With the utmost caution, Tallis approached the bungalow, checking and clearing each room, gun at the ready. There was no noise. No sign of another. Nothing looked disturbed. Next, he examined the undercarriage of the Rover. Satisfied that it hadn’t either been tampered with or had a device fitted, he climbed in and, without a second glance, drove away in the direction of Max’s house. If he was going to reach London by nightfall, he’d need the Z8.
As anticipated, dogs, the huge slavering type that tore you limb from limb, greeted his arrival, barking and snapping, yowling like banshees. Tallis stayed in the car, doors locked, and put his hand on the horn. Mistake. Both dogs went crazy. One roared up to the car and hurled itself at the door, dashing itself against the steel in a psychotic frenzy. Fuck, Tallis thought, eyes watering at the thought of the cost to the paintwork. Eventually the front door swung open. Recognising the heavy with the white-blonde hair and razor-sharp cheekbones, Tallis took his hand off the horn and flashed his lights twice. The guy walked towards the car, cool as you like, the dogs bounding and howling, neither making any attempt to harm their boss. Tallis slid the window down half an inch. The mutts might be fine with Razor-Bones, but he no more trusted those animals not to take a lump out of the car and then start on him as he trusted in the tooth fairy.
“I’ve come to see John.”
“He’s not expecting anyone.”
“It’s urgent.”
The man blinked, told the dogs to sit, which they both did.
“Tell him Craig’s here to see him.”
“Tell him yourself. I’m not your errand boy.” The voice was big on disdain.
Great, Tallis thought, a heavy with a chip on his shoulder. “Those your dogs?”
“They belong to Mr Darius.”
“Judging by the way they’re behaving, I’d say they only had eyes for you. All right if I get out?”
The man nodded slowly. Tallis opened the door. The more aggressive of the two beasts, the one who’d launched himself at the car, got down on its belly, threw back its head and let out a long heartfelt yowl. The other cast Razor-Bones a pleading look. Go on, let me have him, his expression seemed to say. Tallis smiled nervously, felt his knees jackhammering. There was a horrible tingling sensation in his nose, an allergic reaction to the dogs. He pinched his nostrils together with a thumb and forefinger, desperate not to sneeze and frighten the mutts into a violent response. “What was that saying about don’t shoot the messenger?” He’d hoped for a laugh, for something to break the tension. The man looked at him as if he was speaking Latin.
It was the longest walk imaginable. The dogs padded along behind him, one at each side, sniffing at his clothes, tongues flicking with frustration, stinking breath hot against his trouser legs. With every step, Tallis felt as if he was a centimetre away from jaws and teeth and tearing skin, a nanosecond nearer to certain and agonising death. Too frightened to speak, he controlled his fear by humming an old Chris Rea number in his head, ‘Road to Hell’. By the time they reached the steps of the great house, he was wet through with perspiration. Razor-Bones frisked him. Tallis was expecting it, which was why against every instinct he’d left the gun in the glove compartment. Pity, he thought, the walk would have been so much more agreeable knowing he could have blown the psycho-mutts to pieces in the time it took to say Pedigree Chum.
“Go on through,” the man said. “Mr Darius is in the drawing room.”
Which one? Tallis thought, crossing the marble floor. In the lower light, the interior seemed more impressive, if that was possible. The chandeliers alone were probably worth as much as his bungalow.
“In here, Craig.” Tallis followed the voice and entered a room of extraordinary grandeur. It felt as if he’d walked into the court of the Sun King. Darius was standing by a vast white marble fireplace flecked with what looked like gold onyx. “Hadn’t expected to see you so soon,” Darius said. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added with a brisk smile. “Drink?”
“Scotch, thanks.”
“That was quite some show of courage,” Darius said, crossing the thickly carpeted floor. So he’d watched, Tallis thought, considering what Darius’s response might have been had the animals turned on and toyed with him for their amusement. Darius was more casually dressed than the day before. Oxford weave dark green shirt, fudge-coloured chinos. “Not many people trust themselves to my dogs.”
