Carlyle shook his head. Politicians; it doesn’t matter where you go, they are all the same. A right shower. For a moment, his thoughts veered off in the direction of Marvin Taylor and Roche’s ninjas, but that would have to wait. Dropping the newspaper on to the table, he pulled out his mobile and brought up a number he hadn’t used in a while. Happily, the number was still working. Even more happily, the call was answered on the third ring.
‘Alex Miles.’
‘Mr Miles, John Carlyle.’ He paused, the better to enjoy the low groan from the other end. ‘How’s the new job going?’
‘It’s good, thank you,’ Miles said stiffly.
‘I’m at your old place at the moment,’ Carlyle explained. ‘I met your successor. She seems very nice.’
‘Debbie will do well.’
‘She prefers Deborah, apparently.’
‘Yes. Very proper,’ Alex chuckled. ‘You might not find her as easy to do business with as me.’
‘That’s exactly why I’m ringing, Alex.’
Another groan. ‘I’m at work at the moment. Up against it a bit.’
‘This won’t take long.’
‘Very well.’ Miles lowered his voice. ‘So what is it that I can do for you, Inspector?’
EIGHTEEN
Making sure that the policeman hadn’t followed him out of the hotel, Sebastian Gregori headed down St Martin’s Lane, slipping round the corner and onto the Strand. After ducking into a mobile phone store, he bought a £20 pay-as-you-go sim card with cash. Exiting the shop, he crossed the road and hurried down Villiers Street, which ran down the side of Charing Cross station, towards the river. He had discovered Victoria Embankment Gardens while wandering round the area the day before. Now the scruffy park was empty apart from a few dossers. Taking a seat away from the entrance, he put the new sim into the cheap handset he’d bought from a different vendor earlier in the day. There was one number in the memory. He hit Call and waited for it to ring three times, as usual.
‘I’m listening.’
‘Everything is proceeding as planned.’ Gregori spoke clearly and slowly. ‘It should not be long now.’
‘Good.’ There was a pause. ‘We await your confirmation.’
The line went dead.
Gregori removed the sim from the handset and walked out of the park. Two minutes later he was standing on Hungerford footbridge, looking down into the Thames. A nearby beggar sitting on the pathway invited him to give alms. Gregori ignored him. Such a dirty river, he thought. Letting the sim fall from his hand, he watched it flutter downwards and disappear into the murky water.
Such a dirty city.
* * *
Carlyle followed the woman along the corridor and waited patiently while she opened the door to Room 226 with her key card. Pushing the door open, she invited him to step inside.
‘Thanks.’
‘No problem.’ Rosalind McDonald, the Garden’s Head of Security, gave him a big smile. ‘Don’t be too long.’
Carlyle took a pair of latex gloves from the pocket of his jacket and pulled them on. ‘Five minutes, max.’
‘OK. I’ll wait here. The desk will call me if Gregori reappears, in which case we’ll have to leg it.’
‘Sure.’ Stepping inside, Carlyle let the door close behind him and went straight to the closet. Finding the safe, he punched in the management override code that McDonald had supplied and let the door click open. Inside, Gregori had stashed his passport, an iPad and a sheaf of papers. Removing the lot, Carlyle sat down on the bed to see what he could find. On first glance, the papers were simply a copy of the Tosches file, which he’d already been given during their meeting at the station. Dropping them by his side, he powered up the iPad.
‘Shit.’
It was locked. Looking at the screen, he scratched his head. Then he called Umar. Listening to the phone ring, he drummed his fingers on the screen. ‘C’mon, c’mon.’
‘You have reached-’
‘Bollocks.’ So much for Phone a fucking Friend; who else might know how to open the bastard machine? He pulled up another number and hit Call.
‘Hiya, Dad.’ Alice’s cheery voice made him smile.
‘Hiya, sweetheart, how’s it going?’
‘It’s going,’ Alice replied, her voice expressing a level of weariness that only a teenager could reach. ‘Mum’s pissed off though.’
Why? He glanced at his watch; he had used up his five minutes already. ‘You can tell me later. Right now I just wondered if you could help me with something.’ He explained his problem.
Alice thought about it for a moment. ‘You’d have to restore it to its original factory settings.’
‘Great. How do I do that?’
‘Are you sure you want to? You’ll delete everything that’s on it at the moment.’
Damn. ‘Are you sure?’
‘ ’fraid so. One of the girls at school lost all her stuff last week.’
Bollocks.
‘By the way, Mum says you’re a useless git.’
‘What?’ Half-crazed with frustration, he struggled to deal with the switch in the conversation.
‘You missed Grandpa’s doctor’s appointment.’
‘Bloody hell,’ he hissed. ‘Now’s really not the time.’
‘Just sayin’,’ she replied, offended.
‘OK, OK. Tell your mother I’m sorry but it’s been a bit of a tough day.’
‘She said you’d make some kind of lame excuse,’ Alice responded with gleeful malice.
Good for her.
‘Just like you usually do.’
‘Tell her I’ll be home soon.’
‘OK. I’ll make sure I’m hiding in my bedroom when that happens.’
Deborah Burke stifled a gasp as she saw Mr 226 himself slip through the revolving door and head across the lobby. Going back to the bar? From behind her desk, she watched as Sebastian Gregori veered to the left and came to a stop in front of the lifts.
Apparently not.
Folding his arms, Gregori waited patiently behind a Chinese couple who had just checked in with more than enough luggage for a two-month stay. They were VIPs of some sort or another – Burke had seen a memo about it – but they didn’t seem to have any entourage. Gregori smiled at the woman but she ignored him. Casually picking up the mobile on her desk, Burke hit the text message she had pre-prepared – he’s back – and hit the Send button. She then checked the lifts. One was on the top floor, the other making its way steadily upwards. That should give Carlyle more than enough time to get out of there. The Chief Concierge was very unhappy about being dragged into the policeman’s little scheme which was doubtless illegal and would certainly result in the sack should it come to light. But Rosalind had insisted. Deborah heaved a sigh; the girl could be so cavalier at times. She watched as one of the lifts finally made it back to the ground floor, disgorging its collection of guests heading out to sample London’s nightlife. The Chinese couple struggled in with their luggage – where was the bellboy? – and she could see Gregori hesitate. Should he squeeze in beside them or wait for the next one? Eventually, just as the doors were beginning to close, he jumped inside. The doors shuddered then finally came together. Deborah watched as the lift stopped at the first floor then continued on to the second.
Plenty of time.
Scrolling through her emails, Rosalind McDonald heard the lift open and someone get out. Conscious of a figure coming towards her, she looked up.
Bloody hell.