Yesterday's Sins

by James Green

  Henry Clarke-Phillips put her handbag on the table. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Highland Park, a large one, and don’t let them put any ice in it.’

  Charlie watched her as she walked away. He had sounded full of confidence but that was just show, he hadn’t been at all sure how this would go. He still wasn’t sure. They had sent someone, which was good, but was it good enough? They were supposed to look after him, but no commitment is ever open-ended. A line gets drawn under everything after a time. London might have decided to draw a line under him. He had gambled, in the Embassy that morning, that they would still be interested enough to answer a crash call. Not because of who he was but because it was a crash call. Now it looked as if the gamble had paid off. She had come right on time.

  Now everything depended on the reaction when he told her he needed her to kill someone for him.

  It didn’t seem to him like a big thing to ask but British Intelligence could get annoyingly picky about some things and there was always the cash angle. Extra work meant extra calls on their budget and they hated anything that took money out of their precious budget. Sometimes he thought he should have gone to the French, but that would have meant learning their bloody language and that was one yard too many. He sat down at the table and waited.

  Henry Clarke-Phillips came back with his whisky. She had a coffee. She put the drinks on the table and sat down. She wasn’t wearing an overcoat. God, thought Charlie, she must be freezing. He took a grateful sip and then raised his glass in salute.

  ‘What do I call you?’

  ‘I don’t know, what do you want to call me? Call me whatever you like.’

  The whisky was good. You had to be somewhere in the Louis C. class to be sure they would have it.

  ‘I’ll call you Henry, it’s easy to remember.’

  She sipped her coffee. ‘Get on with it. Why the crash call? And it better be good because I had to fly budget to get here. I even had to fly out of bloody Luton, for God’s sake, and when budget say Hamburg they mean Lübeck so I’m not in the best of moods.’

  ‘Money still tight in London these days?’

  ‘Yes, money’s always tight. But this wasn’t money, it was schedules. I wasn’t exactly sitting on my arse twiddling my fingers when I was given your call. By the time I could leave, it was the only flight that would get me here on time. Everything out of Heathrow or City seemed to want to go via Zurich or Geneva and take four hours. So, what’s this about? And it better be good, the journey was hell and I’m not wearing my thermal underwear.’

  Here goes, thought Charlie, and he tried to ooze confidence. It oozed, but only on the outside. Inside he was very nearly running on empty, but the whisky helped.

  ‘I know it’s a nuisance but someone is going to kill me and I think I might need your help.’

  ‘I’ll kill you if you don’t get to the point. Anyone else will have to get in line.’

  ‘Somebody put a bomb in my car but fixed it so I could get clear. It had to be a message, something to scare me. “I can reach you, I can kill you, I’ll kill you when I’m ready.”.’

  ‘You’re talking rubbish, you know that? Who puts a bomb ...’

  Charlie held up his hand.

  ‘Stay with me. I’ve thought about it, believe me, and I know it sounds nuts. But what else is there? Who puts a bomb in your car and lets you get out?’

  ‘How was that done?’

  ‘“Bang, you’re dead” through the sound system. I got out and off it went.’

  ‘No, I don’t buy it. You have to be wrong.’ He was losing her.

  ‘No I’m not. It has to be someone from the old days, from inside the system. There’s this guy called James Costello ...’

  The coffee cup went on to the table. ‘Again.’

  Suddenly he had all her attention.

  ‘A guy called James Costello turned up in Copenhagen about a month ago and yesterday morning ...’

  She stood up.

  ‘Wait here. I’m going to make a call.’

  She went to the far end of the terrace, took out her mobile and made a call. It didn’t take long and when she came back and sat down he could see he didn’t have to ooze confidence or anything else. Now she really wanted to hear what he was going to say, so he told her about the bomb, the Comedian and James Costello. He told her everything. When he had finished he watched her. Costello had hit a chord all right. He was pleased with himself, he could still make the right call about people.

