The Lucy Ghosts

'Why not?' she asked again.

'Not my nature.'

'What's that mean?'

'That I never disclose anything until I have to. I want to know why you didn't report back what I told you to them.'

'You trusted me enough to tell me. Why break it?'

'Thanks. What about you? Did you get in touch with home?'

'Sort of. I think he’s finally gone.’

‘Done a runner, eh?’

‘Is that how you English put it?’

'Sorry I asked,' he relented. I didn’t mean to make fun.’

'Don't be. I envy you.'

'Can't see why.'

'Because you just do your own thing. For your own reasons. Me, I always try and keep everyone happy. And in the end, it's always stupid old Billie who get's kicked in the teeth.'

'Stop feeling sorry for yourself.'

'I'm not.'

'Yes, you are.'

'Maybe just a little. Anyway, that's a woman's prerogative. I don't want to talk about it anymore. They're all shits, every man I've ever known. Says something about me, I guess. My definitive statement.'

'Unlucky. It happens.'

'You ever been in love, Adam?'

'No. Never had the inclination.'

Billie gazed at him. 'They won't let you go back to England yet.'

'I know.'

'Who else was involved?'

'No idea. I don't even know why they killed him. I know who did it, but not why.'

'Are you sure it was Fruit Juice?'

'Oh, yes. And I believe he had no other motive apart from killing for money and fulfilling his contract. It's easy, that. Getting someone killed for a price. I really believe there are no answers here. Apart from one.'

'Which is?'

'Goodenache. I think he knows…'

'But he's gone.'

'What do you mean?'

'This morning. Caught a plane out of here.'

'Damn.' Adam slapped his fist on the table. 'Where's he gone?'

'Germany. According to Tucker.'

'That fits. Damn and blast.'

'Why, Adam?'

'Because he's the key, he's got the answers. Not Fruit Juice, or any of that lot.'

'How do you know?'

'I just do. Instinct, whatever. I was sent here to protect Trimmler. I failed. Even if it was only window dressing to keep us Brits happy. And going after Fruit Juice, well, that was just anger at being made to look bad. I didn't go out to kill him, but to find out what happened. His death just happened. But now I'm getting sucked in to something I know nothing about. I need to know why Trimmler was important and what's really behind all this.'

The waiter arrived with their brunch and they waited while he served them.

'So. What's going on?' he asked when they were alone again.

'It mustn't get back. I mean…'

'Come on, Billie. These things don't have to be said. Not between friends.'

She sighed, then picked up a french fry with her fingers, blew on it to cool it and chewed it slowly. Then she told him everything. Told him about the computer and its virus, about the death of the agents and the attempt on Trimmler's life in Cannes, about the contact with the Russians, although she had no idea why.

'Confused?' she asked when she had finished.

'Totally.'

'Where now?'

'We'll see.'

'I'd rather you didn't tell your people.'

'Nothing to do with them. I was just told to stay here and protect Trimmler. That's all I report on.'

* * *

Coy's call that afternoon ordered Adam to prepare a full report for the Americans. 'And stay there until they tell you to come home,' Coy added. 'By the way, our side is disappointed with the course of action you took. You were there to support, not to instigate.'

Adam knew he was on his own; as usual, the faceless desk people were leaving him to sort out his own mess and absolving themselves of any responsibility.

In frustration he headed up to the clothes shops on Canal Street. He left a message for Billie at reception telling her where he had gone.

The shops were not as impressive as he had hoped. He wandered aimlessly, thinking, not aware of the merchandise he inspected at every stop.

Frankie and Billie, cruising Canal Street for Adam, saw him come out of QuarterMan, one of the many boutiques near the strip.

'They want you back,' said Billie, shouting out of the Cadillac.

'Who's they?'

'Carter. He's pretty mad. Says London told you to report to him. He's really blown a fuse.'

'Never, not Carter. You know, this is a terrible place to shop. No choice. I expected better.'

'Doesn't anything get to you?'

'Not if it doesn't matter.'

Adam slid in beside her.

'I didn't get a chance to tell ya,' said Frankie, pulling away from the kerb, 'but they buttonholed me about Fruit Juice and Old Number One.'

'So I found out.'

'I just said you went in there…'

'Fully armed.'

'I didn't say I saw you do anything.'

'You didn't, anyway.'

'They'da found out anyhow. Even in them circles, the police've got their informers.'

'Wasn't he at the voodoo ceremony?' interrupted Billie, leaning forward and pointing at three men who were walking northwards up Canal Street.

In the middle of the three, laughing as he led the conversation, was Goat Face.

'Stop. Pull in!' shouted Adam.

Frankie pulled the Cadillac over to the kerb, cutting across the inner line of traffic and causing a vociferous outburst of indignation from the other vehicles. Adam was out of his door, on the street side of the car, before it had stopped. As she saw the Browning in his hand, Billie knew he was heading into trouble again.

'Shit!' She heard Frankie curse, then saw him swing the driver's door open and clamber, with his crutch, to get out of the Cadillac. Out of the back window she watched Adam cross the pavement, gliding more than running, and catching up with the three men. Frantically, she opened her own door, her heart pounding. She could hardly breathe as she pulled herself onto the pavement and heard Frankie straighten up behind her, the crutch now supporting him under his right shoulder. She caught a glimpse of the Reising M50 in his right hand.

'Hey. Goat Face!' Adam called from behind the three of them.

Billie saw them spin round in surprise. The outer two stepped back in alarm, but Goat Face stayed his ground. He threw his head back and laughed.

'Fuck you, jerk,' he shouted.

She felt Frankie brush past her as he manoeuvred to support Adam, not wanting to be blocked off from the three men.

'You've certainly got a way with words,' said Adam. 'So much so, that I'd like you to come and meet some people with me. Some people who'd like to hear what you've got to say.'

'I ain't going anywhere. You hear me, jerk?'

Billie saw Goat Face laugh again, then signal the other two to move away, to spread outwards and split the space that Adam had to contend with. Around them, passers-by had seen what was taking place and were now scattering along the pavement, clearing out of the way as they saw the guns being brandished.

'You gonna have to take us all out,' Goat Face spat at Adam. 'Otherwise one of us gonna take you, shitface.'

Adam moved sideways, the gun aiming at Goat Face as he did, cutting off the angle as the outer two separated.

'Keep back,' Frankie said to Billie, his gun now also pointed at Goat Face.

'This what you call support?' Goat Face laughed. 'Fucking cripples?' He reached into his side pocket and pulled out a handgun, a .45 Sin City Saturday Night Special.

'You're going to be a dead man,' stated Adam.

As he spoke, he heard the shout from up the hill and turned to see a policeman running towards them, fumbling with his holster gun, trying to draw. The man farthest from him turned and plunged through the doorway of a shop, hell bent on escaping out the back.