Jacqueline Glover started to laugh, with a throatiness harvested from many years of nicotine addiction.
“Are you serious?”
“Never more so.”
“Honestly, you’re precious. Fornicating your way through London’s waifs and strays does not count as charity. Christ.”
“I’m shocked by your inference. Seriously, I have been dedicating my time to a homeless shelter. Telling you, it’s enriching. Years and years I gave service to this community, until my current temporary reassignment.”
“Suspension.”
“Pure semantics, my dear. Anyway, it’s good for the soul to make a difference in some other tangible way. You should try it.”
“If I didn’t know you better I’d almost miss the irony. And you’re seriously trying to tell me you’re not taking advantage?”
March smiled and finished his drink.
“I can’t deny it’s always a potential perk for the pretty ones.”
They both laughed. Eventually, Jacqueline stood up, and walked over to the door. She closed it and returned to her desk. March watched her while she did so.
“You were probably quite a looker in your day,” he said. “Obviously time has taken its toll.”
“Have you finished?”
“Just teasing you.”
“Yeah, well, it’s time to talk business.” In an instant her mood changed. March straightened up. He knew the perils of underestimating her. Of failing to acknowledge the ruthlessness at her core.
“So,” she said, when she was back behind her desk. “Tell me everything I need to know about Mikołaj.”
3
DANNY looked at the woman in front of him, momentarily lost for words. It was so good to see her, yet it raised so many questions. There was a sense of relief, of a mystery being solved, yet immediately, equally, he was on his guard.
“Clare. It’s a bit late in the day for April Fools,” he said at last. “I thought you were dead.”
She smiled.
“No, you didn’t.” She started to laugh, then indicated the vacant seat opposite. “Do you mind if I join you?”
Danny nodded, trying to take it all in. She looked well. Expensively dressed. Confident. Perfect make-up, despite the late hour. Deep down he was ecstatic to meet her again, but there was still unfinished business. And a deep distrust overlaying the sense of euphoria. What was she even doing here?
“Let me get you a drink,” he said, standing, and pulling out her chair. “What can I get you? Assuming you have time?”
“Yes, of course. And thank you. Sauvignon? New Zealand if possible. Marlborough. If not any dry white would be perfect. Thank you.”
“Coming up.” He smiled, in spite of himself. “And don’t disappear while I’m at the bar, because if you do, you’re on your own this time.”
“Touché,” she said, with a glint in her eye.
He walked to the bar, hoping she couldn’t see just how pleased she’d already made him - despite all of the trauma, the lies, the upset and betrayal. He’d imagined this moment, never truly believing it would happen. And now it had, all the scripts he’d rehearsed deserted him.
Clare Woodbrook had taken a chance on Danny when she was Fleet Street’s most respected and feared investigative journalist. He’d joined the newspaper as her researcher but soon became an indispensable assistant. He idolised her. She mentored him. They made a formidable partnership. But then, last year, she’d disappeared on the eve of unveiling her biggest-ever story, and the quest to find her had nearly got Danny killed. By the time he and Anna tracked her down, everything he thought he knew to be true had collapsed around him. Before he’d had a chance to recalibrate she’d disappeared again - this time supposedly for good.
“I’m still here,” she said when he returned with the drink. The wink was unmistakeable and playful.
“Clare, I just... Where to begin? How are you? What are you doing here? How did you find me? Is this a social visit? Just so many questions. The last I heard, you were killed in a helicopter crash, somewhere in Switzerland.”
“Ah, Danny, the past is the past.”
“I’m sorry, you’re not getting off that easily.”
“Shhh.”
“What?”
“The past. Best forgotten. I’m thirty-two now, for heaven’s sake. Older and wiser. Life moves on. What’s happened has happened and we are where we are. Which, if I’m not sorely mistaken, is a rather splendid hotel in Cologne.”
“Indeed. Nice hair, by the way. The brunette look suits you.”
“I fancied a change.”
“I’m sure. So, what are you doing here, exactly?”
“Looking for you.”
“Are you being funny?”
“No, I just pass through occasionally and I heard you were in town so I thought I’d pop by and say hello before you fly home in the morning.”
“I...” Danny stopped, laughed and shook his head. “Is there anything you don’t know?” Clare was by far the most intelligent person he knew. Despite some obvious character flaws.
“I try to make sure there isn’t.”
“Okay.”
“How’s Anna?”
“You probably already know that too.”
“Oh, you’re good. But no, it’s a genuine enquiry. She seemed a bit, well, frosty with me, last time we met.”
“Do you wonder why? She got held up at gunpoint looking for you.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Honestly. I feel terrible about all of that.”
“Well she’s fine, but I’m not sure you’re on her Christmas card list. You’re not on mine either, because I wouldn’t know where to send it.”
Danny paused, waiting to see if she’d acknowledge the implied question, but she didn’t. She just kept looking at him. He tried again.
“How are you? Where are you living? What are you up to? Are you still dealing in artworks of dubious origin?”
Clare shrugged.