“I didn’t. I trusted myself to your manservant.”
Darius cracked a smile. “I’m sure Heller would be amused by the phrase. Do sit down, by the way.”
Tallis preferred to stand but did as he was told. As Darius walked towards the drinks cabinet, his limp seemed more pronounced than before. Tallis commented on it.
“Riding accident many years ago. Kneecap’s virtually wasted away. Keep meaning to have the operation but it’s finding the time.”
“Is it painful?”
“Agony. Find this stuff helps.” Darius grinned, lifting a bottle of Chivas Regal and pouring out two generous measures. “That’s better,” Darius said, taking a sip, hobbling over to Tallis, handing him a tumbler. Darius took up a position by the fireplace. Classic ploy, Tallis thought. By inviting him to sit, Darius assumed an authoritarian stance, he himself the role of supplicant.
“I’ll come straight to the point,” Tallis said.
“Please, do.” The smile was kindly. The eyes were devious.
“Sonia Cavall was found dead this afternoon.” Tallis took a drink, watched the reaction. He had to admit, Darius, if he knew anything, covered it well. His jaw dropped open, eyes went wide.
“My God, I don’t know what to say. I’m absolutely astonished, no, staggered,” he said, sitting down heavily. “What on earth went wrong?” Not how did she die, Tallis thought, suspicions aroused. He remembered Darius’s Oscar-winning performance in the pub, the theatre and heavy reliance on drama. Was this just another example of the same?
“She was shot.”
“Murdered? Oh, dear. Oh, Lord. And her poor mother. She’ll be absolutely devastated. Sonia was an only child, you see. How on earth did you find this out?”
Tallis glanced at the floor. He’d known he’d be asked the question. “We arranged to meet in Birmingham today. Didn’t she tell you?”
“Good God, no. I’d no idea. Were you two …?” he broke off. “No, that’s not possible. Sonia preferred women.”
Christ, Tallis thought. He’d never have guessed. Bang went his cover story. “It was terrible,” Tallis said. “Imagine the shock.”
“You found her?”
“She was in her car, sitting on the back seat, driver nowhere to be seen. To be honest, it looked like a professional hit.”
“Really? My Christ. But who would do such a thing?”
“That’s what I was hoping you might be able to tell me.” Tallis’s voice was neutral but his eyes were anything but.
“Me?” Darius said, a curl to his lip. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“You had no inkling of her aspirations?” A much nicer way of putting it than murderous ambitions, Tallis thought.
“Depends what you mean, but …”
“And I’m afraid I did something really stupid.”
“Oh?” Darius said, eyeing him over the rim of his glass.
“I panicked and ran.”
“You poor fellow.”
“Sounds ridiculous, what with me being an ex-copper, but, you see, I know how these things pan out. You know, wrong place, wrong time. And my prints all over the damn place.”
“Yes, I see,” Darius said slowly, gravely. “Probably best to lie low. See what transpires.” There was a shifty expression in his eyes, suggesting that he was most definitely not in the market for offering help should it be asked for. Darius took another pull of his drink. “I’m extremely sad, of course, and I’m grateful for you letting me know, but I’m still not quite clear what you think this has to do with me.”
“I thought you might be next.”
Darius let out a hearty laugh. “This some sort of warning?”
“More a tip-off.”
“I’m touched. I really am. To think you’ve driven all this way, but there was absolutely no need.”
“No?” Tallis threw him a penetrating look. Because you ordered the hit, he thought, or knew the identity of the person who ordered it? He was starting to think he wouldn’t get anywhere with Darius by playing softball.
Darius took another thoughtful sip. When he spoke there was more grain to his voice. “You never said why you were meeting her.”
“It rather followed on from our conversation over lunch. Sonia led me to believe my skills could be more fully utilised.”
