They laughed.
“Don’t let Rollo hear you call him that.”
The brightness of Danny’s smile dipped a watt or two, before lifting again. “Of course not. Be nice to see the Doc again, too.”
He double-hitched his eyebrows.
Kaine sighed. Time to stamp out the minor insubordination before it spread through the ranks.
“Corporal Pinkerton, there’s nothing going on between Dr Orchard and me. My only goal is to keep her safe until I’m certain no one wants to use her to get to me. And that’s all. Do I make myself clear?”
Danny straightened his face and sat more upright. “Yes, sir. Absolutely.” He paused a moment before adding, “In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I asked her out for a meal while I’m visiting?”
“Forget it, Danny,” Kaine snapped. “She’s way out of your league!”
Danny slapped his hand on the table hard enough to make the crockery jump. “Ha! I knew it. You do fancy her, don’t you? Can’t blame you mind, she’s gorgeous. And you’re dead right. She is too good for the likes of me.”
And me.
“Good. And now we’re going to drop the subject.” Kaine said, delivering the words as an order, not a statement.
Danny nodded and became serious for a moment. “Sorry, sir. Just wanted to let you know Rollo and I couldn’t be happier for you.” He coughed and shifted in his chair. “And to change the subject again, that information you found in Alfie Lovejoy’s laptop …”
“What about it?”
“Are you really holding onto it?”
Kaine leaned back and toyed with the wine glass. “Only until BHCL has deposited the money into every account. Should take no more than a week to free up the funds. After a short delay to ensure there aren’t any shenanigans, I’ll send the files to DCI Jones. He can distribute them as he sees fit. Sir Brandon Banner-Hardy is going to prison and what’s left of his fortune won’t save him.”
Danny threw his free hand to his chest and gave Kaine a look of mock horror. “You lied to Sir Brandon, Captain? Shame on you, sir.”
Kaine laughed. “I’ll say three Hail Mary’s next time I’m in church.”
“Bloody hell, you still go to church?”
As if they’d have me.
The trill of Kaine’s mobile interrupted his reply. He dug the phone out of his pocket, hoping to see Rollo or Lara as the caller ID, but the display showed an anonymous text:
Pick up the next call. A friend.
He turned the screen towards Danny, who set his bottle on the table, but kept tight hold to its base. The mobile trilled again, this time with a call.
“Going to answer it, sir?”
“Don’t see why not, do you?”
He hit the speaker button.
“Hello?”
A man spoke. “Hullo there, Mr K. How ya doing?”
He sounded young and cheery, the accent a sort of Cockney mashed with the hint of an Aussie twang. Almost as though it was forced.
Kaine sat up straighter, eyes searching the restaurant for signs of danger, but they were alone. Even the waiter had disappeared into the galley. Danny leaned closer, straining to catch the caller’s words above the crashing of the sea against the hull and the shuddering throb of the powerful twin marine diesels.
“Hello yourself, Mr …?”
“Call me, Corky. You did a bloody good job at the Corpulent Canard last night. Nice one, mate. That Brutus was a real heavy dude. Evil, you know? But you took him out just like that.”
The snap of clicking fingers jumped out of the mobile phone’s speaker.
“How did you get this number?” Kaine asked, trying to calm his churning thoughts.
“Don’t worry about that for the moment, Mr K. You’re still safe. Corky ain’t told no one where you are or where you’re going and he never will. Corky is your friend.”
Kaine found it difficult to trust someone who referred to themselves by their first name. He looked at Danny, who shrugged and shook his head.
“How can I be sure of that?” Kaine asked.
“You’re still free and clear and on that big boat to … well, we’ll keep that info off the airways, okay? Best to be safe.”
“Okay. What do you want?”
“Don’t want nothing but to help, Mr K. Didn’t introduce myself properly last time ’cause I wasn’t sure you were serious about helping the families, the ones you call The 83. I was worried your trip to Scotland last month might have been a one-off.”
“Are you satisfied now?”
