“About what?” Covey countered. “I know Montgomerie. I’ve worked for him for the last couple of years. If he sets a position then it takes an awful lot to shift him. He’s like an oil tanker. Forget it, Nathaniel. You’re not going to get anywhere with this and…”
“And what?” Caslin pressed, sensing her hesitation. Covey shook her head slightly. It was a telling gesture.
“For your own sake… just let it go,” she implored him. Caslin knew then without another word being said, Covey was looking out for him.
“I’ll not need the lift. I’d prefer the walk,” he said, meeting her eye. “It was good to see you, Isabel. Congratulations on the promotion but forgive me, I need some air.”
“Nate… I’m sorry,” Covey said as he departed. Hunter came alongside, appearing awkward. “Some people don’t change. He’s still bloody impossible.” Hunter gently chewed her lower lip before tilting her head slightly to one side.
“You’ll get no argument from me,” she said, offering a weak smile before following her DI.
“Something I said?” Covey asked.
“Don’t worry. I’ll see you,” Hunter said over her shoulder and took a right turn, roughly in the direction Caslin had gone and also where she remembered the main entrance to Scotland Yard would be found.
***
Hunter walked out into the late afternoon sunshine. The wind was up bringing a much-needed change in the weather. The long shadows cast by the trees lining the road stretched across to the edge of the River Thames. Hunter walked for ten-minutes along the Victoria Embankment before she found Caslin. He was seated on a bench adjacent to the stone wall, separating the path from the water below. She hesitated about approaching him. He appeared lost in thought, staring across the river in the direction of Westminster Bridge with the London Eye in the background.
Summoning some courage, Hunter walked up to him and sat down alongside but said nothing. After a few seconds, he glanced towards her and away again.
“Beautiful scene,” she said. Caslin looked around, nodding his agreement.
“Yes, it is,” he said. Hunter noted he was toying with the black leather wallet she knew contained his warrant card, turning it over and over in his hands.
“What are you thinking?” she dared to ask.
He blew air out of his nose and smiled, “Whether it’s all worth it.” He added no further detail.
“Walsh’s evidence will never see the light of day, will it?” she asked.
Caslin shook his head, “I very much doubt it. All this time we were looking to the east when the demon was in our own back yard.”
“Payne?” Hunter asked. Caslin shrugged.
“Or someone else with a vested interest. We’ll never know, will we? Walsh told me these shady characters have established networks spanning both countries and nationalities. Where there’s money you’ll find plenty willing to sacrifice their morality in exchange for a few quid.”
“You think it stretches to the likes of Montgomerie?”
Caslin shrugged, “Kyle Broadfoot once suggested that when it came to the greater interest of the crown any others may well become subordinate. Is the commander involved? Probably not but we all have our paymasters, don’t we?”
“I don’t doubt you,” Hunter agreed. “Do you think we’ve had two teams operating at the same time and working to keep the secrets? One international and another domestic?”
“That would be my guess,” Caslin said with a sigh. “Independent of one another and answering to different masters but each with similar goals. Michaelson made waves, asked questions… made himself a threat.”
“Farzaad Amin, Kadyrov, whichever – a domestic hit?”
“He made enemies in the one place he thought he was safe,” Caslin concluded. “Is it beyond Russian intelligence to find a defector in the UK? Probably not – but when have the Russians ever cared enough about what we think to try and misdirect us?”
“The race angle, you mean?”
Caslin nodded, “Kadyrov was an inside job. I’m certain.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Too much theatre,” Caslin concluded. “They wanted to have us chasing the hard-right extremists. The Russians wouldn’t bother their arse with all that.”
“Their approach is subtler. They go for the extravagant only when they want to make a statement,” Hunter said. Caslin agreed.
“You know, Raisa told me at length how her father described the Russian art of deception. She called it Maskirovka.”
“Right.”
“I think we have a few of our own quite skilled in that department. Far better skilled than you and me anyway,” he said quietly. “No offence,” he added, glancing over to her.
“None taken,” Hunter said. Caslin fell silent, slipping back into himself. They sat in silence, staring across the Thames for a few minutes.
“Can I tell you something my father once told me?” Hunter asked.
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“It’s one of the fondest memories I have from my childhood. It might even be how I ended up joining the police force,” Hunter said, remembering the day many years previously. “He told me about a famous quote, I can’t remember it exactly, so forgive me for paraphrasing. He said that all it takes for evil to flourish is for a good man to do nothing. Have you heard that before?”