“Still not sure I follow,” Darius said—making a good attempt to look confused, Tallis thought.
“Remember I told you I favoured armed struggle?”
“And both of us pointed out the disadvantages, as I seem to recall.”
“So you knew nothing of her plan to remove illegal immigrants?”
“Remove?”
“Kill.”
Darius’s jaw dropped open. “I most certainly didn’t.”
“You weren’t sponsoring the programme?”
“Do you realise what you’re saying?” Darius snorted. “You’re accusing me of plotting to murder.”
Oh, I’m doing a lot more than that, Tallis thought. He had to hand it to Darius. He was very, very good at playing the innocent. “Only words.” Tallis gave a playful shrug. “You said yourself you wanted the freedom to say what you thought.”
Darius’s response was to smile broadly. He leant towards Tallis in a paternal way. Something snagged inside Tallis. He realised that his dad had never looked at him with that kind of fond regard, never engaged him in argument without allowing his fists to fly. No wonder his brother had beaten Belle. He’d learnt it from their dad. “You don’t start a revolution by knocking off a few illegals,” Darius said. “All that happens is a tit-for-tat response.”
“Leading to full-blown civil unrest.”
“Not a very appetising prospect,” Darius said. “If what you say is true, I’m not surprised Sonia wound up with a bullet in her head. She always did play fast and loose. But tell me, Craig, I find it a little hard to believe that you found out so much about Sonia’s venture on such short acquaintance. Am I right in thinking that you’d met before?”
“Yes,” Tallis said. What else could he say?
“Thought as much.”
“But neither of us expected to run into each other here.”
“I see,” Darius said, his eyes suggesting that Tallis was not believed. “I have to say, Craig, I’m surprised and yes, a little disappointed in you.” That too sounded like his dad, except, strangely, with more threat to it.
“You understood our need for discretion, surely?”
“Perfectly, but I’m sorry you didn’t feel able to trust me. Perhaps if Sonia had confided in me, she’d be alive today.”
Tallis nodded gravely.
“Still we can all be clever with the aid of twenty-twenty vision,” Darius said, as if that was the end of the matter.
“Thing is, John, can I trust you now? You must know that what I’ve told you, if it reached the wrong ears …”
Darius smiled, touched Tallis’s arm in an affectionate gesture. “But nothing’s happened, has it? Simply a crazy idea that never saw the light of day, thank God.
“We’re not so very different, you and I. We have the same passion. I spotted that the moment I met you. But the manner in which we get things done couldn’t be further apart.”
“Yet you speak of revolution,” Tallis said. Maybe Darius was telling the truth. Perhaps Cavall really was acting alone, which meant he’d been suckered. The thought that he was little more than a hired hand, no different to Bill and Ben, suddenly hit him with the full force of a freight train. And yet …
“Indeed,” Darius said, a chill note in his voice. “It will come and when it does I will be ready.”
For what, Tallis thought, to be the voice of British nationalism, to seize power? Tallis had a terrible vision of what might happen in the country he loved based on what had already happened in the Balkans—persecution, ethnic cleansing, minorities being driven to extinction. “Is it possible Sonia had connections elsewhere?”
Darius gave a slow shrug. “I suppose so. There are other groups, as you yourself alluded to, but she never discussed anything with me.”
Tallis studied the older man’s face. He and Cavall had discussed everything. Darius had been her tutor, for God’s sake, her mentor. He had to be lying. “Fortress 35, know much about it?”
Darius looked vague. “Fortress what?”
“Thirty-five. A far-right group dedicated to stirring up racial hatred.”
