'Thanks, mate. Give me a call about an hour before you get into Paddington.'
'Yep. OK.'
The phone went dead.
I had never felt so relieved. It was like putting the phone down after a doctor's just told you the cancer test was negative.
The train journey alone would take more than three hours, so there wasn't much to do apart from enjoy the lull in the battle. Kelly awoke as I caught up with some international news in the copy of the Times that had been slipped under the door--no walk to the street corner with a couple of quarters at Brown's Hotel. I phoned room service and tried out the hotel TV channels. No Power Rangers. Great.
Lazily, we both eventually got up, showered, changed, and were looking good. We took a leisurely stroll through Piccadilly Circus and Leicester Square. I delivered another tour lecture that Kelly didn't listen to. I kept on looking at my watch, waiting for Euan to call. While Kelly was being overrun by pigeons having a feeding frenzy in Trafalgar Square, the phone rang. It was 9:50 a.m. I put my finger in my other ear to block out the traffic and the screams of delight from Kelly and the other kids as birds tried to peck their eyes out.
'I'm an hour from Paddington.'
'That's great. I'll meet you at Platform Three, Charing Cross station, OK, mate?'
'See you there.'
The Charing Cross hotel was part of the station complex, just two minutes' walk from Trafalgar Square. I'd picked it because I knew that from the foyer you could see the taxis pull into the station and drop off their fares.
We waited and watched. The place was full of package-tour Americans and Italians. The Americans were at the tour-guide desk, reserving every show in town, and the Italians just moved from the elevator to the exit door in one loud, arm-waving mob, shouting at each other and all trying to get through the glass doors at the same time.
It was about half an hour later when I saw a cab with a familiar figure in the back. I pointed him out to Kelly.
'Aren't we going to go and meet him?'
'No, we're going to stay here and look, because we're going to surprise him. Just like we did with Frankie in Daytona, remember?'
'Oh, yes. We have to stand off.'
I watched him get out. It was so wonderful to see him that I wanted to jump up and run outside. He was dressed in jeans and wearing the kind of shoes you see advertised in a Sunday supplement. Hush Puppies were positively cutting-edge fashion compared to these. He was also wearing a black nylon bomber jacket, so he'd be easy enough to pick out in the station. I said to Kelly, 'We'll give him a couple of minutes, then we'll go and surprise him, shall we?'
'Yeah!' She sounded quite excited. She had two lumps of bird shit on the back of her coat. I was waiting for them to dry before picking them off.
I waited for five minutes, watching his back for him. Then we walked toward the station and through a couple of arches to the ticket offices. We looked for Platform 3 and there he was, leaning against the wall, reading a paper. The same feeling: I wanted to run over there and hug him. We walked slowly.
He looked up and saw me. We both smiled and said, 'Hi, how's it going!' He looked at me, then at Kelly, but he didn't say anything; he knew that I'd tell him at some stage. We went off to the side of the station to steps that led down toward the river. As we walked he looked at my head and tried to hide a grin.
'Good haircut!'
Outside Embankment station we got into a taxi. Drills are drills--they're there for a reason, and that is to protect you:
the moment you start falling down on drills, you start fucking up. We took the driver on a roundabout route, covering our tracks, taking twenty minutes to Brown's instead of the straight-line ten. As soon as we got back to the room I turned the TV on for Kelly and phoned room service. Everyone was hungry.
Euan was already chatting away with Kelly. She looked pleased to have somebody else to talk to, even if it was only another grown-up and a man. That was good--they were getting a relationship going; she was feeling comfortable with him.
The food came; there was a hamburger and fries for Kelly, and two club sandwiches for us. I said to Kelly, 'We'll let you eat in peace. We're going into the bathroom because you're watching TV, and I want to talk to Euan about some stuff. Is that all right?'
She nodded, mouth already full.
Euan smiled.
'See you in a minute, Kelly. Save us some fries.' We went into the bathroom with our coffees and sandwiches the noise of the TV dying the moment I closed the door.
I started to tell him the story. Euan listened intently. He was visibly upset about Kev and Marsha. I'd got as far as the lift by Luther and Co. when he cut in. By now he was sitting on the edge of the bath.
'Bastards! Who were they? Do you think it was the same group that zapped Kev?'
'Must be.' I sat next to him.
'Kev knew the three who killed him. Kelly confirmed that Luther worked with Kev.
Then there's the question of that phone call to 'get the ball rolling.'
' 'You reckon it was Luther?'
I nodded.
'Who the fuck knows where he fits into the picture, but my guess is he's DEA, and also corrupt. It looks like some of the DEA are bent and working for drug money.' I told him about the McGear killing and what I had found on the backup disk once de Sabatino had loaded the GIFs.
Euan understood so far.
'So it all has to do with PIRA running drugs into Europe? To keep the route open it needs bribes, blackmail, and threats. But what about McGear--did he say anything?'
'Not a word. He knew he was going to die anyway.'
'This guy de Sabatino? Does he have any copies of the intelligence?'
I laughed.
'You know I'm not going to tell you that.
OP SEC mate, OP SEC
'Fair one.' He shrugged.
'Just being nosy.'
I explained what I had found in Kev's house. Euan didn't speak. He just sat there, letting it all soak in. I felt exhausted, as if by somehow passing on the baton to Euan everything that had happened in the last ten days could now catch up with me and take its toll.
I looked at him. He seemed pretty drained himself.
'I can see only one thing wrong with what you're saying.'
'What's that, mate?'
'Wouldn't the Colombians have anticipated that a bomb would heighten security in Gibraltar, making it harder to get the drugs in?'
'It was a warning. They were sending it out to anyone who might not want to keep business going. I tell you, mate, this is far too big for me to be messing around with. I just want to get it to Simmonds and wash my hands of it.'
'I'll help any way I can.' He opened a pack of Benson & Hedges; he'd obviously taken up smoking again. I stood up, out of the way.
'I don't want to get you directly involved. Kev, Pat, me, we've all been fucked over but I'm going to need you to back me if things go wrong.'
'You just have to name it.'
I could smell the sulfur from his match. He smiled as I started to wave the smoke from my face. He knew I hated that. Even under extreme pressure some things never changed.
I said, 'Tomorrow afternoon, you should receive copies of the files by FedEx. If anything happens to me or
