He said, ‘What are you doing in my garden?’
She shook her head.
‘Now you say, “No, it’s my garden,” and we’ll improvise from there.’
‘Fuck off. You know how long it’ll take the Dogs to get here? And it will not be a comfortable collection, I can promise you.’
‘Might as well sit while we’re waiting, then.’
Diana stared at him, then shook her head again and went back into her kitchen and filled her wineglass. Really filled it. Had to be careful carrying it outside again, in case it slopped over the rim.
She set it on the table, pulled another of the heavy wooden chairs out, and sat.
Looking at the glass, Lamb said, ‘No, don’t worry. I’m fine.’
‘I know. There’s a bottle poking out of your pocket.’
‘Oh. That.’ He brought it out, removed its cap. ‘Cheers.’
She raised her glass in what she hoped was an aggressively sardonic manner.
‘So,’ he said. ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I invited you out here for a chat.’
‘Cut the comedy and get to the point.’
‘You’ve been using my crew for training purposes. Like they were dummies in a shooting gallery.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. Is there a reason I shouldn’t be doing that?’
‘Only the obvious. That they’re my fucking dummies.’
‘And they do you so much credit.’ She glanced at his feet, where a pile of cigarette stubs had mushroomed. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘Longer than I expected. Since when have you had a social life?’
‘Sorry to inconvenience you.’
‘Yeah, I may have had to piss in one of your plant pots.’
Diana doubted he was kidding. She motioned towards his cigarette. ‘Can I have one of those?’
He sighed. ‘Some people just make themselves free and easy with other people’s property.’ But he handed her one.
‘Did you make this yourself?’
‘Just hold it at an angle.’
He shoved a plastic lighter across. The first inhalation reminded her of her first one ever. ‘God in heaven. Where did this come from?’
‘Old Miles’s.’
‘Ah, Christ. It’s closed down, right?’ She shook her head. ‘The old guard used to gather there. Back in Partner’s day.’
‘Just the suits,’ he said. ‘And the hangers-on.’
‘Suits and hangers,’ she said. Then: ‘It’s all changing though, isn’t it? I thought everything had changed enough already. But it keeps on happening.’
‘If I wanted to listen to a stroppy woman getting maudlin, I’d have picked a City bar.’ He took a swallow from his bottle, which had a label Diana didn’t recognise, then said, ‘So that’s why you had us all wiped. So your newbies wouldn’t know they were tailing professionals.’
She breathed out smoke that looked blacker than natural. ‘It took you long enough.’
‘Once I’d established I was still getting paid, it didn’t seem that urgent. Besides. You didn’t put anyone on me.’
‘No,’ said Diana. ‘I didn’t want any of them broken.’
Lamb nodded, as if that went without saying. Then said, ‘I heard about Kazan. I’m guessing the Whitehall crowd creamed themselves then backed away.’
‘Nothing I’m not used to.’
‘What about Number Ten?’
‘Doesn’t officially know. That way, his spad doesn’t have to decide what the PM thinks.’
They were silent. Way overhead, in the dark starless sky, nothing happened.
Then Lamb said, ‘I’ve stood on bridges in my time. You watch one of your own come back to your side, watch one of theirs walk the opposite way. And that’s the end of the story. They’re off the board. Untouchable. This shit doesn’t get written down, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a rule. Otherwise it’s just joe country. Welcome to the badlands.’ He tipped his bottle in her direction. ‘Putin pissed all over that rule. You did the right thing.’
‘Thanks.’
‘He’s probably declared war, though. You realise that.’
‘No, I think he’ll get the message.’
‘Because I heard a rumour.’
‘And you pay attention to that sort of thing?’
‘Of course I fucking do. I’m a spy.’ He added his cigarette end to the pile by his feet. ‘Apparently we have a crack assassination squad.’
‘That was the rumour?’
‘No, the rumour is they’ve been targeted. Tit for tat. You took out one of their featured artists, now they’re coming for yours. Should make for an interesting summer.’
Diana said, ‘We used freelance talent for Kazan.’
‘I figured.’
‘Because it’s not as straightforward as it used to be. Not with half the agencies in Europe thinking it’s funny to put our people on their watch lists. No more courtesy access, no more blind eyes turned to low-key incursions. No more shortcuts through friendly states. Cooperation strictly according to the book, which suddenly has a lot more small print than we’d thought.’ She contemplated her wineglass, manoeuvring which was less complicated now it held half as much. ‘The many blessings of You-Know-What.’
‘Don’t look at me,’ said Lamb. ‘I voted Lib Dem.’
‘Very funny. But my point was, we have tactical teams, sure, and we have operatives who could take even you down bare-handed, though I’m sure they’d prefer rubber gloves. But we don’t, as such, have an actual department. Where’d this rumour come from?’
‘A little man at Old Miles’s.’
‘And he, what, saw it on Twitter?’
‘His partner was a journo, writing a book on Putin.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘And died.’
‘Killed?’
Lamb shrugged.
‘Where?’
‘Moscow.’
‘This little man,’ Diana said. ‘American?’
‘Full-blooded Munchkin.’
‘And his partner was a Russian citizen.’ She made to inhale again, and thought better of it. ‘He’s been writing to the minister. Local reports called it natural causes.’
‘And annoying Putin doesn’t count?’
Diana said, ‘Well, he wouldn’t be the first Russian journalist to walk into a bear trap.’ She drank some wine. ‘If bodies start turning up, I’ll know we’ve got a problem. To add to my ever-growing list. In the meantime, I’m tired. Would you mind pissing off back wherever you call home?’
Lamb heaved himself up. When he stretched, she thought about bear traps again. He found another cigarette somewhere, and said, ‘Pretty impressive, though. Bankrolling a hit on a Moscow heavy without sanction from upstairs.’
‘Maybe I’ve got a fairy godfather.’
‘Let’s hope he doesn’t make an offer you can’t refuse.’
Foreboding washed over her, and the words were out before she could stop them. ‘I may have made a mistake, Jackson.’
He waited.
But she shook her head. ‘Ah, screw it. It is what it is. Isn’t that the current wisdom?’
‘London rules, Taverner. If you’re big enough to admit you’ve made an error, you’re stupid enough to make another one.’
‘Thanks.’
‘And don’t fuck with my joes.’
‘They’re not joes.’
‘That wasn’t the important bit. The important bit was, do not fuck.’ He nodded towards the door. ‘Can I come through the house?’
‘No. You can leave the way you came.’
‘I came through the house.’
‘No you didn’t.’
She locked the sliding door behind her, and went up to the toilet. When she came back down the intruder light was off, and the garden empty.