“’Course I am or I wouldn’t be making this bleeding call, would I?”
Despite his high state of alert, Kaine smiled. The man was gently irritating, but hard to dislike. The fact that Danny dropped his shoulders and raised his bottle to his lips said he felt the same way.
“Okay,” Kaine said. “Explain yourself. What do you want and why?”
“Like I said. I only want to help you protect The 83. Ain’t it obvious? You see, at the moment, you’re talking to what is probably the best information acquisition specialist in the world.”
“‘Information acquisition specialist’? You mean you’re a hacker?”
“Mr K, you don’t got no cause to insult me like that. Hacking is carried out by spotty kids in attics who don’t know what they’re doing and just get lucky now and again. Me, I’m an artist. A Rembrandt of the keyboard, if you like. Trouble is I’m bored. Don’t have no real challenges left for me.”
“Really,” Kaine said and relaxed enough to take another sip of wine.
“How’s the Fitou, Mr K?”
“What—”
Kaine shot to his feet, but the restaurant remained empty, and he’d confirmed the absence of surveillance cameras in the area before making his choice of tables. Danny reached for the knife in his boot, always on alert.
Corky laughed. “That got you, didn’t it? No, I don’t have no eyes on you, but I do have access to the electronic tills on that tub. How was your steak? Or did your mate who don’t like being call Pinkie, have the beef while you had the lamb?”
Another chuckle burst through the speaker. Kaine and Danny exchanged glances. Danny puffed out his cheeks and pulled his hand away from the dagger.
“That was just a demonstration of my skills. Of course, I wouldn’t have had a clue what you’d bought specifically, but as you’re the only ones in the restaurant, it weren’t difficult to guess. They don’t have cameras in the posh dining room, but I did see you head into the place a while back.”
“Okay,” Kaine said, retaking his seat. “You’ve made your point. What do you want, money?”
“I told you, I don’t want nothing but to help you. Didn’t I prove that already with the Greeks?”
“Okay, in that case, tell me how you knew they were in trouble.”
“That was easy. I’ve been watching The 83 since I learned you wanted to protect them and—”
“How?” Kaine interrupted Corky’s flow.
“You what?”
“How did you learn I wanted to protect The 83?”
Corky tutted. “I was coming to that, but let me finish one story first, then I’ll tell you. So, I set up a load of stealth programs to flag up any major changes in the families’ circumstances. You know, anything that might show them as being in trouble. Told you I was clever.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Anyhow, a few months ago, before the … let’s call it ‘the incident’, and before I started snooping on them, the Greek restaurateurs had that sudden drop off in till receipts. Last Friday, I found out that someone were putting the pressure on them and all their neighbours, and that’s why I sent you the text.”
Kaine nodded to himself. Corky had answered one question, but plenty remained.
“Okay, Corky. You’ve given us the demo and I have to say I am impressed. What happens next?”
“Dunno, Mr K. That depends on what my algorithms say and what you want from old Corky. If you like, I’ll be y
our ears on the world.”
“Not sure I need another pair of ears.”
“If you mean that stunning bird what lives in Paris? She ain’t nowhere near as good as Corky,” he snapped, for the first time showing signs of mild annoyance. “She never told you about the Constantines, did she?”
“The woman in question is busy. She has to work for a living.”
“Yeah, that’s what I mean. If you let me, I can help you full time. I’m loaded, see. Don’t need to do no more paid work. You and me can decide who to help together.” He paused for a moment before asking, “Well, what do you reckon?”
“I call the shots, Corky. No one else. Tell me how you found me and I’ll give you my answer.”
Corky sniffed. “Promise to keep it to yourselves?”
“I can’t make that sort of promise on insufficient information. But if you play straight with me, I’ll do the same with you. Will that do?”
“It’ll have to, I suppose.”
Kaine looked questioningly at Danny, whose expression was noncommittal.
“So, how did you find me and why are you so interested in me and my problems?”
