A man in a slate grey suit and a white shirt and screaming lime green tie with matching handkerchief stood outside his local pub. He held his cell phone to his ear, waving to a few of his team that had arrived late – miming that they needed to get a drink in and that’s be five minutes.
“Yes, hello Capitan Grigorescu from the Special Intervention Brigade, please. Yes, I’ll hold.” He paced around the pavement, trying to stay warm whilst a subordinate officer hunted for his boss in the city of Craiova.
“Yes, hello.”
“Capitan Grigorescu, it’s DCI Jason Roberts, how are you?”
“Wondering why you are phoning me, Jason.”
“Would it brighten your day if I said I had Constantin in custody?”
“Oh yes, it would. Tell me where and I will have my staff travel there and arrest him for our charges.”
“Good to hear, don’t be too kind with him. Secondly, I have another three bodies for you. Two are Alex’s men, still trying to ID them as we speak. The other may come as a surprise.”
“I am intrigued.”
“It’s Stefan Stefanescu.”
“Oh, that is a great surprise. We thought he was on your side, Jason.”
“So did we Capitan, so did we. Send your staff over and I’ll have mine meet them at the airport.”
The Op Orion team started to drift in to their favourite watering hole. A group of people as eclectic as they could possibly be. Career police officers, former police officers, those that had never quite hung up the handcuffs, the ex-soldier, sat quietly drinking his orange juice, a civilian, and a serving soldier who was destined for a kick up the backside and an off-the-record handshake from his boss twelve thousand miles away.
The soldier sat with the civilian, closer now than they had been allowed over the previous few days. Call it chemistry. Cade was fine with it. Genuinely. Whilst it was good it was great, but he knew he needed to let go of those summertime images and he couldn’t think of a finer man to take his place. He would rather consider McCall a friend than an enemy.
She was a lot like her mother and very much like her father – the real one who created her in a wild night in Brussels when her mother was simply doing her job. Nikolina, Niko to her friends was a career Intelligence Officer, the best. Adaptable, gifted, smart and attractive. It was what the Eastern Bloc countries did so well, some even went as far to say they were the greatest export from the countries that had cowered behind the Iron Curtain.
Cade knew that if Niko had survived, the woman he sat next to would have never featured in his life. But she hadn’t and O’Shea had. And that was the end of it.
O’Shea’s was an insidious friendship, as ivy slowly emerges, climbs, then twists around its host so she had with Cade. They had been so close to making the relationship permanent. A few knew, that needed to know.
John Daniel was one of them. Retired, living a wonderful life on the other side of the world, running a restaurant and serving the best to tourists and locals alike. He had admired Cade from day one, had a few deviations along the way, once where Cade had questioned his true loyalties, however, it seemed that Daniel was a river that ran very deep. His loyalty was without question and in the covert world of that necessity to know he was as airtight as a fresh jar of strawberry jam and as with their seeds he stuck in a person’s teeth long after the taste had passed.
He looked across at the man he had come to consider a younger brother, possibly even a son, and he smiled. Cade nodded back, smiled and took a sip of the Talisker Dark Storm. Roger, the east Londoner and landlord of The Sanctuary had bought it in especially, his treat he said, kindly.
Cade breathed in the dense air, the old girl hadn’t been painted in years, its ceilings a dark shade of ochre and the carpets as sticky as warm tarmac. It wasn’t a bad old place really, had even survived the Blitz – and importantly it was theirs. It was a tradition at the end of every operation to meet there and raise a glass, or two. To absent friends, and ex-colleagues, and the victims that had played their part. And to the Queen, naturally.
That left the man leaning on the time-polished wooden bar top, its brass fittings soaked in overrun pints of local beer and a damp bar towel here and there.
He rubbed his elbow. It was wet and stank of beer. His wife wouldn’t mind, she was good like that. And she knew he would always come home.
