* * *
‘So what did you think?’ Nasenby asked. Caelan sipped from a glass of water before replying.
‘About Achebe? He’s nervous.’
‘Of course he is. He’s ambitious. He couldn’t resist muscling his way onto this case, and now he’s wondering if he’s done the right thing.’
‘Aren’t we all?’
Nasenby ignored that. ‘Which legend do you want to use? We’ll need one for Mr Davies here too, if you’re determined to insist he tags along.’
‘Which I am.’
Sighing, Nasenby got to his feet. He went over to the window, pulled the vertical blinds to one side so he could peer out. ‘I’ll have to speak to his superiors. They won’t like it, I can tell you. You don’t make my life easy, Caelan.’
Caelan continued as though Nasenby hadn’t spoken. ‘None of the identities I’ve used before are suitable. We’ll need new ones.’
‘If you like. We can sort out a flat for you in Lincoln. I was going to suggest a room in a shared house, but now there are two of you to consider … Listen, Caelan, are you sure about this? No offence to Mr Davies, but he’s an army man, not used to libraries and lecture theatres.’
Ewan raised his eyebrows, hearing his intelligence and capability being dismissed in one plummy sentence. Caelan lifted her chin.
‘He can be my partner, fresh out of the army, looking for work. Though I’m sure he could pass as a student if he needed to.’
Nasenby eyed Ewan doubtfully. ‘Oh, I’m sure.’ He leant forward, shutting down the laptop. ‘Why don’t you spend a few days at home, give us time to put everything in place? You still have your apartment in town?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. I’ll be in touch, one way or another.’
Caelan stood, eager to leave. ‘We’ll see ourselves out.’
Ewan followed as she crossed the room.
‘And Caelan?’ Nasenby called. She turned back. Nasenby was leaning against the wall, his hands in his trousers pockets. He smiled.
‘Don’t get yourself killed.’
4
Back in the car, Caelan pulled her seat belt across her chest. ‘Did you mind me recruiting you, Ewan?’
He cleared his throat. ‘What if I’d said no?’
‘I had a feeling you wouldn’t.’
Switching on the engine, he checked his mirrors. ‘I might have done. Where are we going?’
‘You heard Nasenby. To my flat. We’ve been ordered to have a couple of days off.’
‘We?’
‘You’re stuck with me now, Ewan. Rotherhithe. Near the tunnel. You know London?’
‘Like a cabbie.’
She laughed as he reversed out of the space and headed for the car park’s exit. ‘That’s a bonus. So, I’ll ask again. Who do you work for?’
‘Your boss told you. I’m an army man.’
‘At one time, maybe.’ He was silent. ‘Come on, Ewan. You know all about me.’ Though he didn’t, not at all.
Caelan turned to gaze out of the window as an RAF base came into view. She recognised RAF Northolt, to the west of the city. She settled back in her seat, knowing it would be at least an hour before they reached her flat. Meanwhile, she wanted to find out all she could about the man at her side, the man she had, rather impulsively, recruited as her partner. She had accepted the job, as she had known she would from the moment Adamson had appeared at her hotel. Lambourne had to be captured, and made to pay.
‘You must be more than an ex-soldier boy, otherwise you would never have been allowed to pick me up and take me to see Nasenby. To have access to the building, much less know the entry code.’ She hoped she was right. Otherwise she had misjudged him, and he would have to go.
‘They’ll have changed the numbers by now.’
She waved a hand. ‘No doubt. The point is, you were trusted with it at all. Not many people would have been.’
‘I joined the army at sixteen. I served for thirteen years, then I was discharged. Now I work for the Metropolitan Police.’
‘There, didn’t hurt, did it?’ Caelan grinned. ‘And? What do you do?’
‘Protection.’ He said it quickly, as if doing so would mean he hadn’t revealed anything.
‘I knew it. SO1?’
He grinned, raised an admonishing finger. ‘That’s not what it’s called now.’
‘Same thing. Protecting the royal family, the Prime Minister and various minions, plus anyone else who needs it. Royal properties and visitors, high-risk prisoners.’
