‘Where’s the PM?’ he asked.
Evans’s hand hovered over the door handle. ‘Touring Europe,’ he said. ‘Trying to negotiate new legislation with some of the bigger member states in the European parliament to give us Brits a bit more control as to how laws are applied in our country.’
Dan stood and faced the door as Evans opened it and welcomed Hugh Porchester. Dan shook his hand and then waited while the man placed his briefcase on the floor and settled into a chair.
Dan took the opportunity to remain standing at ease, stretching his neck and back muscles as the other two men exchanged brief pleasantries before launching into their meeting.
‘All right, Evans, what happened?’ asked Porchester.
‘Mr Taylor was attacked at the hospital this morning. With this.’
Evans pushed a copy of the report towards Porchester, who pulled a fountain pen from his jacket pocket and began flicking through the summary pages, writing notes in the margins as he worked through the document.
‘Why wasn’t Taylor in a military hospital?’ he asked eventually.
‘We decided it would be better if he were placed in a private hospital, sir. No-one knew who he was there, or what he’s done for this country.’ Evans pushed his own copy of the report out of his way and clasped his hands on the desk. ‘It was deemed to be safe after a thorough investigation, I can assure you.’
Hugh Porchester flung his copy of the report to one side and tapped his pen against the surface of the table. ‘You’re a lucky man, Taylor. First capture in Eastern Europe and then this.’
Dan pulled out a chair and sank into it, exhaustion threatening to consume his already frayed nerves. ‘Any idea what’s going on, sir?’
Porchester leaned forward. ‘None whatsoever, I’m afraid. Although,’ he added, placing his pen back in his jacket pocket, ‘I’ll be doing everything I can at our end.’ He turned to Evans. ‘I’ll pass on a copy of this report to the PM, see what his suggestions are. If he authorises it, I’ll contact MI5 and find out if they’ve got any intelligence on this.’
‘It would’ve been good if they could’ve warned us,’ Evans grumbled.
‘I get the impression from this report that it was a rush job,’ said Porchester. ‘Only a select few people knew Taylor was in that hospital.’
‘Have the guards been debriefed?’ said Dan. ‘Why weren’t they closer? No-one came running until I hit the emergency alarm.’
‘It seems they were distracted,’ said Porchester. ‘I spoke with their team leader before I came here. There were reports of an intruder in another unit of the hospital, closer to yours.’
‘Let me guess – nothing there when they arrived?’
‘Correct.’
‘Well,’ said Evans, ‘the sooner we get you back to hospital, the better.’
‘Forget it.’
‘What?’
‘I said, forget it,’ said Dan. ‘It’s quite obvious you can’t protect me when I’m in there, so I’m better off out of it. God knows what they’ll try next.’
‘You must rest!’ Evans turned to Porchester. ‘Please – tell him. His health depends on a full recovery!’
Porchester stood, gathered the report pages together, and slipped them into his briefcase. He paused. ‘Exactly what do you have in mind, Taylor?’
‘First I want to find out who the hell betrayed me.’
‘Evans is right. You need to rest.’
‘We have a traitor, sir. Possibly endangering other lives.’
‘Your concern is noted, Taylor,’ said Porchester and turned towards the door. ‘We’ll look into the mission. I’ve got a copy of your report.’
‘So, I’m free to go?’ asked Dan as he followed.
The politician nodded. ‘I can only imagine that you’ll be like a caged animal if we try to insist on sending you back to finish your recovery.’ He shifted the briefcase in his grip. ‘Just try to stay out of trouble until your psych evaluation next week, all right?’
Dan paused, his fingers wrapped around the door handle. ‘Do you know who she was?’
‘Lana Portnova. Russian.’
‘Russian? Why the hell do the Russians want me dead?’
Porchester shrugged and waited until Dan opened the door for him. ‘We’ve got no idea, Taylor. You’re collecting quite the list of enemies, but this is the first time we’ve been aware that you’ve managed to piss off the Russians as well.’
CHAPTER 6
‘So, if I need to make contact in the meantime, who’s my liaison officer?’
Dan turned to Evans as he was ushered out of the man’s office and folded his arms across his chest. He raised an eyebrow.
Evans raised his hands in defeat. ‘All right, I can see you’re not going to leave this alone. But stay under the radar, okay?’
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Come on. I’ll introduce you to Melissa.’ Evans brushed past Dan. ‘Hopefully you can work out what her problem is while you’re at it,’ he murmured.
‘Problem?’ Dan picked up his pace to keep up with the man. ‘What problem?’
Evans ignored him and instead stalked along the corridor, pausing only to tell his secretary to hold his calls for another twenty minutes.
He slowed as they approached an open-plan office, its entry cordoned off by plate glass. As Evans lifted his access card to the swipe panel, he glanced at Dan.
‘That, over there, is your new analyst.’
Dan looked over to where he pointed and saw a girl barely out of her teens sitting at a desk between two computer monitors, her gaze flashing from one to the other, fingers flying over the keyboard in front of her.
