didn't have the videotape to back up some of it, but, even so, the stuff I had was probably more than he could have hoped for. The worst-case scenario now was that I'd get the slate wiped clean and be let loose. At least I had a few quid to start a new life with.
I thought about Kelly. What would become other? Where would she go? Would she have been affected by everything she'd seen and all that had happened to her and her family? I tried to cut away from that, telling myself that it would all get sorted out--somehow. Simmonds could help there. Perhaps he could orchestrate the reunion with her grandparents, or at least point me in the direction of the right kind of expert help.
I tried to get some sleep but failed. At 2 a.m. I retrieved the rental car and headed for Vauxhall Bridge.
I went a long way around, going all the way down the King's Road to World's End, then turning for the river and heading east again, mainly because I wanted to organize my thoughts one last time, but also because to me, the drive along the deserted Embankment and past all the historic, floodlit bridges offered one of the most beautiful sights in the world.
This particular night the lights seemed to shine a bit brighter, and the bridges seemed more sharply in focus; I found myself wishing Kelly was there to see it with me.
I got to Vauxhall Bridge early. I drove east along the road that follows the river toward the next bridge, Lambeth.
Nothing looked suspicious at the RV point on the drive-by.
The gas station on the opposite side of the road, about halfway toward Lambeth bridge, had about four cars by the pumps, groups of kids buying fuel and Mars bars, and some early-morning office cleaning vans filling up before their shift.
Farther along the river, and on the other side, I could see the Houses of Parliament. I smiled to myself. If only the MPs really knew what the intelligence services got up to.
I did a full circle and headed back on the same road toward Vauxhall for one more drive-by. I still had time to kill, so I stopped at the station and bought a drink and a sandwich.
The RV point still looked fine. My plan was to pick up Simmonds, make distance and angles as we walked to my car, and go for a drive. That way I controlled the environment. I could protect myself as well as him.
I parked about four hundred yards west of the RV While eating my sandwich I checked my route back to the car. I got out and walked down the road, arriving at five minutes to three. There was still nothing to do but wait, so I window-shopped at the motorcycle shop, resolving that I really would buy one as a gift to myself. No, more than a gift--a reward.
At twenty after three I moved into the shadows of the railway arches opposite the exit point I knew Simmonds would use. There were one or two people wandering about, clubbers on their way home, or to another club. Their drunken laughs shattered the still morning air, then there was silence again.
I could tell it was him right off, leaning slightly forward as he bounced along on the balls of his feet. I watched him branch right from the exit and stand at the pedestrian crossing, intending to head for the metal footbridge over the five-way road intersection to the railway station. I waited.
There was no rush; I'd let him come to me.
As he crossed the road I came out of the shadows at the bottom of the footbridge steps.
He smiled.
'Nick, how are you?' He kept walking, nodding left toward Lambeth bridge.
'Shall we walk?' It wasn't a question.
I nodded the opposite way, toward my car.
'I've arranged a pickup.'
Simmonds stopped and looked at me with the expression of a disappointed schoolteacher.
'No, I think we'll walk.'
I was sponsoring the RV; he should have known that I'd organize for our safety. He stared at me a few more moments and then, as if he knew I was going to follow, continued on walking. I fell into step beside him.
Simmonds looked the same as ever, his tie about half an inch loose, the shirt and suit looking as if his wardrobe were a carrier bag.
'So, Nick, what have you got?' He smiled but didn't look at me, and as I told him the story he didn't interrupt, just kept his eyes on the ground, nodding. I felt like a son unloading his problems onto his dad, and it felt good.
We'd been walking for about fifteen minutes when I'd come to the end of my presentation. It was his turn to talk. I somehow expected him to stop, or at least find a bench where we could sit, but he kept on walking.
He turned his head toward me and smiled again.
'Nick, I had no idea you'd be so thorough. Who else have you spoken to about this?'
'No one else, only de Sabatino and Euan.'
'And has Euan or this de Sabatino also got copies of the disks?'
I lied.
'No, no one apart from me.' Even when you come to someone for help, you never play your full hand. You never know when you might need an edge.
He remained incredibly calm.
'What we have to ensure is that no one else finds out not for the moment, anyway.
This is more than low-level corruption. The links with PIRA, Gibraltar, and, it seems, the DEA mean this is very grave indeed. You seem to have a pretty good grasp of this so far, so let me ask you something.' He paused as if he were a judge about to hand down his decision.
'Do you think it goes further?'
'Who the fuck knows,' I said.
'But you can't be too careful. It's why I wanted to talk to you on your own.'
'And where is the Brown child now?'
'In a hotel, fast asleep. I'll be needing some help to pass her on to her grandparents.'
'Of course. Nick. All in good time.'
We walked on a while in silence. We got to a bar on the corner of a car tunnel under the railway line. Simmonds turned to the right, taking us under the arches. Then he spoke again, and it was as if there was no question of me not com plying with his demand.
'Before I can do anything to help you, what I need from you, of course, is the evidence.' He was still not looking at me, making sure he avoided the puddles of water stained with engine oil.
'I haven't brought the disks with me, if that's what you mean.'
'Nick, I shall do my best to see that you both have protection. But I do need the proof and all copies of it. Can you get them for me now?'
'Not possible. Not for a few hours.'
'Nick, I cannot do anything without them. I need all copies. Even ones you'd normally leave in that security blanket of yours.'
I shrugged. 'You must understand that it's for my own protection' We turned right again and were now heading back toward the train station, paralleling the railway. For a couple of minutes we moved along narrow, warehoused streets in silence.
Simmonds was deep in thought. He wasn't happy about the disks. A freight train rumbled above us on its way to waking up the residents of southwest London. Why the fuck was it so important for him to know how many copies there were and get his hands on all of them?
'Believe me,' I shouted above the noise, 'I've got that side all under control. I've been fucked over enough. You know as well as I do that I've got to protect everyone, including you.'
'Yes, of course, but I need to control all the information. Not even you should have it. There is too much risk involved.'
This was getting stupid.
'I understand that. But what if you get zapped? There would be nothing to back up what I'm saying. It's not only the DEA corruption, don't you see?
Gibraltar was a setup. It includes us.'
Simmonds slowly nodded at a puddle in the gutter.
'A few things puzzle me,' I said.