He had been a detective sergeant when he first met Cade. It seemed so long ago, and yet, at the same time, last week. He looked at him and held his gaze for a second, then nodded and commenced one of his world-famous speeches.
“Right, you bunch of muppets, listen in.” They did, glasses were placed on splintered beer mats, potato crisps were left in their packets and all waited to hear the man they called, with affection, the governor.
“You know when this first all started, I was very unfair to blame ex-Inspector Cade for bringing some of the chaos from his world into ours. And I know, that with the benefit of time and hindsight that this was wrong.” A few started clapping. Roberts raised his hand. “No, please. I was going to say, in actual fact he is entirely responsible for bringing chaos to our city!” A loud cheer erupted. A few beer mats were thrown, and Elena took the chance to run her hand discreetly across McCall’s thigh.
“As I was saying…the last few months have been a mixture of hideous events and total teamwork, and I wouldn’t want to work with anyone else. I know Mr Cade and Mr Daniel endorse this. You see, when the team that once called itself the Seventh Wave first rode into town Jack said they’d be a problem, but DCI Jason ‘Ginger’ Roberts, being a smartarse decided to ignore him.”
A pin could have dropped.
“And I was wrong. When I first saw that young Romanian lad lying on the mortuary slab I knew we were dealing with something a little bit tastier than your average villain. And, if I’m honest, that excited me.” He took a sip of his ginger wine.
“Ooh, that’s nice, you savages should try it sometime.” He swallowed it and allowed its heat to warm him through.
“Well, the day has come to stand you all down. We’ve lost some good people. Cynthia…” They raised a glass. “Steve Hall.” Another. “And I never thought I’d say this, but I lost a brave soul too, a covert source of intelligence that I first met when her meat and two veg slipped gracefully onto my chin!” A louder cheer. “It’s a long story folks, ask Jack, he’s got the film rights. But that source, a woman we’ll call Harrier, died a painful and needless death. Let’s be under no illusion. These were nasty bastards of the highest order.”
He turned to O’Shea, put his hand on her shoulder. “And when I first met this fine lady she had just finished stabbing a DCI with a pencil.”
O’Shea stood up. “Hang on a moment, guv. I stabbed Clive Wood with a pencil, God rest his soul. I punched the DCI.”
“May the record note the changes to the minutes, please?”
“Indeed, guv, unless you fancy a taste?”
“No Carrie, I don’t. I’m happily married, which reminds me I need to Foxtrot Oscar soon. Before I go, I want to also acknowledge you for your outstanding support to the two teams you have worked on. You have literally risked your life, and that doesn’t go unnoticed. The Commissioner wishes to catch up soon, he’s got a little something for you. Now, moving on, I understand John is heading back to New Zealand in a few days, once he’s knocked out a few statements and been to Aqua Scutum to buy a new raincoat. One only hopes it’s not the type they wear down on the Embankment late at night…if you get my drift?” He taped the side of his nose with his index finger, then allowed Daniel to reply.
“I am. Jason. Team, it’s been a bloody honour. Coming back out of retirement was exactly the right thing for me to do, an itch that needed scratching. The night that double-decker bus flipped south of the city and the morning that poor girl was found in the river…” He stopped and looked at Elena. “I’m so sorry, how insensitive.”
“It’s OK JD, I forgive you, just spend the rest of your life lo
oking over your shoulder! Or give me a bed at your home in New Zealand. Yes?” She gave him her best raised eyebrow and flirtatious smile, which gained a cheer of approval and caused the senior man to blush.
Elena spoke.
“I have loved working with you Jack, thank you, for caring for my mother, she thought a lot of you I’m sure. You’re everything she said you would be. I am very…” She searched for the word. “Grateful. Yes, that is word I am looking for.”
She felt a tear of regret and willed it away. The times she had spent with Cade were wonderful and she too had to delete the memories of the past. With luck, she may have a future with the soldier and his pocket full of diamonds.
