maybe he was like this with every Muslim he saw. When the police woman approached and asked them to go with her to a side area, it was over before it had begun. The fire of glory would have been smothered. Taken by the police, there would have been no victory in death. They had no choice but to run. Instead of fulfilling their glorious destiny they fled like children with guns at their backs. They ran until their lungs burned, and left their heavy backpacks on the floor behind them. When they reached the unmarked grey van behind the queue of taxis, the waiting driver looked at them as if they were traitors. All three of them leapt inside and the van pulled away, screeching into the street.
“They saw us somehow. They guessed! We could not do it! If we had died here it would have been in vain... this country, these people are too well prepared for us.”
The man at the steering wheel watched the police fade out of sight in his wing mirrors. But to escape he would need to drive as never before.
“No one is too well prepared. We are called to this. This is our destiny.”
“But it didn’t work. We failed...”
“No. You failed. You didn’t work. But the raging fires will still come to this land.”
“But they’ve seen our faces!”
“There are others,” said the man at the wheel. “There are always others. We have only just begun...”
One
After the incident at Lille and the failed attack at Gatwick the atmosphere at London Stansted Airport was febrile and tense. Travellers and airport workers looked edgy, their eyes darting around while they carried their cases and pretended everything was fine. Eva Roberts was edgy too, but as a seasoned private detective she guessed the odds of another terrorist incident were pretty slim. Besides, Eva had other reasons to be edgy, and all of them were personal. Eva was waiting to meet a face from the past and she was dogged by mixed feelings - excitement, trepidation, and shame.
After returning to her old agency office Eva felt she could finally breathe again. But within a day of being back, something changed. It was unexpected, sweet, and yet very awkward. She found the email buried halfway down a list of two hundred unopened messages. Her stomach burned with nerves as she read it, and then she broke into a bright smile. Pavel wanted to see her, and he was coming to London the very next day. Pavel from Prague - her cousin. Pavel had visited England twice during their youth. Once when they were eight years old, and they had played for a week on the beach at Southend, and then once more when they were both seventeen. The last visit caused Eva’s awkwardness. At seventeen they had shared lingering glances, and when they were left alone, they held hands. Just before Pavel had flown home with Eva’s aunt, he snatched a kiss. Eva knew it was wrong, but deep down she had always thought Pavel was the first man to make her feel like a woman. The kiss had never been mentioned since. But the moment Eva read Pavel’s email, the strange memory came flooding back along with all the sweetness and the shame.
Her business partner, and virtual husband, Dan had offered to come to Stansted Airport with her, but Eva made excuses. “I’ll be okay, Dan. Pavel’s not a Russian spy or a murderous oligarch. He’s just my cousin. The best thing you can do is stay here and find us some paid work.”
“But we don’t need work. We’ve got enough money from the Kent gig,” Dan replied.
“I need work, Dan. Make a head start, will you?”
Dan had put on a sour face but relented and Eva went to Stansted alone. Now here she was feeling hot and slightly giddy, thinking about her appearance. How much older did she look? How would Pavel look? Would they still be attracted to one another? The Prague passengers began to stream into Arrivals while the airport big screens showed blurred images of the man in black who bombed Lille, and similar images of the men who fled from the attempted attack on Gatwick. They all looked young, though their faces were blurred. Some were dark skinned; some were pale. News tickers ran underneath the news images. The warnings rolled on and on.
“...the government has described the risk of another terrorist attack as severe. The Prime Minister is said to be considering the use of special security forces in the event of another attack...”
A terrorist video had been released just after the Lille bombing. It showed two young men with masked faces, standing before a black flag. Their video said London was next, and so it proved. But police thwarted the attempt, and the extremists ran without detonating their bombs. They were still on the loose. How could people become so evil? After ten years of chasing down all kinds of sleazebags for her clients Eva should have known the answers – but evil was still a mystery to her.
The passengers poured into Arrivals. Halfway along the pack of hurrying students, holidaying couples, and hungover parties was a man half a foot taller than the rest. He had the cheekbones, Eva remembered and the right kind of sharp blue eyes. His hair was thinner than before and cropped and there were new faint lines on his forehead. He wore a short brown and grey beard, but it was definitely Pavel. As soon as she saw him her chest swelled with warmth and joy. Pavel smiled at her. He walked through the crowd and grinned wider with every step. As soon as he reached her, Eva was hesitant. Pavel opened his arms for her but she held back, thinking of Dan, and thinking of that long-ago kiss, and of everything which could not be allowed to happen. But it was not polite to leave her visitor empty handed. Eva gave in to his embrace. Pavel wrapped her up and pressed him to her as if they were long lost siblings... or something more...