‘High-risk undercover police officers.’
‘I’m honoured.’
He accelerated past a lumbering lorry. ‘Don’t be. I’m obviously not so good at it.’
Caelan laughed. ‘Really? Reassuring. You mean because you weren’t briefed properly for the airport? Maybe it was deliberate. Perhaps they’d like you to lose me.’
* * *
The pale-yellow-brick building was six storeys high, built on the banks of the Thames not far from Canary Wharf. Its numerous windows were painted royal blue, as were the doors. CCTV cameras kept a watchful eye from each corner of the building, and Ewan knew there would be secure parking, as well as a concierge team.
Caelan said, ‘Before you say anything, I inherited the flat.’
‘None of my business. It’s impressive.’
‘Wait until you see inside.’ It wasn’t a boast. Caelan sounded embarrassed, and Ewan wondered why. What concern was it of his if she owned an apartment in a place like this? Her job was difficult and dangerous, no doubt commanding a decent salary. Someone in her position would need a home they could feel secure in, even more so than the average person.
‘I’ll have to return the car,’ Ewan told her. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
She smiled. ‘You’re not coming in?’
Ewan knew he was blushing again. ‘Well, I …’
‘Because if we’re going to make this work, we need to be seen together. Do you live in London?’
‘My sister does. I’ve been staying with her.’
‘Okay. Get some clothes, toiletries, whatever you need, then come back here. Don’t worry, I’ve got two bedrooms.’ She climbed out of the car, went around to the boot to retrieve her suitcase, then ducked her head back inside. ‘I know Nasenby said a few days, but it won’t be. He’ll move quickly, it’s his way. We’ll probably be in Lincoln tomorrow.’
Ewan tried to protest, but Caelan slammed the door and trotted around the corner of the building, out of sight. Slowly he eased the car into gear and drove away.
5
The restaurant was one of the most expensive in the city, and Richard Adamson was glad that he would not be paying the bill. The Mayfair location, the à la carte menu – Adamson felt out of place and underdressed. In his career he had mingled with people from every conceivable background, from royalty to the most impoverished. Yet there was something about places like this that reduced him to the snivelling lad who’d wet his pants on the first day of primary school.
In the chair opposite Adamson’s, Ian Penrith sipped at a glass of red wine. With one hand resting on his belly, his eyes creased in pleasure, he resembled a well-fed pig. Is there any other kind? Adamson asked himself, taking a swallow of his own exorbitantly priced mineral water.
‘Well, what do you think?’ Penrith asked. Adamson wiped his lips on his napkin, purely to give himself a few seconds to formulate his reply.
‘You’re asking me to keep an eye on Caelan. In effect, to spy on her.’ His voice was flatter, his tone blunter than he had intended. Penrith tipped back his head and laughed.
‘Nonsense, not at all. I’m concerned about her suitability for the assignment. I wanted you to be the one to track down Lambourne, as I told Nasenby. He’s desperately clinging onto Caelan’s past successes, and it’s pathetic. She’s not up to the job.’
‘I’m not sure I agree.’ Adamson scooped a morsel of the fancy dish he had ordered onto his fork and nibbled at it. He sti
ll wasn’t sure what it was – meat of some kind? He had chosen to point at it on the menu rather than attempt to pronounce its name and risk looking ridiculous. Penrith would have loved to see him trip himself up. ‘You know I’ve worked with Caelan several times before. Do you seriously believe I could follow her around without her realising? She’d be onto me in a heartbeat. I think, as Nasenby does, as Elizabeth Beckett and the Home Secretary do, that Caelan is the best undercover officer we have.’
Penrith set his glass on the table with rather more force than he needed to.
‘She’s not, but that’s irrelevant – we can’t use her to find Lambourne. The whole scheme’s doomed to fail. He’s seen her, spoken to her. I don’t care if she was in one of her clever disguises, he’ll know he’s seen her before. He’s not stupid.’
‘I’m aware of that, but I’ve walked past Caelan on the street myself when she’s been undercover and not recognised her. She has a gift for it, a talent. She doesn’t just put on the outfit; she becomes the person. Lambourne will never know.’
