Ryan leaned away and gave Damian another appraising stare. “And what makes you say that?”
Rhino nodded and jabbed himself in the chest with a thumb the size of a small cucumber, “I’s the only Tribesman with a family they care about, and I know fo’ sure you other spy ain’t one of TM’s Goons.”
“Okay,” Ryan said, “that remains to be seen, but I can certainly give you the benefit of any doubt. You’ll need to prove your worth, though, but if you do …” he paused, apparently, for emphasis.
“Yeah?” Rhino asked, leaning forwards.
“If you do, we’ll make sure you and your family are set up for life. Relocation, new identities, financial security, the full works. Think of it as witness protection.”
“Really? You can do that? You a Fed?”
Ryan’s extended sigh screamed exasperation. “Damian,” he said, “this isn’t the US, we don’t have the FBI here. However, in our own small way, if we can’t match their resources, we can at least come close. So, are you in? Do you want the chance of a new life away from Walthamstow and the Tribe?”
Damian placed his palms flat on the coffee table. “Ain’t nothin’ keepin’ me in this crap-hole ’sides poverty. I don’ got no family but Ariel an’ the baby.”
Ryan smiled. “That’s good, Damian. Really good. We have ourselves a deal.”
“What I gotta do?”
“We’ll start easy. When’s TM’s next transmission?”
“Monday,” Rhino answered, without hesitation.
“Twenty hundred hours?”
Damian scrunched up his face. “Er, yeah, s’right. Eight o’clock in the evenin’.”
The second answer took a little longer, and required Damian to convert military timing into civilian by subtracting twelve. In the gang member known as Rhino, they weren’t exactly dealing with a lightning-fast mind.
“If you wantin’ me to record the meetin’ or take a photo of the screen, that ain’t happenin’, Mr Griffin. TM don’ allow no one to use mobiles during a meetin’. If Demarcus Williams or any of the Goons see us take out a phone when he on screen, the man caught get a serious beatin’. In front of the Tribe.
“First and only time it happen, they broke the boy’s jaw an’ one of his kneecaps. Kid ended up in hospital fo’ three weeks. Lost his front teeth, too. Walk with a limp now, permanent. One of the little ones. Only thirteen, answerin’ a call from his mamma. Pitiful, it was. The kid was wailin’ and screamin’ for help.” Rhino swallowed hard and shook his head slowly.
Lara slammed the side of her fist on the table, unable to help herself, fatigue driven away by anger at the thought of a child being beaten senseless by a gang of fully grown men.
“None of you lifted a finger to help?” she demanded. “How many Goons were there, compared with the rest of you?”
Damian lowered his head, seemingly in shame. “There was four of them at the time, Mrs Griffin. All with clubs and knives. On top o’ that, Demarcus Williams carry a gun. A huge chrome-plated semi-automatic. An’ he ain’t afraid to use it, neither. We all seen him shootin’ rats in the courtyard out back overnight when the trains go past. Don’ rarely miss what he aim at, neither. Cold fucker, he is. S’cuse my language, Mrs Griffin. Loves to kill and hurt things. His eyes was shinin’ when he was layin’ a beatin’ on the kid. Nah, we couldn’t do nothin’ to help him. I wanted to, though. Honest I did.”
Ryan covered Lara’s right hand with his and squeezed a little, offering comfort and encouraging restraint.
“Okay, Damian,” Ryan said, teeth gritted, lips a thin stiff line, “I understand.”
Lara understood, too. She understood the meaning behind Ryan’s expression. Ryan wasn’t a man to let someone get away with bullying, not if he could do anything about it. She already knew him too well. In the previous fourteen hours, Ryan had marked three men for his particular brand of attention: Barcode for putting a hand on her, Demarcus Williams for leading the attack on a teenage boy, and Top Man for instigating the whole sorry business.
Given her basic pacifist nature, she almost felt sorry for the three men marked for Ryan’s retribution.