“Okay,” Corky said, “I’m gonna hold you and Corporal Pinkie to your promise. Don’t think I won’t find out if you jabber but … well, I’ve been sort of taking an interest in what a senior cop who works in Birmingham has been up to.”
DCI Jones?
“You’ve been doing what!”
“Yeah, I know. Please don’t tell the old bloke. I’ve sort of taken to him, you know? Father figure if you like. Been teaching him about social media and the internet and stuff. Baby steps. Trying to help drag him into the real world has been a struggle. Don’t worry, though. He’s learning. Bloody sharp geezer when he puts his mind to it. Trouble is, he’d go ape-shit if he knew I were checking up on him.”
Kaine scoffed. “You think?”
“Yeah, okay, but it’s for his own good, too. He’s starting to tread on important people’s toes and I’m looking out for him.”
“In what way?”
“Er, in what way am I looking out for him?”
“No, Corky,” Kaine said, exasperation edging into his voice. “In what way is Mr J upsetting the movers and shakers?”
“Oh, right, I got ya,” Corky answered. “Well, you know he’s trying to get you a full exoneration, right? Trouble is, it don’t suit the UK Government’s official position on a certain arms company. In short, they’re happy to hang you out to dry. Mr J’s kicking up a fuss, but they’re freezing him out. I’m a bit worried he’ll do something stupid like go to the press or resign or something.”
“Hold on one second,” Kaine said, hitting the mute button as the waiter appeared with Danny’s pudding. He released it again when the man, looking a tad the worse for the wild motion of the ship, staggered back to the galley with their empty dinner plates. “Sorry about that, Corky. What can I do to help?”
“You might want to think about releasing your evidence to the press. I know you kept a few copies. It would take the pressure right off Mr J.”
“Thanks for the advice, Corky. I’ll talk to Mr J and take his advice on the matter.”
“You do that, Mr K, but don’t tell him we’ve been chatting. Anyhow, that’s it for the first part. If you’re happy receiving my help, I’ll keep in touch. Now, I bet you’re real keen to know why I really called tonight, yeah?”
Kaine sighed. “Okay, I’ll bite. Tell me.”
“Ever been to Haarlem?”
Kaine shot a look at Danny who’d started tucking into his apple pie and crème anglaise, a thin version of custard Kaine found intensely average. Clearly the corporal had lost interest in the conversation and resumed his primary goal of cramming as much food into his face as possible.
“Harlem, New York?” Kaine asked.
“Nah, Haarlem, the city just outside Amsterdam, The Netherlands.”
Danny stopped in the middle of loading his spoon and nodded.
“My colleague has, but I’ve never had the pleasure. Why, what’s in Haarlem?”
“Ah, now here’s an interesting thing. One of The 83 just landed himself in a spot of bother.”
Danny lowered his spoon to the plate, wiped his mouth with the cotton napkin provided, and leaned in, concentration written all over his face.
“What sort of bother?” Kaine asked
“The killing a young woman and getting banged up for murder kind of bother. You interested?”
Danny nodded, Kaine agreed.
“We’re all ears.”
“Okay, it ain’t much, but I’ll tell you everything I know.”
Corky talked for ten minutes before ending the call abruptly with, “That’s all Corky’s got for now, but I’ll keep looking. Be in touch when I know more.”
Kaine lowered the phone to the table and drained his glass. “What do you think?” he asked Danny.
“I reckon we’re going to Haarlem, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Kaine said. “I rather think we are. How long will it take to get there from St Malo?”
“A good few hours,” Danny said, digging out his mobile and hitting the power button. “I’ll find out, assuming the internet’s still operating on this tub.”
“Thanks.”
Kaine picked up his phone and started dialling.
“You calling the villa?” Danny asked without raising his eyes from the screen of his smartphone.
“Yes. Rollo needs to know where we’re going and I need to know he can still look after the Doc.”
“Sure you do.”
“Danny!”
“Sorry, sir. Can’t help myself.”
