Tracers

‘No, not that.’ Harry climbed out and walked around the car, deep in thought. When he leaned against the front wing, Joanne got out and joined him. ‘What Sheila said about them being good at concealing things. It set me thinking: concealing is the same as covering up.’

‘I know.’

‘Rik was right,’ he explained, frowning in concentration. ‘Your friend’s murder was a mistake.’

‘They thought she was me. Don’t remind me.’

‘What if Param’s killing was a mistake by assumption? The killer didn’t get identities confused, he made a definite, planned move based on what he assumed we were doing.’

Joanne shrugged. ‘You’ve lost me.’

‘When we went to see Jennings after Matuq’s death,’ he explained, ‘he handed us another job — to look for Silverman. . Rafa’i as we now know him. He said it was urgent. We started on it right away, then had to wait for information about who had picked him up at the airport. While we were doing that we picked up with the Param job. We’d got a strong lead, so we used it to fill the time. We traced him to his girlfriend’s place in Harrow. But when we confirmed he was there, we didn’t ring in immediately.’

‘You said he wanted to write to his parents.’

‘Sure. It seemed reasonable, so being suckers for a sob story, we agreed. By the time we went back, he was dead. A local said it was an attempted mugging, but there’s been no mention of his name in the news since. Not a word.’

‘You think it’s been suppressed?’

‘Leaned on at the very least. And now the evidence of Matuq’s death has gone as well.’

‘Couldn’t this man Jennings have got it cleared away?’

‘He could — but I didn’t tell him where I’d located Matuq. . just that I’d got him and was waiting for instructions. There’s only one way he could have known he was in Blakeney.’

‘He had you followed.’

‘Yes. But in London, the tail couldn’t have known we were chasing down Param, because we hadn’t told Jennings we’d switched assignments. He would have assumed we were closing in on Rafa’i, and as soon as we were out of the way, he went in for the kill.’

Joanne frowned. ‘Did they look alike?’

‘Only the colouring. To western eyes, both men looked Asian or middle-eastern. In the dark, the killer wouldn’t have noticed the difference. He was too intent on completing the job. But he was careless.’

‘There’s only one flaw in your argument,’ Joanne said after a moment’s thought. ‘If the killer was the same man all along, and he thought it was Rafa’i he’d killed in north London, even if he realized his mistake and followed you out to the farm, why take Rafa’i? Why didn’t he slot him there and then?’

‘He couldn’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because Rafa’i wasn’t there.’ Harry spoke with absolute conviction. It was the only explanation, and had been staring him in the face all along. Only he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. There hadn’t been time for the killer to go upstairs, find Rafa’i and force him back down and into the car. It would have taken too long. If Rafa’i was the important figure they now knew him to be, with his background of conflict, he would have put up a struggle. . and the killer would have cut his losses and finished him off there and then. ‘Rafa’i probably heard the killer approaching the farm and dropped out the back window. There were outbuildings and trees to duck into, and it was getting dark. The killer realized he was stuffed, so he left, using the Suzuki because one of the guards had disabled his bike.’

As they climbed back in the car, Joanne’s phone rang, muffled inside her rucksack. She dug it out and peered at the caller display. It was an unlisted number. She looked at Harry in confusion. ‘I have no idea who this is. I only switched it on a short while ago.’

‘Answer it,’ Harry suggested. If it wasn’t a telesales call or a wrong number, he had a good idea who the caller might be.

She asked who was speaking and her face went pale. ‘It’s Rafa’i,’ she mouthed, then replied in a brief rattle of Arabic. Moments later, she began again, then stopped. The call had been cut short. ‘I think he was scared we might be monitored. I asked him where he was, but he wouldn’t say. He wants to meet me.’

‘Where and when?’

‘He told me some time ago that there was one particular place he wanted to visit if he came to London. He’d seen it on television and liked the open space. Without naming it just now, he said we should meet there tomorrow morning at ten.’

Harry made a guess at the biggest open space he could think of. ‘Hyde Park?’

‘No. St James’s Park and Horse Guards Parade. Near the lake.’

Harry considered it. Was it genuine or was it an elaborate set-up to draw Joanne into a trap? The area was open, from what he recalled, and dotted with trees. It was also well publicized on tourist sites worldwide. If Rafa’i was as well read as Joanne had implied, he’d be aware of it. He might even have watched the Trooping of the Colour on television. There were several approaches to the area and it was easily overlooked, which could be both a benefit and a danger, depending on whose side you were on. ‘You’re sure it was him?’

‘Yes. I recognized his voice.’

‘How did he sound?’

‘Stressed.’

‘I’m not surprised. If it was me, I’d be going mental.’

‘What do we do?’

Harry started the car. ‘You want to help him, don’t you?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then that’s what we’ll do.’

THIRTY-NINE

Rik spotted Rafa’i first. The Iraqi was moving around the northern perimeter of the lake, apparently deep in thought. But his nervousness was obvious in the jerky movements of his head. He was hovering in the wake of a group of Japanese girls giggling and taking snapshots of the ducks on the water, the birds parading brazenly for titbits from passers-by.

‘By the lake, north side. He’s early and using cover,’ said Rik. He was following the Iraqi’s progress through a pair of binoculars, his mobile on hands-free in his top pocket. Rafa’i wore a white shirt and dark slacks, and had it not been for the bandage over his right hand and the dark patch beneath one eye, could have been any other casual visitor enjoying the cool air of a weekday morning in central London.

‘OK. Keep him in sight.’ Harry’s voice came through flat and low. He was standing on Horse Guards Parade, to the east of the park where he could watch the northerly approaches. The time was just coming up to 09.45. ‘Has Joanne seen him yet?’

Joanne was sitting alone on the grass at the very end of the lake, in a triangular area between the water, some large flowerbeds and the Guards’ Memorial. Her back was to Horse Guards Parade. She had a camera and occasionally pretended to take a photo, turning her body when a view seemed to appeal to her. Then she held the camera to her eye and focussed on a spot by the lake for several seconds.

It was the signal to Rik, who was closest, that she had seen and recognized the former cleric.

‘OK, she’s got him.’

Rafa’i slowed deliberately, allowing the Japanese girls to pull away from him. He stood by the fencing around the lake and stared into the water. Then he disappeared from sight for a while as he moved behind a section of bushes close to a lakeside cafeteria. When he appeared again, another group of tourists had moved along the path towards him and were stopping for a photo call. Laughing and pushing, they formed a ragged line and grinned at their guide, who was taking snaps with their cameras.

When they dispersed and moved away, Rafa’i had gone.