Dirty Business (The First Acer Sansom Novel)

by Oliver Tidy

  Botha folded his arms. ‘It’s all a little too convenient,’ he said. ‘Oh, I don’t doubt that you are who you say you are, but there’s a funny smell about you. I know Bishop and I know Bishop is no threat to me. He’s a fool, a greedy small-minded, egotistical fool. If he is involved in this, he’s out of his depth. I’ll deal with Bishop in my own way. As for that unfortunate business on The Rendezvous, well, all is fair in love, war and business, Mr Tallis. Casualties are the fallout of conflict, whatever form it takes.’

  ‘But those people were innocent,’ said Tallis, seizing an unexpected opportunity. ‘They were nothing to do with your illegal dealings with Bishop. There were women and children on board.’ Tallis felt the sheer bewilderment of this man’s complete disregard for life well up inside him and threaten to push him into a position that would ultimately do him no good.

  ‘As I said: regrettable – wrong place, wrong time.’

  Tallis detected something like distaste for the memory of it in the way the man delivered his words.

  ‘I’m more interested to know how that incident has come to be connected with me.’

  ‘Because you believe that you left no trace of your involvement?’

  ‘Because I want to know.’

  Tallis smiled thinly, almost apologetically, at the man. ‘I’m afraid that I can’t divulge that sort of intelligence, Mr Botha. Perhaps if you were prepared to cooperate with our investigation...,’ he hesitated a moment, but got no encouragement in response, ‘...then I can see that we’re wasting each other’s time. It would seem that my hope that you might be able to assist us with our enquiries is to be fruitless.’

  He stood to leave, conscious of the fact that he had no authority, position or value in the room any more and that any minute Botha or his giant were going to get a call that would upset them greatly.

  Any small confidence that he had felt approaching the meeting that he might be able to bluff Botha into some kind of disclosure had been extinguished. The short walk to the door would be like a long walk across a treacherously-thin covering of ice spanning a perishingly-cold expanse of deep water.

  However, appearances were what mattered now. Forcing himself to exude what little confidence he could muster, he said, ‘Thank you at least for speaking to me. There appears to be nothing further for us to discuss. Goodbye.’

  He had turned and was making his way to the door when a phone started ringing in the room and then, in a dreamlike moment of the most dreadful timing, a second phone with exactly the same ringing tone began to call out from his own pocket.

  He quickened his stride slightly and held his breath. Just get out into a public area, he told himself. He was reaching for the door handle when he felt something like a small bag of cement being placed on his shoulder. He turned instinctively to see the hand of Botha’s man restraining him.

  ‘Your phone is ringing. Aren’t you going to answer it?’

  He was quick and agile for such an enormous frame. Tallis had been completely unaware that he had covered the ground between them.

  ‘Outside, I will, thank you,’ said Tallis, but even to himself his voice sounded hollow.

  ‘Let me see it.’ The huge hand was now extended like some novelty pink tray waiting for Tallis to comply. The ignored ringing of the other phone in the room only added to the sense of tension that he realised. Tallis felt himself swallow something large, but it was only the dryness in his throat.

  Botha’s man reached into Tallis’s jacket pocket – how did he get that hand in there? thought the policeman – and removed the phone that Sansom had given him; the phone that Sansom had taken from the dead man in Eda’s Istanbul apartment; the phone that looked exactly the same, sounded exactly the same with its unusual ringtone, as the other phone that the big man was now cradling in his other massive palm.

  Tallis found himself rotated through one hundred and eighty degrees and, gently but firmly, propelled back to his seat. The phone was handed back to Tallis.

  ‘Answer it,’ said the big man.

  Tallis needed no threats. He was grateful for the opportunity to communicate to Sansom the agreed phrase that would let him know that he was not in a position to talk. He pressed the green button and said, ‘Detective Inspector Tallis.’ The line went dead. Tallis looked up to the figure towering over him. ‘Wrong number,’ he said.

