Ivana sighed and flicked back from her face a long, straightened strand of jet black hair. ‘She called in ill.’
‘When was her last shift?’
‘Last night. Are you going to stay here all night and spend that tipping money you bought?’
Tom looked at the laminated play money on the table. ‘You said, “another stalker”; was there a man bothering her?’
Ivana laughed, and Tom thought how pretty she really was. ‘Men bother us every single night, Mr Policeman.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘There was a regular customer, a guy who came maybe five, six times in last two weeks — always booked private shows.’
‘What did he look like?’
Ivana finished her vodka, slurping as she sucked the dregs through her straw. She smiled sweetly but said nothing.
Tom slid over the tipping money and she palmed it off the table.
‘Glasses, red hair, freckles. Midtwenties. Short — about five-six. Looks like academician or maybe IT geek.’
Definitely not Nick then. Tom described the other detective.
‘That could be any man who comes in here,’ Ivana shrugged.
She was right, and Tom knew it. Someone would have to bring back a picture. He wanted to know more about the girl. ‘She’s black — the girl, Ebony?’
‘Now I know why they make you detective.’
‘Hah, hah. Where’s she from, the West Indies?’
‘South Africa.’
That was a bit out of the ordinary. ‘Is she an illegal immigrant?’
‘Who are you after, her or this big guy with black hair?’
‘Has she been acting differently lately?’
‘She went home early last night. I assume it was the sickness that kept her away tonight, but I was doing private show when she left, so I did not talk to her.’
‘Were any of the other girls on tonight working last night?’
Ivana looked around the club. ‘No.’
Tom thought from her studied nonchalance that she was probably lying — perhaps to protect her co-workers. He liked that about her. Honour among strippers. ‘There were no other regulars that you know about?’
Ivana shook her head and looked at her watch. ‘I am finishing work soon. You like private show?’
Tom smiled at her. ‘No, thanks. How long has Ebony been in the UK?’
‘About a year, I think.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Young — but not under-age, if that’s what you’re thinking. About nineteen, I think. Boss here is very strict on some things. No drugs, no kids.’
Tom wondered if Nick had seen Ebony, and if he had been the reason she had left work early the previous night. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself by asking the receptionist.
‘You got wife, Mr Policeman?’ Ivana asked, intruding into his thoughts.
‘No.’
‘Girlfriend?’
‘That’s none of your business.’ He drained his beer.
‘I thought not. Policemen lousy at relationships. My policeman boyfriend in Russia, he beat me, so I stab him.’
‘Bad relationship, indeed. Call me if you remember anything else.’ He gave her a card and left the club.
It was nearly two in the morning before he opened the door to his warm but empty home. His face still stung from the cuts and he thought about the explosion again, and the death of the computer guy, Steve. He stripped off and climbed into bed between cool sheets. He looked across at the picture of Alex and smiled at her. He realised it could have just as easily been him caught in the explosion.
Part of him wished it was.
‘South Africa.’
Tom wasn’t fazed as Shuttleworth said the words, neither about the destination nor the lack of notice. He’d been to the Sudan with a foreign secretary and to Morocco with a former PM, but never to southern Africa. He looked out across the Thames, towards the Palace of Westminster. The sky was a dirty grey. Some sunshine wouldn’t be bad.
‘With Nick missing, I need you to do an advance recce prior to Robert Greeves’s visit. Flight leaves this evening, BA from Heathrow to Johannesburg,’ the Scotsman said. ‘Greeves is a frequent visitor, both for business and pleasure, and on this trip he’s doing a bit of both. He’s an animal nut — loves the game parks — and he’s staying in a luxury lodge he’s used before. While he’s there he’ll be meeting with his South African counterpart, a Mr Dule, to talk about them buying some jet training aircraft from a UK defence contractor.’
‘I read something about that.’
‘Yes, well, you’ll find no shortage of material on the internet to read on your flight.’ Shuttleworth pushed two thick folders across his uncluttered desk towards Tom. They were Nick’s files on the Minister for Defence Procurement’s past visits to Africa. ‘Your advance trip is little more than a formality for his visit. He’s stayed at the lodge before and you’ll be working with the same people from the South African Police Service who’ve done the last few visits with Nick.’
‘What’s the lodge called?’ Tom asked, not that he would know one safari camp from another.
‘Tinga. It’s in the Kruger National Park. Five-star luxury, topnotch. Only the best for our Robert.’
‘My taxes at work.’
Shuttleworth frowned. ‘What did you find at Nick’s place last night?’
‘Nothing much. A card from a strip club and a message on his phone from some bird called Ebony asking to meet him at a club of some sort, where she would be “on”.’ Tom had decided to come clean about the only clue to Nick’s possible whereabouts; he figured that as he was now picking up his missing colleague’s work he owed him no special favours. Also, as he was leaving the country, it was time for someone else to follow up on Nick’s disappearance.
‘You went to the club.’ Shuttleworth didn’t even bother framing it as a question, Tom noted, though he saw the disapproval in the by-the-book chief inspector’s eyes.
‘Yes, but it was pretty much a dead end. There was a stripper named Ebony who worked there, but she’d called in sick. The girl I spoke to didn’t recognise Nick’s description.’
‘Hmm. I’ll send Morris and Burnett around to investigate officially. Interesting that she called in sick the same evening that Nick did a bunk.’
‘We don’t know he’s done a runner. Could be something worse.’
‘Aye; well, it’s damned inconvenient whatever the explanation. Do you know much about his personal life? I remember you said he seems to have a different bird every few weeks.’
Tom shook his head. ‘Only heard rumours. I haven’t socialised with him since he split up with his wife. His house looks more like a seventies bachelor pad these days, so it could be he’s enjoying single life to the full.’
‘Write up your notes and a statement about last night. Once you’re done you can get home and pack. It’s warm in South Africa this time of year.’
Tom took the files back to one of the hot desk workstations used by the protection officers and turned on the shared computer. He would have to digest the files now, as they couldn’t leave the building. He was flying to South Africa tonight, spending the next day and night in the country, then flying back to the UK the following afternoon. After little more than twenty-four hours to rest up he would then be on Greeves’s personal protection team, and getting straight back on another plane to Africa. If there were more resources available he would have simply stayed in-country and waited for the minister and the rest of the team to arrive.
He read a sheaf of email print-outs from the file. The protection for Greeves was very lean, and that was