Ian Penrith shook his head. ‘Another one who fancies her rotten.’ Adamson began to protest, but Penrith held up a meaty hand. ‘Mind you, you got further with her than most men have.’ He leant forward, leering. ‘You shared a bed with her for a while.’
‘During an operation, because we had to. The trouble with Caelan is, it’s hard to know where the legend ends and the real person begins. Or if there’s even a difference any more.’
‘Spare me.’ Penrith pushed a forkful of steak into his mouth. ‘Look, Richard. Bottom line. Are you going to do this or not?’
Adamson swallowed. ‘Not.’
Penrith tipped his head to the side. ‘Where’s your ambition gone? A few years ago, you’d have jumped at the chance.’
‘To undermine one of my colleagues? I think you’re confusing me with someone else.’
Penrith started a slow handclap, causing every other diner to turn and look at him, and Adamson to blush a furious shade of red. He contemplated walking out of the restaurant, but then Penrith would have won.
‘How about if you work alongside her, then? Go to Lincoln, shadow Seb Lambourne’s son yourself.’ Penrith chewed, swallowed. ‘Two heads are better than one and all that crap.’
Richard frowned. ‘Would Caelan know about it?’
‘I’d have to tell Nasenby, get him to sign it off, and that’s tantamount to telling Caelan anyway. You know she’s his pet.’
‘Which is hardly Caelan’s fault.’
‘No, to be fair, she doesn’t encourage the old goat. Now, do we have an agreement?’
Pouring himself another glass of water, Richard nodded. It was no doubt a mistake, but what choice did he have? Penrith smirked, took his time picking a piece of meat out of his back teeth with his index finger. ‘Good man, Richard. And now you can order dessert.’
* * *
Ewan stood next to the intercom, feeling ridiculous having to squat to speak into a metal box. He didn’t even know which flat number to ask for. The intercom buzzed and a voice said, ‘Can I help you, sir?’
He’d been spotted. It was no surprise. The place had more security than Downing Street. ‘I’m here to see Caelan Small.’ Shit. Would she be using her own name? Too late now. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know which flat she lives in.’
There was a pause. ‘I’ll call Ms Small now, sir. Your name?’
Ewan gave it, then stood back, smoothing his hair. Was the concierge still watching? No doubt. He half hoped Caelan would deny all knowledge and he could go home. Then the door beside him opened silently. Picking up his canvas bag, Ewan stepped through it.
The area inside had a white tiled floor, gleaming under chrome spotlights. Ewan realised, far too late, that he had traipsed mud all the way across it. Behind the reception desk, the concierge thinned his lips as he took in the perfect imprints of Ewan’s size twelves.
‘Ms Small is on her way down to meet you, sir,’ he said, his tone implying that he had no idea why Caelan would be bothering with such an oaf.
‘Thank you.’ Ewan stepped back, bumping into a low trough filled with an array of exotic plants. The concierge’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. Ewan moved away with an apologetic smile, only to fall over his own bag, which he’d set at his feet. ‘It’s a lovely place,’ he said, to cover his embarrassment. The concierge nodded, though his expression didn’t change.
‘Yes, indeed.’ He turned back to his computer. Ewan took the hint and shut up.
On the cream walls, black-and-white photographs of various London landmarks were framed in dark wood. In case the residents forgot where they lived, Ewan thought with a smile. Their rent or mortgage payments would soon remind them of that. He had no idea what it would cost to live here, but it had to be astronomical, especially by his own modest standards. He had bought a semi-detached house in a village near the Welsh border, not far from where he had grown up, and the mortgage payments on it still pained him. One of these apartments would no doubt set him back four or five times what he had paid for his house. Not that he would want to live here. Caelan had said she’d inherited the place. Ewan sniffed. Couldn’t be bad. He wondered who had bequeathed the apartment to her. It wasn’t the sort of place an elderly person would choose to live in.
