Dirty Business (The First Acer Sansom Novel)

by Oliver Tidy

  Sansom looked at her. ‘I didn’t do it. I know nothing about it.’

  ‘I know you didn’t,’ said Tallis.

  ‘That’s not what I meant,’ said Eda. ‘I meant why would they do that – implicate you in a murder?’

  ‘He makes a convenient scapegoat for them,’ said Tallis. ‘Escaped from a military hospital, connections with another recent killing, AWOL from the Army for a year, they’ve probably tagged you as some sort of mental patient. It’s a kind of insurance for them if you decide to change your mind and start talking.

  ‘The point is that they’ve used you to cover up their own dirty business. A former Minister is complicit in the murder; he has to be. And now they have you over here as their assassin doing more of their dirty work. Now do you see what I mean about a bigger picture?’

  *

  Tallis found himself offered more than just a ride up the steep incline to the bus stop. An hour later the three of them were safely secluded in Eda’s family villa, suggested by Eda as the only place away from prying eyes and ears, to pursue the topic that had brought them together.

  Sansom, subdued on the ride back, remained thoughtful and reticent, distant even. The doubts raised over what he had been led to believe and the way that he had been set up obviously weighed heavily on his mind. As the men sat, Eda prepared some refreshments.

  ‘Have I really been that stupid?’ said the soldier, looking tired.

  ‘We don’t know yet,’ said Tallis. ‘Let’s not go jumping the gun. What evidence do you have that this man Botha was involved in the incident with The Rendezvous?’

  The soldier met his eye and shook his head. ‘Apart from the word of Bishop, some paperwork that could easily have been faked, and the fact that the men who attacked us were certainly South African, none. So that’s hardly any evidence at all, is it?’

  ‘Well,’ said Tallis, trying to inject some positivity into the situation, ‘just because it comes from the mouth of a politician, it doesn’t necessarily mean that it has no element of truth. But even if it does, it’s no excuse for the behaviour of a former government Minister, still an influential MP, to go sanctioning and organising an assassination.’

  ‘There’ll be no proving his involvement,’ said Sansom.

  ‘He visited you at Headley Court. Perhaps there would be a record of it.’

  ‘If he could organise my escape from there, a false passport and travel to a foreign country, I’m sure he could erase any records of an unofficial visit.’

  ‘True, but we do have another witness: Harris. Look, I think the best thing we can do, if you agree, is to piece together exactly what we have, from the beginning. And then we need to work out what we can do next.’

  ‘You’re assuming that I’m not going to continue with this,’ said Sansom.

  ‘I hope you’re not. I hope I can reason you out of it. You’ll only get yourself killed or imprisoned – and what would that achieve? You have to see how things are different at least because of Bishop’s involvement in the murder of the journalist.’

  ‘How do you know that he was? What evidence do you have? How do you know that he hasn’t been set up too?’

  The DI smiled. ‘Good, now you’re thinking more analytically. I don’t, of course, but he was there on the night in question and he hasn’t made that fact apparent to the investigating authorities in a bid to assist with their enquiries. He couldn’t possibly be unaware of the man’s death; it was all over the news. And then taking into consideration what he has organised for you, I’d say that it’s a pretty good bet that he’s as guilty as sin of something.

  ‘There is something else. I did some checking into the background of the dead journalist. Seems that he had a reputation for high-profile exposés. Specialised in the investigative undercover stuff. It’s possible that he may have been working on something that involved Bishop.’

  ‘And so Bishop had him killed? While he was in the house? It doesn’t sound very smart to me, or very likely. My only concern is who murdered my family. If Botha is involved, as Bishop says he is, I intend to continue. Know that. I don’t care whether Bishop thinks that he’s using me, or what else he’s into. As far as I’m concerned, if his sponsorship gets me access to the people responsible for that atrocity then I don’t care what his motives are. That’s all there is for me.’

  ‘And what if he turns out to be involved in it as well?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What I say. What if Bishop is somehow involved in what went on?’

  ‘How could he be? Besides, you’re forgetting that his own son was murdered on that trip.’

  ‘Not strictly true,’ said Tallis. ‘It was a boy from his wife’s first marriage and apparently not someone with whom he had a particularly, shall we say, close relationship. I did some checking on that.’

  ‘That’s not the way he came across at Headley.’

  ‘He wouldn’t, would he? It was his trump card – his believability factor. He’s a politician.’

  ‘It worked.’

  ‘Look,’ said Tallis, ‘will you agree with me that in the light of the doubt cast over this whole business you should be sure of what you’re doing and that you’re doing it to the right people before you go charging in?’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s a little late for that, remember? They’ve made me their business as much as I’ve made them mine. Three of them are dead because of me.’

  ‘Three?’ said Tallis. ‘The newspaper said one.’

  ‘There was a later incident,’ said Sansom.

  ‘It might be four,’ said Eda, settling the tray of drinks between them. The men stared up at her. Looking at Sansom, she said, ‘I went back to the flat to get some things. I know you advised against it. There was a man in there. I recognised him as a policeman who had been in my home the previous evening. He threatened me with a knife to try to make me tell him where you were.’