The embrace lasted a second too long. While his beard bristles scraped Eva’s face, she stared up at the screen and saw the blurred images of a man in a backpack walking towards the Lille train station. A moment later, Eva’s eyes happened on a young Asian man with a beard as he checked something deep inside his luggage. There was a twinge of discomfort. A knee jerk reaction in her nervous system and she dismissed it. Pavel looked down at her with intense light in his eyes. “You are the very same as all those years ago.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s true at all, Pavel.”
“Yes, it is. The same in every way.”
Sweet and awkward. From nowhere, Eva wished she had refused to meet him. But the truth was refusing had never been an option.
Two
“Let’s have a drink here before we move. I don’t want to travel again just yet.”
There was a bar set in one corner of a square shopping area. Pavel led her to it. It was blue and brown inside, like a real pub, but it still felt fake. Pavel ordered them a drink, white wine for Eva, and a fizzy mineral water for himself.
“What could be better than seeing you again?” said Pavel.
“It’s good to see you too,” said Eva, taking just the tiniest sip from her wi
neglass. She had to drive and didn’t want her feelings to take control. They were definitely mixed already.
“So, what brings you all this way? You never told me in your message,” said Eva. She looked at him, and felt she was being absorbed into his eyes. He was still good looking, in spite of his wrinkles and lines. She told herself his looks only appealed because they were so familiar. They were family. Those looks were in the blood. Eva controlled her gaze, but Pavel’s eyes were so big and wide and unrelenting. He looked very happy on the surface. But she saw strain there too. Maybe life wasn’t going too well. Or maybe he was just tired from travelling.
“It’s been too long...”
Eva smiled. “Of course’s it’s been too long. It was fifteen years ago, Pavel.”
“I see you haven’t forgotten then....”
Eva shifted in her seat. “Um. No. You’re my cousin. We were friends too.”
“Yes, we were, weren’t we...?” There was something in his eyes like joy, but there was also sadness. “What is it Pavel?” said Eva.
“A man must accept who he is. He must have roots. You are one of my roots, Eva. One I wanted to see again.”
“You didn’t come all this way just to look at my face. I’m glad to see you, of course, but what is it? Is it, business?”
“I see you’re less of a romantic than before. Yes, Eva, business and pleasure. You are one of the pleasures. As for business, that can wait a short time.”
“You were working at the university in Prague, right?”
“I have taken a sabbatical. Maybe I will take something in the UK if it suits.”
“A sabbatical? I thought you loved that job?”
“What, Eva? Are you concerned for me?” said Pavel with a chuckle. Eva blushed.
“Well, should I be? Is something wrong?”
“No. All is well now that I have arrived.”
Eva saw the tense flickering in his eyelids a moment before his face changed. It became still, and the lines faded from his brow. Pavel looked across Eva’s shoulder. His mouth became a thin line. Eva twisted in her seat to follow Pavel’s gaze. Two uniformed police officers in flak jackets holding Heckler and Koch submachine guns walked slowly by the bar along the white concourse outside. The police muttered to each other as they walked.
Pavel detached his eyes from the police and found Eva again. His face returned to a smile.
“You know, you should tell me if something is wrong, Pavel,” said Eva.
“But then I would by lying to please you... because everything is fine. Don’t you worry. Let’s just enjoy this drink then we shall go somewhere a little less austere.”
“UK airports are on a high alert after Gatwick. They’re pretty uncomfortable places to be right now.”
“Yes, it is a little tense here. But airports cannot be avoided. Not if one is too see old friends...”
Pavel lifted his mineral water and clinked it against Eva’s wineglass.
Questions began to surface in her mind. They weren’t fully formed yet. They were just feelings. Eva rebuked herself. Surely it was wrong to think badly of someone she had once been so close with. Regardless of that foolish kiss. Eva put her negative feelings aside, and gave Pavel a smile to bring peace. His big bright eyes were a mystery. He was hiding something, but that didn’t mean he was a villain. Did it?
Three
After drinks Pavel insisted they went to London. Eva’s bright red Alfa Romeo was parked in the short stay car park. Eva drove, hoping the day wasn’t going to get any more uncomfortable. Pavel’s odd behaviour was killing much of his old charm, and Eva wanted their meet-up to end as soon as possible. She had expected Pavel would want to see Buckingham Palace, The Tower of London, or Big Ben, but of all the places could have chosen, he picked Whitechapel. Maybe the new Pavel had become a Jack the Ripper fan. That would certainly explain a little of his weirdness. Remembering the awkward tension in Pavel’s blue eyes, Eva hoped not. They parked in a side street near Whitechapel’s big hospital, and then walked out onto the main road opposite the market stalls and the tube station. It was spring, and the sky was blue and the air mild. All through the drive Pavel had kept his cards close to his chest. Eva had a finite reserve of politeness and Pavel was now quickly using it up. Standing across the street from Whitechapel tube station, they waited for the traffic lights to change and Eva looked up at the man she had once kissed.
“So... why are we here? I could think of better places to visit,” said Eva.
