by Matt Johnson
Toni was confident that, just as he’d boasted, the pistol I had seen Howard produce from a paper bag had been used to kill Maggie Price and the unfortunate drug dealer who, she’d learned from Howard Green, had crossed Grady’s path while leaving Maggie Price’s home. She also had no doubt that Howard’s intention had been to frame Kevin for the deaths with mine and Miles, her fellow agent, to be added to the list.
There would be an official inquest, she’d explained. The police had insisted on it, but they’d also confirmed the incident was being investigated as a drug-dealer turf war that Maggie Price had inadvertently become involved in.
So, for us, the game was over. For Howard Green, I suspected that whatever life he had remaining wasn’t going to be anywhere near as comfortable as he’d been used to. Toni’s second call had been to tell me that Howard had been handed over to a group she called the ‘sharks’. By that, she meant the men and women within the Security Service charged with monitoring and investigating the Service itself. The deal Kevin had predicted hadn’t happened. I’d asked what would happen to Howard. Toni had replied by suggesting I didn’t give it any thought.
It had been at the end of that conversation when I’d asked about Kevin and how she planned to bring the accusations against him to a close. Howard’s admissions had exonerated him from involvement in Sandi’s death, but there was still the question of the gun found in the boot of his car and his escape from custody. ‘I’ll let him tell you, himself,’ she’d said.
A day or so later, he’d called, and he’d said he wanted to talk to Jenny as well. And now he was here. I dropped three tea bags into mugs and, as I made the tea, he waited at the back door, surveying the garden.
‘Tidy,’ he commented. ‘Nice to see you’ve made use of your time off.’
‘Just don’t ask me to do yours.’
‘Yes … that’s one of the reasons I’ve come to see you.’
‘You want me to do your garden?’
He laughed. ‘No, in fact the house won’t be mine for much longer.’
‘You’re selling it?’ I asked, my curiosity piqued.
‘Will Jenny be long?’ He turned away from the window without answering my question and then pulled one of the kitchen chairs away from the table so he could sit down. The legs dragged noisily on the wooden floor.
‘You two talking about me?’ Jenny’s voice called from the hall. I turned and, in doing so, missed the second cup as I poured the milk. It spilled onto the counter.
‘Shall I do that?’ she asked.
Kevin stood up as she walked in. It was my turn to smile at his display of good manners.
Jenny also reacted, albeit a little more warmly, as she placed her hands on his shoulders and planted a noisy peck on each of his cheeks. ‘Hello, stranger,’ she said. ‘To what do we owe this honour?’
I sensed a slight barb to the tone in her voice, a slight emphasis on the word ‘honour’ that hinted at an underlying concern. I wasn’t quite sure if I was being oversensitive, so I decided to ignore it. The reason for it, I figured, was rather obvious. I’d told Jenny the detail of my conversation with Toni and about what had happened in Wales, at least up to a point. The part where Petre had held a gun to my head ready for Gheorghe Cristea to witness my execution was, I thought, a detail too far. During the car journey back to London, Kevin had agreed, and when I’d also sought Toni’s advice, she shared our opinion. Explaining that several people had died, that Kevin had been an intended framing victim and that an MI6 officer had been behind it was more than enough for any wife to have to hear. How close we’d actually come to being killed and the luck that had resulted in our survival would only have served to make matters worse.
Jenny finished making the tea as I joined Kevin at the kitchen table. He asked me how I’d been – good; how I’d been filling my time – the garden – as he’d just seen; and he then asked the same of Jenny. It was small talk, a nicety, before getting around to the real reason for the visit. We talked about the girls and Jenny told him how disappointed Becky had been to learn that she would have to wait for another time before she got to see her favourite ‘uncle’ once more.
‘OK…’ Kevin took a deep breath, as if he had a rehearsed speech prepared that he wanted us to listen to without interruption. Jenny sat next to me, took my hand and squeezed it tight.
‘So, where to begin?’ he continued. ‘Let’s start with Sandi’s death.’
‘Toni explained,’ I said.