“Like I said, I steer clear of anything that’s likely to land me in trouble or get me killed,” Darius snapped a smile. “I’m tempted to ask you about the mechanics of what exactly Sonia had in mind, but I think the less I know, the better it would be for everyone. I’m sorry to say, Craig, that if anyone should be looking over their shoulder, it’s you, my young friend.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
DARIUS invited him to stay. There was no pressure. Tallis didn’t feel that by either staying or leaving, his life was in danger. Darius wouldn’t be so stupid to sully his own doorstep. Tallis was offered another drink, which he declined. Nothing more was said about Tallis’s possible recruitment to Darius’s workforce. He guessed the older man felt it better to put some distance between them. And who could blame him? But it still left many unanswered questions. If Tallis thought that Cavall’s death brought an end to his involvement, he might sleep easier in his bed. Sadly, he thought Darius had a better handle on the situation. And that was the problem. With Cavall, to a point Tallis knew what he was dealing with. Now that she was dead, he no longer recognised his enemy. It didn’t even have a face or personality.
Tallis reached Max’s house around four in the morning. The light was breaking, songbirds singing, crows sitting in a line on a nearby telegraph pole, sharing a raucous conversation. Sounded to Tallis’s ears as if they were discussing last night’s events.
Letting himself into the house, he went straight to the guest room he always used when he stayed over at his friend’s, pulled back the sheets, concealed the gun under a pillow and lay down. Dog tired, he slept for a full twelve hours.
Rising around five in the afternoon, he showered, found some clean clothes in Max’s wardrobe and dressed. He’d lost weight, he realised, patting his flat stomach, adrenalin and fear the best dietary aids there were.
There was one single news report on the radio detailing a suspicious death in the centre of the city. After that: nothing. It was as if a clean-up squad had moved in and Cavall had never existed.
He considered calling Belle but was afraid of being drawn into a conversation that would reveal his whereabouts, not that he was under any illusion. If whoever had killed Cavall was determined to get him, they’d find him soon enough. There had been a time when he’d have thought that it didn’t matter any more, but that had been before he’d got back with Belle. Later, after dark, he decided to go down to the village and make a call from the only phone box.
There was no fresh food but plenty of eatables in the freezer. Penny had all her groceries delivered from the high-class end of the supermarket business. No shortage of choice if you fancied exotica, but he had a strong yen for home cooking, something simple. In the end he settled for a venison and red wine pie. While it was cooking, he wandered into a room Max called the library, and for good reason. All four walls were lined with bookshelves of limited editions, hardbacks and reference material. Tallis’s hand hovered over the collected works of Shakespeare. Scanning the spines, he found Richard II and Richard III. For some unremembered reason, they were his mother’s favourite plays. She’d been able to recite whole chunks from both and she’d often raved on about the marvellous film version of R
ichard III with the lead played by Sir Laurence Olivier. Something scratching at the back of his mind, he took out both copies and flicked through them for a clue that might or might not be there. Coming up empty, he returned to the kitchen, made a pot of fresh coffee and sat and considered his options. They looked distinctly limited.
Any revelation of a plot to any authority, be it the police or security service, would have serious implications. With his kind of track record, why would anyone believe that he was an innocent pawn? Further, he’d shot one man and had connections to two separate crime scenes: Demarku’s and now Cavall’s. He no longer had the protection, such as it was, that Cavall had afforded him. He’d probably been spotted at the BFB meeting and, for all Darius’s assurances, Tallis had no doubt that he would throw him to the wolves, or the dogs in this instance, if it was a question of saving his own credibility and skin. For all Darius’s denials and convincing patter, Tallis suspected he knew a great deal more than he was letting on—he wasn’t taken in by Darius’s eye-rolling display of shock concerning Cavall’s death. What remained inescapable was the fact that he was caught up in a conspiracy from which there was no escape. And he was no nearer the truth now than he had been a few days ago. And that was dangerous.
He ate his meal in silence. Much later, he stole out of the house and, gun in pocket, found the call box and phoned Belle on her mobile. There was no reply, which he found faintly worrying. He left a brief message, saying that he was fine, that he’d be in touch soon. Next he called Finn and explained that Cavall was dead.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Might be advisable for you to go away for a while,” Tallis said.
The Last Exile Page 29