The second option was less fatal, but risky if it didn’t work. Since he really didn’t want to shoot a man for being desperate and traumatized, he took out the Taser and pulled the trigger.
He had forgotten to issue the required warning, but that was just a technicality.
The twin probes hit Pike in the chest, the charge of electricity to his nervous system taking his legs out from under him and dropping him like a sack of cement. He lay trembling on the path, one foot kicking uncontrollably, the bayonet clutched in frozen fingers.
‘He’d have filleted you with that.’
The voice belonged to a big Londoner named Wallace. He was one of two Royal Military Police sergeants on standby in case Pike got lucky, and responsible for taking him in when Harry gave the nod. Wallace had been playing backstop in the lane by the BMW. He looked disappointed that the fun was over before he could join in. His partner, Collins, whom Harry had automatically thought of as Gromit, was covering the front door in case Pike tried to go that way.
After he’d disengaged the Taser probes, Wallace bent and prised the bayonet from Pike’s grip. He flipped it twice, tested the blade and hissed sharply. ‘I could shave with this.’ He gave Harry a sideways look. ‘Why didn’t you shoot him?’
His tone meant, you’ve probably shot people before, so why not now?
‘I didn’t want to start the day on a bad note.’ Harry bent and checked Pike for vital signs. It wouldn’t look good if he died on them. When he was sure the man was breathing steadily and showing signs of rallying, he gave Wallace the OK to take him to the nearest A amp;E for a check-up.
‘That’ll be King’s College,’ the MP replied. ‘Are you sure you want to bother? He looks OK to me. We’ve been told to get him to Colchester.’
‘I know. I want to take a look inside first. Wait for me at the hospital.’ He packed up the Taser and walked through to the front of the house where Gromit was lounging against a lamppost looking bored. He nodded moodily when he saw Harry and went round to join his colleague. Harry walked back up the stairs and found the door to Pike’s room open. The interior was surprisingly neat, with the bed made, blankets folded and everything in military order. Some habits died hard. A coffee table held a tidy pile of magazines and newspapers, and the only attempt at disorder was the sink drainer, which held three flattened pizza boxes and two empty soda bottles. An overhead cupboard held crockery, glasses and an unopened bottle of wine.
He took a look round, but it was clear that Pike had been on his way out and wasn’t coming back. If there had been anything of value, he wouldn’t have left the door open.
As Harry reached his car, his phone rang. It was Ballatyne.
‘Any joy?’
‘We’ve got him. The MPs are taking him to King’s College, Denmark Hill, for a check-up, then on to the Military Detention Centre, Colchester.’
‘What’s to check? Did one of the redcaps help him down the stairs?’ Ballatyne’s tone was as dry as dust.
‘I had to use the Taser.’
‘You really don’t mess, do you? OK, be at Langham Place Starbucks tomorrow at ten. Gordon Cullum will be there with the rest of the information.’ The phone went dead.
FIVE
The young doctor who checked out Corporal Pike treated Harry and Sergeant Wallace to the kind of look he probably reserved for axe-murderers and Saturday night deviants. He ran an expert eye over the patient, with pointed attention to where the Taser darts had entered his skin, then nodded. ‘He’s OK. He looks undernourished, but if he’s been hiding from you lot, I’m not surprised. Where are you taking him?’
‘Off your hands,’ said Harry. ‘Can we use a side room for a few minutes?’
The doctor pointed along the corridor. ‘First on the left. Don’t take too long — we might need it for real-life problems.’ He hurried away without a backward glance, white coat-tails flying, while Wallace helped Pike to his feet and walked him along the corridor.
‘Mind telling us where you were going, Corporal?’ Harry asked, emptying out Pike’s bag once they were in the room. Pike sprawled on the examination table, eyes on the opposite wall. As Harry suspected, the bag contained a change of underwear and socks, two T-shirts, a pair of trainers and a slim washbag. Nothing in the side pockets and nothing under the baseboard.
‘You’ve no right going through that,’ Pike muttered without looking at him. ‘It’s private.’
‘You’re right,’ said Harry quietly. ‘And a private is what you’re going to be as soon as they bust you for going AWOL, theft of military equipment and assault with a deadly weapon. Where were you going?’
‘I don’t have to answer that.’
‘No, you don’t. But it’ll help if you do. You have a wallet?’
Pike reached round and took out a thin leather wallet, handed it over. It contained a Visa credit card, driving licence, a family group photo and a mix of sterling and euro banknotes to the tune of?300. On the back of the photo was a telephone number.
‘If I rang this, who would answer?’
‘Nobody. It’s discontinued.’
Harry handed his mobile and the photo to Sergeant Wallace, who dialled the number. After a short wait he looked up and shook his head. ‘Unobtainable.’ He returned the phone and photo.
‘We know you’ve been overseas for a while, Neville. Can I call you Neville?’
Pike shrugged. ‘Break your neck.’
‘You were in Sydney, then Thailand, we know that. Where else?’
‘Helmand. That do you? Now fuck off and leave me in peace.’ He lay back and stared at the ceiling.
Harry drew up a chair and sat alongside him. Wallace stood the other side, tall and imposing. The silence lengthened, broken only by the pink of the heating system and the squeak of shoes on tiles along the corridor outside. Pike ignored both men, but a strong pulse was beating in his throat.
‘Were you approached by anyone while you were away?’
No reaction. Harry wondered about Pike’s background. The slip of paper hadn’t said, but it was obvious the NCO was no idiot. At a guess he’d been to university or technical college, maybe even through industry, before joining the army. His voice and speech were middle class, even if his language wasn’t.
‘How did you support yourself for the last three months? Did you have help?’
Still nothing.
‘Man like you, you’d be a valuable commodity to some people. . all the knowledge you’ve got in your head. We know there’s a market out there, and buyers. If you spoke to anyone, you really don’t want us finding out later on. It would help your case if you said so now. Who approached you?’
‘Nobody approached me, so leave me alone.’ Pike spoke through clenched teeth. He was clearly hiding something. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to talk about it here.
Harry took out a card and slid it into Pike’s hand. It carried his name and a telephone number. ‘Please yourself. My name’s Harry. If you change your mind and want to talk, get them to give me a call.’
Harry walked outside and took a short cut through the hospital car park towards the road where he’d left his car, his thoughts on what Pike could have been doing in Clapham. The man had been virtually home and dry, if what Ballatyne had said was true. All he had to do was horse-trade some information in return for a new identity and a new life, away from whatever had driven him to go AWOL in the first place. So, with no family ties and no baggage, why had he come back?
Then a thought struck him. Baggage. Pike’s room had been clean. After five days cooped up in a single room, wouldn’t there have been some rubbish?
He stepped back as a grey estate car drifted down the street and swung into the visitors’ car park right in front of him. The two men inside gave him a steady look as they passed. They wore the air of two individuals going about their duty, rather than visiting the sick, and Harry pegged them as police.
He watched them go, then dialled Ballatyne’s number.