  ‘I knew I was right about Costello. If you know him then he’s from inside the system somewhere and that makes it certain. He’s the one who has me as a target. Somebody must have told him where I was.’

  ‘Why? You’ve never seen him before, you don’t know him.’

  ‘I made plenty of enemies I don’t know and plenty I’ve never seen. Sometime or other I must have done something and he’s taken it personally. Now he thinks it’s payback time. It doesn’t matter what it’s about, I don’t care what it’s about. I just want him out of the way. I want him dead.’

  But she seemed to have switched off her interest. He didn’t like how this was going. One minute she was all over him and couldn’t listen carefully enough; now he’d told her what had happened and why, she’d completely lost interest.

  She stood up.

  ‘Book in and then we’ll get something to eat. It’s cold out here and I’m hungry. I’ll be in the restaurant. What shall I order for you?’

  ‘Steak will be fine. Rare.’

  ‘Hurry it up, I have to get back to London.’ And she walked away.

  Charlie went to reception and booked in then he joined her in the restaurant. It wasn’t busy so she’d been able to get a table where they could talk. But when he sat down she didn’t seem to want to talk. She just sat there with her mobile on the table and, as he had nothing more to say to her, he sat there as well until the food came. They were well into the silent ritual of their meal when her mobile rang. She didn’t bother to leave the table to answer it. She just listened. Then put it away in her handbag. Now she was ready to talk.

  ‘Well, well, aren’t you the lucky lad? It looks like you’re going to get your wish.’

  ‘Was that London?’ She nodded and resumed her meal. ‘And they agreed?’

  She nodded again. It was too simple. He had asked her to kill someone, to kill Costello, and he was going to get what he had asked for, just like that. It was too simple. There had to be a catch. He went back to his steak, it was good. He decided to forget the catch and enjoy it. She would tell him what the catch was when she was ready. He summoned the waiter.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘We’ve changed our minds. We will have wine after all.’

  ‘Certainly, sir. I will bring you a wine list.’

  ‘No, don’t bother. Just bring us a bottle of your best red that’s under a hundred euros. You have a red at that price?’

  ‘I’m sure we can find you something, sir.’

  The waiter left. She was looking at him. What the hell, it wasn’t her money and now he had something to celebrate.

  ‘See how economical I’m being with your money. Less than a hundred euros won’t get you much of a wine in a place like this but, for your sake, I’ll drink it. I know you wouldn’t begrudge me a little celebration drink after getting my good news.’

  The waiter returned and placed glasses on the table then left. She went back to her meal. The waiter returned with the bottle and was about to pour some wine into Charlie’s glass.

  ‘Don’t bother, we’ll pour it ourselves.’

  The waiter put the bottle on the table and left. Charlie poured himself a glass and held the bottle out.

  ‘Not for me. It’s your celebration. You drink it.’

  Charlie took a sip of the wine. ‘Do you know, it’s not at all bad. Are you sure you won’t have a glass?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  Charlie took another drink, refilled his glass and got back to his steak. He was ha
ppy, things were going well, better than he could have hoped for. It would have to be one hell of a catch to spoil things.

  When they had finished the meal the waiter cleared away the plates and Charlie sat back with his glass in his hand. He had nearly finished the bottle. It really wasn’t bad for the price. But you got that in a good hotel, nothing was cheap but nothing was crap either.

  ‘How do I pay for tonight?’

  She took a credit card out of her bag and handed it to him.

  ‘The pin number is one two three four.’ Charlie took the card. ‘Then you cut it up and throw it away. And don’t try to be clever. It’s a once-only card. We’ll know if you try to use it a second time and we won’t be happy if you do that. No withdrawals, nothing. Only the hotel.’

  ‘How do I contact you?’

  ‘You don’t, I’ll contact you.’ She took out a business card and threw it across to him. ‘Put your mobile number on the back of that.’

