Donovan pressed a finger against her lips, then he leaned over, kissed her on the forehead, and hurried from the flat. Tina rushed after him but he closed the door without looking back.
She leaned against the door, her eyes filled with tears. She'd wanted to say more, but she couldn't. She couldn't tell him, because the truth was that she was betraying him. She was helping to set him up.
She wiped her eyes and sniffed. And who was the man who'd phoned? Donovan always made and received calls on his mobiles, he never used her phone. There had been something vaguely familiar about the man's voice, but for the life of her Tina couldn't place it. Whoever it was, he'd unnerved Donovan.
Robbie came out of the bedroom. He stopped in the hallway when he saw Tina was crying.
'What's wrong?'
Tina shook her head.
'Nothing.'
'He'll come back,' he said.
'Don't worry.'
Tina nodded and wiped her eyes again.
'I'm sorry,' she said.
'It's not your fault,' said Robbie.
'That's just the way he is.'
'I know,' she said.
She held out her arms and Robbie rushed towards her and hugged her.
'It'll be okay,' he said soothingly.
Tina patted Robbie's head. She knew that it wasn't going to be okay. It was going to be far from okay.
Donovan waited on the bridge, whistling softly to himself. He adjusted the Velcro band under his watch strap and then put a hand on the detector unit on his belt. Everything was going according to plan. Jordan and Macfadyen had already left for the airfield. Donovan had called PM and told him where the plane was landing and what time to get there. And he'd arranged to meet Fullerton at Hyde Park Corner so that they could drive to the airfield together. The only fly in the ointment was Gregg Hathaway.
A narrow boat chugged underneath the bridge. A grey-haired woman in her seventies had her hand on the tiller and she gave Donovan a cheery wave as the boat went by. Donovan waved back.
He straightened up and saw Hathaway walking down Formosa Street, a laptop computer case hanging from one shoulder.
Hathaway was grinning as he walked to the middle of the bridge.
'Lovely day for it,' he said cheerily.
'What is it you want?' asked Donovan.
'I want to be rich, happy, to be with somebody who loves me. Children would be nice. Pretty much what every man wants.'
The detector on Donovan's belt remained still. Hathaway wasn't wearing a recording device or transmitter.
'You know what I mean,' said Donovan.
Further down the canal a middle-aged angler threw a handful of ground bait into the water.
'I want to talk,' said Hathaway.
'Try the Samaritans,' said Donovan.
'I'll miss your sense of humour, Donovan.' He looked at his wristwatch.
'Got somewhere to go?' asked Donovan.
'No, but you have, haven't you?'
'I'm tired of playing games, Hathaway. What do you want?'
Hathaway smiled without warmth.
'You didn't think twice before putting that bullet in my leg, did you?'
'I thought about killing you.'
'I bet you did. Have you any idea how that bullet changed my life?'
'Got you a better job, didn't it?'
'I loved being in Customs, Den. Loved working undercover. I was bloody good at it.'
Donovan flashed Hathaway a sarcastic smile.
'Clearly you weren't. If you'd been any good, I wouldn't have made you.'
'Someone grassed me. One of your informers.'
Donovan shook his head.
'You gave yourself away. I forget now what it was, but it was down to you. Some story you told. Some anecdote. You told it wrong. Told it like you'd memorised it. Like it was a script.'
'Bullshit!'
'Why would I lie? To hurt you?' Donovan chuckled.
'We're beyond that, aren't we?'
'It was the job I'd always wanted. I was one of the good guys, fast track. Then you shot me and I'm in hospital for three months. And three months after that I'm sitting at a desk in human resources being told that there is no place for me in the leaner, meaner Customs and Excise. Thank you for your loyal service and good night.'
'You got a pension, right? Disability?'
'Peanuts. Wife didn't like the idea of my being thrown on the scrap heap at twenty-four, so she went off in search of pastures new.'
'Women, huh?' said Donovan sarcastically.
'What can you do with them?'
'You changed my life, Den. You didn't give me a choice, didn't consider the ramifications, you just went ahead and did it. Now I'm going to do the same to you.'
'You're going to try to put me behind bars, is that it? You want me in prison?'
'I want your money.'
Donovan's jaw dropped.
'All of it,' added Hathaway.
'What do you mean, all of it?'
'All the money that you got back from Sharkey. I want it. And I want it now.'
'You're out of your mind.'
'I know everything, Donovan. I know about the plane, I know about the heroin. I know about Macfadyen and Jordan. I know about the airfield. To use the vernacular, you are fucked. You have one way out. Only one. You give me the money. Do that and I'll let you go ahead with the Turkish deal.'
Donovan shook his head in confusion.
'I know, bit of a shock to the system.' Hathaway looked at his watch again.
'I reckon they'll still be loading the plane, don't you? Another hour before it gets into the air. There's probably no way you could reach them now. Even if you wanted to.'
Donovan cursed. He turned to walk away, then stopped. He opened his mouth to speak but he was too confused to say anything. He closed his mouth and stared at Hathaway. He wanted to lash out, to kick the man to the ground and to keep kicking until he was unconscious. Or worse.
Hathaway smiled as if he could read Donovan's mind.
'Face it, Donovan, I've got you by the short and cur lies But look on the bright side: whatever you make from the Turkish deal you get to keep, so it's not as if I'm leaving you penniless.'
Donovan shook his head.
'Why would I give you the money?'
'Because if you don't, you're going to prison. Possibly for the rest of your life. Eight thousand kilos of heroin, Donovan. Conspiracy to import. They'll throw away the key. Plus there's the Mexican deal. The Beetles. Mexico is next door to the States, and Rodriguez has been shoving cocaine over the border like there's no tomorrow. I link you to Rodriguez and the DEA will want a piece of you.'
'You've got fuck all. You've got fuck all and you know it.'
'Excuse me, but I know where the plane is going to land. I know what's on the plane. I know where the
