Systems, plural. We’ve only got one here . . .’
She thought for a while, rolling the gum between her front teeth with her tongue. ‘I reckon if there are other targets we deserve extra medals and even more tea.’
‘You’ll definitely be getting permanent cadre now, won’t you?’
She didn’t reply. With that grin on her face, she didn’t need to.
I popped four capsules from the blister pack and passed two across to her. ‘Listen, thanks for helping me out back there. I couldn’t see a fucking thing.’
‘You looked a bag of shit.’ She gave me an extra big smile before concentrating once more on the road. ‘But don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody.’
She was silent for a moment. ‘I suppose you’ll be back to the States soon, seeing Kelly, sorting out stuff?’
‘Yeah, and you’ll be watering your hanging plants and all that shit in your conservatory and poncing around in your Blue Lagoon, or whatever it’s called.’
This time she gave me the sort of expression mothers in supermarkets normally saved for their small children. ‘The conservatory’s only half built, and it’s Blue
We drove into the square.
‘Nick?’
‘What?’
‘What if you’re right? What if they are planning attacks in the US? Where does that leave Kelly?’
I nodded as the white Transit came into view, parked and two-up. I’d been asking myself the same question.
Suzy found a space nearly opposite the flat, close enough to see the light on in the front room. She killed the engine and we sat there for a moment, listening to the drumming of the rain. ‘Tell you what, Suzy, I’ll stay in the car until the Golf Club comes down. We don’t want any of this lot getting nicked, do we?’
She pulled out the 9mm from her pancake holster to add to the rest of the ops kit scattered around the car. I shook my head. ‘Better hang on to that, just in case there’s a drama.’ I drew down my own pistol, and stuck it under my thigh. ‘Behind us, further down the road, we’ve got the Transit, two-up. They might be with the Golf Club, but then again they might not. I’ll keep an eye on them, just in case.’
She checked safe and reholstered. ‘See you in a minute.’ She smiled. ‘Don’t drink the merchandise.’
She headed for the flat, and as she disappeared inside the hallway I checked traser: it was nearly five. I got my own phone out and called Carmen, keeping an eye on the two-up as best I could through the rain-splattered windows.
The phone rang and rang, before BT told me that no one was available to take my call but they could take a message. Shit, she had turned off the phone.
Yvette came out of the front door and down the steps, just her eyes visible through her Gore-Tex storm hood. She was carrying the Packet Echo suitcase.
I cut off the power, shoved the phone in my bumbag, and checked that the keys were still in the ignition. The Browning went back down my jeans as she opened the driver’s door, put the case in the back and climbed in. ‘Well done, Nick.’ Her voice just about made it through the fabric of the face shield. She pulled it down and I saw her tight cheeks crease into a smile.
Not sure how to respond, I explained what was in the car and where. She nodded avidly, as if she had more to say and was dying to tell me. ‘This has saved so many lives, Nick.’ She put her hand out and shook mine sheepishly, as if I was royalty. ‘Well done, and thank you.’
I felt a strange pain in the centre of my chest. I wasn’t used to this sort of treatment: what I normally got was a bollocking, and an instruction to get back under my rock until next time. ‘What now, just wait out?’
‘He should be here soon.’
‘How many attacks have been planned? This isn’t the only one, is it?’
It was worth a shot, but she was too much of an old sweat. Her cheeks creased once more. ‘I have to take the vehicle away now, and you have to stay in the flat until he comes.’
She pushed in the clutch and found first gear. As she turned the ignition key, I pulled the stick back into neutral. ‘Look, I need to know if there are attacks planned in the States. Kelly’s going home to Baltimore this morning. I need to know, should she stay here? Please, she’s just fourteen. She’s already had more than enough shit in her life.’ I suddenly understood how Simon must have felt. I knew begging wouldn’t work, but maybe she had children of her own. It was my only chance: the Yes Man wouldn’t tell me jack shit.
She lifted her left leg and she released the clutch. ‘You put me in a difficult position, Nick.’
I fixed her eyes with mine. ‘I’m sorry, she’s all I have. I need to know if she should go back tomorrow or if she’d be safer here.’ It was pointless saying any more.
She looked out of the windscreen at nothing in particular, and took a couple of uncharacteristically deep breaths. I sat and listened to the engine ticking over for what seemed like for ever. ‘Nick, I think it might be better if she stayed in the UK for just a few more days. Thanks to you and Suzy, things should be resolved by then. You’ll be staying here for a while anyway. I’ll contact you.’
I opened the door as the clutch went back down and she got in gear. ‘Thank you.’
She didn’t answer, busying herself with the headlight switch as I got out. As I turned to close the door, another set of lights came on. It was the Transit.
‘Nick?’ I bent down so that I could hear her above the noise of the engine. ‘You didn’t mention leaving your weapon . . .’ I jumped back in and pulled the Browning from my jeans and two spare mags from under the seat. ‘It’s still loaded and made ready.’ I couldn’t hold my gratitude. ‘Look, I really want to thank—’
She waved it away. ‘I just hope Kelly responds well to her therapy.’
I closed the door, and the car pulled away from the kerb. Sundance and Trainers stared straight ahead as they passed in the Transit. They’d have probably preferred to stay and give me a good kicking, but they had a more important job to do – to make sure no one rammed the Golf Club in the back and damaged the bottles. They were probably heading for one of the Firm’s secure buildings dotted around the city – or maybe the Battersea heliport,
Now that we were weapons free, that was it, finished, job done.
47
Hitting the cell once more, I got the answering-service. ‘Hello, Carmen, it’s Nick. Change of plan – she’ll be able to go to Chelsea on Tuesday after all. Don’t take her to the airport, she needs to stay here. I’ll call later, just don’t go to the airport – it’s important she stays here. I’ll still pay the Mastercard bill.’
If we got the debriefs done sharpish, I could be in Bromley before they left.
I pressed the intercom by the front entrance. ‘Hi, honey, I’m home.’
It was only as I began to climb the stairs that I realized how exhausted I was. The only good thing about being soaked in sweat was that it put a layer of grease between me and my rain-soaked clothes. My eyes stung and my hands stank like a rubber factory as I rubbed my face to get a little life back into it. I needed a good dig out and was gagging for a brew.
I knocked on the door and she opened it. ‘Nice day at the office, dear? Cup of tea?’
‘Good call.’
I followed her into the kitchen. ‘There’s an attack planned in the States as well. The Golf Club pretty much told me.’
She turned and leant against the cooker. ‘Oh, shit.’
‘Nothing to the Yes Man, OK? She did it for Kelly.’
She nodded. ‘She say anything about Germany?’
‘No, but I bet there is one. This is outrageous. They’d have to co-ordinate so there was no early alert.’
We both went quiet. She was probably doing the same as me, thinking about the nightmare of just one