Damian took a deep breath. “That weren’t the worst of it, though. Nah. TM was eggin’ the Goons on and cacklin’ the whole time. The motherfucker’s laugh sounded real strange through the electronics. Creepy, y’know? Like somethin’ out of a horror movie. Made me shiver, it did, and I seen plenty of beatin’s, both inside and outside of a cell.”
He raised his left hand to finger the ugly scar, which stood out pale against his ebony skin.
“When they drag the kid out, unconscious, TM call it a lesson we all needed to see. Ain’t no one used a phone in a meetin’ since, and I ain’t gonna be the one to start.”
“That’s pretty much what our intel is saying,” Ryan said, pursing his lips, deep in thought. “We’ll have to come up with a simpler, low-tech way of signalling when TM’s making his transmission. All we need to know is when TM’s online and when he’s off again. One of our men will track his signal back to an IP address, and then we’ll have his identity.”
“Whacha mean, ‘low-tech’, Mr Griffin?”
“Is there a window in the meeting room?”
“Yeah. The den used to be an old school. Plenty of windows in the Hub, what used to be the main assembly hall.”
“Covered or uncovered?”
“The windows? Yeah, they got thick, black curtains blockin’ all the windows facin’ the road out front and on one of the sides. The other side look out over the railway lines. Nobody can see in for miles. An’ they’s covered with vertical blinds, y’know?”
“Okay,” Ryan said, nodding and giving Lara’s hand another squeeze, “I know how we can handle this. Don’t worry, Damian. I’m certain we can do this without causing you any distress.”
For the next couple of minutes, Ryan explained what he expected of Damian and made him repeat the instructions to ensure the man knew his precise role.
“Okay now, Damian,” Ryan said. “You’ve finished with your coffee, I see.”
Ryan stood and rested a hand on her shoulder when she tried to stand with him. She relaxed back into the stiff padding of the bench seat and took note of the way Ryan dismissed Damian at the end of the meeting. He was used to commanding men, and it showed in their responses.
Damian jumped to his feet with the speed of a jackrabbit. “Yeah, Mr Griffin. I’s finished. And don’ worry, sir. I’s not gonna let you down. I got this good.”
“Excellent, excellent. You won’t mind finding your own way back to your car, will you? It’s only a couple of kilometres. You know the way from here, right?”
Disappointment flashed in Damian’s eyes, but he nodded meekly and headed for the exit. Halfway to the door, he turned and dipped his head to Connor and to Lara. “Mrs Griffin, I really did wanna help that kid, y’know. The kid with the busted knee, I mean. Hated to watch it happen. Good evenin’ to you.”
She returned his nod, but didn’t otherwise respond. The powerfully built man pushed through the door—the bell rang—and headed into the cold, wet night.
The second he disappeared past the window and around the side of the building, Ryan nodded to Connor, who jumped up and left the café through the fire exit.
“Ryan?” Lara asked, without needing to elaborate.
Ryan smiled. “Not to worry, love. Connor’s going to make sure our friend doesn’t lose his way.”
“You mean he’s confirming Damian’s not doubling back and trying to eavesdrop on our conversation?”
“My word, you are learning my moves, aren’t you. I’m impressed.”
She smiled.
I hope so, my darling. I truly hope so.
Since the day they met, she’d been studying Ryan Kaine and his methods closely, trying to absorb everything that made him tick.
Like it or not, sooner or later, Ryan was going to need her help. And, when that day arrived, she wouldn’t let him down. She would never let Ryan
down.
Chapter 17
Sunday 19th February – Overnight
Walthamstow, NE London
01:35.
Kaine listened for movement from the room behind the serving counter. Nothing. The barista that Connor dubbed “Armando Dundee” hadn’t woken to the tinging of the doorbell. It appeared as though Aussie baristas slept deeply.
“Fancy a top up?” he asked, pointing to Lara’s empty mug.
“Yes please, Ryan. It might help keep me awake.”
He nodded. “You look exhausted, love.”
“Gee, thanks. You know just how to flatter a girl.”
