‘You’ve got what?’
‘With MI5,’ Steven explained. ‘I’m passing over the Edinburgh lead to them. I’m meeting one of their officers and then I could be on my way north to the arms of the woman I love.’
‘Only if I get breakfast in bed tomorrow morning.’
‘’Tis a hard woman ye are, Tally Simmons,’ said Steven in a cod-Irish accent.
‘Take it or leave it, big boy,’ replied Tally, doing Mae West no justice at all.
‘Okay, you get breakfast.’
‘Then we have a deal.’
Steven met John Ricksen in a riverside pub which had recently undergone a facelift and was now styling itself a gastro-pub. He hoped no double entendre was intended. Ricksen appeared to know the owner, and they were given a table with views of the river and dry sherry on the house.
‘My only drink this evening,’ said Steven. ‘I have to drive later.’
Ricksen looked for a moment as if he were about to enquire where, but he didn’t. Instead he asked, ‘So, what have you got for me?’
Steven gave him the photograph.
Ricksen seemed less than impressed. ‘What am I looking at?’
‘The face in the window is one Waheed Malik.’ Steven told Ricksen about the Corstorphine bungalow and the ‘nephew’ in the water board van on the day of the Edinburgh attack.
‘How in hell’s name did you come up with this?’ exclaimed Ricksen.
‘I have my methods, Watson. You know that.’
‘Tell me about them, Sherlock.’
Steven told him about the missing person report.
‘Jammy bugger,’ said Ricksen.
‘Not me, my boss.’
‘Macmillan’s back?’
‘Yup. So tell me, what have 5 come up with?’
Ricksen made a face. ‘Like I said before, we’re not going to get anything out of the eight in Belmarsh. They don’t know anything. They look like terrorists, they have names we expect terrorists to have, but their accents say they’re English, from Leicester and Birmingham. They were looking for a cause because it was probably easier than getting a job, and some character stepped in and showed them the path to righteousness and martyrdom. They were recruited and groomed for a specific attack and then let loose without knowing up from down.’
‘Let’s hope Malik has form.’
‘I’ll drink to that. Pity you can’t.’
As they finished their meal, Steven said, ‘We’ve known each other quite a while.’
Ricksen looked at him, suspicion showing. ‘What’s coming next?’
‘Have you ever heard of an organisation calling themselves the Schiller Group?’
Ricksen stayed quiet for what Steven thought was an unreasonably long time before he said, ‘The answer is yes, I’ve heard of them, but that’s about it.’
‘Nothing more?’
‘Right-wing political movement, obsessively secret, patriotic in a way that longs for the past, warm beer, the sound of willow on leather, a sense of order and decency as they see it, and woe betide anyone who gets on the wrong side of them — or so I’m led to believe.’
‘Who led you to believe?’
Ricksen looked as if he’d rather not say any more but Steven’s unwavering gaze persuaded him.
‘A few years ago, one of our blokes succeeded in penetrating a National Front cell that seemed to be getting very ambitious in its plans to persuade Asians to consider leaving. He reported that it wasn’t self-contained. An outside faction was behind it.’
‘The Schiller Group?’
Ricksen nodded. ‘We fished his body out of the Thames a few weeks later. No charges were ever brought, even though it was one of our own. Why are you asking?’
‘A cold case I was working on before the terrorist attack.’
‘I’d leave it cold.’
THIRTY-ONE
It was after one thirty in the morning when Steven opened the door to Tally’s flat as quietly as he could and let himself in. He smiled when he saw the gin bottle and one crystal glass sitting on the table with a note that said, Tonic in the fridge, sandwiches wrapped in cling-film. It was just what he needed to help him wind down after the meeting with Ricksen and the long drive north. Ricksen hadn’t told him anything he didn’t already know about the Schiller Group, but the fact that even MI5 might back-pedal when it came to taking them on was more than a bit unsettling.
Thirty minutes later, Steven tiptoed through to the bedroom and pushed open the door, which wasn’t closed.
‘Who’s there?’ Tally asked sleepily.
‘The Milk Tray man,’ whispered Steven.
‘Just leave them on the dressing table, will you? I’m expecting my boyfriend at any minute.’
Steven manoeuvred himself under the covers and snuggled up to Tally’s back.
‘I told you, my boyfriend is on his way.’
‘We Milk Tray men like living dangerously.’
‘Oh well then,’ murmured Tally, turning to face him. ‘I suppose if you’re quick… so be it.’
‘Breakfast is served, madam,’ Steven announced, coming into the bedroom with a tray supporting boiled eggs, toast, orange juice and coffee. He laid it on the bed beside Tally and smoothed her hair back from her forehead as she sat up, smiling.
‘God, I love you,’ she said. ‘It’s so nice to see you again.’
‘Snap.’
They didn’t do anything specific, just spent the day together, strolling by the river and holding hands and laughing a lot, eating lunch and enjoying the wine they had with it before returning to the flat and going back to bed.
‘Do you have to go back tonight?’ They were lying in dappled sunlight coming through the curtains with the sound of grass being cut somewhere.
‘I’m afraid so. John covered the last COBRA meeting but I don’t want to impose on him too much. His wife’s not happy about him coming back to work so soon. She wants him to go on a cruise.’
‘What does he think about that?’
‘He’d rather have root-canal treatment.’
Tally laughed. ‘Is he fit to take the reins again?’
‘I think so, but I’m not absolutely sure. Sci-Med is his life. He won’t give it up easily, and nor should he while he’s as sharp as he ever was. It was he who saw the significance of the missing person report up in Edinburgh.’
‘But he might give it up if he knew you were going to take over,’ said Tally.
‘That really just came up because he thought he was going to die. That’s no longer true.’
‘Have you though about what you’re going to do?’
‘I’m going to keep on the Milk Tray job,’ said Steven. ‘The perks are fantastic.’
He warded off the rain of blows that descended on him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said when Tally ran out of energy. ‘I was avoiding the issue.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Tally. ‘I haven’t changed my mind. You can’t go back to kissing corporate arse. That just isn’t