“I’m fine. Getting by. You don’t really think I can answer the rest of that, do you?”
“I can dream. I’ve thought about you so much. I knew you weren’t in the crash, though. I won’t ask how you did it.”
“Best not to.”
“No, but... Hey, come here. It’s great to see you.” Danny softened. He reached across and gave Clare a hug. Previously he would only have dreamed of doing that, but now things were different. In many ways they were equal. And yet he thought the chasm between them would never be bridged. She was a dangerous woman. Ruthless, cunning, self-centred and not to be trusted, although he wanted to believe that deep down she still had a heart. That she still had values, however warped they might seem to others. That somewhere beneath everything, there was still a mutual respect and maybe, in some bizarre way, they were still on the same team. Her perfume was understated, but intoxicating.
“It’s good to see you, Danny,” she said. “I keep an eye on your career. You’re doing well. And you did a good job on me.”
“You gave me all the information.”
“I know. But you turned it into something magical. I think my bridges are burned, career-wise, but that was always the case. Thankfully, I don’t need to worry about taking a salary for a while.”
“Crime pays?”
“You sound so cynical. But yes, if you want to put it like that. Although life has moved on now.”
“I can imagine.”
“How’s Graham?”
“Now that you do know.”
“Haha, of course.”
“Well, you don’t need me to tell you then.” Danny shrugged. “He’s slippery. He’s suspended by the police but protesting his innocence. I thought we had him but we always need more.”
“And that’s why you’re here.” She indicated the hotel lobby.
“I can’t tell you that. This secrecy thing works both ways.”
“Ah Danny, I do admire you. I would never underestimate you.”
“Although I feel a ‘bu
t’ coming on.”
“Maybe.”
“Okay, enlighten me.”
Clare smiled.
“I may be able to help you.”
“Help me? Why would you do that?”
“Hold on.”
She rummaged in her bag, and took out a packet of cigarettes. The health warning was in some unrecognisable language. Hungarian? Czech? Bosnian even? Surely she wasn’t involved in that... She lit one and blew smoke at the ceiling.
“You’re still not smoking then?” she asked.
“No.”
“Good man. It’s just one of my many flaws.”
“Along with murder, theft, fraud...”
“Danny, please, let’s not dwell on details. We do what we need to do.”
“But some of us don’t kill people.”
“I’ve told you. The past is the past. I’m here in peace. I’m not going to shoot you.”
“That’s a relief.”
“You’re my protégé. I’m your guardian angel. It’s a good arrangement, I think. This wine is nice.”
She indicated to her glass. It was half empty already.
“Was that a hint?”
Clare looked up. The barman was already on his way, holding a bowl of mini pretzels.
“Noch zwei Getränke bitte,” she said. The barman nodded. Danny looked bemused.
“Two more drinks,” she confirmed. “I said please.”
“Pleased to hear it. You speak German now?”
“Ein bisschen. A little.”
“A woman of many talents. So why do you think you might be able to help me? And why would I want you to?”
“Because, Danny, the former DCI March is a pet project of mine. And I’m sure you’re going to put us all out of his misery once and for all, but I’m equally sure I may be able to save you a lot of time. But obviously we’d need to be able to trust each other.”
“Are you actually taking the piss?”
“Ah, so cynical.”
“Can you blame me?”
“No, I suppose. But can we just start again?”
Danny paused to take a sip of his drink. To give himself time to think.
“Look,” he said eventually, “I don’t know what to make of this. Of you. I don’t know why you’re here. I don’t know I can trust you. I don’t know that you’re not going to disappear again. I don’t know anything about you any more.”
“Okay, well, I’ll be straight with you.”
“But that’s the point! Do you even know the meaning of the phrase?”
“Yes of course I do. You’ve got to get over this. Just humour me. But I will.”
“Will what?”
“Disappear again. It’s an occupational hazard. But we can stay in touch. You have email now.”
“Yes, I do.”
“It was a statement rather than a question.”
“And you want my address?”
She laughed.
“Danny, I already have your address. Look at me. This is me. Clare. I’m on your side. Think of me as your secret weapon.”
“I’ve seen what you do with weapons.”
“It’s a metaphor. The past is...”
“The past. Yes, I heard.”
“Well then. So, can we agree we’re going to help each other?”
“Whoa. Help each other? I thought you were helping me.”
“Figure of speech. But let’s just say we have some common enemies and helping you may also work to my benefit, to a degree.”
“Oh, it’s all coming out now.”
The second drinks arrived. Clare stubbed out her cigarette, gave the barman folded Deutschmarks and told him to keep the change.
“Listen, Danny.” She reached forward and rested her manicured hand on his knee. She was still wearing a Ceylon sapphire ring, although it was bigger than the one he kept at home in her memory. “I can’t blame you for doubting me. But think of all the good we did together. We were a good team before. The best. It’s different now but we work well together. I promise you - look at me - promise you I will never lie to you. I’m not perfect. I get that. But you can trust me.”
