The Becket Approval
Page 32
Aristotle walked up the street and stopped a few metres from him.
Gunnymede held out the bottle to him.
‘I won’t, thank you,’ Aristotle said.
‘I’m trying to imagine being under there right now. It’s very cold and lonely.’
‘They estimate two hundred dead.’
‘Not a bad day’s work for Saleem.’
‘Two hundred is a lot better than a few thousand.’
‘I only care about one of those,’ Gunnymede said, taking a drink.
‘There’s been no explanation for the doors yet. No one is owning up to closing them. There’s a suggestion it was a technical problem. The failsafe position for the doors is closed.’
‘We’ll have to blame someone. It’ll probably fall at the feet of some engineer currently on holiday somewhere who hasn’t even heard of this yet.’
‘Harlow told me to tell you that despite everything, it was a job well done. You must accept it could’ve been a complete disaster if you hadn’t worked it out when you did.’
‘I didn’t. Bethan worked it out. She’s the hero of the hour.’ He took a drink. ‘Saleem told me the source of the plan was a British politician.’
‘Saleem?’ Aristotle found that interesting. ‘I don’t suppose he told you who.’
‘He was about to but he had to shoot off. A meeting in hell he had to attend.’ Gunnymede looked beyond Aristotle to see Neve approaching. ‘Ah! Neve. Step into my office. The Greek was just leaving.’
Aristotle decided that was probably a good idea and walked away.
‘Arsehole,’ Gunnymede muttered, taking a sip.
Neve took Aristotle’s place and leaned against the parapet to look at the water.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘We covered all of that. Two hundred dead. Faulty watertight doors. Congratulations to me.’
‘She was very brave. I didn’t appreciate her.’
‘You didn’t have to. I didn’t either. Actually that’s not true. I just didn’t want to. So, there’s a vacancy if you want to fill it.’
‘I think I’ll pass if that’s okay.’
‘Wise choice. Life expectancy is not too great for the women in my life.’
He held up the bottle. ‘To Captain America’s sister!’ He emptied the last of the Scotch into his mouth and threw the bottle as far as he could into the river.
‘If you want to blame someone, blame Spangle,’ she said.
‘Of course. Spangle is everything. But there is a positive side. As long as he’s free, so am I.’
Gunnymede walked away.
Gunnymede was sprawled on his couch in his clothes. Several empty bottles of assorted alcoholic beverages littered the coffee table, a full ashtray and empty fag packet amongst them.
A persistent knock on the door eventually woke him up and he struggled to sit up. The knocking continued and he checked his watch. It was a bright day outside which he far from appreciated.
He got to his feet, stumbled to the door and opened it.
Charlie was standing there.
‘What the fuck do you want?’ Gunnymede asked.
‘I need to talk to you.’
‘I’m not in the mood,’ Gunnymede said, closing the door.
Charlie stopped it from closing fully.
Gunnymede opened it again and looked at him coldly. ‘If I could attempt it without falling over I’d punch you.’
‘It won’t take a minute ... please.’
‘What is it?’
‘Can we talk inside?’
‘What is it?’
Charlie sighed, controlling his frustration. ‘Jack’s dead.’
‘Jack Henderson?’
Charlie nodded.
‘How?’
‘He shot himself.’
Gunnymede considered the news. ‘I can understand that. Is that it?’
‘I need to ask you something,’ Charlie said. ‘But not out here.’
Gunnymede sighed heavily and stood back to let him in. ‘Wait a minute. How did you know where I live?’
Charlie shrugged.
Gunnymede shook his head, made his way unsteadily into the kitchen and set about making himself a cup of coffee. ‘I’d offer you a tea or coffee but as you’re not staying long, I won’t.’
‘You know about Jack.’
‘Not until you just told me.’
‘I didn’t mean that.’
‘For fuck’s sake. I can’t handle anything cryptic right now. If you want to communicate with me you’re going to have to keep it very simple.’
‘The Becket Approval,’ Charlie said, studying Gunnymede.
Gunnymede poured boiling water into a mug and stirred it. ‘That is a statement?’
‘You know Jack was the operations officer for the Becket Approval.’
‘Not exactly.’
‘The position needs to be filled.’
Gunnymede sipped the drink which was too hot. ‘Why are you talking to me about that organisation?’
‘Like I said. The position needs to be filled.’
‘You’re asking me?’ Gunnymede said.
Charlie stared at him by way of an answer.
‘First of all,’ Gunnymede said. ‘Forgetting how utterly bizarre that concept is. Why are you asking? I mean, who the fuck are you?’
‘It’s not my idea.’
‘It’s not your idea to come here and ask me to take over Jack’s, what is that, a murder squad. Is that a hobby? Who’s idea was it?’
‘I can’t say.’
‘You can’t say.’
‘I don’t know exactly.’
‘Exactly?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I’m still asleep and dreaming, aren’t I? There’s a technique I read about that you can use to test if you’re in a dream or not ... what was it? Oh yes. Bite the end of your fingers.’ Gunnymede bit the end of a finger. It hurt. ‘You need to leave,’ he said to Charlie. ‘Please. Now.’
‘This wasn’t a good time.’
‘It will never be a good time.’
‘I was told you’d be interested.’
‘By a hidden voice? Please go.’
Charlie rolled his eyes and went to the front door. Gunnymede opened it, Charlie left the flat and Gunnymede closed it behind him.
Gunnymede went into his lounge and to the balcony windows where he sipped his coffee and looked at the Thames, shaking his head in disbelief as he looked back towards the front door.
He put a hand in his pocket, felt something and retrieved it. It was his ornate SIS badge.
He opened the balcony doors and held it as if he was going to toss it. And he might’ve done had something deep inside not stopped him.
He dropped the badge onto the coffee table and went back to watching the Thames.
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