  ‘You killed him?’ said Sansom.

  ‘I think so. I didn’t stop to check. I honestly thought he might kill me. The door-keeper saved me. There was a struggle. I lost control and hit him with something hard.’

  For a minute, quiet descended upon the terrace.

  Tallis broke the silence. ‘So both of you are now being sought by the police. Is here safe for you?’ he said to Eda.

  ‘As safe as anywhere, I suppose. Besides, I have nowhere else to go.’

  ‘Where are you staying?’ Tallis asked Sansom.

  ‘A cheap hotel in Bodrum.’

  ‘Somewhere as busy as Bodrum might not be the best place for you to be with that mugshot floating about on the front of the newspapers.’

  ‘You can stay here,’ said Eda, ‘if you want to. To be honest, I think I’d be glad of the company.’

  ‘It would make sense to get you somewhere more remote,’ said Tallis, ‘away from people who might recognise you, make a connection.’ Sansom nodded and smiled his thanks to Eda.

  ‘Will you agree to keep a low profile until we can find out more? Please? I hear you when you say you have your objectives but I still have mine and one of them is keeping you alive and at liberty to provide testimony against those we both want to see punished.’

  ‘And how will you do that?’ said Sansom.

  ‘I don’t know yet. But I think a good start would be to put together all we have, all we know.’

  Sansom considered the policeman’s request. He said, ‘I’ll give you until Botha arrives in Bodrum. And then I’m going to ask him myself.’

  ***

  16

  Knowledge is power, Tallis gently reminded them as they spent the rest of the afternoon doing as he had suggested: piecing together what they had, what they knew. They discussed the chronological unfolding of events, the encounters, the contacts and the killings. They explored the opportunities afforded them by the phone that Sansom had acquired. Tallis used Eda’s Internet-enabled laptop to show them an online article detailing the murder of the journalist. Sansom read it, a gri
m expression shrouding his features.

  When it came to Sansom reliving the events on The Rendezvous, Eda left the two men alone, not wishing to intrude on such shared grief. Taking the laptop into another room, she began some research of her own.

  By early evening, they were all physically tired and emotionally drained. But the afternoon had brought them closer together in both sense of purpose and relationship. However, while the exercise provided them with the overview that Tallis sought it also raised more questions than it answered.

  Tallis had to hope that Sansom had been further persuaded to give more time to seeking out the truth and the reasons that lay hidden behind the events surrounding the slaughter on The Rendezvous.

  He also hoped still that this man, who seemed unwaveringly committed to his possibly-misguided course of retribution, which would inevitably only lead to his own tragedy – although he seemed genuinely not to care – could yet be convinced of the better path of legal justice.

  He sensed in Eda an ally to his cause. He also knew that with her on his side he would have a greater chance of convincing Sansom that his way was the best for all. It was the way of the world that an attractive woman could have most men doing exactly what she wanted.

  In the falling dusk, the three of them headed back to Bodrum. It was agreed that Sansom would leave his hotel to share the villa with Eda. It made too much sense not to. Firstly though, he needed to visit the hotel to retrieve what few possessions he had left there.

  In the light of Tallis’s revelations and concerns regarding the newspaper picture, it was decided that they would go there first together and exercise great caution in case someone had recognised him and alerted the police.

  Driving once around the block revealed no evidence of police cars waiting in side streets; no sign of men with communications gadgets dangling out of their ears loitering on street corners. Eda parked at the end of the alley that Sansom had used to come and go. Tallis and Eda watched him slip down the narrow cluttered space to disappear and then waited.

  ‘You see that I’m right in this, don’t you?’ said Tallis, seizing an opportunity to speak to Eda alone. ‘I mean that he should wait, abandon this idea of an eye for an eye justice that he has. I understand it, I’ve lost someone in this too, but it’s not the way to deal with it. It can only end one way for him.’

  ‘I’m not sure he cares how it ends for him,’ she said. ‘He’s lost everything that made his life worthwhile and now he wants whoever is responsible to pay for it. He wants revenge. If the men in London are using him for their own ends they couldn’t have found a better man for it.’

  ‘Yes, but if he gets himself killed then there will be no hope of bringing any of them to justice. You must see that.’

  ‘It’s not me that you have to convince. It’s him.’

  ‘I was hoping that you might be able to help me there,’ he said.

  *

  Sansom let himself in through the rear exit of the hotel. Somewhere a television’s volume was turned up too high. He took the stairs to his floor and put his ear to the door of his room to check that no threat lay within. Satisfied, he unlocked the door and entered. All was as he had left it. Grabbing his holdall, he began collecting together the few things that he hadn’t left in the Audi.

  As he came out of the bathroom holding his toiletries, he was faced by two men and a woman who crowded the open doorway. One was the man from reception. The other man was clearly hired muscle brought along to either intimidate or subdue Sansom if he didn’t cooperate. Sansom wondered what the woman was there for.

  ‘You want something?’ said Sansom.

  The receptionist smiled, revealing those discoloured uneven teeth.

  The woman’s presence then became obvious as she said in good English, ‘Yes. My friend wants to fix your arms behind your back with these,’ she raised a couple of electrician’s plastic ties and waved them playfully, ‘then you come with us – no problems.’