‘That I’m off the hook?’
‘Yes. That Grady is now confirmed as the killer.’
‘OK, good. Has she told you about Mellor?’
‘No,’ I answered. ‘She hasn’t.’
As Kevin explained, we listened. And I must admit that I felt a smug sense of satisfaction to learn how the Superintendent had been caught out and how his mistake had been used to bring him to heel. I pictured the scene, the office Kevin described, and how the smile must have disappeared from Mellor’s face as he was confronted with what Toni Fellowes knew he had been up to. Satisfaction turned to emotion as Kevin went on to explain how Toni had applied the screws to ensure that Mellor adopted a more sympathetic approach to dealing with Doug Powell.
‘An ill-health retirement?’ I said, my voice croaking a little.
‘Effective immediately,’ said Kevin.
‘I wonder if I should speak to him.’
Jenny leaned in close and with her free hand she stroked my arm. ‘I think you should,’ she said. ‘It might be good for both of you.’
‘And what about you, Kev?’ I asked.
‘Ah…’ He paused. ‘That’s where things get complicated and why I needed to speak to both of you.’
I felt Jenny stiffen beside me. ‘You’re not staying in the Met are you?’ she asked, quietly.
‘I’m not, no. In fact, the reason I’m here is to explain that, if we are to continue to be friends, you’re going to have to get used to calling me by a different name.’
‘They’re putting you into a witness protection programme?’ I asked.
‘No … at least not exactly. I’m dead.’
‘You’re … dead?’
‘PC Kevin Jones, as we know him, died in Wales alongside Chris Grady and the others.’
‘How have they squared that?’
‘Using the body of Petre, I’m told.’
‘You’re serious?’
‘Couldn’t be more so. When Toni first took me in to see her Director I was pretty dumbstruck by the idea, I’ll tell you. But the more we talked, the more it made sense.’
‘So MI5 are giving you a new identity somewhere … a fresh start?’
‘Not somewhere, no. Here, in London. I’m now actually in MI5. They’ve given me a job and a new name.’
‘Which is what?’ said Jenny.
‘Harry Davies.’
‘Harry … Davies?’ I said. ‘Well, at least they picked a Welsh surname to go with your accent.’
‘Yeah, it was going to be Harry Cole but, in the end, I said I preferred Davies.’
Upstairs, I heard Charlie start to cry. ‘She’s hungry,’ said Jenny. ‘I’ll give her a feed and then see if she’ll settle.’
I glanced back towards the hallway as Jenny disappeared upstairs. ‘So, what exactly do MI5 have in mind for you, er … Harry.’
‘Something that may make you smile.’
And as he explained, I did more than that. I laughed, so much so that Jenny came down the stairs, our daughter firmly attached to her left breast, to discover what was going on. In her hand, she held a letter that she’d picked up from the mat near the front door. The postman must have called while we’d been talking.
‘Kevin … I mean Harry is going to be in charge of the ROSE office,’ I said, in answer to her quizzical look. ‘He’s being given Monaghan’s old job.’
‘But I thought that was the preserve of senior officers?’ she replied.
‘So did we,’ said Kevin. ‘But they think a middle-aged for
mer Sergeant can do it provided he’s under the supervision of a certain Ms Toni Fellowes.’
‘They’ll take anyone these days,’ I quipped.
Kevin laughed. ‘I had to do a two-day familiarisation and then another longer course in a week or so.’
‘So, Toni’s going to be your boss?’
‘Already is. I started yesterday.’
‘So, what will you be doing?’
‘Would you believe following up on the Al Anfal document?’
‘You’re kidding me?’ I said. ‘I thought that was dead in the water now that the press have hold of it?’
‘They got most of it, but not all. Toni found that a copy was being sold over the dark web. As it was just about to hit the public domain, the Director-General decided to get in first, sell a copy and cash in before anyone else could. The list of agent’s names was redacted though. MI5 have suffered a few prosecution setbacks this last year so I’m joining up with a team who are going to be knocking on a few doors over the next few weeks and months to see if we can’t redress that imbalance.’