  ***

  23

  Sansom swore. The woman looked up at him from the sun-lounger on which she had perched, but said nothing. The speedboat lay resting on the gentle shingle incline that he had run it up not ten yards away.

  Retrieving the rest of his clothes, he had dressed quickly, discarding the still-dripping T-shirt in favour of the dryer, roomier jacket. Into the pockets of this he distributed the two phones and the pistol he had removed from the dead man. The silenced pistol he concealed in the T-shirt and carried, along with the binoculars.

  He made sure that she got a good look at the weapon he had already used to such devastating effect. He wanted to remind her to be scared, as far as he believed she was able to be scared. And if not scared then at least mindful of what he had shown himself to be capable of.

  The darkness along the water’s edge was exaggerated by the bright lights spilling out from the bars. The high volume of competing music systems had masked any noise that they had made beaching the boat. Few had paid them any more than cursory attention.

  Ready to move off, Sansom said, ‘I hope you’re a smart woman, smart enough to know better than to try something stupid. Get up. Start moving along the beach.’ He gestured which direction she should take.

  Taking a hostage had been a spur of the moment decision – the only way that he could see to gain some leverage with Botha. However, now that he had one – and what a one – he had little idea of what to do with her. He knew what he couldn’t do with her: he couldn’t take her to a hotel; he couldn’t take her to Eda’s villa; he couldn’t take her anywhere public where she could make a scene.

  He had hoped to be able to get hold of Tallis, have him get the car and then collect them. He wouldn’t have approved but he could have been made to understand the necessity of it – they had Eda, for God’s sake.

  But with Tallis apparently compromised, he was stuck alone, with nowhere to go and nothing to go nowhere in. He also felt himself nearing his tolerance threshold for the disastrous way things were turning out. What was clear in his head was that whatever he was going to try to accomplish he had better do it under the cover of the darkness. When daylight came, so would exposure. He would have little chance of hanging on to her when Bodrum was alive and illuminated by daylight.

  Above the crunching of the shingle under their feet, she said, ‘Realising the mistake you’ve made?’ He ignored her. A few strides more, she said, ‘What is it that you want?’

  ‘Right now, for you to shut up so that I can think.’

  She stopped and turned to face him. The defiance and anger had been replaced by something more placid and businesslike. She did her best to assume a state of compliance. After what he’d witnessed of her on the boat, he was buying none of it.

  ‘Tell me what you want. I might be able to help. You know who I am. We might be able to sort this out and all go back to where we came from. I’m not stupid. I know what my husband’s business is. Don’t think that I’m some dumb trophy wife without a clue.’

  ‘After seeing you on the boat, I’ll never make that mistake.’

  ‘That idiot was paid well to protect us, with his life if it came to it.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt that if you ever get back then that’s the price that he’ll pay.’

  Ignoring the comment, she said, ‘I’m to be bargained for something, is that it?’

  ‘Yes, you’re to be bargained for a life. A life that had better be intact when I get it back.’

  ‘Or?’

  The look that he gave her, his silence, left her in no doubt what the consequences would be.

  ‘Whose?’ she said
.

  ‘You don’t know?’

  She shook her head and he believed her. She didn’t want to be here in the middle of this. She wanted to be with her children. If she had a way to extricate herself from this quickly, she’d voice it. He stared at her impassive expression, deliberating.

  He knew he was between a rock and a hard place and time was passing. Perhaps he could use her. There would be no question of him killing her in cold blood. If this wasn’t sorted before daylight, he’d have to let her go. He’d be empty handed, have nothing to bargain with, be back where he started in this only with more blood on his hands, more blood to avenge and a weaker starting position.

  He guided her further away from the bright, noisy businesses of the beachfront. A fishing boat on stilted supports loomed out of the darkness. He stopped her under its stern. There would be no one to interrupt them here. He indicated she should sit on an upturned crate.

  ‘Your husband has had a good friend of mine, possibly two by now, taken and held against their will. I want them released, unharmed. It’s as simple as that. Two for one – you for them.’