“Today, I really can’t think of any,” said Pavel with a grin. She watched his eyes pass over the sea of people crossing the road. Chinese. Africans. Muslim women in colourful headdresses. Muslim women in black burqas. Europeans of every shade. Eva followed his eyes as they landed on the Muslim males wearing beards. Everyone was suspicious of Muslims these days – though 99.9% of them had done nothing wrong. Eva felt pity for them, along with instinct telling her to be wary. The government warnings were making everyone twitchy about the terrorists and some innocent young men were getting tarred with the same brush. But fear didn’t care about discrimination. Fear was about survival above every other value.
“It’s a cosmopolitan area, I’ll give you that,” said Eva.
“Come on, Eva. You think it’s a cesspit,” said Pavel, laughing.
“No I don’t Pavel. I used to live in London, remember.”
“But look, this place is both a melting pot and a cesspit.”
Eva looked at Pavel, her green eyes revealing uncertainty for the first time. When they had crossed the street, Pavel stopped and laid his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t look so worried, Eva. I only wanted to show you a secret place. This is my surprise.”
“A place in Whitechapel that you know and I don’t?”
Pavel saw her thinking and laughed while the street teemed with people all around them.
“Come, let me show you.”
Eva didn’t complain. Not yet. She let Pavel take her arm and they walked along past the market traders until the tall bearded Czech turned towards a brown wooden door which nestled between a shop selling multi-coloured saris and a fried chicken joint. The door was unmarked but for a number - 367. Pavel looked at Eva with wide eyed enthusiasm.
“I’ve wanted to come here for so long...”
“What is this?” said Eva.
“Shhh...” said Pavel. “Wait.”
He pressed a buzzer by the door. Behind Pavel’s shoulder, Eva shook her head. Her patience was about to run out.
“Yes?” came a tinny voice over the speaker. The voice had to compete with the city noise all around them.
“I am a member,” said Pavel, then the door buzzed, and Pavel pushed the door open into a dim space in front of a set of wooden stairs.
Four
At the top of the steps they were surrounded by claustrophobic walls crammed full of books. A man sat behind a big paper strewn desk nearby. He was a stuffy looking old guy with thick lensed glasses, waxy pink cheeks and grey hair. He wore an old fashioned jumper with a zigzag pattern on it. “Membership card, please,” said the man. Eva looked around. The place had lots of big old, white painted, Georgian style doors going off left and right from a central corridor with a bare wooden floor. The place smelt of musty old paper.
“What is this place?” said Eva.
The old man looked up as he took Pavel’s little grey card from his hand.
“The Whitechapel Subscription Library, of course.”
“Of course,” said Eva, with sarcasm pouring through.
“And if you’re not a member, you’ll have to pay a subscription before you can use us. It’s an annual fee paid up front. Or you won’t be able to visit.”
Eva looked at Pavel. Pavel looked at the man behind the desk.
“But she must visit with me. How much is the fee, I forget?”
“One hundred and ninety-eight pounds, the same as yours, the same as everyone else.”
Pavel nodded and handed the man a credit card fr
om his wallet. The man looked at the card and shook his head. “We don’t accept those. But most other cards are fine.”
“What about cheques?”
The man shook his head.
“Euros?”
“No. Sterling cash or card.”
“Pavel, is this strictly necessary?” said Eva with irritation.
“My dear, this is essential.”
“For crying out loud!” said Eva. She opened her bag and laid a debit card on the counter.
“Ah, that’ll do nicely,” said the old man. He processed the payment, and made a painstakingly slow job of registering her for the service.
“There we are. Welcome to Whitechapel Subscription Library. You can read any title, though some may not be taken from the premises. Do enjoy your visit.” Then the man promptly dropped his head and ignored them as if they had already left his presence. Eva picked up her wallet and put it back into her bag. She looked at Pavel with indignation.
“Now we have another secret bond,” said Pavel, ushering Eva along the corridor. “Subscription libraries used to be everywhere in this country, Eva. Then the government created public libraries, and almost every subscription library ceased to exist. But a few survived. They are treasure troves. The quietest places on earth. Come and enjoy with me.”
The musty old place was deathly quiet but for the rustle of book pages, and the coughs of a few readers.
“This library has only 1200 members. Now you make it 1201.”
Pavel led her into a room with old fashioned round tables, and book shelves crammed into every spare space. The shelves were full of cloth covered books and leather bound spines. They were all very old. A man at a round table looked at them disapprovingly from behind a sheaf of ancient looking papers. Eva glared back, and the man quickly turned his head back to his reading.
“What are we doing here?” she whispered.
“I wanted you to see into my soul, Eva. My soul lives in places like these. But this place is like no other... please, enjoy it, like I do. Look through the books a moment while I go and retrieve a few special ones.”
Flesh and Blood--A gripping private detective mystery thriller Page 1