“You don’t need any of my bull. It’s been a long and tiring day. I’m in need of sleep, too.”
“You are?”
“Of course.”
“But you don’t show it. You look as fresh as you did this morning, or was it yesterday morning? Darn it, I’m used to doing all-nighters at work, but this is different. I’m completely grey.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m more used to the tension of an op than you are. That’s all. Now”—he rubbed his hands together—“how about I fix you that drink while we wait for young Connor’s return?”
“You know how to work one of those fancy coffee makers?”
“Surely you can’t doubt my skills as a barista?”
“Certainly do. I’ve seen you in the kitchen, remember. It’s like you’re waging war on the crockery.”
“Ouch, you cut me to the core.”
Even though she was shattered and in the middle of an operation, she could still stir his heart.
Lara eased out of her seat and sidestepped her way around the far side of the coffee table, pausing only long enough to give him a peck on the cheek along the way.
“That was nice, but I was serious when I asked you not to do it in front of the men,” he said, following her to the counter.
“Why not? Bad for discipline?”
“Nope. They’ll all expect one.”
He shot her another smile, which she returned then started messing with the chrome and black device that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the cockpit of a passenger jet. To Kaine, the scorched brown stuff dribbling out of the nipple at the end of the process tasted no better than a cup of instant coffee bought at any officer’s mess he’d ever had the misfortune to visit. He never could understand why the Hooray Henrys and Henriettas raved about it so much and were prepared to pay well over the odds for a serving. Some people had so much more money than sense.
On the other hand, Lara seemed to enjoy it, so it must have some merit.
The machine spluttered out its creation and Lara filled fresh mugs. Armando Dundee had earned enough that night, he wouldn’t baulk at washing a few cups. She added cream to hers, but left Ryan’s unadulterated.
“Here you are, Captain,” she said, playing the subordinate to perfection. “Sorry it isn’t instant. I know what you think of this fancy stuff. Can’t blame you, though. Give me a cuppa any day.”
She never ceased to surprise him.
He took a sip and grimaced.
“I wonder where that machine hides all the flavour? Does a fantastic job of making this stuff taste of absolutely nothing. It’s no wonder people have to add half a spice rack to it. Still”—he took another sip—“it’s hot and it’s wet. Mind you, I’ve actually tasted worse … in a coffee house in Istanbul. Turkish coffee is even more inferior to this dishwater. As you know, I like my coffee strong enough to descale a kettle.”
They returned to the corner booth and she leaned heavily against him, leaving her cup on the table, untouched. He threw an arm around her shoulders and she snuggled tight. Seconds later, the steady rhythm of her gentle breathing told him she’d drifted into a deep sleep. He sat still, nursing both his coffee and his girl.
Rarely during an operation had he felt so on edge. He couldn’t let anything hurt her, which was the reason he summoned Connor Blake. They’d worked together a few times, and the former soldier had always acquitted himself well. On top of everything else, for this particular mission, his colour and his background as a born-and-bred Londoner made him a perfect addition to the team. Blake wouldn’t be out of place anywhere in the neighbourhood and would be perfect as Lara’s personal bodyguard. A win-win all around, and one that would allow Kaine free reign to handle anything the Tribe could throw at him—hopefully.
With Lara leaning heavily against his arm, he considered the upcoming mission. The Tribe wasn’t a well-organised military unit, or even a heavily armed and disorganised militia. There were, at worst, half a dozen paid men, the shadowy TM, and a few unwilling kids who, if he believed Damian, had been forcibly co-opted into the fight. If he took out TM and the Goons, in all likelihood, most of the Tribesmen would run. A question mark hung over Barcode, of course, but Kaine had a special place set aside for the tattooed man. A place of pain and suffering.
Despite the apparent weakness of his opposition, Kaine knew better than to underestimate them entirely. He’d do that at his peril.