  ‘What have they done?’

  The question surprised him. ‘They’ve done nothing.’

  ‘Then why would he take them?’

  ‘To get to me.’

  ‘Who are you? What are you doing here? What do really want with my husband?’

  ‘Right now, that doesn’t matter. What should matter to you is that your husband hasn’t hurt my friends. What should matter to you is how much your husband will want you back.’

  ‘He’ll want me back.’

  ‘For your sake, I hope so.’

  *

  Without choice, Tallis sat listening to the big man as he spoke on his own phone. With a sinking feeling, he realised that things had clearly become messy on Botha’s yacht. If he’d made it out of the door, into the restaurant, he might have had a chance at escape. What happened now would depend on whether he could make them believe that he was not involved in it at all.

  The big man ended the call and Tallis became aware that he was glaring at him. ‘Move from that chair,’ he said, ‘and I’ll break your arm.’

  Tallis looked from the man to Botha and back again. ‘Now listen here,’ he said, ‘I’ve come to this meeting in good faith. I don’t expect to be threatened or held against my will. May I remind you that I’m a British police officer?’

  ‘Out here that means shit,’ said the man. ‘Do as you’re told and you might not get hurt.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ said Botha.

  The black man kept his eyes on Tallis, apparently still trying to work out if he was complicit in whatever had happened on the yacht. ‘Sansom’s not in custody. He’s been to the yacht. Heath’s dead, Jacob’s been shot. He’s taken your wife.’

  Botha exploded from his seat. ‘What?’ His rage was instant and incandescent and aimed at Tallis. ‘You fucker.’ His eyes became wild, the skin pulled back on his features in his anger. He seemed to have shed ten years and at one stroke become as terrifying as any person Tallis had ever had to deal with. ‘He’s harmed my kids, he harms her, I’ll kill you with my fucking bare hands.’

  ‘Listen to me,’ protested Tallis. ‘I have got nothing to do with this. I’m telling you, when I left him this evening, he was secure, guarded by three of my operatives.’

  ‘You’re lying,’ said the big man, his restrained reaction to the news from the yacht was no less menacing than Botha’s dynamic outburst. ‘You’re here to divert us. Give him an opportunity to get on board. There is no covert operation securing Sansom, there never was.’

  ‘That simply is not true,’ maintained Tallis. ‘I repeat to you that I’m here as part of an undercover operation and that up until I left them not three hours ago Sansom was being held by members of the British military.’ The pair facing him, despite their accusations, seemed momentarily unsure.

  ‘We’ll find out soon enough,’ said Botha. ‘You’re coming with us.’

  ‘I’m certainly not going anywhere with you,’ said Tallis, trying to rise above the danger he was clearly in.

  The giant man had him out of his chair with his arm behind his back before he could protest further. The pain was excruciating as the pressure being exerted threatened to pop the ball of his shoulder from its socket. Tallis let out an involuntary cry. The man eased minutely back.

  ‘You’re coming, whether you like it or not,’ he said. ‘Whether you come with the use of this arm or not doesn’t matter to me.’

  Tallis found himself frogmarched on the tips of his toes out of the room, across the lobby and into the warm night air. If he’d dared to call out for help, he doubted that he’d have made any sense to anyone who cared to listen.

  He was propelled into the back seat of the Audi and the huge black man squeezed himself in next to him. The driver started the engine. The other man that had been on watch outside scurried ahead, opened the front passenger door for Botha and slammed it shut after him. He then got in on the other side of Tallis.

  As the vehicle accelerated away, Tallis found himself wondering if this had been what they had planned to do with Sansom if he had kept the appointment instead of him.

  A ring tone that Tallis recognised began trilling in the otherwise-silent vehicle. With some effort in the confined space, the giant retrieved a phone from his pocket. ‘It’s him,’ he said.

  Botha didn’t turn around in his seat. ‘Answer it.’

