“So what do you want me to do?”
“Well, I was thinking, if I show you his picture, would you mind just popping your head round the door, and seeing if you recognise him?”
“That’s a little weird. But I suppose I could.”
“Thank you,” I said, pulling my phone out my pocket and opening the photograph folder. “I really appreciate it. Now, let’s try and find a recent one.”
I fiddled with the phone for another thirty seconds, then threw up my hands.
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” I said. “Of course. After the last incident, Marie made me delete them all. There are none left. Not even old ones. This isn’t going to work.”
“Oh well,” the woman said. “Sorry I can’t help.”
“No, wait. Here’s an idea. How about this? How about I give you my phone, and you take a couple of pictures inside the crypt? Just a few random shots. Tourists are always taking photos in there.”
“No way. I can’t do that. It’s too weird.”
“Why not? Please. You’ve already been taking pictures. You’re obviously good at it. It’ll only take a minute. And if I can’t convince Marie that John’s not here, she might never come out of the bathroom. We could be here for days.”
“Well, OK. I’ll take two pictures for you. I’ll give it thirty seconds, max.”
“That’s great. Thank you. I really appreciate it. I’ll wait here in case Marie panics and tries to make a run for it.”
In the end, the woman was in the cafe for three minutes. She took seven pictures. She told me she thought the single men in two of them looked dangerous. But it was the shot of a couple sitting at a high table against a pillar at the far side of the room that interested me. One of the people was Melissa. The other was a woman I’d never seen before. She was dressed more smartly and was older, maybe in her fifties. And even though it was a still photo, you could see they were arguing.
Melissa was the first of the pair to leave. She paused in the doorway of the entrance cylinder and scanned the area, then walked a little stiffly back to the Land Rover. She started the engine, but didn’t pull away. She just sat until the other woman appeared, five minutes later, and watched as she lit a cigarette then turned left and headed towards The Strand.
It was interesting that Melissa waited, I thought. And also inconvenient. Because it meant I couldn’t follow her lunch companion.
I had to be content with emailing the picture of the two women to my control in the hope that the stranger could be identified, and was weighing up whether to walk to St Joseph’s or take a cab when my phone rang. It was Melissa.
“How’s the rest of your morning been?” she said. “Find anything out?”
“Nothing concrete,” I said. “I thought I might be onto something, but I hit a block in the road. How about you?”
“Up and down. I’ve come up with something that might help us, though. The name of a woman at the hospital I think we should talk to. I’m on my way over, now. Where should I meet you?”
“I’m not actually at the hospital yet.”
“You’re not? Where are you, then?”
“Well, what you said about working on the background got me thinking. About the detail of some of those old fraud cases I claimed to know all about. I realised I was little rusty. I thought it might be an idea to brush up a little before diving in the deep end.”
“That’s smart. You’re not still at Thames House, are you?”
“No. I needed some old notes I’d made.”
“So you’re at Tottenham Court Road?”
I had to think before I replied. There are entry and exit logs at all Navy buildings. They’d show I hadn’t set foot in the place, and if she was getting access to information about me in the same way I was about her, she’d know if I lied about being there.
“No,” I said. “I’m at home. The notes I’m taking about aren’t exactly official copies, if you know what I mean.”
“I do know,” she said. “And that’s no problem. I’ll swing by and pick you up. What’s your address?”
“What do you mean, ‘swing by?’”
“Didn’t I tell you? I’ve got my hands on a vehicle.”
“You didn’t. What do you need one for?”
“Well, I figured if we’re going to question this woman, we’ll need some privacy. I’d hoped we could steal a room at the local nick for half an hour or so, but they knocked me back. I don’t want to drag her all the way to Millbank, so I had an inspiration. Borrow a surveillance vehicle. We have ones with built-in cameras and recorders.”
Melissa said she could be outside my building in ten minutes, which made me realise two things. I’d have to hurry, to get there before her. And either I was barking up the wrong tree, or she was better at covering her tracks than I’d given her credit for.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Melissa guided the Land Rover into a service bay on Silk Street - the closest point to my apartment in the Barbican you can easily reach by car - and slid across into the passenger seat.
“I think you better drive, David,” she said, as I climbed on board. “No offense, but if you walk up to a strange woman in the middle of the street and ask her to get in a car with you, she’s more likely to call the police or run away screaming.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said.
“Sorry. Look, I know my attitude’s not where it should be. I know I shouldn’t feel like this. I know I sound like a child, but it’s just not fair. Look at what the others were assigned to. Security of the parliament buildings. Liaison with the Royal Protection Duty. I feel like I’m being sidelined. I don’t deserve it, and I don’t like it.”
“I know exactly how you feel.”
“And there’s researching the group Leckie’s informer belonged to. I stayed up half the night pulling all that material together, and now I have to hand it over and deal with yesterday’s news.”
“What did you find out about them?”
“They’re based in Yemen, and mostly operate in the Middle East. Their organisation is small, but very professional. In Leckie’s day they had a threat assessment of alpha, but this needs to be updated. Although it doesn’t sound like it’s diminished, any.”
“What are they called?”
“al-Aqsaba’a.”
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“That’s because of how they work. They don’t typically go in for big, eye catching stunts. Another 9/11 wouldn’t be their style. They’ve always been much more subtle operators. They aim to get what they want indirectly, by influencing and pressurising others - governments, businesses, charities and so on.”
After this morning I was making a renewed effort to focus on my control’s instructions and concentrate on Melissa’s loyalty, and not to interfere with the case.
“What?” Melissa said, when I didn’t answer.
“Blowing up the State Opening of Parliament?” I said, relapsing once again. “Maybe killing the Queen? The PM? The Cabinet? If it’s true, it’s a major change of direction for a group that’s supposed to be publicity-shy.”