An Honourable Fake

by Terry Morgan

CHAPTER 17

  Whilst waiting for his bag to appear on the conveyor at Heathrow, Mark Dobson phoned Colin Asher. "I'm back," he announced. Then: "Festus Fulani?" he asked.

  "Yes," said Asher. "Wanted for questioning in relation to Kenneth Eju's murder."

  "Is that something you did?"

  "I dropped his name into conversation, suggested a dispute with the Household of God's Miracles Church and spread a few rumours about unaccounted wealth and multiple property ownership."

  "Where is Mr F right now?"

  "No idea. Back in Nigeria? Any particular reason?"

  "Only that he was one of several behind my abduction and robbery."

  "Do they know it failed to deter you?"

  "Not yet. What about Llc-Protek?"

  "It's part of Aron Kaplan's group."

  "So, no surprise again. Have you told Gabriel and Solomon?"

  "Yes. They arrived earlier."

  "Are they surprised?"

  "No."

  "What do they want to do?"

  "To see you. You feel like a late night?"

  "Duty calls. Where are they?"

  "A hotel called Blossoms somewhere off Cromwell Road."

  "I didn't know there was plant life in Cromwell Road let alone any blossoms."

  "And there's another job for you. Fancy South Korea and Hong Kong?"

  "One thing at a time, Colin. I fear this one's still got a long way to run."

  Blossoms Hotel turned out to be little more than a bed and breakfast joint in a dimly lit street of terraced properties running roughly parallel to Cromwell Road. Next to the illuminated 'Rooms Available' sign in the window was a bunch of dead flowers, presumably the blossoms. It was just after midnight when Dobson rang the bell and for a while nothing happened. He tried again. Then he heard the shuffling of bare feet and the door was opened by a tall black man wearing white boxer shorts and a blue vest. Clothing apart, it could have been Solomon but it wasn't. A smell, of curry, wafted through the door as he looked down from the top step, yawned and scratched his crotch. "Yessah."

  He was Nigerian.

  "I'm meeting a couple of guys who checked in earlier."

  "Pastor Gabriel, sah. Very famous sah. Very pleased he comes to stay here, sah. You need a room as well? We have one room with en-suite facilities."

  "No thanks."

  "Second floor, sah. Room three. You just got back from Lagos?"

  "How did you guess?"

  "Label on the bag, sah. My name's Sammy. Sammy from Sokoto. "

  "Can I leave the bag here, Sammy. I won't be long."

  "Of course, sah. Leave by the mop and bucket."

  Dobson mounted the stairs carrying just his laptop. The door to Room 3 was opened by Solomon in bare chest and black trousers. He pulled Dobson inside and the strong curry smell hit his nose. Gabriel, wearing red striped shorts and a big smile sprang from one of the two single beds and grabbed his hand. "You hungry, Mark? Sol bought some goat curry from a Jamaican take-away around the corner. There's some left."

  Dobson put his laptop on a chair. "Thanks. I ate on the plane."

  "We've got a few issues," Gabriel announced.

  "Only a few?"

  "Three difficult ones. Kaplan, the US Government and the UK Government."

  "Not much to chose between them." Dobson said. He found some space on one of the beds. "I thought my job was finished."

  "You wanna give up just as it's getting interesting?"

  "I'm OK on Russian commercial intrigue but I don't normally list terrorism and international defence amongst my areas of expertise."

  "It's easy, man. Sol and I learned it from newspapers. Start on the Kaplan empire."

  "What should I look for?"

  "Their military interests."

  "Colin's already started. Anything else?"

  "Their African investments."

  "Colin."

  "Links with the US Government, the UK Government and the Nigerian Government."

  "Colin."

  "Then help us decide what to do next."

  Mark Dobson left Blossoms at one, none the wiser except he knew that Plan B, whatever that was, was to be pursued and he was still engaged. To do what remained unclear.