by G I Tulloch
O'Rourke was late, and when O'Rourke was late it wasn't good news. He resigned himself to another cigarette but before he could reach for his lighter a pair of headlights swung across his rear vision and into the lay-by behind him. The crushed cigarette was consigned to the floor. Out of habit he checked the gun in his pocket and reached for the door handle.
The figure that emerged from the car behind him was unmistakably O'Rourke, the tall upright stature and swept -back grey hair but what caught Reilly's attention was that he came from the passenger seat and even in the dark he recognised the figure of the driver. O'Rourke walked straight past him as if he wasn't there and stood gazing out over the speckled landscape. Reilly recognised the signs and joined him. They didn't look at each other but to all intents and purposes were admiring the scene before them. This would be misleading.
"What do I pay you for Sean?" demanded O'Rourke, the tone low and controlled, but Reilly had heard it before and distrusted it. It was unclear whether the question was rhetorical or not but Reilly gambled on the simple response.
"Satisfaction," he replied.
He sensed a smile from O'Rourke, but it didn't check his rising insecurity. He turned as something in his peripheral vision caught his eye. The driver had stepped out onto the roadway. Reilly turned back.
"I'm not satisfied Sean," revealed O'Rourke and continued, his voice slowly rising in force. "You had Lennox. He was at your mercy. You are the best and you weren't good enough. I needed the information that I know he has, and you couldn't get it for me."
Reilly didn't respond, and O'Rourke's voice dropped back to over-controlled.
"How are Brenda and your two girls? Do I have to remind you that your family hasn't had a happy time. Sean, we still know where they are. You don't want them to suffer any more."
Reilly's gun hand twitched in his pocket and the safety catch rocked on and off several times, but he didn't comment.
"What happened with Lennox?" demanded O'Rourke tersely.
Reilly tried not to sound defensive, but shifted from foot to foot without realising. "He had help, professional help. There's something not right. They managed to overpower my man." He considered mentioning O'Rourke's failure in achieving anything by breaking into the flat but on the balance of things the timing didn't seem quite right. There was a silence that went on too long for his liking before O'Rourke saw fit to break it. He took out a cigarette and lit it first.
"I'm rolling up the operation. Interpol raided the Prague warehouse last night but they can't trace us from there. I can't afford them to get any closer so I'm shutting down the route and cutting out the links."
"What about Anna?"
O'Rourke turned to him. "I'll deal with Anna when the time comes. And Lennox..."
"Lennox won't be an issue, I can deal with him," replied Reilly.
O'Rourke shook his head and stepped away slightly. "I can't trust you any more Sean...."
Reilly's hand slipped off the safety and he measured the distance he would have to cover to put O'Rourke between him and the driver.
"So I'll deal with Lennox myself," continued O'Rourke. "With Anna's help I'll get him off his own patch. He hasn't tied anything into me yet."
"Greg's gone to ground but he's still a liability," said Reilly, changing the subject.
"Find him," said O'Rourke. "Deal with him so that he's no longer a threat. We need to tie up all the loose ends very tight."
"And the girl?"
"The bitch Trent? What about her?"
Reilly licked his lips in a way that O'Rourke found distasteful. "I want the girl."
O'Rourke made a face, which was invisible in the dark. "Take her then, but remember that until Lennox is dealt with she is still our insurance policy, so reign in your nasty little desires until then, and when you're finished with her don't leave any remains of her that can be traced back to either of us."
He turned and made his way back to the car but stopped and turned before he got in. "And Sean, don't make another mistake or you may find it being your last."
Without waiting for a reply the car took off leaving Reilly pensively taking out another cigarette, having carefully released the safety on his gun.
Chapter 31
Take a walk in the park they said, relax they said. Pass the Valium Adam said.
So here they were in St James' Park, on a Thursday for goodness sake.
"Hey Lennox," interrupted Bel, "I'm here too. You have all the time you're alone to think private thoughts. In the mean-time count me in on the world."
Adam turned and looked at her. "You know Trent, when you're angry, your nostrils flare."
"You really know how to compliment a gal, you know that."
"It's one of the things my mother taught me," confessed Adam.
Bel grimaced, "Well my mother taught me how to hit where it hurts so be careful."