A soft woollen hat had been pulled over her hair, her eyes barely visible underneath its knitted rim. Blonde hair stuck out in clumps around the back and sides before tumbling over her shoulders, and a ring piercing shone at her bottom lip. She wore a black long-sleeved top; an old green army jacket slung over the back of her seat.
Her head dipped up and down as she worked; a pair of headphones over her ears blocked out the white noise of the other workers around her.
‘I’m surprised you let her get away with the clothing and the music,’ Dan grinned, his gaze taking in the smart business clothes of the other occupants in the glass pod.
‘She’s a genius,’ explained Evans. ‘We actually recruited her after MI5 arrested her for hacking into their database three months ago.’ He sighed. ‘We tried with the clothing thing, really we did, but we worked out pretty quickly it was much easier to simply let her get on with her job.’
‘Wow. Like that, huh?’
‘Yes,’ said Evans with a glint in his eye. He opened the door to let Dan through, barely able to contain his mirth. ‘And now, she’s all yours.’ He moved across to the desk and motioned to the woman to lower her headphones. ‘Dan Taylor, this is Melissa Harper, the new addition to our team of analysts.’
She stood, and Dan managed to stop his jaw hitting the floor before shaking hands. He glanced down to make sure she wasn’t wearing heels and was rewarded with a pair of purple laced-up boots sticking out from the end of her ragged jeans. He raised his eyes, and met Melissa’s steely gaze.
‘Nice to meet you,’ he said.
Melissa rolled her eyes and turned to Evans. ‘What’s he doing here?’
‘I need your help,’ said Dan, gripping her hand until he held her attention once more. ‘And Evans tells me you’re good at what you do.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Melissa,’ interrupted Evans. ‘Perhaps you could show Dan where the kitchen is and a computer for him when he’s back in the office. Maybe sort him out with a new mobile phone to start off with?’
‘Whatever.’
Dan let go of her hand and watched in amusement as she moved towards a storage cupboard behind her desk, unlocked it, and selected a new smartphone.
Evans slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Have fun,’ he said. ‘I’ll talk to you later in the week if the
re’s anything to report.’
‘Yeah, cheers.’
As Evans hurried away, Melissa sauntered back across the office and held out the phone.
‘Try not to lose this one.’
‘Thanks. I’ll do my best,’ said Dan, not bothering to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
‘Come on, I’ll show you where the kitchen is,’ she said and brushed past him. ‘I’ll have to sort out a computer for you another time. I’m busy.’
‘Great – I’ll have a coffee. White with one.’
He grinned as she almost tripped and then glared at him over her shoulder and followed her out the door and along the corridor, back towards the elevators he’d passed with Evans.
Before she reached the doors, Melissa turned right and led the way into a state-of-the-art kitchen, complete with eight-burner stove top and three microwaves. She made her way across to one of the stainless steel kettles, tested its weight, then flicked the switch and began searching through the cupboards.
‘Hey, look,’ said Dan, sliding onto one of the stools next to the large bench that ran the length of the kitchen. ‘I think we got off to a bad start.’
Melissa finished prepping the coffee and then flipped the switch as the kettle began to boil and poured the water into the mug before turning to him. She folded her arms across her chest, her face a picture of misery. ‘I didn’t ask to be your babysitter,’ she said exasperatedly and then opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a carton of milk, tipping a large splash into the contents of the cup. ‘Evans seems to think you need help. Trust me, I’ve got better things to do,’ she added and slammed the refrigerator door on its hinges.
‘Well, looks like you’re going to have to put up with me for the time being,’ said Dan, trying to keep his temper. ‘Given that no-one else here wants to work with you.’
‘Coming from you, that’s just great.’ She handed him the steaming mug of coffee.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, no-one’s tried to kill me,’ she said and flounced out of the kitchen.
Dan’s mouth curled up as she disappeared. ‘Yet,’ he growled, taking a sip. He spat out the coffee and glared towards the door.
‘You forgot the sugar!’
***
Dan rode the elevator to the ground floor, checking through the messages Evans’s secretary had handed him before he’d signed out.
‘Welcome back, Dan.’ She’d smiled as he’d scribbled his signature across the paperwork and took the newly-issued security pass. ‘I hear you’re going to be working with Melissa Harper.’
He’d grimaced. ‘Word gets around fast, Steph.’
‘You’re a perfect match.’
‘Very funny.’ He peered at one of the messages. ‘Well, well, well.’
‘Thought you might say that. Have you spoken to her recently?’
‘No.’
‘Maybe you should.’
Dan raised an eyebrow.
‘She phoned every week,’ explained the secretary. ‘I gave up writing down the messages after a month.’
‘Ah.’
‘Does the boss know your friend used to be a journalist?’
Dan had glanced over his shoulder as Melissa passed them, her gaze deliberately ignoring him and pretending to be busy with the folders she hugged to her chest. He turned back to Evans’s secretary and grinned. ‘He will soon.’
He frowned at two of the messages, copied the phone numbers from one into his new mobile as the elevator descended through the building and then crunched up the papers and threw them into a secure shredding bin on his way past the security gates in the foyer.
He pushed open the glass doors and stepped out into the darkened street outside, glanced up at the full moon that bathed the city and took a deep breath.