  Charlie took out a pen and picked up the card. Caroline Lewis-Hughes. Lewis-Hughes Design Ltd. The phone number prefix wasn’t London and there was no address. Charlie turned the card over and wrote his mobile number.

  ‘Do you want the landline?’

  ‘No. I won’t be phoning your home. Make sure you’ll be on your own between five and six tomorrow afternoon. Is there anybody else, are you married or anything?’

  ‘Married.’

  ‘Then get rid of your wife, send her away somewhere.’ Suddenly a worried look came into her eyes. ‘For God’s sake, tell me there’s no children.’

  ‘Six, alternate girls and boys.’ He grinned. ‘And no pets either.’

  ‘Just be sure you’re on your own. If we need you to do anything in this we don’t want any innocent bystanders getting in the way.’

  Charlie flipped the business card back. ‘How long do you want her gone?’

  ‘Make it at least a couple of weeks, and make it well away, not some hotel in Copenhagen. Make it out of Denmark.’

  She stood up, picked up the card and put it in her handbag and walked away. No goodbyes, nothing. Not that he gave a damn. He poured the last of the bottle into his glass. He still didn’t know what the catch was but he was happy, things were going to be OK. They would get rid of Costello. Not that he thought for a moment they were doing it for him. Costello was a target for some other reason. But that was also OK because it meant he was right. Costello was an Intelligence insider, otherwise how would London know about him? Yes, everything was going to be all right. He finished his wine and got up. It had been a hard two days he would sleep well tonight because he still had his ace in the hole. London would look after him. They would kill Costello and then things could get back to normal. Charlie left the restaurant and went up to his room satisfied with a job well done. The waiter came to clear up the table. There was no tip. Charlie had been sorry about that but he would have had to use his own money and it was London who were paying. It was a pity because the meal and the service had been excellent. But that’s life, thought Charlie, not everybody gets what’s coming to them. And hey, what can you do? You can’t hand out happy endings to everyone, can you?

  TEN

  ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Did you tell him anything?’

  ‘Only that we would get Costello off his back.’

  ‘He didn’t ask any questions?’

  ‘Why would he? He knew I wouldn’t answer any.’

  ‘What was your take on the car bomb thing?’

  ‘It didn’t make sense. Why rig the car then let him get clear?’

  ‘What about his idea of a message, someone trying to frighten him?’

  ‘It’s possible I suppose, just about. A bit left-field though.’

  ‘Danish Intelligence are playing the whole thing very cagey. They got the police to put out that it was a leaking gas cylinder. That keeps the media out of things while they look into it. Why does he think it’s Costello who’s out to get him? Where did he get that crazy notion?’

  ‘I told you, he thinks it was all done to scare him, that someone from his past wants it to be payback time. Someone who wants it up close and personal.’ He gave her a look. ‘Don’t look at me. I’m only telling you what he said. He thinks someone from inside the system is out to get him.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘God knows, it’s all a bit crazy ...’

  ‘A bit! It’s bloody Alice in Wonderland stuff.’

  ‘Agreed, but the bomb did actually happen and it’s being taken seriously by the Danes. The way they’re handling it rules out anything terrorist. However mad it seems, it had to be a professional to wire the bomb and fix the sound system.’

  ‘But that brings us back to why he thinks it’s Costello? Costello’s not connected with any service and never has been. How did Bronski make any connection?’

  ‘I suppose he assumed it had to be a new face and Costello was a new face. When Costello and the priest came to the hospital he got a close look at him and was convinced that Costello wasn’t what he was pretending to be, that he didn’t fit the apprentice priest thing. He reckoned Costello was some sort of plant.’

  ‘And he was right in a way, but I still don’t see the connection.’

  ‘He went to the priest’s house, played the bewildered innocent and, bingo, Costello says, “I was in the business.”’

  ‘But as a copper, not Intelligence.’

  ‘Costello didn’t make himself clear, just said Civil Service. Bronski took the wrong angle, the angle he was looking for.’