“Yes,” Caslin said, smiling. “I think it was Edmund Burke who said it… or something very similar. What’s your point?” he asked, looking at her. She met his eye and placed a reassuring hand on his forearm.
“Don’t do nothing, Nathaniel. Please,” she replied, glancing at the wallet in his hand. They locked eyes and Hunter held his gaze for a moment longer. She shuddered against the cold. The sun was deceptive and sitting still only made the cold penetrate that much deeper. She stood up. “I’m going to make my way over to Kings Cross. I’ll get us the tickets and you can meet me there. I’ll be grabbing a coffee and something to eat nearby. Okay?”
Caslin nodded, “Okay.”
“Call me when you’re ready,” Hunter said, walking away.
Caslin was left alone. He watched as two small vessels passed by on the river, considering what Hunter had said. He glanced in the direction she had walked but she’d already disappeared from view. Opening his wallet, he eyed both his warrant card and the adjacent constabulary crest. Closing it, he stood up and crossed the pavement to the wall, turning his gaze to the water. Sunlight glinted off of the surface leaving a silver sheen flickering in the ebb and flow. Taking a deep breath, he reached into his pocket and withdrew his mobile. Scrolling down through the contacts, he found what he was looking for and dialled the number. The call was quickly answered.
“Nathaniel, this is unexpected. What can I do for you?”
“The vacancy we discussed. Is it still open?”
Kyle Broadfoot drew breath, “It can be. Do you want it?”
“One condition.”
“And that is?”
“I get to choose my own team.”
“That… might not be possible,” Broadfoot replied.
“I’m afraid it’s non-negotiable,” Caslin said firmly. There followed a period of silence as Broadfoot mulled it over.
“I’m sure we can work something out,” he replied after what felt like an age.
“Done,” Caslin said and he hung up. Touching the top of the handset to his lips, he stared back across the water at a couple walking along the opposing riverbank. “I will do something,” he told himself quietly.
Fear the Past
(DARK YORKSHIRE BOOK 5)
Amazon - http://geni.us/Fear_the_Past
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Preview - Fear the Past
Dark Yorkshire - Book 5
Chapter 1
The others looked like they were settling in for the night so he stood, turned and lifted his coat from the back of the chair. Slipping his right arm into the sleeve to howls of protest mixed with the laughter, spewing over from the anecdote being recounted. He shook his head.
“It’s getting late and you guys aren’t going anywhere.”
“It’s not late,” came the joint protest from several around the table.
“I’m driving and I’ve had too much already,” he countered.
“Aww… Jody, just get a cab. The evening’s only just getting started.”
“I’ve got a lot on tomorrow,” Jody stated by way of an apology.
“That’s the joy of being the boss. You get to make your own hours.”
“And I still need to pay the bills,” Jody replied, shaking his head whilst zipping up his jacket. Glancing through the window to the car park beyond, he tried to assess whether the rain had stopped or not. The darkness enveloped almost everything in view and what little he could see was masked by the steam from the warmth of the pub condensing on the panes. “I’ll see you guys in the morning,” he said, heading off. Glancing back at the small group, revelling in their impromptu gathering, he blew out his cheeks and muttered under his breath, “Those of you who make it in anyway.”
The pub was popular, even midweek, and he had to pick his way through the bar avoiding elbows, chairs and stools as he went before reaching the side exit, leading to the car park. The toilets were adjacent to the route out and he hesitated. Did he need to go? No. He’d be home in less than ten minutes and he could hold it. Pushing open the door, it swung away from him easily. The wooden door had seen better days, a length of gaffer tape secured a large crack in the pane alongside chipped paint and multiple dents and scrapes - most likely down to the enthusiasm of the patrons coming and going over the years. The nights here could get pretty rowdy. He had to admit to being involved upon occasion.
Stepping outside, he was struck by the stark contrast to the interior and he shuddered against the cold. Descending the steps to the car park on unsteady feet, he walked towards where he’d parked the car. Calling a cab in order to get home would be sensible but he dismissed the thought. It wasn’t far. Light rain was falling and he looked up, into the nearby streetlight in order to better judge the intensity. It was much the same as when he’d arrived two hours earlier. Had he known the plan, if indeed it was a plan, was to have a session at the pub he probably would’ve declined the offer. However, it was sold as a catch-up meeting. One they would often have and to be fair, usually in a pub. More often than not this one. It had been a while, and his absence was leading to friction, he could feel it even if nothing was being said. He couldn’t afford to allow that to continue and feared it was already too late but, in any event, he’d made the effort.