  ‘Why would I do that?’ said Sansom, feeling the dryness in his throat.

  ‘So we must not have to hurt you,’ she said, with a matter-of-factness that Sansom found as unsettling as the stocky tattooed thug glaring at him. ‘Have you not seen the newspapers? There is a likeness of you and a reward for us.’

  ‘It’s not me,’ he said.

  ‘So when police come you have no problems,’ she said, smiling at him, at her cleverness, exposing nice teeth that Sansom decided he would like to rearrange at the earliest opportunity.

  *

  ‘I agree with you,’ said Eda, turning to face the policeman. ‘But what can I do? You’ve heard him.’

  ‘If you do agree with me, why are you helping him?’

  ‘It’s a chance for me to see a score settled. Botha is indirectly responsible for the death of my younger brother. His bullying drove him to suicide. Give me the chance and I would pull the trigger on that man myself.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I really am,’ said the DI, slumping back into his seat. ‘So, we’ve all lost loved ones, possibly to this man’s hand.’ There seemed to be little else he could say.

  *

  The three had by now shuffled into the confined space that was his room. The receptionist at the back gently closed the door. Sansom could see that he was holding a short stout length of timber. Escape appeared highly unlikely and everyone seemed aware of the fact. A distance of ten feet separated Sansom from the group. The muscleman at the front flexed his powerful arms.

  ‘So,’ said the woman, ‘throw your things to bed, arms behind you and turn around. We don’t need to hurt you.’

  Sansom had no doubt that as soon as he was secured the piece of wood would find a way of connecting with his head. But, with little alternative, he did as he was told. Throwing the toiletries on to the bed next to him, he put his hands behind his back. His welcoming committee relaxed fractionally. Then, changing his mind, Sansom brought his hands back out in front of him clutching the pistol he had just retrieved from the toilet cistern and shoved down the back waistband of his trousers.

  He levelled the gun at the stomach of the big man, flicked off the safety to impress upon them his intentions, and gave his instructions. His reputation, it appeared, went before him, as the three complied without hesitation or argument.

  *

  Eda checked her watch again. ‘Do you think there could be a problem? He’s been gone a long time.’

  In the back of the car, Tallis was thinking the same. ‘Perhaps I should go and have a look,’ he said.

  They were deliberating whether this would be a good idea when Sansom strode around the corner with his holdall.

  Eda started the engine as he got in. ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘Few loose ends to tie up, that’s all. I’ll tell you about it as we drive.’

  Tallis seemed the most anxious with the news that Sansom had been recognised. Sansom’s suggestion that he doubted the three he had just left well restrained would make public the fact that they had let him get away did little to dispel his concerns.

  *

  They dropped Tallis at his hotel with an agreement that they would all sleep on the day’s developments and an arrangement that Eda would be there to collect him the following morning. As Tallis prepared to leave the car, he placed his hand on Sansom’s shoulder.

  ‘I want to thank you both for the opportunity you gave me today,’ he said. ‘We’ve all lost people that we love. I, for one, want those responsible brought to justice without anyone else being lost. Get a good night’s rest.’

  They watched him shuffle to the front of the building, his feet clearly causing him discomfort. The exertions of the day and the troubles they shared seemed to weigh heavily upon him.

  Alone again with Sansom, Eda felt the return and the intensification of the nervousness she had experienced that morning, feelings that had been suspended in the company of the policeman.

  Her thoughts regarding the situation she had now created for herself by inviting Sans
om to stay with her chased each other around her mind. She realised that, with the feelings she was harbouring for Sansom, she had made a mistake – but it was too late now to do anything about it. She resolved to force her misgivings to the back of her mind and to deal with the future in an objective way.

  They drove in silence for a while until, unable to bear the quiet any longer, she said, ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Sansom, ‘my thoughts are all over the place at the moment. I suppose I’m struggling to take it all in. I’m confused. There’s too much to think about and I’m tired.’ He turned to face her. ‘What about you? You must be exhausted?’

  ‘I aim to have an early night,’ she said. ‘But right now, I’m very hungry.’

  They agreed to pick up some take-away food and take it back to the villa. As they drove in the darkness, they talked around the discussions of the day. They shared thoughts about the day to come.

  Arriving at the last big town before the drive into the remoteness of the villa, they stopped at a pizza parlour.

  When Eda returned to the car fifteen minutes later with their dinner, Sansom was gone. They had agreed that he should stay in the car, not venture out unnecessarily where he could be recognised. Standing in the street looking around, her mind alive with the possibilities of what could have happened, she saw him walking down the pavement towards her, a supermarket carrier bag dangling from his hand. She gave him a questioning look.

  ‘Wait and see,’ he said.

  Back at the house, Sansom took his holdall up to one of the spare bedrooms and to find a shower. Eda placed the pizza in the oven to warm it through, opened a bottle of wine, used some of the vegetables she had purchased earlier to make a salad and set a table for them.

  She reflected on how comfortable they were with each other, now that she had temporarily managed to suppress her schoolgirl attraction for him. She determined to keep it that way.