Kaine hit send but after the five rings the villa’s voicemail kicked in. He left the agreed coded message and waited for the call back.
And waited.
Thirty minutes later, with Kaine’s emotions in turmoil and dozens of scenarios running through his head—each more frightening than the last—his mobile jangled.
“Hello?” he almost shouted into the phone.
“Ryan, it’s me. Everything okay?”
Lara’s educated and carefree voice was a balm to his shattered nerves. The relief flooding through his system stopped him scolding her for breaking telephone protocol by using his real name.
“What took you so long to call back?”
After a slight hesitation, she said, “Rollo and I were … outside. We only just picked up your message. What’s wrong? Is the weather really bad?”
Before the ferry sailed he’d reported to Rollo and given him their weather-affected docking time. Standard protocol.
“No, nothing’s wrong, but there’s been a development. We’ve had to change our plans.”
Kaine winced in preparation for her angry response, but her calm, almost casual, “What’s happened now?” came as a surprise.
It was almost as though she didn’t care. His joy and relief at hearing her voice turned into an unreasonable disappointment. He took a breath before launching into his explanation.
“Texter called. Turns out he knows our mutual friend who works in Birmingham.”
Kaine paused, hoping for a response, but none came.
“Are you still there?”
“Yes,” she said, her tone flat, almost emotionless. “We’re still here. You’re on speaker, by the way.”
“Good, okay. Someone in Holland needs our help.”
“Really?” Rollo asked before adding, “Good evening, Captain. How’s the trip? Has the young corporal started throwing up yet? He never was much of a sailor.”
Danny looked up to the ceiling, but kept quiet.
“Good evening, Sergeant,” Kaine said.
He interpreted the amusement in Rollo’s words as the sergeant’s way of keeping Lara in check—his recently discovered ‘Uncle Cuddles’ persona rearing its benign head.
“I understand you’re changing your itinerary?” Rollo asked.
“Exactly,” Kaine said and started talkin
g.
Chapter 29
Friday 30th October—Morning
The Port of St Malo, France
The on-board announcer called the foot passengers to the mustering point, and Kaine shunted his Bergen into a more comfortable position. He’d had a fitful night’s sleep, kept awake in part by worrying about how to deal with the Lara situation and by the idiot in the next cabin whose snores cut through the wafer-thin partition wall.
At three in the morning, Kaine considered storming the information desk and demanding to change cabins for one with at least a hint of sound insulation. Then the snores stopped. Danny must have turned over in his bunk. The next thing Kaine remembered was Breton music flooding the PA system in Brittany Ferries’ quaint version of an alarm call.
He and Danny had eaten a full breakfast in a near-empty café, and now stood side-by-side, waiting to disembark. They’d pre-booked a hire car and were bound for the bustling mayhem of Haarlem instead of the more restful delights of Aquitaine.
“Weather’s cleared,” Danny said, looking through one of the salt-stained windows to a view of the port. “Should get some sun today, according to the forecast.”
Kaine yawned but didn’t respond. Unlike the energetic Danny, he wasn’t a morning person and could cheerfully have gone another three hours without talking. A uniformed officer drew open the bulkhead door, thanked them for sailing with Brittany Ferries, and wished them a safe onward journey.
Kaine stepped into the covered gangway and inhaled the cool, clean air of Northern Brittany. Passport in hand and Danny at his back, he shuffled forward with the rest of the passengers. In the customs zone the Bergen just about squeezed into the tray and passed through the x-ray machine without sounding the alarm. Danny’s smaller pack caused less of a problem and they were through into the port terminal within seconds.
Dozens of people filled the baggage claim area, but Kaine focused his attention on the signage, searching for the car hire bureaux. A slim, dark-haired woman crossed his line of vision. The way she moved seemed familiar. His heart flipped.
Lara?
Couldn’t be. She’d been playing on his mind, screwing with his imagination. The woman passed behind a big man in a heavy roll-neck sweater.
Rollo.
Ryan Kaine Page 24