meet the guy.’
Su-ming relayed the message to the doorman and put the phone down. ‘He’s on his way up,’ she said.
‘What’s he like?’ Vander Mayer asked Cramer.
Cramer shrugged uncertainly. ‘He’s clever, but to be honest he wasn’t much help. It’s not as if knowing the killer’s characteristics helped us nail the bastard. It was Allan and his Glock that did that.’
‘Don’t knock it,’ said Vander Mayer. ‘One of Su-ming’s most valuable skills is her ability to judge people. To decide whether they can be trusted or not.’ He picked up the metal case and relocked it. ‘I’d better put this back in the safe,’ he said. ‘Once an FBI agent. .’ He left the sentence hanging as he went through the hall to his study.
Su-ming walked over to Cramer. She looked as if she was about to say something, but before she could speak the doorbell rang. She jumped as if startled by the noise, and her eyes remained locked on Cramer. The doorbell rang again. Su-ming took a step backwards, then turned on her heels and went to the front door. She opened it and stood to the side. It was Jackman. He was wearing a dark green jacket and grey slacks and as he walked into the room Cramer realised that the man’s ponytail was missing. Jackman’s hair looked lighter, too, as if he’d been out in the sun.
Jackman ignored Su-ming and strode across the sitting room. He shook hands with Cramer. ‘I wasn’t expecting you,’ Cramer said.
‘I came as soon as I heard, I wanted to get the details from you while they were still fresh.’
‘Details?’
‘Of the assassination attempt. I need to know everything that happened. For the files. What about Vander Mayer? Is he here?’
‘He got here just before you did,’ said Cramer. ‘Did the Colonel call you?’
‘Hell of an apartment, isn’t it?’ said Jackman, looking around.
Cramer wondered if Jackman hadn’t heard him or if he’d deliberately ignored the question.
‘It’s a different world, isn’t it?’ said Jackman as he turned around, smiling broadly. Cramer wondered what had happened to the ponytail. The man’s accent seemed slightly different, too. There was less of a Texan drawl and a harder edge to it. More East Coast than mid-West. ‘So, do I get to meet the guy whose life you saved?’ Jackman asked.
‘He’s in the study,’ said Su-ming.
Before Cramer could stop him, Jackman strode off down the corridor. Cramer and Su-ming followed him into the study where Vander Mayer was scrutinising a list of share prices on one of his many monitors. He looked up at the sound of their footsteps, then smiled. It was the same sort of smile that Jackman himself used, an emotionless baring of the teeth, a pale copy of the real thing. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. ‘You’re the profiler?’ said Vander Mayer.
Jackman nodded. ‘And you’re the target?’ he said, his fake smile broadening.
‘Not any more,’ laughed Vander Mayer. He held out his hand.
Jackman laughed, too. His hand slipped inside his jacket and emerged holding a snub-nosed revolver. He walked towards Vander Mayer, his arm outstretched, and shot him point blank in the face. Before Vander Mayer’s legs gave way Jackman fired again, this time at Vander Mayer’s chest.
Su-ming screamed as Vander Mayer fell backwards, his face and chest a bloody mess. Cramer reached for his Walther but before he could pull out his gun, Jackman had whirled around and aimed his own weapon at Cramer’s face.
‘Too slow, Mike,’ said Jackman. Cramer froze. Su-ming stared down at Vander Mayer. The body twitched on the floor, then went still. Jackman ignored her. ‘Take out your gun, slowly,’ Jackman said. ‘Use the thumb and index finger of your left hand.’
Cramer did as he was told.
‘Drop it on the floor, then kick it over here.’
Cramer obeyed. The gun came to rest by Jackman’s left foot. Jackman crouched down, keeping his own gun aimed at Cramer. He picked up the Walther, then straightened up. Su-ming had her hands up to her face, her eyes wide with shock. Jackman motioned with his gun for her to stand next to Cramer.
‘Well,’ said Jackman to Cramer. ‘You don’t know how much I’ve been looking forward to having a chat with you, Mike.’
The Colonel looked around the apartment. The equipment that had been installed prior to the operation had been removed. All that was left was the furniture that had come with the flat. The Colonel was sitting on a winged easy chair by an empty bookcase. He leaned forward and clasped his hands together and bent his head as if in prayer. Something didn’t feel right, but he wasn’t sure what it was. By rights he should have been over the moon; he’d achieved his objective with relatively few casualties. But there was a nagging doubt at the back of his mind, a feeling of unfinished business
Blackie popped his head around the door. ‘All packed, boss,’ he said. ‘Are you coming with us?’
‘No, I’ll hang on here for a while,’ said the Colonel. ‘I’ve got my own transport.’
One of the telephones on the desk rang. The trooper looked at the Colonel expectantly, but the Colonel shook his head. ‘I’ll get it,’ he said. It was a chief inspector in Special Branch, one of the few non-military personnel in Britain who had been appraised of the operation.
‘Good news, bad news, I’m afraid,’ said the chief inspector.
The Colonel’s heart sank. ‘You couldn’t get a match?’
‘Oh yes, we got a match all right. The problem is, he can’t be your killer.’
‘I don’t follow you.’
‘The man you killed is Dermott Lynch. From Belfast. He’s. .’
‘I know who he is,’ the Colonel interrupted. He wanted to ask if there was any possibility of a mistake, but he knew that the chief inspector was too thorough to have called with inaccurate information.
‘The problem is, we had Lynch under surveillance for quite some time last year,’ the Special Branch officer continued. ‘In Belfast and elsewhere in Northern Ireland. We know exactly where he was during three of the killings. And it would be virtually impossible for him to travel to the United States without us being aware of it. He’s on the FBI’s watch list.’
The Colonel said nothing, but deep creases furrowed his brow. If the man that Allan had killed was Dermott Lynch, then the assassin was still on the loose. And the Vander Mayer contract was still open.
‘Are you there?’ the chief inspector asked.
‘Yes. Sorry. I was just thinking.’
‘There’s no possibility that we have our lines crossed and that the killings have all been the work of the IRA?’ asked the chief inspector. ‘Perhaps the IRA is moving into new territory. Selling their expertise to the highest bidder.’
‘Unlikely in the extreme,’ said the Colonel.
‘Ah,’ said the chief inspector. ‘So, did Lynch have a personal reason for going after your man?’
‘I’m afraid so, yes.’
‘So it’s an unfortunate coincidence, that’s all?’
The Colonel sighed. ‘Yes. Just bad luck. The worst sort of luck. Anyway, thanks for letting me know so promptly. We were in the process of standing down. Obviously, in view of what you’ve told me, the operation is still live. I’ll inform my opposite number in the States.’
The Colonel thanked the chief inspector and cut the connection. He wasn’t looking forward to telling Dan Greenberg. He was about to tap out the FBI agent’s number when he realised that Mike Cramer was still unaware of the latest development. And with Allan and Martin in hospital, the Colonel would have to provide alternative protection. He punched out the number of Vander Mayer’s apartment.
Su-ming jumped as the telephone rang. ‘Leave it,’ said Jackman. He kept his gun pointed at Cramer’s head. ‘Let it ring.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Su-ming asked.
‘You wouldn’t understand,’ said Jackman.
‘It’s all right, Su-ming,’ said Cramer. ‘It’s not you he wants.’
‘Really?’ sneered Jackman. ‘So tell me, Mike, what exactly is it that I want?’
