“The problem is that we have no idea who this Riddle is and are no closer to finding out,” she said
“We have one lead, Hambros Benedict. He knows him better than anyone.”
She walked round his desk pulling a chair with her, “May I”
She sat at his terminal and started pulling up files,” All we have on Benedict.”
There was lots of information over his arms dealing career. At one point MI6 had used him to gather information for them. He had dealt with every major rebel and drug lord in Latin America at some point, selling all of them guns. He had been a good source of background information which MI6 no doubt shared with the CIA.
“He may be an arm dealing scumbag but he seems to be a patriotic arms dealing scumbag, willing to help where he can,” observed Tim.
“Where does this get you though?”
“It gets me to the point where I think I need to ask him who this bloke is.”
“What, are you just going to go up to Benedict and say, by the way I am from MI5 and would you kindly tell me all about you and your partners illegal arms dealing activities? You think that will work. Do you?”
“Do you have a better plan?”
“No”
“Then it will have to work. I want the bastard who killed Jeff and my wife.”
Chapter 34
The last time Tim had walked the streets of Monaco it had been the day of the Grand Prix. The rain had been falling all morning and it was still drizzling at the start. The street had been crowded with people and every bit of available space had been occupied by stalls selling memorabilia and souvenirs Now the streets were quiet as he made his way to the Marina.
This is where it had all began. The Lady Heloise was still moored in the harbour, quiet now, not crowded with party goers. He could not help but remember with sadness the friendship he had with the Turkish translator and part time intelligence officer, Yosuf. He recalled their journey together and desperate struggle to stay alive. Yosuf had lost that struggle, killed by his ex–boss, Turkish Intelligence operative, Mehmet.
It could hardly believe it was just a few short months ago. He had met, fallen in love and married the most wonderful woman in that short time. The deaths just kept mounting as did his loss, his wife, Yosuf and his best friend Stiles, all gone. It all seemed so futile. So much suffering and pain for the greed of just a few men.
He made his way along the quayside and saw the diminutive figure sitting outside the café. Benedict had his coat pulled up against the inclement weather. The summer was over and the wind was beginning to blow, the water in the harbour rising and falling with the gusts causing the million dollar yachts to bob up and down. There was the sound of clanking as chains and ropes relaxed and tensed with the movement of the boats.
As Tim approached the figure, it was clear that this man was not the same man as the photos portrayed on his file. He had shrunk and his pallor was a grey. The grey Tim had seen in the face of his mother as her last days approached. The cancer was spreading rapidly and Benedict’s body was breaking down as the fight was being lost to its unstoppable progress.
He sat at the old man’s table. “You are watching?”
Benedict ignored him. He was fearful at the stranger’s arrival and even more fearful at his opening statement.
Tim continued, “You are watching and waiting.”
He was forced to respond, “I don’t want to be rude, but I do not wish to talk.”
“You are watching the Lady Heloise are you not?”
Fear now entered into Benedict’s mind, he feared that Tim was one of the Russians thugs sent to settle matters. “Who are you?”
“I am a man looking for someone. I am not here to hurt you.”
Benedict looked at his table companion as coffee was delivered. He did not know this man, but he knew intrinsically that he was not one of the goons that accompanied Yerik to the Lady Heloise. That did not mean however that he wished to engage with him. “Please respect my wishes.”
“I cannot,” said Tim, “it is too important to me. I need you to answer some questions.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Anthony Burr, I work for MI5.”
“I do not deal arms anymore. I am retired. I really have no interest in it any more. I have nothing to say.”
Benedict turned his face away and gazed in the direction of the Lady Heloise. Tim had not been sure what to expect but was not surprised that this man had turned inwards. His wife brutally murdered and facing imminent death by cancer, it was hardly surprising that he had no interest in Tim’s problems. Tim knew though that this man was his only link to the mysterious traveller to Crete, Riddle or Melville, the only suspect he had in the murder of his wife. Only Benedict would know who this man was and could expose his identity to Tim. Time was running out and this might be the only opportunity Tim might have to speak to him before the cancer claimed him.
Tim pushed on, “I am looking for a man, the man who was your partner. He goes by the name of Jimmy Riddle or Steven Melville?”
There was no reaction from Benedict who continued to look towards the yacht, waiting for the return of Mimi’s killers. He had no interest in helping MI5. He hated Jimmy, the Driver, but whilst he had caused his wife’s death, he had not cut her head from her body and the deaths of randyjim6552 and tomcock85 were top of his list. Whoever this Tim was, he was only interested in the Driver, not for some government inquiry or some such thing. The one thing MI5 was not, was an assassination squad. The one thing Benedict wanted for the Driver was his untimely death. The man sitting at his table certainly did not look the part of a merciless killer, he looked more like a pen pushing civil servant.
Tim realised he was not connecting with Benedict and was beginning to fear that he would never get the information and that his wife’s killer would never be punished. He had to try and engage him and spoke again.
“I have been on the Lady Heloise, it is owned by a scumbag called Sokolov Yerik. He likes to hurt people”
“I know this.”
