“Look, I didn’t want to discuss this in front of him,” Melissa said, once Jones was safely out of the room. “But think how this would look. I’m already under the microscope. My loyalty’s being questioned, as it is. What would happen if I started arguing for us to pull away from the one plausible target we have? One that everyone else, from the Deputy DG down, has bought into? They’d think it was sabotage.”
“But they’d be wrong,” I said. “Are you ready to see people die to save your own career?”
“No. Of course not. And I will make the call. But only when we have something tangible to point to as a reason. Some solid proof.”
“Good. So let’s get on with finding some.”
“We will. We’ll look into Stewart Sole as ordered, obviously. If we’re really lucky, that might even throw up something we can use. But assuming it doesn’t, we need a second string to our bow.”
“al-Aqsaba’a, itself. That’s where we should be looking.”
“Chaston has a team already doing that. There’s no point in duplicating effort. We should look somewhere else.”
“I don’t agree. Chaston’s people are looking to tie al-Aqsaba’a to a scheme that in all likelihood doesn’t exist. They’re chasing shadows. We should go after them too, but from a new angle.”
“How?”
“Let me ask you something. Leckie. Can he be trusted?”
Melissa didn’t answer straight away.
“Why do you ask me that?” she said, after a moment.
“I’m just being methodical,” I said. “It was Leckie’s snout who came to us, and first threw suspicion on al-Aqsaba’a. Leckie’s had successes against them in the past. Sole and Shakram worked at the same hospital as Leckie. And that’s where the thefts took place. I think we’re due another conversation with the man.”
“I guess so. I can see where you’re going, I suppose.”
“But my question is, what kind of conversation? And that hinges on whether we can trust him. What’s your view?”
“I’d say we can, and we can’t. He feels badly treated by Box, and the hospital’s his livelihood now. So if he’s screwed something up, I don’t see him putting his head in noose to help us. But if you’re asking me if he’s bent, you already know the answer.”
“I do?”
“Yes. He was kicked out, right? That means he did something wrong. Being over zealous with his interrogation methods, or whatever it was. I doubt we’ll ever hear the full story. But the point is, if there was even the faintest whiff of treachery, he wouldn’t have walked away. The rank he was at, he’d have swallowed his gun. On his own. Or with help. Either way, same result.”
I thought about the job I’d recently been assigned in Chicago, where I’d been sent after a Navy Intelligence agent who’d crossed the line. There was no possibility of that guy resigning and walking into a cushy job somewhere else. It made sense that things would be the same for the Security Service.
“How soon can we...?” I said, as her phone started to ring.
“It’s my boss,” she said, showing me the screen. “You don’t think Jones...?”
“One way to find out,” I said.
Melissa hit the answer button, and talked for just over a minute.
“I guess he didn’t,” she said, when she’d hung up. “Chaston wants me to cover a meeting for him, this afternoon. Here. He can’t get back in time. Do you want to hang around till I’m done?”
“Not especially,” I said.
“Then there’s something you can do to help. Do you know the one thing Leckie loves more than golf?”
“No.”
“Champagne. The good stuff. Could you pick some up, somewhere?”
“I should think so.”
“Good,” she said, tearing a page from her pad and starting to scribble. “Here’s my address. I’ll have him meet us there, since we’re flying under the radar for the time being. Will six o’clock work for you?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The cab driver dropped me on Piccadilly, but I used the side door to Fortnum’s in order to avoid the crowds of inert shoppers, rendered immobile by the bewildering selection of tea and confectionary. My original plan was to just pick up one bottle of champagne, but on the spur of the moment I grabbed a second. My shopping urges weren’t completely uncontrolled, though. I did manage to resist the edible baked tarantulas from Cambodia.
I worked my way through to the restaurant and left via the exit on the corner of Jermyn Street. An elderly couple was just clambering out of a cab, so I waited for them to get steady on their feet and then jumped into the back and asked for the Museum of London. It’s right at the corner of the Barbican Centre, and out of habit I never let strangers know my full address.
The traffic was heavier than I’d hoped, and I had to swim against the tide of pedestrians that was already building up along both sides of Aldersgate Street. I had to wait at the lights, as well, before finally turning into Beech Street and heading for the main entrance to Cromwell Tower. The plaza in front of the double doors was broad, but for some reason a couple of guys were walking straight towards me. It was as if they were deliberately maintaining a collision course. They would be in their early twenties, I’d guess. They were tall - six foot four or five - and walked with the awkward, lumbering gait that people end up with when they spend too many hours building pointless muscle in the gym. Their clothes were unremarkable - cheap trainers, ill-fitting jeans and black leather jackets. One was carrying a football. And both of them had baseball caps - one the Baltimore Orioles, one the Toronto Blue Jays. I wondered what Melissa would think of two teams that were named after birds.
We closed to within twenty feet of each other, and the guy with the ball dropped it on the ground. He watched it bounce, then volleyed it expertly at the wall of the Tower. It hit the concrete just at the side of a notice beneath a City of London crest that read -
NO BALL GAMES ALLOWED. BY ORDER.
Their attitude reminded me of the yobs Melissa and I had encountered in the garden at St Joseph’s, four days ago, and I wondered how many more idiots there were like them spread throughout London. I also wondered about taking a minute and encouraging them to show a little respect for the environment. Specially the environment around my home. But given the upcoming meeting with Melissa and Leckie, I decided to give them a pass. Some things in life are more important than others, and I didn’t want to get embroiled in anything that could make me late.
The two guys looked at each other. It was like they were surprised I hadn’t reacted to them. Or maybe disappointed. I kept an eye on them, and continued on my way to the entrance. The guys split up when they were about ten feet away from me. The one who’d kicked the ball peeled off to his right, to collect it. The other continued straight towards me. He picked up speed, and started to lunge sideways when he was about a foot away, aiming to barge me with his shoulder. I tracked his movement and spun around sideways at the last moment, pulling my body out of harm’s way. Deprived of his anticipated impact the guy was left staggering and off balance, so without thinking I stepped across to finish the job gravity had started. I stamped down hard, crashing the edge of my right foot into the side of his knee. The joint gave way and he dropped onto all fours, howling with pain. Then I smashed the ball of my foot into the side of his head, and he went down the rest of the way, finally silent.