remember. Me and Charlotte.’

‘You’re a big boy, you can take care of yourself,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s collateral damage I’m worried about.’

The wine bar where Patsy Ellis wanted to meet was on the fringes of Covent Garden. Button spent half an hour wandering through crowds of tourists, checking she wasn’t being followed, and assumed that Ellis would do the same. A man in a top hat and tails was balancing on stilts and juggling flaming torches. Button watched him for a while, then tossed a pound coin into a yellow plastic bucket.

When she walked into the wine bar, Ellis was at a corner table, two glasses in front of her. She stood up as Button came over and they hugged. ‘I thought we’d try the Pinot Grigio,’ said Ellis.

‘So long as there’s alcohol in it, I’m a happy bunny,’ said Button. She sipped appreciatively. ‘It’s good.’

‘You’ve got time to eat, I hope?’

‘On my tab or yours?’

Ellis laughed. ‘I’ve got the bigger budget,’ she said. ‘But after you’ve heard what I have to say, maybe you’ll want to treat me.’ Her face was serious now. ‘You’ve got an admirer, Charlie, and not in a good way.’

‘I’m all ears.’

Ellis reached into her handbag and passed across a surveillance photograph of a heavy-set man with a square face and a pig-like nose. ‘Viktor Merkulov. Former KGB, hard man of the Seventh Directorate,’ said Ellis. ‘Switched over to the Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki, then went freelance. Now he works for the highest bidder. Surveillance and intelligence, mainly. Or, rather, he used to work for the highest bidder.’

‘Used to?’

‘Mr Merkulov is no longer with us. He was fished out of the Regent’s Canal yesterday with a very sore throat.’

‘Can I keep this?’ asked Button.

‘Of course,’ said Ellis. ‘But I doubt he’s the one interested in you. He was almost certainly acting for someone else. He was looking at your phone, Charlie. Location tracking and call listing. He has contacts with most of the mobile-phone companies and we’ve been looking at him for the past six months. Alarm bells rang when he made enquiries about your number.’

Button sipped her wine. ‘I’m confused, Patsy. Are you telling me this because he was looking at my phone or because he’s dead?’

‘Good question, darling,’ said Ellis. ‘We got wind that someone was on your trail a few days ago, and we had a pretty good idea it was Merkulov. But knowing and proving are two different things. It was only when his body was fished out of the canal that we could forget about things like search warrants and took a look round his very well-appointed apartment in St John’s Wood. Frankly, we’re a bit annoyed at his untimely demise because it was of more use to us having him going about his business. Down the line we might have closed him down, but we were happy enough keeping an eye on what he was doing.’

‘Any idea who he was working for?’

‘Specifically, no. His clients included the great and the good, the bad and the ugly. He didn’t care who he worked for so long as they could afford his fees. Our American cousins used him from time to time, and a couple of less than responsible Sunday newspapers had him on retainer. But we didn’t have him under direct surveillance. Merkulov was a pro so it would have taken up too much in the way of resources to do it without him knowing. If he’d realised we were on to him, he’d have upped and left.’

‘So we’re none the wiser,’ said Button.

‘I have a list of clients we know about,’ said Ellis. ‘Cast your eyes over them, see if anyone rings a bell.’ She passed Button an envelope.

Button pulled out a folded sheet of paper and scanned the list. She recognised several names – a big-time cannabis-dealer based in Amsterdam, a South London gang boss high on SOCA’s wish list, half a dozen members of the Russian Mafia, which wasn’t surprising, and several Bosnian and Serbian gangsters. Three others were top City financiers and one was a well-known documentary-maker. But she didn’t see anyone who might want to cause her any grief.

‘That’s not an inclusive list by any means,’ said Ellis. ‘Much of his work is for cash and he’s often approached by middle men.’

Button folded the sheet of paper and put it back into the envelope. ‘No one there has it in for me,’ she said.

‘What about the cases you’re working on now?’

‘I have a man under cover in Belfast, but it’s a murder case and I’ve got a very low profile.’

‘IRA? Unionists? Could they be after you?’

Button smiled. ‘I’m SOCA now, Patsy, totally nonpolitical.’

‘But you were in Belfast for three years on counterterrorism, back in the day,’ said Ellis. ‘They’ve got long memories, the Provos.’

‘As I said, I’m very low profile there, and why would they bother tracking my phone? If they already know I’m in the city a couple of guys in ski masks could pay me a visit and that’d be that. The fact that whoever it is had to use Merkulov suggests they don’t know much about me.’

‘Agreed,’ said Ellis.

‘Do you know what they wanted to know?’

‘Merkulov’s contact in the phone company has provided him with a list of incoming and outgoing calls and texts, and the location of your phone.’

Button frowned. ‘How could he have got my number?’

‘It’s your work phone, right?’

‘That means he has to have got it from someone I work with, doesn’t it?’

‘Not necessarily,’ said Ellis. ‘You could have been scanned. Or he could have taken the number off someone else’s mobile.’

‘Do you think I should be worried?’ asked Button.

Ellis smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m not sure how to answer that, Charlie. Merkulov wasn’t cheap, so whoever was paying him must have a good reason. But the fact that they have to ask for your location means they can’t know much about you.’

‘Which begs the question, why would a stranger want to know where I am? And why would they want a list of my calls?’

‘I suppose it could be personal,’ said Ellis.

‘I’m too busy to be having an affair.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Ellis. ‘How’s Graham, these days?’

‘As busy as always. You don’t think he’s checking up on me, do you?’

Ellis laid her hand on Button’s. ‘Don’t get paranoid,’ she said. ‘I was only asking after him. One, he loves you to bits, and two, an estate agent in Surrey wouldn’t know how to contact a man like Merkulov. There’s no need to worry too much. We know someone’s looking at you so we’ve got the edge.’

‘He’ll already have passed on the information, presumably?’

‘I would assume so.’

‘So whoever paid Merkulov knows I was in Belfast, and has a list of all the calls to and from my mobile.’

‘Which, frankly, is no biggie. You can change your Sim card, and keep away from Belfast if necessary.’

‘I’m running an operative,’ said Charlie.

‘Someone else can run him,’ said Ellis. ‘Or her.’

‘It’s a he,’ she said, ‘and it’s a sensitive case so I’m not playing hide and seek just because someone’s stalking me. But you’re right, of course, it’s not too serious. Yet.’

‘And let’s be positive. As I said, whoever it is, if he had to pay Merkulov for information he couldn’t have known that much about you in the first place.’

‘You always look on the bright side, don’t you?’ said Button. ‘Or are you just trying to make me feel better?’

‘How long have I known you, darling?’ said Ellis. She raised her glass.

‘Too long,’ laughed Button. They clinked.

‘Are you happy at SOCA?’

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