Cade stood, raised a glass. “To you all. I’ve been told by none other than the Home Secretary – who has paid for this round – that the Orion team has been so successful it’s going to stay as a regular squad, the idea being that it deals with stuff the other units can’t. Sounds like the sort of team I’d want to be on. But for now, I shall button up my overcoat, step outside and go and pack my case. I’m heading home to New Zealand soon, but first I’m heading to see my folks, then Spain, catch up with an old uncle who’s got a few war stories to tell. Carrie….”
She looked, awkwardly at first, then relaxed. “Jack?”
“I’d like it very much if you would join me.”
She stood, awkwardly at first, then straightened out her back. She took a breath, felt her heartbeat rise, and then replied.
“Do you really think I would travel to another country with the man what has twice allowed me to nearly die?”
Cade knew he had one shot. Adopting a familiar big screen pirate voice he said, after a comedic pause. “Ah, but you didn’t die, did you, my love...?”
She went to punch him, hard, on the top of his arm, he held up his hand and watched it splatter blood across the bar. “It seems I am also at great risk of dying if I hang around you much longer! So, what’s it to be?”
She looked at Roberts who shrugged, Daniel followed suit.
“OK, but you are paying and if you step out of line just once.”
“As if I would expect anything less.”
“Watch Big Stan doesn’t try to run away with her Jack. She is a very pretty lady.” Elena meant every word. She had finally warmed up, borrowed clothes that she would never had chosen did their best to comfort her. McCall, too.
As Cade was leaving, he handed a heavy carrier bag to the soldier.
“Present for you, sergeant. I think you’ll find it’s all there. Spend it wisely. And look after her and above all enjoy the journey. But never, ever let her drive!” He held his hand out.
McCall stood, carefully shook Cade’s hand and allowed his face to alter from craggy into a beam of natural light. Conker-coloured eyes, white teeth, rugged, yet with a heart of gold, a man who put family first and his colleagues a very close second. He had a feeling they would meet up again one day.
“Thank you, brother. Kia kaha. It means…”
“Stay strong. I know. You too.”
He hugged Elena, held her just long enough. She whispered in his ear, “Thank you hairdresser car man. I love you. Always.”
He laughed, didn’t need to force it either. He let her go in more ways than one, gestured for Carrie to link her arm through his and walked out of the pub, onto the cold street where their breath filled the air around them with vapour. They felt alone in a city of millions.
“So, what’s it to be Miss O’Shea? New Zealand, London or will you join me in Spain?”
“The gentleman giveth the lady too many options, it seems. How about Old Queen Street tonight then we go from there?”
“Sounds good to me. In fact, as options go it sounds like the best. Do you think your elderly neighbour will be watching from her bedroom?”
“She might be…”
“Well, in that case it would be a shame to disappoint her, after all we did just save her and her people from a fate worse than death.”
“Did we, Jack? Really? Or was it just hard work and some sheer bloody luck?”
“Both. But I was always told the harder you work, the luckier you become. Come on, let’s go and give Liz a show, shall we?”
“Jack, you are beyond naughty sometimes.” O’Shea feigned an awkward smile.
“Says the girl who embarrassed her postman once!”
She was blushing now, and it wasn’t the cold that made her cheeks rosy, it was the memory of that morning in the hallway of her apartment block.
New Zealand it was then, and as soon as possible, she was sick of the cold and in her mind she had already packed exactly what she wanted in her suitcase. Spain would be next.
“Jack. Just one question before we get to my place and set the world on fire.”
“Go on.”
“Me or her?”
“You really expect me to answer that?”
“I do. And I don’t mind either way.”
“You do. But for the record, you. Quality over quantity any day.”
“Seriously Cade I will stab you whilst you sleep you know. Right in the pancreas.”
“Crikey, that’s very specific. Very painful too, I should imagine, but just think of the make-up sex!”
