Fullerton had been held in a cell for an hour, interrogated by two plainclothes detectives whose hearts clearly weren't in it, and then released. No laws had been broken, not the least because of Donovan's insistence that nobody carried a gun. They were all guests of the Russian aviation company, and the Ilyushin had filed a valid flight plan. It was suspicious, there was no getting away from that, two dozen men and a convoy of vans all waiting for an empty plane, but there was nothing illegal about it.
Fullerton had tried calling Donovan's mobile several times but it was switched off.
He took another drink of beer, then decided he needed something stronger. Something with a real buzz to it. He headed for the bathroom where he kept his coke. The door intercom buzzed as he walked down the hallway and he stopped to look at the CCTV monitor. It was Charlie Macfadyen.
Fullerton picked up the receiver.
"Charlie? What do you want?"
"We want a word about yesterday's fiasco," said Macfadyen, running a hand over his shaved head.
Fullerton buzzed him up. He went back to his computer and checked one final time but there were still no new messages. He shook his head, switched off the computer and picked up his beer bottle.
He had the door open for Macfadyen by the time the elevator reached his floor. Macfadyen wasn't alone. There were two men with him. Fullerton didn't know their names but he recognised them from the airfield they had been driving two of the rental vans.
"What's up, Charlie?" asked Fullerton, though he could see that Macfadyen was in no mood for polite conversation. Mac-fad yen mouth was a tight line and his eyes were as cold and dispassionate as a reptile's.
"Not much," said Macfadyen, walking into Fullerton's flat.
"You said you wanted a word?" said Fullerton. He still had the door open, but Macfadyen's companions made no move to walk inside.
"Yeah," said Macfadyen. He reached behind his back and pulled a large automatic from a holster clipped to his belt. He thrust the gun against Fullerton's chest.
"And the word is grass."
Bunny paced up and down his sitting room. He punched PM's number into his mobile phone, but for the hundredth time he went straight through to his message service. Where the hell was PM? And what the hell had gone wrong?
Had Donovan been tipped off? And if he had, why had he gone to the airfield? If he'd known that police and Customs were going to turn up with SAS back-up, why hadn't he just got on the first plane back to the Caribbean?
Bunny had been watching Donovan when the helicopters swooped over the perimeter fence. There'd been no panic in the man's eyes, no attempt to run, he just stood and watched the helicopters with an amused smile on his face.
The police had roughly searched Bunny and PM, practically kicked them to the ground before going through their clothing, and the next time he'd been able to catch a glimpse of Donovan he was being taken to the rear of the transport plane. Just before Bunny had been thrown into the back of a police van, he had seen Donovan being escorted up the ramp into the bowels of the giant plane. There had been no sign of tension on Donovan's face. Just a quiet, almost self-satisfied, smile. It was as if he knew what was coming. As if it had all been planned.
They'd all been split up at the police station. Bunny had been asked if he wanted a lawyer but he'd just shaken his head. He'd given them his name and address and his date of birth, but other than that he'd remained resolutely silent. Without the drugs, there was no case. Even conspiracy to import wouldn't stand up, not with the plane arriving empty.
Two detectives had questioned him and then he'd been left in a cell for six hours. He hadn't seen PM again. As soon as he'd been released, Bunny had caught a cab home. He wanted to get on the internet and get a message to Hathaway, though there was no doubt in Bunny's mind that Hathaway already knew what had happened. He figured that he should stay put until PM got in touch, though. Two drug deals had turned to shit and PM would want to know why.
The doorbell rang and Bunny jerked as if he'd been stung. He hurried over to open the door, but not before making sure that the security chain was on.
It was Jordan. With three other men Bunny had last seen at the airfield.
"How's your luck, Bunny?" asked Jordan.
"I've had better days," said Bunny, wondering why Jordan had turned up on his doorstep.
"You here for a reason, or is this social?"
Jordan leaned forward so that his face filled the gap between the door and the frame.
"We think we know who the rotten apple is," whispered Jordan.
"You'll never guess."
Bunny unhitched the security chain and opened the door.
"Who is it?" he asked.
Jordan pushed Bunny in the chest with the flat of his hand, and he staggered back, his hands flailing out for balance. Jordan kept moving forward, pushing him again, harder this time. Bunny fell backwards over a coffee table and crashed to the floor. Jordan reached his right hand inside his jacket and pulled out a gun.
"It's you, scumbag!" roared Jordan, pointing the gun down at Bunny's surprised face.
Robbie walked out of the spare bedroom, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Tina was lying on the sofa, wrapped up in a bathrobe.
"Why aren't you in bed?" he asked.
"I was waiting for your dad," she said, sitting up and running a hand through her hair.
"He always stays out late," said Robbie, sitting on the sofa next to her.
"Sometimes all night. It used to drive Mum crazy."
"What about you? Didn't you worry?"
Robbie shrugged.
"He always comes back eventually. I guess."
"Suppose he didn't?" said Tina.
"Suppose one day he didn't come back? What would you do?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know. Suppose he went out and didn't come back? Stayed away for a long time?"