“You want him dead?”
There was no response from Benedict. Yes, he wanted him dead and he wanted him in hell. He wanted Jimmy, the Driver, dead and he wanted him in hell. He wanted randyjim6552 and tomcock85 dead and he wanted them in hell. With luck, he would take some of them to hell with him. He would not let this MI5 man divert him. He would not risk missing his chance to kill these bastards personally. He would not risk Anthony Burr interfering in his last chance at vengeance. He ignored him.
Tim sat there and starred in the middle distance. Harriet had been right, this was no plan at all. There was no reason for this man to help him. His journey had been fruitless. He felt frustrated as he saw his chance of ever avenging his wife slip away. The realisation that his life was only fuelled by a desire for revenge shook him. He remembered another man who had spared his life called Mem or Annubis, a hired killer. Like His life had been driven by the need for revenge. In the end anything he might have been had been eroded, just being a killing machine that neither lived nor loved.
He looked at Benedict and tried to think of something, of anything that might get him to open up about Riddle. “It is personal,” he said.
Benedict turned for the first time and looked at Tim. He studied him slowly before turning back to his vigil of the Lady Heloise. He saw in Tim another desperate man who was looking for retribution. He was not persuaded however to divert his own cause to help this man. They shared hatred and that was all. He believed Tim when he said it was personal, but he needed to take this final path alone, no distractions.
Tim left ten euros on the table and pulling his coat around him he stood up. He was desperate and felt that the chance of finding Jackie’s killer was fading into the distance. He wanted to scream at Benedict, plead with him or threaten him, but he knew the dying man before him was treading his own lonely path and would not be distracted.
“I am sorry about your wife. My wife was murdered in Cre
te a few weeks ago, so I do know how it feels. I am truly sad for both of us,” Tim said as he started to leave the café.
The word Crete burned in Benedict’s brain. Jimmy had boasted of Crete. Was this the man whose wife the bastard had murdered? It was clear to him now, this man, this MI5 agent, this Tim was sent to him to wreak vengeance on the Driver. It was destined to be. Here before him stood the means of his retribution. This man would kill Jimmy for him. He would not just have the death of the bastards who had killed Mimi, he would have the death of the man who had been the cause of her death. Tim would be his avenging angel.
“Come to dinner tonight.”
Tim stopped and was about to ask what had changed his mind, but decided that might break the tie.
“The address is…” began Benedict.
“I know the address,” interrupted Tim
“Of course you would,” said Benedict, before resuming his watch of the Lady Heloise.
Chapter 35
Tim and Benedict stood on the terrace overlooking the Start Finish straight of the Grand Prix circuit. The wind had stopped with the coming of nightfall and the sea was tranquil in the moonlight. In contrast to the mood of the two men, all was peace and tranquillity in Monaco.
They had stood in silence holding their drinks. Tim was reluctant to push for answers and Benedict was still assessing the man from MI5. Neither wanted to pre-empt the situation and frighten the other off. They both had murder in their hearts, but their brain ordered caution.
“Tell me about your wife,” said Tim.
“What shall I tell you? I was a lot older and she was an ex-prostitute. Of course, foolishness and money was branded about. I saw it differently, I bought many things in my life, and none lasted long. Shoes, suits and jewellery all have their moments, but even if you buy a work of art, you can never keep it. You die and title is relinquished. So why not buy a woman that gives you pleasure and company in your old age?”
“What about love? “
“Are you a romantic Mr Bur?”
“Call me Tim, please. I didn’t think, it was a jaded outlook from my first sortie into marriage I suppose. Then I met Jackie only six months ago and it was an instant connection. So in answer I am a convert to romanticism.”
“Love is fulfilling, but now I find hate more sustaining. Mimi freed me. She had no inhibitions. She was pure in that sense, like a primeval being, like an animal. It worked in its way and in my way I loved her greatly. They took her from me in the most cruel and vile manner.”
“The Russians?”
“Yes, the Russians. Not for any reason, not as a punishment, just a message to be sent. She was no more than a letter to Jimmy. Pay up or you are next.”
The dinner was on the table. Benedict’s chauffeur was now the cook and the butler and signalled they should sit. They moved in and sat at the table. Benedict poured wine and they were left in peace to serve themselves.
“Tell me of your Jackie”
“There is so little to tell. It was so brief. I sometimes wake in the mornings and wonder if it really happened. In months we met, feel in love, married and she was murdered. Ultimately because of the same scum that killed Mimi. We share that at least, love hate and loss.”
The mood was sombre and they ate for a while in silence, each locked in their own memories. The atmosphere was interrupted when the next course arrived.
“What makes you think that my Jimmy murdered your wife?”
“I cannot be sure. I am hoping that you might fill in the blanks. If I tell you what I have learned and figured out. Will you do that?”
“I am not sure Tim. I have so much conflict in my mind. I am facing my own mortality, loss of my wife and it seems betrayed by the closest person in my life. I just don’t know. Tell me and I will think and see how I feel.”
