to hospital. . and I won’t hang around to help.’ She continued smiling but it stretched only as far as her mouth. ‘I really don’t want to do that, though.’
‘What do you want, then? I’m sure it’s not to go over old times.’
She licked her top lip. On any other woman at such close quarters, the gesture might have been almost erotic, a promise of things to come. On Clare it gave him the shivers because there was nothing in her eyes. Where there should have been shades of colour and sparkles of light, there were bottomless pools.
‘I want Paulton. Simple as that.’
Harry shook his head. ‘Paulton’s mine. You got your revenge with Bellingham.’
She lifted both eyebrows. ‘I see. Somebody handed out reserved tickets, did they? I don’t recall agreeing to that.’ The pressure on his leg increased steadily, and he braced himself. ‘I don’t think you understand, Harry. This isn’t open to negotiation. I just want to tell you that.’
‘Hey, look who it isn’t!’
A figure sat down alongside Clare, less than a foot away. She had been so intent on Harry, she hadn’t noticed his approach until it was too late.
It was Rik Ferris, wearing his sling and carrying a mug of coffee.
Clare turned and looked at him. But the pressure of the knife stayed on Harry’s leg, a measure of her self- control. She looked to her front again, momentarily surprised, then said calmly, ‘Fuck off, Ferris. This is a private chat between grown-ups.’
‘Yeah, I know. But it’s a bit difficult, see.’ Rik placed his mug on the bench alongside him and scratched his chest. He was wearing a leather jacket over one of his more colourful T-shirts. He slid his good hand inside the sling over his other arm, then smiled. Their shoulders were almost touching, and Clare must have sensed something, some unseen movement undetectable by anyone else. Or maybe it was expression in Rik’s eyes. She dropped her gaze and fastened on the inside of the sling itself.
‘Heckler and Koch nine millimetre,’ he told in a mock whisper. ‘Eighteen-round magazine; if I miss you with the first one — which I think is hugely fucking unlikely, to be perfectly honest, even for me — I’ll get you with the rest.’
‘My,’ she said in mock admiration, ‘you have grown up into a big, bad boy. I heard about what you did to that girl in St James’s Park.’ Her face hardened, taunting him. ‘Get off on shooting women, do you?’
‘Only the ones who piss me off.’
‘Then you should study your ballistics; you pull that trigger and a nine mil will go right through me and into Harry. . probably through him and the next person, too. So screw you, baby face.’
‘Fair point.’ Rik nodded without turning a hair. ‘Very fair. Only I did study ballistics and these rounds carry a reduced charge. They’re also loaded with soft noses, so you’ll cop the lot.’ His expression this time was every bit as cold as hers. He leaned closer, nudging her shoulder, and whispered, ‘Take the blade off Harry’s leg or I’ll fucking shoot you in the ribs, you stroppy cow. You know what that’ll do to your insides, don’t you? Then where’s your revenge got you?’
An age seemed to pass. Clare didn’t move, evaluating the likelihood that he might be bluffing. Her eyes were fixed on Rik’s face, seeking a hint of hesitation, of weakness. For Harry, waiting for the blade to turn and open his leg to the bone, it was too long. He batted her hand away and shifted sideways before she could move, leaving her marooned, with Rik too close for her to retaliate.
Along the path, a man in a smart suit was watching them, a mobile phone in one hand. He’d probably picked up on their body language, seeing a woman bracketed by two men and misinterpreting the situation. Harry almost wanted to explain who, if anyone, was in real danger here, but he doubted the man would believe him. If this carried on any longer, it was in danger of going public.
‘It’s over,’ he said quietly. ‘Leave it.’
Clare closed her hand with a faint click and the compact disappeared. ‘OK, boys. I get the message. You can’t blame a girl for trying, though, can you?’ She stood up and looked at Rik with a tiger’s smile. ‘You’d better watch it, Ferris. You’ve been mixing with him too long.’ She glanced at Harry. ‘And you, big feller; call me, won’t you?’ She turned and walked away, back straight and heels clicking on the pathway.
‘Reduced charge?’ Harry muttered, watching her until she disappeared out of the gardens. He didn’t entirely trust her not to suddenly turn and start blazing away. ‘Where did that bullshit come from?’
Rik looked pale. He picked up his coffee and took a sip. His hand was shaking slightly. ‘I was kidding, wasn’t I? Christ, I wasn’t about to start blasting away out here — and she knew it.’
Harry’s mobile buzzed. ‘That’s the thing: I don’t think she did.’ He checked the screen. Ballatyne. ‘What’s worse, neither did I.’
FORTY-NINE
‘You trying to be coy by any chance?’ Ballatyne sounded tired. ‘You call and don’t leave a message, my boys see that as a bad sign. Says an asset’s feeling nervy and leaving a trail for others to follow.’
It was the second reference to an asset in quick succession; the first had been by Clare Jardine. ‘Nervy’s right; I got a message to meet you on the Embankment.’
‘Couldn’t have. I was busy.’
‘I know that now.’ Harry told him about the phone call and finding Clare Jardine waiting for him with her trusty little knife.
‘That could have been nasty. She did Bellingham like that, didn’t she?’
‘Thanks for reminding me.’ She had also cut the man’s throat, Harry remembered. Artistry with a blade in the blink of an eye. He felt an echo of a twitch in his leg at the lack of expression on Clare’s face and the thought of what she might have done had Rik not been there. He had no compunction about confirming her part in her former boss’s death because she had been caught on CCTV in the act. It had earned her a place on MI6’s Most Wanted list.
‘What did she want?’
‘Paulton’s head on a plate and me to step aside. But not in that order.’
‘She’ll have to join the queue, won’t she? How did she seem?’
‘Tense. Angry. I’d say she’s got issues — and an accurate inside track on what you and I are working on. She found Jean, she got my home address and phone, and she knows pretty much up to the minute what I’m doing. She even knew you were out of the office.’
‘Christ, what a bloody nerve. We’ve got a chatterbox in the woodpile. I’ll put out an alert and set off a security trawl through her old section.’
‘Good idea. But it was Clare who spotted the Bosnians and warned Jean to get out. I’ve moved her to a safe place just in case.’
Ballatyne grunted. ‘Next thing you’ll be telling me is Jardine’s not all bad.’
Harry wasn’t that naive. ‘She helped Jean because she wanted to get to me. That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t roast me if the situation came up.’ He realized he was still holding the newspaper which Clare had left behind. She must have thrust it at him as she stood up. Or maybe he’d grasped it subconsciously — he couldn’t remember.
Ballatyne had switched topics. He gave Harry the address of a shop in Dalston Lane, and the name and contact number of an officer in SO19, the Metropolitan Police firearms unit. Harry dug out a pen and wrote it down in the margin of the newspaper. It was that day’s copy of
‘What do you expect to find?’ He flipped the newspaper round. Something had been written across the lower half of the page, just above the political and military engagements for the week. It was a mobile phone number.
‘Anything or nothing. Soran’s clever enough to stay below the radar, but even clever people get careless. If he thinks nobody’s going to touch him, it’s time to show him otherwise. Keep Ferris out of it, though. SO19 don’t need any walking wounded as bystanders.’
Harry switched off and found Rik watching him over the rim of his coffee mug. He handed him the newspaper