Jody looked back over his shoulder in the direction of the pub as he approached his car. He could make out the team - his business partner along with their small entourage of administrators - still inside, their movements indicating the party was going in full swing. Turning back, he eyed his BMW and crossed towards it, fishing out the key fob. He smiled to himself but it was tinged with both elements of relief and regret. The relief came from the knowledge that he’d managed the evening without having to be too vocal. Expecting a grilling for not pulling his weight in recent weeks, he found the absence of business talk to be refreshing. The regret was born out of keeping secrets. Necessary secrets. After all, that was the nature of the beast but somehow, on this occasion at least, it felt disloyal. Who was he to talk about loyalty? A virtue that was by all accounts diminishing in importance within the world he moved in. Once, it was arguably the primary requirement but not anymore. The sense that someone had his back was a distant memory and paranoia, his closest friend.
Perhaps it had always been this way and he hankered for the nostalgic past that never existed. Certainly, his father always told him people lived in the memories of days gone by and, as a result, missed what was unfolding before their very eyes. Having never understood what that statement meant, it was easy to dismiss but now, many years too late, his father’s words made perfect sense to him.
Shrugging off the melancholy that threatened to take root, he opened the door. Not wishing to get rainwater running onto the driver’s seat, he took off his coat and threw it into the rear. A sound nearby made him look in the direction that he thought it came from. There were a couple of charity recycling points at the edge of the pub’s boundary, large metal deposit bins for clothes by the look of them. Taking a couple of steps forward, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the surroundings. Illuminated only by the streetlights, the surrounding trees and bushes were shrouded in darkness and their gentle sway in the breeze was barely visible. Jody stood still, the hairs on his neck were raised as he stared into the gloom. What had he heard? The rain was forgotten, his hair was now soaked and the water was beginning to run down his face and yet still, he peered into the shadows.
“Is anyone there?” he called, narrowing his gaze. No reply. Realising he had been holding his breath, he retreated towards his car. Noting the rain driving in through his open door and onto the leather interior, he cursed himself. Irritated at allowing his imagination to run riot, he reached the car and took hold of the frame of the door. With one last look back towards the trees he shook his head, smiling and feeling foolish. “Get a grip, man,” he said under his breath.
Jody didn’t hear the movement behind him, nor see the reflection of the amber streetlights glinting off of the metal hammer as it came down on the back of his skull. He fell, unconscious before striking the ground. Multiple blows followed with the only accompaniment being the sound of his assailant’s exertions whilst wielding the weapon. There was no resistance.
Soon, all that could be heard was the sound of the intensifying rain, coming down in sheets and striking the tarmac all around him.
Fear the Past
(DARK YORKSHIRE BOOK 5)
Amazon – http://geni.us/Fear_the_Past
Also in the Dark Yorkshire series;
Divided House
(DARK YORKSHIRE – BOOK 1)
Terrifying, dark and complex. Divided House introduces us to DI Nathaniel Caslin, a man navigating both personal and professional nightmares against a backdrop of conspiracy, torture and murder.
http://geni.us/Divided_House
Blacklight
(DARK YORKSHIRE – BOOK 2)
A frightening thriller that chills the soul. Kidnapping and murder come to York where the lines between victim and suspect are increasingly blurred.
http://geni.us/Blacklight
The Dogs in the Street
(DARK YORKSHIRE – BOOK 3)
Haunting, fast-paced and intense. Ghosts from the past return to bring murder to the historic City of York, drawing Caslin into a world of Intelligence Agency secrets amid those seeking redemption.
http://geni.us/The_Dogs_in_the_Street
Fear the Past
(DARK YORKSHIRE – BOOK 5)
A buried secret threatens to destroy long-held reputations, whilst gangland tensions fracture the peace as a power struggle spills onto the streets of York.
http://geni.us/Fear_the_Past
The Sixth Precept
(DARK YORKSHIRE – BOOK 6)
A warped serial killer stalks the streets of York, meting out ruthless punishments in response to the perceived
sins of the victims in this chilling thriller.
https://geni.us/The_Sixth_Precept
The Dark Yorkshire Series: Books 1 to 3
(THE DI CASLIN BOXSET)
The first three full length books in the Dark Yorkshire Series.
http://geni.us/Boxset_1
Blood Money Page 29