“Okay. And if I do?”
“Then I’ll disappear again, but I’ll stay in touch. And I’ll help you, which in turn will help me, although in ways that are probably hard to explain. I won’t ask for anything else in return, though. Nothing material. Nothing, well, illegal. I owe you that.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Ah, Danny. No. Nothing is easy. We move in murky worlds. But we can make it easier for each other.”
“Okay.” He wanted to believe her. Despite everything that had happened since they’d last shared an office.
“It’s perfect symmetry, albeit inverted. You’re now the boss and I’m your assistant. I’m not going to ask you what you have on March, or why you’re here, and what you’ve been trying to find out about him.”
“Assuming that’s why I’m over here.”
“Of course. Although we both know it is. But I assume it’s to do with people trafficking, because if it isn’t, it should be.”
Danny smiled.
“You’re too good,” he said.
“I try.”
Clare picked up her lighter and sparked a flame. Danny’s eyes were drawn to it.
“What do you know about fire, Danny?”
“Fire?”
“Yes, fire.”
“It’s hot. It burns. I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’ll tell you what I mean. Look at this. It’s just a tiny flame. In itself it’s almost meaningless. I can stop it now, look.” She let go of the button, and the flame was extinguished. She lit it again. “But what if it spreads? Think how fast it grows, and how quickly it goes out of control. The biggest, most destructive forest fire, all from one tiny spark. Imagine if you could stop it now, and how simple and easy that would be. But imagine the devastation if you don’t.”
She let go and put the lighter on the table between them.
“That flame is March, Danny. Think about it. I don’t know what timescale you’re working to.”
“And you said you weren’t going to ask.”
“I’m not. But I hear things.”
“In your mysterious murky world?”
“Exactly.” Her focused expression gave Danny a flashback to the days when she’d been at the peak of her newspaper career.
“And?”
“The general consensus is that time’s running out. We’re talking maybe a week, at best.”
“Until?”
“He lights the touch paper, if you excuse the extended metaphor.”
“It’s very colourful.”
“I’m being serious, Danny. But listen, you’re the boss. It’s your story. I’ll leave you now but just know that I’m out there. Know that I’m a good person really. Whatever’s happened in the past.”
“I’d like to believe that. But really, after everything you put us through?”
“I’m going to make that up to you.”
“Right. And if I need to speak to you?”
“I’ll give you an address. A private mailbox.”
“Like Rougemont?” Danny tensed, recalling the trouble caused during attempts to access Clare’s private box at a security company the previous year.
“No. I mean email. You can message me. I may not always reply immediately. But talk to me. Come to me if you need me. And either way I’ll do everything I can to help you.”
She offered her hand. Danny thought for a moment and then shook it.
“Okay,” he said. “Thank you. I think.”
They both stood. Clare moved forward, to give him a hug. But as she did so, he caught her glancing at something, or someone, behind him.
“Just be careful, Danny,” she whispered as they embraced. “Safe journey home.”
She let go. He watched her, making her way through the lobby and out into the late Cologne evening. As he returned to his drink, he noti
ced the packet of cigarettes she’d left on the table. He thought of calling after her but it was too late. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he might have just done a deal with the devil.
4
Saturday, April 2nd, 1994
JUNIOR Home Office minister Samuel Elmhirst-Banks left his office in the Norman Shaw South building and made his way out onto Victoria Embankment. He crossed the road towards the riverbank and followed the path downstream, away from Big Ben and the Palace of Westminster.
The offices were quiet at weekends, but even so, discretion was paramount, especially with the omnipresent threat of a press leak. That was the very last thing he needed in the current climate. Once he was sure he wasn’t being followed, he withdrew his mobile phone, extended the aerial, and tapped in a familiar number. It was answered on the third ring.
“I’ve followed as best as I can,” she said, once the pleasantries were over.
“And?”
“Old habits die hard.”
“That’s no surprise. Where did he go?”
“Straight from the parlour to the casino. Victoria line from Euston to Green Park.”
“It’s good to see he’s maintaining his interests. And then?”
“Probably about an hour there, presumably trying his luck with Jacqui if not on the tables. That was it then, though. Back out and straight home.”
“Tube or taxi?”
“Taxi.”
“Good. And no visitors afterwards?”
“Not before I left. I gave up about midnight.”
“Okay. Good work.”
“Should I keep following?”
“Please. I’ll give it some thought. The press are circling.”
“Understood.”
He paused for a moment to let a jogger run past. He’d been in Government long enough to know how this worked, and he’d seen too many spy dramas to take anything at face value. The jogger glanced in his direction as she passed. It may have been innocent, but he’d risen through the ranks by knowing when not to take chances. There was a fine line between paranoia and due diligence.
When he was sure he couldn’t be overheard again, he continued.
“Sorry about that. Have you heard anything on the grapevine about a shipment?”
“No, not so far.”
“That’s good. Let’s hope it stays that way. That’s got to be the priority. The minute that changes - if it changes - let me know.”
Out Of The Red Page 2