by L. A. Larkin
105
London, UK, six weeks later
The Balham pub is heaving. Wolfe weaves through the throng searching for Butcher, whose birthday she has come to celebrate. The crowd at the bar is four deep. She spies Butcher and Ponnappa at a far corner table, both with already half-drunk pints in front of them. She gives Butcher a kiss on the cheek, then Ponnappa a big hug.
‘Emma not coming?’ Wolfe asks. Emma is Butcher’s wife.
‘She’s got a surprise party organised.’ Butcher grimaces as if sucking on a lemon. ‘I have to be home by seven thirty and act surprised when I find people I hardly know in ridiculous party hats pretending to like me.’ He smiles at Wolfe. ‘I guess you’re in on it too?’
Wolfe glances at Ponnappa and they both burst out laughing.
‘It’s impossible to keep anything from you,’ says Wolfe. ‘Now, who wants another drink?’
‘A Past Masters, thanks,’ says Butcher.
‘Brew Dog for me,’ says Ponnappa, her bangles clanking on the tabletop. ‘And cheese and onion crisps. I’m famished.’
‘If I don’t make it back from the bar in the next ten minutes, send out a search party,’ says Wolfe.
She joins the jostling crowd waiting to be served. Ahead, a twenty-something office worker orders a round of cocktails for five female colleagues. She sighs. It’s going to be a long wait. To her left, she realises there are only two people waiting for drinks and the man at the bar has just paid. She takes a moment to register the familiar flat-top haircut, shaved close at the back, and his jaw chewing gum. Casburn turns, a beer in hand.
‘Dan!’ Wolfe waves to get his attention. ‘Can you order some drinks for me?’ she calls out.
‘Sure,’ he replies. ‘What are you having?’
Wolfe gives him the order, ignoring the groans from the people waiting. Casburn manoeuvres the tray of drinks through the crowd like a wide load through city traffic. But he moves slowly, his back slightly bent.
‘Let me take that.’ Wolfe carries the tray. ‘Come join us. It’s Jerry’s birthday.’
‘Hold up a moment.’ Casburn leans against a pillar. ‘I just need to catch my breath.’
He’s lost weight and has the pinched look of somebody in pain.
‘I’m guessing you’re back at work, despite doctor’s orders?’
‘Yes. And you? I hear you’re moving back to Balham.’
‘Yup. It was time.’
‘Nothing from your old stalker?’
‘Seems he’s given up. Maybe now my life can go back to normal.’
‘Normal? You?’
‘Yeah, yeah. So, what are you doing here? This isn’t your neck of the woods…’ Her voice trails away. ‘Ah, I get it. This isn’t a coincidence, is it?’
‘Not exactly. I wanted to talk to you.’
Butcher and Ponnappa watch them from their corner table, clearly as fascinated as she is as to why Casburn would go out of his way to find her.
‘Fine. I need to ask you something first,’ Wolfe says.
‘Go ahead.’
‘It would mean a lot to me if you answered honestly.’
Casburn frowns. ‘I have a feeling I’m not going to like this question.’
‘Is Vitaly working for MI6?’
‘I don’t know. I doubt it. Why do you ask?’
He doesn’t lift his chin, which is his ‘tell’ that he’s lying. Yet, he doesn’t appear surprised by the question either.
Wolfe shrugs. ‘Just a theory. It might explain why he was working for a monster like Nguyen. You know, undercover. I could understand something like that.’
‘Six doesn’t tell me what they are doing, and I don’t tell them what we’re doing, either. So, I have no idea. Look, I didn’t come here to talk about Yushkov, but I did want to ask you something.’
‘Fire away.’
‘I want you to join SO24.’
Wolfe blinks several times. She can’t have heard him right. ‘Say that again?’
‘Come and work with me.’
She laughs. ‘Join the Police? You’re joking, right?’
Casburn shakes his head, his expression serious.
He’s winding me up. ‘They’d never have me.’
‘Specialist units like mine can take on non-police officers with desirable skills.’
‘I’m the last person you’d want.’
‘I disagree. You’re exactly what SO24 needs.’
Later that evening, Casburn buys a burner phone and calls a contact in the Russian SVR. There is no exchange of greetings.
‘Vitaly Yushkov is in Turkey,’ Casburn says, giving an address.
‘Why you do this?’
‘He’s become a problem.’
Acknowledgements
I consider myself incredibly lucky. Not only do I love making up stories for a living, I also meet the most incredible people. Dr Lynne MacTavish is one such person. Lynne has spent the last eighteen years running a private wildlife reserve in South Africa. Her most formidable task is defending her rhinos from poachers. She is an incredibly brave woman and an inspiration. Until I spent time with her, I had no idea that the battle to save South Africa’s rhinos is just that – a battle. The poachers are well-armed and brutal, funded by criminal cartels in Vietnam and China. There are many conflicting views on how rhinos can be saved from extinction. In Prey I’ve created characters with varying views on this emotionally charged topic. My novel does not try to come up with an answer as I’m ill-equipped to offer one. But my greatest wish is that an answer is found soon.
I would also like to thank Dougal MacTavish for taking me on night-time perimeter patrols, teaching me how to use a rifle (for research purposes only!) and for the wonderful tales he shared with me. These experiences have enabled me to create an imaginary wildlife reserve populated with imaginary people who bear no resemblance to Lynne or Dougal. The Global Regulation of Wildlife Trade convention in this novel is fabricated. Any errors relating to rhino conservation and the trade in horn is of my doing.
Thank you, Lara James, for introducing me to Lynne and for your friendship. I am indebted to Peter James for his words of wisdom on all things publishing and his support over the years. Thanks also to Mary, Anneliese and Scotty Stewart for trying your best to educate me in South African dialects and slang. Any mistakes are my own. Thanks also to Damien Mander, founder of the International Anti-Poaching Foundation, and to Fiona Macleod, director of Oxpeckers, for taking the time to answer my questions, and to science journalist and broadcaster, Robyn Williams, and documentary maker, Jonica Newby, for cheering me on.
A big thank you also goes to authors Tony Park, Paul Mendelson, Caroline Carver and Kimberley Howe for your words of encouragement, and to my literary agent, Phil Patterson, for your guidance and patience, and of course a huge thanks to everyone at Bloodhound Books. Betsy Reavley, Fred Freeman, Tara Lyons and Loulou Brown, you guys rock!
My first readers gave me fantastic feedback on an early draft. They are my husband Michael Larkin, Caroline Kennedy-Roach, Carolyn Tate, cyber security expert Ray Packham, PR guru Tony Mulliken, and retired Detective Chief Superintendent of Sussex CID, David Gaylor, and his wonderful wife, Lyn. Thank you for your honesty and helping me see the wood for the trees.
A note from the publisher
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