“You’d be wearing make-up, Jack? Kinky to the end…”
“You have no idea lady…”
She shook her head, smiling, linked her arm through his, dropped her head onto his shoulder and let the frigid city air extract her fears and nightmares. She loved the capital, adored its history and the people, and best of all she loved being there with him as it slowly exorcised her demons.
He was smiling too, and she saw it as they walked past the shopfront of a city icon. It had been a very long time, all good things, and all that.
The team drifted away, mostly to their homes, some to hotels, one to an old girlfriend who was there when he needed to vent, before heading home to his wife, who no longer understood him.
And by eleven they were all gone. Early doors. Another day lay ahead for many of them. The tide never stopped visiting the city, as one threat passed another lay in wait. Complacency had no place in the teams’ vocabulary. They lived to fight another day because they knew how to fight.
Roger pulled the three darts out of the board, placed them back in the holder and closed the small wooden doors. He rolled the eight ball down the green woollen baize, allowing it to ricochet off the bottom cushion and into the bottom pocket. He didn’t look back, he’d done it so many times. As the ball dropped into the gulley he wiped down the bar tops, hung up the cloth and then locked the door, turned off the lights and went upstairs to bed.
Epilogue
James Cole, the British Prime Minister sat and stared at the package on his desk. It had been laid reverently onto a white cloth and guarded until he had entered his office. He looked, looked away, paced and then spoke.
“Sassy, when I asked Cade for proof that Alex Stefanescu was no longer a threat, did I specifically request that he send me part of his body?”
“Well, to be fair Prime Minister, you did.”
He pushed the package with a borrowed ball-point pen, rolled it around until it showed the black tattoo.
“Definitely his?”
“One hundred percent. The fingerprints were checked with our Romanian police colleagues. They’ve asked for the hand as a memento.”
“Sick bastards. How do they sleep at night Sassy?”
“I’ve no idea, James.”
“Ah well, send it to them with my love, won’t you. It looks cold, get it a glove.” He smiled his trademark smile and walked around the desk. Held her hand.
“I need to do this Sassy, you understand why?”
“I do, but in equal parts I don’t James. Ride it out, it won’t last forever.”
“It will, trust me, this is only the beginning. I’m strong enough, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to drag my party down with me. We have managed to keep the wolf pack off our backs, and that’
s in a large way down to the Orion team. Shielding the press from the dissolution of the monarchy was a master stroke, thank you. But the exit from Europe is a whole new ball game. Thoughts?”
“Let the public decide. That way if they get it wrong in true political style we’ll have someone to blame.” She shrugged her shoulders and pulled a face.
“OK, I’ll bow to your greater knowledge of the people. Hold it back until the twenty-seventh of May.”
“State Opening of Parliament?”
“Can you think of a better time? We’ll seek a referendum, thus putting the power back in the hands of the people. Her Majesty will be briefed, things will be put in place, at the highest possible level and financial chaos and public disorder will be averted. We’ve got three months. Get to work now…and Sassy.”
“Sir.”
“We need to find a new police minister too.”
“Of course. Hopefully, the next one will be vetted a little closer than his predecessor.”
“Dear God Sass, how did we miss that? A bloody gypsy. Insidiously weaving his way through parliament with one goal. Power and good fortune. If this ever gets out, we are finished. I blame my predecessor.”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t you? Look Jim, I’ve met real Roma, they are good people, look at the help we received from our counterparts in Bucharest. We simply cannot tar them all with the same brush. Simply can’t happen. We’ll score a whole lot more Brownie points if we play to their strengths, say that he was a successful man, regardless of his background, that he made it to the top, despite the challenges etcetera, etcetera.”
“Sassy, that bastard was looking to take us all down. Every last one of us. Release a statement to the press that says Harry Halford was a good man, had the country and its people in high regard, died a terrible death because of his beliefs and his job and so on and so forth.”
“You mean lie?”
“I mean exactly that.”
“And what about the part that says you signed his death warrant?”
Seven of Swords (The Seventh Wave Trilogy Book 3) Page 66