The lift doors slid open and he picked up his bag again. Caelan appeared, obviously happier using the lift on her own territory. She raised a hand to Ewan before going over to the reception desk, smiling at the man behind it. His face lit up.
‘Good evening, Peter. How’s your wife?’ she asked.
‘Not so bad, thank you. She loved those flowers you sent, wanted me to thank you for thinking of her.’
‘You’re welcome. Is she out of hospital yet?’
Peter shook his head. ‘Another few days, they say. They’re looking after her, though the nurses are run off their feet. Never enough of them after all these cuts they’ve made. It’s criminal, though they still manage to do an amazing job. Anyway, I won’t keep you when you’ve a guest.’
‘Thank you, Peter. I see he’s made a mess.’ Caelan grinned. Ewan blushed, but said nothing.
‘Not to worry. I’ll get the mop out, soon have that sorted. Have a good evening.’
‘You too, Peter. Say hello to your wife for me. Come on, Ewan.’
Ewan followed her into the lift. ‘You don’t mind using it then?’
She pressed the button for the top floor. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The lift.’
‘There’s six flights of stairs if you’d rather.’ She shrugged. ‘The lift’s fine here. There’s no danger.’
She said it as though trying to convince herself. Ewan wondered how many places she hadn’t felt safe in. More than him, no doubt, and he’d been deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan.
‘You know the receptionist well?’
‘Porter. He doesn’t like being called a receptionist. He’s ex-army too; you should have a chat with him.’
‘I think I pissed him off.’
‘Wipe your shoes next time. This is a posh gaff.’ She grinned at him.
* * *
Her apartment was number 135. He committed the number to memory as Caelan unlocked the door.
‘I thought you’d have a fingerprint entry system at least.’
‘It’s not the Batcave.’ She smiled. ‘Come in.’
He followed her inside, where he slipped off his trainers.
Caelan watched him. ‘Good thinking. I’d hate to have to throw you straight back out.’
The living room was larger than he had anticipated, about twenty-five feet by twenty. One wall was brick, and because it was a corner apartment, there were two huge windows, one overlooking the Thames, one the street below where Ewan had entered the building. She would be able to see anyone who approached, he realised. The walls were painted white, bare of pictures or any other decoration. Beneath his feet were wooden boards. Two charcoal sofas were separated by a bookcase, with a TV and games console on
a low table in one corner. There was a dining table with six chairs under one of the windows, though Ewan doubted Caelan did much entertaining. The place had the feel of a show house. He had the impression she didn’t spend a lot of time at home. It made sense.
‘Fancy a takeaway?’ Caelan wiped her hands down the sides of her jeans, and Ewan noted the gesture with interest. Why would someone so self-assured be nervous in her own home?
* * *
Later, after a curry and three beers each, Ewan felt brave enough to ask the question he’d been holding back since their meeting with Achebe and Nasenby.
‘Why me?’
Caelan was sprawled on one of the sofas while Ewan sat at the dining table. She looked at him, narrowing her eyes, then made the decision.
‘I need someone I can trust, rely on,’ she said.
‘But you don’t know me.’
‘And you don’t know me. That’s part of your appeal.’
‘Can’t you trust your colleagues?’
She shrugged. ‘Not any more.’
‘Nasenby?’
‘Yes. I trust Nasenby, unless he gives me a reason not to.’ She folded her arms. Ewan saw the gesture, decided not to pry any further. ‘What did you tell your sister?’ she asked.
‘The truth, to a point. That I was going away for work, I didn’t know how long for and I’d be in touch when I could. She’s used to it.’
‘No partner?’
‘Not now. I was married briefly, but she … Well, she didn’t cope well once I’d left the army and was around all the time.’
‘Really?’
‘Neither did her boyfriend.’
‘Ah.’
He shrugged. ‘Better to find out now than in twenty years’ time. At least we hadn’t got around to having kids.’
Caelan had drawn up her knees, wrapping her arms around them. Ewan took this as a sign that her personal relationships were not up for discussion. Her phone, which she’d thrown carelessly onto the sofa beside her, began to ring. She picked it up, checked the screen.
Ask No Questions Page 4