black leather one, and pulled it on. He went to his sideboard, opened a drawer, took out his passport and buried it in the inside pocket of his jacket. He checked the contents of his wallet - almost a hundred pounds and two credit cards - and put it in his pocket alongside his passport. He looked around the apartment to see if there was anything else he needed. He was suddenly gloomy at the thought he was seeing it for the last time. It had been his London home for more than four years and held a lot of memories, some of them exceptional. A few very beautiful women had graced it . . .
This was the end of London for him. If he survived, perhaps he could come back one day, twenty or thirty years from now. Who was he kidding? he asked himself. He could never return if he wanted to be sure of staying free. RIRA might give up after a while, but if the Brits decided to go after him there would never be a time, if he lived to be a hundred and fifty, when he could relax and think it was over.
He suddenly thought of Henri, in a cell somewhere no doubt, never to sit in a cafe again and sip a glass of wine, or walk along the banks of the Seine on a perfect evening. Bill’s chances of getting away were fair as long as he had an early drop on both the IRA and the Brits. He would leave the flat just as it was. Once out of the country he would call the police and tell them where to find the virus. The flat would soon be filled with people from every imaginable department of military intelligence. Dozens upon dozens of them would troop through this room before it was over. Every single item would be inspected and taken apart, every minutia of his life pored over. Everyone he ever knew or met that there was a record of would be scrutinised. Every number he ever called from his home or mobile phone would be run through a computer, every recorded purchase logged.
On a table was a picture of his mother and father, his natural parents, a gift from Father Kinsella a few weeks after that first meeting in the cemetery all those years ago. At the time he was overcome with appreciation at the gesture as Kinsella knew he would be. Kinsella never told him how he came by it. Only in recent years, when things began to look jaded to Bill, did he start to doubt the authenticity of the picture. He wondered if MI5 knew about that part of his life, his true beginnings. It was probably in a file somewhere. The picture would be a clue otherwise. Bill picked it up and looked at it, as he had a hundred times. There was something in the woman’s eyes. Perhaps they were Bill’s. He wanted then to be. He took the picture out of the frame and put it in his pocket.
His eyes then fell with finality on the vial of liquid on the coffee table. It stood alone, simple and unadorned, innocent and attractive, yet capable of wiping out all of humanity if allowed. He wondered what kind of mind could think of creating something like that.
The knock on the door was like a cannon going off in Bill’s head. He stared at it in disbelief. Perhaps Kinsella had come back to escort him on this, his greatest triumph. Or perhaps it was his own people, MI5. Bringing a bottle of deadly virus into the country was perhaps too ambitious for RIRA and it had been traced to Bill. His heart pounded in his chest.
Bill went to the window and looked down on to the street. There was nothing out of the ordinary, no unfamiliar vehicles, no one visible. The knock came again. Bill couldn’t ignore it. If it was Kinsella or MI5 he wasn’t going anywhere else. His plans to escape evaporated.
Instinctively, as a precaution, he put his holdall behind the bathroom door and went to the coffee table and picked up the virus carefully. He opened a cupboard, put the vial in the back between some blankets, made sure it was safe and closed the door. The knock came again. He closed Kinsella’s briefcase, put it down beside the empty hatbox, went to the front door, and opened it.
Aggy stood there, framed by the doorway, looking as though she was trying to hide some embarrassment behind her slight smile. His heart fluttered as it always did on seeing her. No memory of her image was equal to the sight of her in the flesh.
‘Hi,’ he said, unable to hide his confusion.
‘I should’ve called,’ she said. ‘I was with a friend just up the road and decided to pop round. I know you said you had to go out but I took a chance . . . Is this a bad time?’
‘No. Just got back actually. He didn’t want to go to dinner in the end . . . I was just about to call you.’ Under normal circumstances he would have been more than just delighted to see her. He would have dragged her in and be ripping her clothes off within seconds of closing the door. All he could think of now was how to get out of inviting her inside. What he would have given for a surprise visit from Melissa any other time. She no doubt wanted to stay the night or she wouldn’t be here. It was what they both originally expected to do that night. What a cruel world this was. He would have to let her in, but just for a minute. He did not have the heart to turn her away and never see her again. Perhaps that’s what this was. Providence had intervened to allow him one more look at her, one more embrace, before it was all to end. He stepped back from the door.
‘Come in,’ he said.
She remained outside on the landing as if the threshold to his flat was a landmine. ‘Would you like to go for a walk?’ she said. ‘It’s a nice night. Maybe we could go to the pub . . . I fancy a walk.’
There was something different about her. He could sense it. Something was on her mind. Why didn’t she want to come in? It suited him perfectly, but it disappointed him at the same time.
‘Sure,’ he said smiling. ‘Let’s go.’
Then he suddenly considered the wisdom of leaving the ‘stuff’ in his apartment. Then again he was going to walk away from it in a very short while anyhow. He stepped through the door and closed it behind him, ensuring it was locked. He winked at her as he went ahead and led the way downstairs. Both their smiles disappeared as he turned his back on her.
On the landing, across from Bill’s apartment, a grey fire door with ‘ROOF EXIT’ written on it was wedged slightly open by an empty cigarette packet. Someone in the darkness behind it was looking through the narrow gap. The door slowly opened and Brennan stepped on to the landing and looked down the stairwell that zigzagged to the ground floor.
He regarded Bill’s front door. His brief had been to stay with the bio, but something about the woman’s arrival tweaked his curiosity. They’d left empty handed so the bio was safe enough in the apartment. He made his way down the stairs.
Bill and Aggy walked out of the apartment block and up the street. Bill placed his hands in his pockets as they walked along together in silence. Aggy was aware of her awkwardness when Bill opened his door and hoped he’d put it down to shyness. She was warming to the show, trying to act natural, as Stratton had told her to, but it was a different kind of undercover work than she was trained for. The dets for the most part observed, listened, photographed, recorded and followed.They mingled but never adopted false identities or attempted to penetrate society.That was unjustifiably dangerous, difficult, and arguably unnecessary. But Aggy was now mingling with the enemy, only because of her unique circumstances perhaps, but nevertheless.There was something exciting about it. On the other hand, it felt unreal because it was Bill. He was, essentially, still her lover. In many ways she didn’t know this man beside her, but she didn’t feel as if Bill had cheated her. He’d never used her to gain intelligence. He knew or could find out more about the operations she was involved in than she. And she still believed him when he said he had fallen for her.
She put her arm through his. Even though Stratton had warned her Bill was now dangerous she felt sad for him. She looked at him and he glanced at her. They both smiled and walked on.
Brennan looked out of the apartment entrance to see Bill and Aggy walking up the street arm in arm. He waited until they were a good distance on before walking out of the building, crossing the street and following them.
Stratton remained around the corner in the alleyway where Aggy had left him. He checked his watch. Sumners would be getting agitated. If Lawton was in his apartment, Aggy might find it difficult to get him out of it, especially if he had the virus. What was his plan if she didn’t show? He would have little choice but to go to the apartment himself and take it from there.
He decided to give Aggy another five minutes. Then she appeared with Lawton.
‘Ata girl,’ he said to himself as he watched them cross the street and continue out of sight towards Wandsworth Road.
Eager though he was, he forced himself to wait a moment and give them time to get some distance from the apartment. When he stepped out of the alleyway he quickly ducked back into it. A figure was walking up the road in