Rest and recovery, Evans had said.
That was the last thing he wanted, especially as someone clearly wanted him dead.
As he stood on the kerb, a taxi pulled up and the driver leaned over and lowered the window.
‘Were you wanting a taxi, mate?’
Dan checked his watch and then rubbed the stubble on his chin. It was too late to travel home to Oxfordshire now; he was hungry and only carried the battered kit bag at his feet.
‘No, that’s okay. Thanks anyway.’
‘No problem.’ The taxi driver pulled away, turning left at the end of the street and towards the busy west London railway station two streets away.
The sun had disappeared over the horizon an hour ago, and his stomach rumbled as he realised he hadn’t eaten all day, only surviving on coffee.
He wracked his memory and recalled an Italian restaurant about a mile’s walk away. An idea began to form in his head.
Dan hefted his kit bag onto his shoulder and then pulled out his mobile and flicked to the only number in its memory.
He took a deep breath and hit the ‘dial’ button. ‘Here goes,’ he muttered.
The phone rang twice before she picked up.
‘Sarah Edgewater.’
‘Fancy dinner?’
He heard her sharp intake of breath before she replied.
‘I don’t hear from you for over three months, and then you phone and ask me out to dinner?’
His mouth quirked, despite her fractious tone. ‘I figured if I met you in a public place, you wouldn’t be able to kill me.’
A burst of laughter filled his ear. ‘You bastard. Where?’
‘Remember that little place off Praed Street?’
‘I do.’
‘Meet you there in about an hour.’
He hung up before she could argue or ask him further questions. He’d rather savour the time with her over a decent meal and a bottle of wine than try to talk while he stood on the pavement.
He tucked the phone back into his pocket and set off in the direction of Paddington, a slight spring in his step.
CHAPTER 7
Dan took a swig of the bottled Italian beer and then set the cold glass on the wooden surface of the bar and ran his thumb over the condensation that ran down its side.
He couldn’t remember the last time a beer tasted so good. He closed his eyes and cricked his neck, and then shook his head and turned on his bar stool to face the room, his gaze catching the Premiership football game on the small television in the corner.
‘Cold enough?’
He grinned at the man behind the bar who’d spoken. ‘Perfect. I’ve missed these.’
‘Yeah, well, we’ve managed to keep our stock up since you’ve been gone the past few months. They don’t seem to disappear as fast.’
Dan picked the bottle up and tipped it towards the man. ‘Up yours, Marco.’
His comment was met with raucous laughter and a one-fingered salute, before the door opened and a couple stepped over the threshold, making a beeline for the takeaway pizza menu pinned to the far wall.
Dan chuckled to himself, took another sip, and cast his eyes around the small restaurant as Marco welcomed the newcomers and took their order.
He always enjoyed Marco’s company. The man was ex-British Army with Italian parents and had taken over the family business after his parents had passed away. They’d spent many late nights regaling each other with their escapades.
The ones Dan could talk about, at least.
The business had made some changes over the times since he’d first been here three years ago, and had introduced a takeaway pizza service to boost custom in the evenings after the commuters who provided the lunchtime trade had left the city centre for their homes.
Dan enjoyed the atmosphere and the location. It was conveniently far enough away from the office end of his work, secluded enough that he could avoid large crowds, and the people that ran the place respected his privacy.
Not to mention the fact they served the best Italian food in the city, as far as Dan was concerned.
He glanced up as the door opened once more, and his breath caught in his chest.
It had been
over a year since he’d last seen Sarah, months since he’d last spoken to her, and each time she had the same effect on him.
Tall, slender, she’d had her pale brown hair cut so it fell just below her shoulders, framing her face.
As the door closed behind her, she hefted her bag up her shoulder and dropped her mobile phone into it.
After several years working as a successful journalist, she now freelanced as a media adviser, preferring to stay clear of big corporations and instead helping small charities and environmental groups. She’d admitted to Dan that the career change meant renting out her cottage in the Oxfordshire countryside while she stayed in the city, but the work was more rewarding, something for which she was grateful.
He stood as she approached, put the empty beer bottle on the bar, and enveloped her in his arms.
‘Hello,’ she murmured.
‘You smell nice,’ he mumbled into her hair.
She chuckled. ‘You’ve been drinking.’
‘Only had one.’
‘Hungry?’
‘Yes.’
‘You always are.’
He drew away and grinned at her. ‘It’s good to see you.’
‘You’re still a complete bastard for not returning my calls.’
He dropped his hands from her arms and nodded, his face rueful. ‘I am. I know.’
She frowned, leaning closer to look at the scratches and bruises on his face. ‘Secret stuff?’
‘Yeah.’ He glanced across at Marco and then pointed to a table at the back and raised his eyebrow. Once he’d got the all-clear, he took Sarah by the hand and led her through the restaurant, pulling out a chair for her that faced a wall-to-ceiling mural of the Amalfi Coast, and then lowered himself into a seat that faced the restaurant.
Sarah smiled as she placed her bag under the table. ‘Some things don’t change.’
Three Lives Down (A Dan Taylor thriller) Page 4