"You mean if he died?"
Tina pushed him and he pretended to fall off the sofa.
"No, I didn't mean if he died. Just if he couldn't come back. What would you do?"
Robbie sat up and leaned back against the sofa.
"Could I stay with you?"
"Maybe," said Tina quietly.
"Would you like that?"
"I don't want to go back to her. My mum. Not after what she did. I suppose I could stay with Aunty Laura and Uncle Mark, but I'd rather stay with you." He looked up at her.
"Is something wrong?"
Tina shook her head.
"No, everything's fine." She picked up her mobile and called Donovan's number again. It just rang out. No answer. No message service. She had no way of knowing if the phone was even working, or if he'd received the text message she'd sent.
"He always has it switched off," said Robbie.
"Don't worry."
They both heard the knock at the door and jumped. Robbie stood up and ran over to the door.
"Robbie, check first," shouted Tina.
"And use the chain."
There was the sound of a key being inserted in the lock and Tina opened her mouth to scream, but then Donovan opened the door.
"Den! It's you!" said Tina.
Donovan grinned and closed the door. He picked up Robbie and swung him around.
"How many keys have you given out, then?"
"But you knocked."
"I didn't want to walk in on anything, now did I?" said Donovan. He put Robbie down and pushed him towards the spare room.
"Get ready for school."
"What?"
"You heard. School."
"But you said ' "I've changed my mind," interrupted Donovan.
"Get ready." He grinned at Tina.
"Get your glad rags on, kid, let's go out and celebrate."
"Celebrate?"
"We did it, Louise. Wasn't as smooth as I'd hoped, but we did it." He took her in his arms and hugged her.
"Go on, get ready. We'll drop Robbie off at school and then there's some people I want you to meet."
"Den .. ."
Donovan put a finger against her lips.
"Later," he said.
"We can talk later."
He pushed her towards the bedroom. She wrapped the robe around herself and closed the door then leaned against it, her heart pounding. He knew. She was sure that he knew. Something had gone wrong, something had gone very wrong, and now he was going to make her pay.
Her mobile phone was on its charger on the dressing table and she fumbled for it. With trembling fingers she tapped out the number that Gregg Hathaway had given her three years earlier. Her lifeline.
She pressed the phone to her ear and listened as it rang out. It rang. And rang. No one answered it. No answering service kicked in. It just rang. Tina took the phone away from her ear and stared at it in disbelief. How could that be? Hathaway had assured her that the phone would be manned seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. Something must have gone wrong, but what? She called up directory enquiries and in a whispered voice asked for the main switchboard for the Metropolitan Police.
The number was answered by a brisk female voice.
"I want to speak to Assistant Commissioner Peter Latham," Tina said, cupping her hand over her mouth so that her voice wouldn't carry.
"I'm sorry, could you speak up, please," said the woman.
Tina went into her bathroom and turned on the cold tap.
"Assistant Commissioner Peter Latham, please," said Tina.
"He's no longer with the Metropolitan Police," said the woman.
"Can anyone else help?"
Tina felt suddenly dizzy and she held on to the sink for support.
"No, it has to be him," she said.
"How can I get hold of him?"
"Assistant Commissioner Latham retired two years ago on grounds of ill-health," said the woman.
"Pvight, but where he is now? This is very urgent. Life and death."
"I'm afraid he passed away six months after he retired," said the woman.
"Can I put you through to his successor's office?"
There was a knock at the bedroom door. Three quick taps.
"Louise?" asked Donovan.
"You okay in there?"
Tina switched off the phone.
"Yes, just going into the shower," she said, trying desperately to stop her voice from shaking.
She showered and dried herself, then tried Hathaway's number again. There was still no answer.
She threw on a dress, put on lipstick and mascara, then gave her hair a quick brush. She stared at her reflection. She looked as guilty as hell. She tried to smile, but it was the smile of a terrified dog.
"It's okay," she whispered to herself.
"It's going to be okay." She took a deep breath.
"It's okay," she said more confidently.
"You can deal with this." Another deep breath, then she nodded to herself.
"I've been through worse than this and I've coped."
"Are you okay?" Donovan shouted again.
"I'll huff and I'll puff and blow the door down."
"All right, big bad wolf," replied Tina brightly.
"Here I come, ready or not."
She opened the bedroom door. Donovan nodded appreciatively.
"Looking good," he said.
"Why thank you, kind sir."
Robbie was putting his books into his backpack. He'd changed into his school uniform.
"I don't see why I have to go to school," he moaned.
"To get an education," said Donovan, ruffling his hair.
Robbie shook him away.
"First I'm not to go, then you say I'm to go, then you pull me out, now you tell me I've got to go back. That's hardly consistent."
"It's an inconsistent world," said Donovan.
"Isn't it, Louise?"
Tina nodded.
They drove to Robbie's school in the Audi roadster, Tina at the wheel and Robbie in the back. Several of Robbie's friends saw him getting out of the car, and that seemed to cheer him up. Donovan figured that there was probably more kudos arriving in a sports car than a Range Rover.