  ‘So there’s a bomb in his car and a newcomer Bronski thinks is not what he’s pretending to be. That’s enough to make a crash call?’

  ‘I suppose the way he looked at it, even if it wasn’t Costello there was someone out there. So he went to Copenhagen and made the call. I got sent. The rest you know. You’re damn lucky it was me; no one else would have dropped Costello straight in your lap. So make sure I get something when the medals start getting handed out. An extra two weeks’ holiday, maybe.’

  But he wasn’t listening, he was thinking it through.

  ‘So when he saw Costello’s name rang a bell with you, he thought it gave him the Intelligence connection, and that made him certain it was Costello? It sort of brought all the nonsense together?’

  She nodded. He’d got there at last. Sometimes it was like trying to hammer a nail into concrete.

  ‘Now I’ve found him for you, what are you going to do?’

  ‘What do we know about Bronski?’

  ‘I pulled his record and read the summary before I went. He wasn’t a real high-up but he knew the ones who were, the ones who moved over from KGB into Russian Intelligence and which desks they were at. And he knew which German and Baltic operations the Russians had kept going. He knew a lot of background. He was worth bringing over and he wasn’t exactly expensive. He started life as a Moscow-trained thug but when the Soviet Union folded he could see the career prospects of the goon squad had pretty much folded with it. Muscle wasn’t going to be in so much demand any more. He was ambitious and clever so he worked himself a desk job in the new outfit and began to collect enough info to make him worth buying. When he was ready, we bought him.’ She waited so it had time to sink in. ‘If you’re thinking of using him, he’s had plenty of field experience.’

  ‘Yes, he might be useful.’

  She watched him. His eyes had a faraway look. He was plotting, thinking about how he might use this to his own advantage. She had guessed he would, that was why she had given it to him. The devious bugger couldn’t very well give her nothing if it helped him up the ladder.

  ‘I thought you might want to use him so I told him to make himself a free agent for a while just in case, to lose his wife for a couple of weeks, somewhere well out of Denmark.’

  His eyes changed, he was back, he’d got his plan. He could be damned good. Clever, quick and ingenious where his own career was concerned. It was a pity his judgement wasn
’t so sharp when it came to actual Intelligence matters. The only quick thing he did then was delegate blame, but he was clever and ingenious at that as well.

  ‘That was good thinking. We’ll need someone sitting on Costello until I get things sorted. What about this bomb? Do you think it’s a real threat?’

  ‘How should I know? All I know is his car was blown up and he wasn’t in it. Like you said, Alice in Wonderland stuff. How could anyone know for sure what it’s all about?’

  ‘Do you know who’s on it in Denmark?’

  ‘No, like I said, they’re playing it very close to their chests. It’s not terrorist, so they don’t have to share it. We know there’s an Intelligence involvement but we can’t be sure who’s running it. Whoever it is knows what he’s doing. The smokescreen went up very quickly. The bomb story got spiked at birth and the leaking gas cylinder story was out before anyone could get a sniff of anything else – silly man stores faulty bottled gas in his garage and nearly blows himself up. No real story.’

  ‘Hmm. All very neat and efficient.’ At least he can recognise efficiency when he sees it, she thought. ‘But it’s still a mess, a total mess. It’s the blind leading the partially sighted for God’s sake.’ He sat back, he was ready. ‘OK, if we’re going to do it let’s get on with it. Bronski’s going to take your call tomorrow at five like I said?’ She nodded. ‘Then get to Copenhagen on the next available flight and get to – where is it?’

  ‘Nyborg.’

  ‘Get there and locate him. When he’s on his own, waiting for the call, you tell him we’re going to use him.’

  ‘Beater or gun?’

  ‘Beater. I want you as the gun.’

  ‘That’s how it’s going to be is it?’

  ‘How else could it be?’

  It was too sudden, she didn’t like it. An operational decision that quickly?

  ‘This isn’t you on your own, is it? It’s fully cleared?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Pardon my caution but I’m not killing anybody just on your say-so.’