  Tallis wondered why Botha didn’t speak to Sansom. Did he not trust himself? He watched as the enormous fingers accepted the call and then activated the loudspeaker function.

  ‘Sansom?’

  ‘I have something that you want and you have something that I want. I suggest a trade.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘The girl for the wife, assuming that is, that he wants his wife back and you haven’t harmed the girl.’

  ‘What about the policeman? Don’t you want him back too?’

  ‘What have you got him for? He’s no friend to me. Do what you like with him. Are we trading?’ Sansom and Tallis had agreed this outward position of their non-relationship should things go as badly as they obviously had.

  There was a moment’s hesitation before the big man answered. ‘Yes, we’re trading. Let me speak with Mrs Botha.’

  ‘Call this number back when I can speak to the girl. Then you can speak to her.’ Sansom rang off.

  ‘I told you,’ said Tallis. ‘Now, I’ll ask you to release me.’

  Still without turning around, Botha said, ‘You’re going nowhere. For the time being consider yourself my guest.’ And then to the driver, he said, ‘The old woman’s place in Akyarlar.’

  And Tallis knew then where Eda was being held.

  Compressed uncomfortably between the two big men, Tallis prepared himself for the forty-minute drive that by now he knew well enough. He listened to Botha make phone calls to the yacht and their destination, giving his instructions. And he wondered what they now believed of his involvement in this.

  *

  The idea had come to Sansom as he was speaking on the phone. On land he was about as effective as a fish out of water. With the woman to watch and hold on to, with daylight looming to undermine his position, with no place to hide and with the probability of an outnumbered confrontation approaching, he needed to be able to put himself in a position that would even out some of those differences.

  On the sea, his position would be greatly improved. And he had the transport to solve all of his concerns. In the speedboat, he could run himself and the woman to any sheltered cove, he could move quickly and he could keep them away from people. With Botha, he could even arrange the exchange in the middle of the sea and with the power of the speedboat get himself, Eda and, when it came to it, Tallis away.

  Sansom closed the phone. ‘Get up,’ he said ‘We’re leaving.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  He marched her without spea
king back down the beach to where the speedboat was still rocking gently on the shallow incline of the shingle bank. She climbed aboard without protest. He pushed the vessel to float clear of the land, jumped in and fired up the engines. They headed out to be enveloped by the darkness hanging above the Aegean.

  *

  Tallis could do no more than watch the shadowy scenery flash past the windows and consider what lay ahead for him. The vehicle’s interior was now quiet with the preoccupations and sense of unease created by Botha’s phone calls. Tallis had listened in something approaching despair as Botha discovered the details of Sansom’s raid on the yacht.

  He had heard Botha instruct the Captain of the vessel to weigh anchor and move around the coast of Bodrum to Akyarlar. From the one-sided conversation, he heard Botha respond to the Captain’s concern regarding the bodies of the dead and wounded men with indifference. The solution he suggested amounted to stripping them of identification and disposing of their weighted bodies overboard in deeper water. Botha left none of those privy to the conversation doubting that if the wounded man didn’t die before Botha saw him again, he would personally dispatch him for neglect of his duty.

  Tallis detected military-style expectations and punishments, leading him to believe that Botha’s past had been of such a nature.

  ‘Tell me what you have on Bishop, so far,’ said Botha, clearly addressing Tallis.

  Tallis realised that it could be in his interests, to his possible advantage in more ways than one, to respond now cooperatively and fully – even to the point of further fabricating information against the ex-Minister.

  ‘He has been accused by several reliable sources of abusing the position that he enjoyed as Minister for Defence Procurement to bolster his own fortunes while brokering certain international contracts.’

  ‘And what exactly has this to do with the Hampshire County Constabulary, if I remember your warrant card details correctly?’

  ‘My personal professional interest centres on Bishop’s implication in certain murder enquiries. As I tried to explain to you, I’m part of an undercover task force that’s been set up to investigate the Minister’s strongly-rumoured involvement in these.’