"I'll pick you up tonight," said Donovan.
"Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it," said Robbie ruefully, but he returned Donovan's wave before heading into school.
"Now what?" asked Tina.
"Now we go celebrate," said Donovan. He looked at his watch.
"Party time."
"It's half past eight in the morning."
"Now don't be a party-pooper, Louise," said Donovan.
"It's not every day I fly eight thousand kilos of gear around the world."
He gave Tina directions and settled back in his seat. She drove across London to St. John's Wood. Donovan told her where to park and climbed out of the car.
Tina locked the Audi, looking around.
"Here?" she said.
"Nah, here's where we lose our tail," said Donovan.
"I didn't see anyone following us," said Tina.
"Yeah, well, you wouldn't, not if they were any good," said Donovan.
"Come on. Home stretch."
"Tango One is out of the vehicle," said the detective into his handset.
"On foot. Repeat on foot."
"Go after him, Alpha Seven," crackled the speaker.
"Softly, softly, yeah?"
The detective nodded at the driver.
"Let's go."
The two plainclothes policemen got out of the saloon and walked quickly in the direction they'd seen Donovan and the girl heading.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," said the detective.
"He didn't know we were on his tail," said the driver.
"He didn't look around and she hardly checked her mirror."
"He knows," said the detective.
"He can smell us."
The driver grinned.
"You maybe, but I showered in the station."
Ahead of them they saw the girl's back disappearing down an alley.
"Who is she, anyway?"
"Lap dancer. She's been taking care of his kid."
"Nice tits."
"I'm sure she'll be chuffed at the compliment, coming from a connoisseur such as yourself. What the hell are they up to?"
"Going for a quickie in the open air?"
"At nine o'clock in the morning? I doubt it. Oh shit, I know what he's doing." The detective put his transceiver to his mouth.
"Alpha Seven, he's going to cross the canal on foot. We need cover on the south side of the canal. We're going to lose him."
The transceiver crackled.
"Affirmative, Alpha Seven."
The two men hurried down the alley. It branched left and right.
"This way," said the detective. The driver rushed after him.
The alley led to the canal towpath. A metal footbridge ran across the canal, barely twenty feet above the surface of the water. Donovan and the girl were already dashing down the steps on the far side. A car was waiting at the side of the road, its engine running.
The detective grabbed the driver's arm and pulled them back. There was nothing they could do on foot and there was no point in showing themselves.
"Tango One is getting into a blue saloon. Possibly a Vauxhall. Registration number unknown. We've lost him. Repeat, we have lost Tango One."
"What do you mean "we", Alpha Seven?" crackled the transceiver.
"What's going on, Den?" asked Tina as the blue saloon accelerated away from the curb.
Donovan flashed her a smile.
"Gatecrashers," said Donovan.
"Can't be too careful." He leaned forward and patted Kim Fletcher on the shoulder.
"Nice one, Kim," he said.
"Did you get the other thing?"
Fletcher popped open the glove compartment and handed Donovan a video cassette.
"He said something about the early worm catching the bird."
Donovan stroked the matt black video cassette.
"What is it?" asked Tina.
"Come on, Louise, cheer up. You're behaving like a right wet blanket."
Tina forced herself to smile.
"That's better," said Donovan.
He and Tina sat in silence as Fletcher drove through the morning traffic. He kept checking his mirrors and twice did a series of left turns to make sure that he wasn't being followed, then he drove east towards Docklands.
Tina stared out of the window with unseeing eyes, wondering where Donovan was taking her. And why. Did he know who she was? Or did he just suspect and wanted to interrogate her, to find out for sure? And if he was just suspicious, could she lie her way out of it? Or was she better just to confess all, tell him that she was a police officer? No one murdered a police officer in cold blood, not even Tango One.
Now that Fletcher had shaken off any tail, Tina knew that she was on her own. There would be no last-minute rescue, no cavalry charge over the hill. No one knew where she was or the trouble she was in. Why had no one answered the phone? Where was Hathaway? He'd promised her that there would always be someone at the end of the line. It was her get-out-of-jail-free card. Her lifeline. And the one time she'd needed it, it had failed her.
Fletcher indicated he was turning right. He used a small remote control unit to open a set of metal gates and then the car bobbed down into an underground car park. They parked close to an elevator. A balding man with a curved scar above his left ear and a black leather jacket was waiting by the elevator door.
Donovan hugged the man.
"Everything okay, Charlie?"
The man nodded. Donovan introduced him to Tina.
"Charlie Macfadyen," he said.
"One of the best."
"Pleased to meet you," said Tina.
"Everybody here?" Donovan asked Macfadyen.
"Just waiting for the guest of honour," said Macfadyen. He punched the elevator button and the door rattled open. The three men stepped to the side to allow Tina to walk in first. She felt her legs trembling but she kept her head up and her lips pressed tightly together. She walked into the lift and then turned to face them, feeling like a condemned prisoner about to be taken before the firing squad.
Tango One Page 42