Tim relayed the saga of the file sent to their home and Jackie’s abduction by Yerik to trade for its recovery. He described how he had returned from shopping, to their apartment in a hotel in Crete and finding the file gone and his wife and Stiles murdered.
“What brought you to my door?”
“The money, I followed the loans from the bank owned by the Russians and it led to you and more specifically to your partner Jimmy. I have also tracked the movements of a single male going under the name of Steven Melville who came to Crete and left, coinciding with the murders. The file goes missing and then the Russians no longer seem to be bothered by the money lent to your Jimmy. I think your partner, this Melville and the murderer are the same. I am hoping for two things from you, one, the identity of this Jimmy Riddle and two, that you can confirm my theory.”
“What will you do to Jimmy if he is the killer of your wife?”
“Kill him,” Tim said with icy simplicity.
I should like for you to do that, do you promise me that you will carry it out. I want him dead, not in prison, dead and in hell with me. Do you solemnly promise Mr Burr that is the course you will pursue?”
“I do. I want the bastard dead. I want it so badly I can taste the vengeance on my tongue.”
“Very well, Jimmy came to me to help buy weapons to sell to ISIS in Syria. He was financing it with his own cash and a loan from the Russians via the Baltic Bank, but he was short, twenty five million short to be precise. I lent him the money. Bear in mind we had worked together for nearly fifteen years one way and another. Then instead of paying the money back he disappears and I cannot contact him. The next thing that happens is that the Russians turn up at my doorstep looking for him and kill my wife to send a message.” Benedict stopped talking and his grief was pitiful to watch.
Tim said nothing while Benedict recovered his focus.” Something had clearly gone wrong and Jimmy must have lost the shipment and failed to get the payment. A few days ago, I get a phone call from him out of the blue saying that all is fine and he is paying me back. He clearly did not know that things were far from fucking fine and Mimi was dead.”
Tim said, “Did he say anything else, anything that ties him to the death of my wife?”
“The cunt killed your wife and friend. He said he had been to Crete. You have your murderer Tim. Now kill the fucker for my Mimi and your Jackie.”
Tim was stunned, he did not dare breath. He had his answer, but only a name, no face, no identity. He needed more from Hambros Benedict. “I can’t identify him. You have to tell me all you know.”
“I don’t know his real name. I have always known him as James Riddle. In this business people try not to want publicity.”
“Do you have a photograph of him?”
“No, he was careful. He called himself the Driver because he used to race. You may be able to track him that way.”
“Is there anything at all that could lead me to him?”
“He must have some sort of connection to the UK Government or a powerful friend. He could always seem to conjure up a passport anywhere he was if he was in trouble.”
“Anyone can buy a fake passport if you have the money,” Tim said.
“Not fake, they were genuine UK passports. Once in Colombia he was being hunted by the Government and he went to the Consulate and he just picked up new travel documents in a different name.”
There was no doubt that the Driver had murdered his wife, Benedict had confirmed he had links to one of the security agencies, backing up what Harriet had deduced from the passport numbers. He was no closer to identifying the Driver, he felt despair creeping into his mind.
“I have one thing, his mobile number,” said Benedict.
Tim’s pulse rocketed, “Got the fucker.”
Chapter 36
“Well, how did it go?” Tim was sat at his desk in Thames House and Harriet had taken the seat opposite. He had arrived back from his meeting with Benedict, no further advanced in his quest to find the location and identity of the mysterious Driver, He did know that he had the killer of his wife and the motive.
“I have a phone number, so I want you trace the owner.”
“At last something I can do easily,” she smiled. “Do you want to tell me what I am looking for? All I have been looking for are transaction relating to the Baltic Bank and associates. I am curious what you learned from your visit to Monaco.”
“I don’t think that is a good idea. Can you tell me who the phone is registered to?” She was tapping her tablet as he spoke.
“Just a minute,” she continued to input the details. He sat in silence and felt his anxiety levels rise. Was this the moment he would learn who killed his wife and friend Stiles? He felt his heart racing as he tried to maintain his calm.
“Not registered, I am afraid,” he felt the disappointment. He had the urge to actually cry with frustration.
He forced himself to think. “Can you access the phones records?”
“Of course, but the phone company will need a warrant to release them.”
“I could authorise it under the counter terrorism laws.”
“You could, but you would need an oversight signature, Elaine Wilkins could countersign the authorization?”
Tim found himself in a dilemma. The head of MI5 had warned him off twice in his pursuit of the Baltic Bank. Could he realistically go to her and ask her to instigate a breach of privacy on a matter that was clearly nothing to do with MI5? She would more likely pass the matter to the police or MI6. This was personal. He wanted this bastard to himself and he would not trust it to the police or others to prosecute. He had already tried and passed sentence on the Driver. That sentence was death.
“Is there any other way of finding the owner? He asked
“I could track it, or at least get the phone company to send us a history of it location. See which radio masts it pings. Where it stops at night should give you roughly where the target sleeps.”
“Won’t you need a warrant?”
Dealer (A Tim Burr Thriller Book 3) Page 13