‘So what do you want from me?’
‘You were part of all this, yeah? The way I hear it, you were the guy pulling Winter’s strings. So it stands to reason you know where he went.’
‘But you know already.’
‘Sure. But how about you tell us too?’
This, Suttle knew, was crunch time. From here on in he had to be very careful indeed. In truth, he was fairly certain where Winter had ended up, but the last thing he intended to do was share that hunch.
‘He went to Poland and Montenegro,’ he said slowly.
‘Dead right, mush.’ Fallon swapped glances with his friend. Carlos had produced an elegant notepad, leather-bound, and was making notes. ‘And where else?’
Suttle studied him for a moment and then laughed. ‘There’s something we haven’t discussed,’ he said.
‘Like what?’
‘Like what do I get out of this?’
‘You want money?’ Fallon was looking outraged.
‘Of course I don’t want money. The deal was simple. I help you as best I can and you call the dogs off.’
‘Jonno? The fat bastard that came down with the black cunt?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Dogs my arse.’ It was Fallon’s turn to laugh. ‘That’s a bit harsh, ain’t it? On the fucking dogs?’
‘You know what I mean. I help you. I tell you what I know. And you leave us alone. Not just now. Not just tomorrow. For ever.’
‘Sweet. So where else did he go? Your grassing arsehole mate?’
‘You haven’t answered the question.’
‘That’s because you haven’t told us nothing.’
‘Fine.’ Suttle stood up. ‘There’s a spare coffee coming if you’re interested.’
It was the Spaniard who reached over. ‘Please, my friend. Sit down.’
Suttle didn’t move. He looked at Carlos. Then he looked at Fallon. A woman a couple of tables away had started to take an interest. Boots, jeans and a tight grey T-shirt.
Fallon muttered something that might have been an apology. Suttle resumed his seat.
‘Carlos? I have your word?’
‘Of course.’ He extended a hand. Suttle shook it.
‘The Ukraine,’ Suttle said. ‘Winter went to the Ukraine.’
Fallon’s head came up. He couldn’t mask his surprise.
‘That’s a big fucking place. We went there once. Away game. Europa Cup. Got stuffed 3–1. Horrible night.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. That’s abroad. That’s real abroad.’
‘You’re right. And it’s not in the EU. Not yet.’
This, Suttle knew, mattered a great deal. Only EU countries recognised the European Arrest Warrant. Extradition treaties existed with a lot of other states but extradition was often a pain in the arse.
Fallon wanted to know where in the Ukraine.
‘I know he bought a train ticket to Kiev. Beyond that I can’t help you.’
‘How? How do you know?’
‘Because he kept dicking us around. In the end we had to have a sort-out. The trip to Kiev was nothing to do with our operation. Neither, as far as I know, did it have anything to do with Mackenzie. So there you go. The Ukraine. Kiev.’
‘And that’s it?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
Fallon shot another look at Carlos. Then he turned back to Suttle.
‘He also went to Montenegro, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Carlos here has been to Montenegro, talked to some people, a Russian bloke in particular, ex-cop, turned out to be a big mate of Winter’s.’
‘And?’
‘Winter went to Croatia after. Took a taxi first. Then a coach. Carlos found the taxi driver too. Apparently your mate Winter was asking about a place called. .’ He frowned, checking with Carlos.
‘Porec. Winter wanted to know about Porec.’
‘There. Porec.’ Fallon turned back to Suttle. ‘Ring any bells?’
‘Never heard of it.’
‘You’re kidding me.’
‘I’m not, Dave. I’ve told you what I know. The Ukraine is definitely a runner.’
‘Says you.’
‘Says me.’
Fallon was giving him the hard stare. Suttle didn’t flinch. Finally, it was Carlos’ hand on his arm.
‘Thank you,’ he said softly. ‘Thank you for coming.’
Outside the café Suttle checked as best he could for any signs of the surveillance he’d been expecting. Either these guys are as good as Gina Hamilton had promised, he thought, or I’ve been stiffed. Back in the Impreza, he was picking his way towards Poole and the road home when his phone began to trill. He pulled in, checking caller ID. John Hamilton.
‘OK? Are we off the clock now?’
‘Fine. Of course you are. And thanks, I owe you.’ Suttle paused. ‘Where were you, by the way?’
‘I was in the pub across the road.’
‘How does that work?’
‘It doesn’t. I was back-up in case anything kicked off.’ He chuckled. ‘Did you notice the woman a couple of tables away? Bit of a looker?’
‘Boots? Grey T-shirt? Don’t tell me.’
‘Yeah. Class operator. Good on obs too.’
Suttle was back in Chantry Cottage by a quarter to ten. Lizzie was halfway through a bottle of red. She fetched Suttle’s dinner from the oven and turned the TV off. She wanted to know what had happened.
It had taken a while for Suttle to tease the real meat out of the encounter in the Café Rouge. Now he saw no point keeping his conclusions to himself. Lizzie was part of this. Christ, if it came to more nonsense from the likes of fat Jonno, she’d be the one in the firing line.
‘Dave Fallon’s hooked up with a bounty hunter, a Spanish guy. I’m not sure I believe the figures but you’re probably looking at the thick end of a hundred grand.’
‘To do what?’
‘To find Winter, stick him in the boot and take him back to Malaga. The Spanish police would take care of everything else and Fallon and his mate would cash the cheque.’
He explained about the killing of Brett West and the German girl who’d also died. Lizzie was horrified.
‘Paul did that?’
‘He was there. He could have stopped it. He didn’t.’
‘And the money?’
‘It comes from the dead girl’s father. Christ knows what it buys him. Peace of mind sounds nice but it can’t be that simple.’
‘So what did they want from you?’
‘A steer on where Winter might have gone. I told them the Ukraine.’
‘Was that wise?’
‘It was a lie. I looked at the map this morning. The Ukraine’s next to Poland. It’s the best I could do.’
‘And did they believe you?’
‘Not for a moment.’
He told her about Carlos’ enquiries in Montenegro. He seemed to have tracked Winter to Croatia. Worse still, he’d got the name of a specific town.
‘What’s it called?’
‘Porec.’
‘And you think he’s there? Paul?’
‘I’ve no idea. But Croatia makes perfect sense. It’s bang next door to Montenegro. It’s handy for flight connections. It’s full of bloody tourists in the summer. And it’s not in the EU. In his situation you could have done a lot worse.’
‘So what do you think?’
‘I think I did my best.’
‘I meant about us?’
‘I think they’ll leave us alone.’
‘You think they’ll leave us alone?’
‘I’m pretty certain. No guarantees but. .’ he shrugged ‘. . I’d be amazed if they turned up again.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘You really want to know? Because I think they’re a couple of days away from finding the old bugger. And you know what? That makes me fucking upset.’
Ten
TUESDAY, 19 APRIL 2011
Carole Houghton phoned at half past six next morning. Suttle was already up, trying to calm Grace after a fractious night.
‘I would have called last night,’ Houghton said, ‘but I thought I’d leave you in peace.’
‘That’s kind. What’s happened?’
The phone wedged in his ear, he was still cradling Grace. Mr Nandy, Houghton explained, had found a couple of D/Cs who would be joining Constantine by lunchtime. She was expecting a response on the Jacobson debit card before noon, and both guys would be deployed on checking ATM withdrawals. In the meantime, Mr Nandy was insisting that Suttle and Luke Golding get up to Leeds and interview Zameer Akhtar. If there was any chink in Kinsey’s armour, any hint that he might — after all — have had a mate or two, then this might be the guy.