One option would be to wait until he’d gathered more men around him, and that would remain a potential alternative. If a direct assault on the Tribe’s Hub proved to be too dangerous, he might well call in some more support. On the other hand, any delay would extend Lara’s exposure to danger, not to mention Darwin Moore’s discomfort, and that of his neighbours.
For the moment, all his choices remained open.
The first tasks on the agenda were to assess the full strengths and weaknesses of the opposition and identify TM. Only then would he be able to formulate a battle plan, making sure he and Lara remained undercover.
Lara moved under his arm.
“How long will Connor be?” she said, her words muffled by his sweater.
“Thought you were asleep.”
“Just needed a little catnap,” Lara slurred. “It’ll tide me over until we’re back at the hotel.”
She arched her back, stretched an arm towards the ceiling, and used her free hand to hide an expansive yawn. He passed across her mug of coffee.
She took a sip and winced. “Cold.”
“Sorry, but it’s not surprising. You’ve been asleep thirty minutes.”
“Really?”
“Given me a dead arm, too,” he said, flexing his fingers and working the life back into his hand.
“No sign of Connor?”
“He won’t be long. Perhaps another five minutes. When he returns, I’ll brief him on the situation and give him his orders.”
“But he’s here to help you take the tribe down, right?”
“In part,” he admitted. “He’s damned good at his job and I needed someone reliable and at short notice.”
“You know, I’m not a liability, Ryan,” she said, setting the mug down on the coffee table.
He stiffened and straightened in his seat. “Where on earth did that come from?”
“Connor’s here for my protection rather than as your backup, and don’t bother denying it,” she said, turning to face him, but leaning slightly away.
“I have no intention of denying it. Connor will be sticking to you like superglue.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “While we’re in the field, you should treat me like any other member of the team. You saw how I handled Barcode, and you did say you were impressed with my reactions at the reservoir. Was that bull—”
“Lara, stop right there.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. “Just because you dealt with Barcode that one time, doesn’t mean you’re ready for action.”
“Ryan, the Tribe is nothing more than a bunch of thugs. You and Connor will be able to take them down with one hand tied—”
“Please, Lara. You know better than that. In battle, there’s no such thing as ‘nothing to worry about’. If I thought for one moment I could convince you to go home, I’d have Connor and you in the car to the ferry, the minute he returns. But that’s out of the question. You want to see Darw
in Moore’s okay, I know that. But let me do what I can to make you safe. Please?”
Kaine reached out again. This time she let him take her hand, and allowed him to hold it tight.
“Thanks,” she said.
“For what?”
“Caring.”
“Of course, I care about you, girl. Haven’t you worked that out yet?”
“I meant thanks for caring so much about The 83, and for letting me help in my own way.”
“So long as you let me protect you, we’ll be good.”
The fire exit door screeched open and Connor stepped into the room, dripping wet. He removed his hat and coat, draped the coat on the back of a chair, and shook the rain from the hat before dropping onto the seat.
“A little damp outside?”
“Pissing it do—” He shot Lara an apologetic glance. “Sorry, Doc. I mean it’s pouring out there.”
Kaine grinned. Since being forced to join Kaine in hiding, Lara had treated everything from bullet wounds to stabbings. She’d even tended to the physical and emotional injuries suffered by the victim of a particularly vicious sexual assault. In every incident, she’d behaved impeccably, and her past performances during medical emergencies couldn’t be faulted.
During her spare time in the villa, she’d been boning up on human anatomy and physiology, and human medication. In fact, Kaine trusted her skills better than some of the field medics who’d treated his various injuries over the years.
Connor closed on the booth.
“Make yourself a coffee.”
“Thanks, Captain. I’m piggin’ freezin’. Brass monkeys are wandering around out there looking for welding gear.”
A few seconds later, armed with a steaming cup of sweetened black coffee, the former army sergeant returned to his original seat. A cold wave emanated from his clothing. Lara shivered and edged closer to Kaine, who wasn’t complaining.
After a loud slurp, Connor smacked his lips. “Nice, stuff. Needed that.”
On the Money Page 15