not to his mother or his father, not to Dougie Gough. The elation was his own, and he guarded it.
Joey said dully, 'At home he has the Cardmen to enforce, he has an accountant and a solicitor, he has the Mixer as his chief of staff, he has the Eels for his transport, he has the Princess – he has a legal system that he holds in contempt because of its corruption and incompetence. He sits on the throne of an empire.'
'Alone, Joey. That's why it's different.'
'Will he break and run?'
In the darkness, Joey thought that Frank Williams, armed policeman, squirmed, seemed to shiver.
'Would you? Would I? I would not. If he stood up and walked away – I don't know the ground, and I can at best guess – he would have a nine out of ten chance of getting to the river, perhaps it is a ninety-nine out of a hundred chance. But that leaves one in ten or one in a hundred. Does he run or walk, or crawl? Does he close his eyes and just go, or does he test each step?
He will have been deafened by the explosion, he has no experience of this situation, he is traumatized because he knows that his companion has lost a leg, he is trying now lo think clearly but that is very difficult for him. He has not gone to the help of his companion, and that is a good decision because an amateur who tries to rescue is almost always the second casualty'
The wind was in the trees above them, zephyrs moving the bared branches, the same wind that tugged at Mister, who was alone.
' I like what you say,' Joey said.
'What do you want from him?'
' I want him broken.'
' It's the worst place a man can be.' A quaver stammered in Frank's voice. 'He is trapped in a minefield.'
' I wanl lo hear him scream, in fear.'
'There is a legal process.'
He said, 'I want him destroyed.'
'Are you sick? I think you're sick.'
Frank Williams blundered away. Joey sat with the dog. He leaned against a tree, and his feet were under the yellow tape. He scratched the dog's stomach, and his face was licked, and he laughed. He shouted into the night for all of the valley to hear. 'Heh, Mister, look over your shoulder, and I'm there.'
And Joey Cann laughed louder.
Midnight…
… as he helped her to undress and prepared her for bed in the shambles that was their home, Judge Delic asked his daughter, 'Do you think of him? Is he ever out of your mind?' Jasmina Delic said, 'I try not to, I try to think of the car and the new kitchen we will have, and our new life.' He thought she lied, but he had not the heart to tell her that he recognized the lie.
… Ismet Mujic reached his apartment in the city's old quarter. He had left the Turk, the Russian a nd the Italian at the airport with a private pilot who would fly them out. He was disgraced, humiliated, and he shouted in fury up the stairs, 'Have you found him?'
He was told by a craven man that his friend had not been found, and his world fell further into ruin.
… a body that had been snagged among sunken tree branches in the Miljacka river broke free and came to the surface, was carried on by the current past Hrasno and the apartment blocks of Cengic Vila, under bridges, and tumbled over the weirs.
… her day and evening in the Unis Building, Tower A, finished, on her way home to Novo Sarajevo, Monika Holberg pushed open the glass swing doors of the Holiday Inn. She went to the reception desk. She saw her letter in the pigeon-hole, untouched, unread, tightened her lips and went back out into the city's quiet.
… in the room occupied by the Sierra Quebec Golf team in the Custom House, a secure facsimile message was received from Endicott, room 709. Vauxhall Bridge Cross. It was given to Gough. They were all there and they watched him. Gough said, 'Packer was at his big meeting – it aborted when Cann showed out
– there was no electronic evidence – Target Three, Bruce James, is in IPTF custody – Packer and Arbuthnot have gone across country, and Cann is in pursuit. It doesn't matter, though, local authorization for intrusive surveillance has been withdrawn. I think he's beaten us, Packer has. I asked too much of Cann.
I thought, and I took a chance with him, that Cann would bring him down. It was too much to ask.'
They began to clear their desks and unhook their
…Endicott, in his room at VBX, rang the home of a commander from the National Crime Squad. 'Don't interrupt me, please, and don't ask who tasked me.
You have an information leak from your building to Albert Packer. A call to Sarajevo was made the day before yesterday, in the morning, from the pavement outside your Pimlico office. We can be that specific.
The call was made at ten nineteen and was terminated at ten twenty-one. If you were to check your exterior video cameras you will see who made the call, who went out of the building either side of that window.
Act on it, please.' Endicott rang off. Traitors, turncoats, betrayers were a part of the history of his organization; He understood the cancerous contamination of their presence.
… the minister came into his wife's bedroom at their grace and favour home to switch off her light and kiss her cheek. He sat beside her. 'You remember, when we were in opposition, what you used to do, your good works. You tramped east Yorkshire to raise money for refugee relief in Bosnia. You were fearsome to the stitch-pockets, you bullied till you had your cheques.
I'm late because I've been reading about the place. You needn't have bothered. The dream's gone. It's a corrupt haven for criminality, and sinking, and it'll be worse.
The end of a dream is always sad, the light going out and leaving a dark, grubby corner.' He held her hand and hoped she slept and had not heard him.
'Are you there, Mister?'
' I'm here, Eagle.'
'What time is it?'
' If it matters, it's a minute past midnight.'
' I know where I am.'
'Good on you, Eagle.'
Yes, he knew where he was and he knew what had happened. There had been a moment, bliss, a happy moment, when he hadn't known where he was or what had happened to him. It couldn't have been sleep, but he might have fainted. There hadn't been delirium, or anything that was a dream, only blank insensible darkness in his mind. He had come through that darkness and he remembered opening his eyes, and he'd tried to swing his body but the pain had stopped him. He felt weak and wanted to vomit. He hadn't the strength. His hands groped over his body, as best he could lying on his side. Each place he touched made the pain hurt worse, and there was sticky warmth on his fingers. The liquid smeared them when he touched his stomach and his thighs.
Only when he lay quite still was the pain numbed. He had his back to Mister, couldn't see him and wouldn't risk the pain of trying to twist and look at him. Where his head lay, on his lower arm, there were no lights for him to look at, but the moon's glow showed the stretch of the field and then the black line of the trees.
'Does anyone know we're here?'
'Cann knows. He's in the trees. He's close. He knows.'
'Has he sent for help?'
' It's dark, Eagle, and we're in a minefield. No one's going to come and help.'
' I don't have much time, Mister, if I'm not helped
… Can't you come close to me, Mister?'
'Don't you listen, what I told you? It's a minefield.'
'Won't you come nearer to me, Mister?'
'There are mines – it's what Cann said – all around me. I can't move. I'm thinking… '
The Eagle thought he was free. It was as if a chain had snapped. He could not see Mister's eyes, which cut into men and made them shiver. His back was to Mister. He had no fear, now, of Mister, and he had no need any more of the rewards with which Mister bought him. The freedom was the cool breeze that played across his face, that stilled the pain. He was safe from the fear.
'Mister? Are you listening to me, Mister? I've been with you more than twenty-five years. I know you, Mister, like I know my hand. I want to tell you what I have learned about you.'