‘They’ll know you’re coming, now that it’s been leaked.’
‘We don’t think so. Opinion is that the agents don’t know how detailed the document is.’
I caught sight of Jenny out of the corner of my eye. She was shaking her head from side to side and, I guessed, was thinking the same as me. The Security Service worked in mysterious ways. I glanced at the letter she’d dropped onto the kitchen table. ‘Addressed to you, Robert,’ she said. ‘Looks official.’
As Kevin and Jenny continued chatting, I picked up the envelope and looked at the writing. She was right. It looked like the official notification of my reinstatement. The Federation rep had said it would be with me soon. I placed it back on the table, thinking I could look at it later after our visitor had gone.
‘Why don’t you open it?’ said Kevin.
‘It can wait,’ I said
‘Go on,’ he answered. ‘Let’s confirm the good news together.’
I looked toward Jenny who just shrugged.
Picking up the envelope, I peeled back the opening and removed a single sheet of folded A4 paper. It bore the logo and address of the Met Commissioner.
‘What is it?’ Jenny asked.
‘It’s a letter from the Commissioner … I’m reinstated.’
‘Nice one,’ mumbled Kevin. ‘This is for you as well.’ He dropped a small, cardboard CD wallet onto the table.
‘What’s that?’ I asked.
‘Let’s just call it an insurance policy shall we? It contains recordings of interviews we’ve done with Howard Green and Jim Mellor. They’re both quite long so I wouldn’t trouble yourself to listen to them now, but I think you’ll find them interesting.’
‘Game over?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘Let’s hope so, boss.’
Acknowledgments
Without a publisher prepared to invest in an author, where would people like me be? Thank you to all the folks at Orenda Books for doing just that and to editor, West Camel who has guided me, challenged me and taught me so much over the last three years.
To my agents, James Wills of Watson-Little Ltd and Kaye Freeman at Andromeda Talent, I extend thanks for always being there when I’ve needed you and for your wisdom.
To all you marvellous book bloggers who read, review and do such a great job in helping authors like me build a readership.
To those serving and retired members of the emergency and armed services who have advised me, put me right, jogged my memory and corrected my errors, I extend a sincere thanks.
Thanks to my partner, Heather, who has read, checked and critiqued my drafts. Without you, Wicked, Deadly and End Game would never have been written.
And finally, thank you for giving up your time to read my work. I hope you enjoyed the unexpected result of a life spent keeping ‘the monsters from the weak’.
Matt Johnson
February 2018
About the Author
Matt Johnson served as a soldier and Metropolitan Police officer for twenty-five years. Blown off his feet at the London Baltic Exchange bombing in 1993, and one of the first police officers on the scene of the 1982 Regent’s Park bombing, Matt was also at the Libyan People’s Bureau shooting in 1984 where he escorted his mortally wounded friend and colleague, Yvonne Fletcher, to hospital.
Hidden wounds took their toll. In 1999, Matt was discharged from the police with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. While undergoing treatment, he was encouraged by his counsellor to write about his career and his experience of murders, shootings and terrorism. One evening, Matt sat at his computer and started to weave these notes into a work of fiction that he described as having a tremendously cathartic effect on his own condition. His bestselling thriller, Wicked Game, which was shortlisted for the CWA John Creasey Dagger, was the result. Deadly Game and now End Game, the final book in the Robert Finlay series, also draw on Matt’s experiences and drip with the same raw authenticity as their predecessors.
Follow Matt on Twitter @Matt_Johnson_UK and his website: mattjohnsonauthor.com.
Copyright
Orenda Books
16 Carson Road
West Dulwich
London SE21 8HU
www.orendabooks.co.uk
Wicked Game first published 2016 by Orenda Books
Deadly Game first published 2017 by Orenda Books
End Game first published 2018 by Orenda Books
This electronic omnibus edition published 2019 by Orenda Books
Copyright © Matt Johnson 2016, 2017, 2018
Matt Johnson has asserted his moral right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publishers.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
eISBN 978–1–912374–92–2