The park was relatively busy, spring thinking about giving way to summer occasionally. There were young couples on their own, young couples with prams, young couples with buggies that rivalled NASA for ingenuity and folded up so small you could get them in your hip pocket. There were kids who couldn't read, playing football, using the 'No Ball Games' notices as goalposts, uni-cyclists who seemed to be deliberately flaunting the 'No Bicycles' signs, and couples who wouldn't see sixty again with their perpetual 'it wasn't like this in my day' expressions, pretending the rest didn't exist.
"You know Trent. You really have a way of putting people at their ease," mused Adam. "I imagine you as a counsellor for the Citizens Advice Bureau when the suicide rates are getting below average."
Bel's eyes narrowed as she thought of a suitable retort, but was interrupted by a stone in her shoe. She stopped and balanced on one leg to take her shoe off.
"A gentleman would stop and give a lady his arm to help her with a stone in her shoe."
Adam stopped and turned round, surprised. "I tell you what. If we come across a gentleman and a lady then we'll ask them shall we?"
Bel caught up. "Are you always going to be this rude?"
Adam stopped and looked at her. "Rude is debatable. As for the future, who knows what it is going to hold. My horoscope this morning told me that I was going to take a trip over water so I am deliberately avoiding the lakes in the park to prove it wrong." He turned away. "If I appear rude it is because I am trying to think of the next step to take in order to secure our future free of homicidal maniacs."
The path they were following now took a downward slope, curving around an extensive group of rhododendron bushes. As they walked, a pair of shadows appeared one on either side of them. Adam and Bel instinctively slowed down to let them pass but they became aware that the shadows were here to stay.
Adam took Bel's arm and they walked on, ignoring the extra presence and pretending that nothing had changed.
Adam broke the silence. "Miss Trent, I get the impression that others are keen to walk with us."
Bel picked up on the light-hearted tone. "Perhaps it's one of these accompanied tours with your own private expert, Mr Lennox. You know, to give us detailed knowledge of the flora and fauna that we trip over on our visit. Did you fill in a form as we came in, asking for a tour?"
"No. No I didn't. Still perhaps out of the goodness of their hearts they are willing to give us the benefit of their knowledge anyway, lest we fall into a decline and waste away for lack of inspiring company and uplifting conversation." He glanced briefly right and left to assess their guard of honour. Two males, late twenties early thirties, no sense of humour, short hair, regulation track suits (very Jimmy Saville). Tall and skinny, short and fat. They could be a tribute act for Laurel and Hardy. They were either an advert for Nike or government employees. Adam's money was on the latter, he was never one to bet on anything less than an outright certainty.
The taller of the two, red tracksuit, big nose, no jewellery broke the silence.
"Funny man. They said you were a funny man."
Adam frowned. "Who said I w
as a funny man? Bel do you think I am a funny man? I think I could take exception to that. I know my rights and this could be discriminating or downright insulting. I may consult my MP. Bel tell me. Am I funny?"
"Humour is beyond you Adam. Strangeness is another matter."
Adam leapt in. "Strangeness is indeed another matter. In fact it is an attribute of sub-atomic particles discovered in the late eighties or early nineties."
There was a pause during which Adam scanned the horizon for any sign of Cavalry. He could only hold off the Indians for so long with his witty repartee before they decided to get to the point of their presence.
"It's no good looking for Mitch," said Tall and Skinny. "We've already talked to him and told him to go take a powder."
Take a powder. Very sixties gangster film, he must have seen them on the re-runs thought Adam, he wasn't old enough for first time around. Goodness, even Adam wasn't that old. So Mitch had been warned off and seemed to have accepted the guidance. They had to be Government in that case. So why were they here?
"Well my friends, I presume you haven't come here to enjoy the spring sunshine whilst gaining beneficial exercise so perhaps you had better let us in on the reason for this interruption to our weekday ambulatory excursion, that we might be enlightened, and then you can push off."
Short and Fat, moustache, blue tracksuit, wedding ring, displayed signs of impatience at the flippancy that Adam was using as a defence.
"Lennox, you're meddling in things you don't understand, matters where national security starts to become an issue, and there are connected people in high places who are getting extremely nervous about your ham fisted digging around. It's time to stop."
Why did Adam get the impression he was in a game of chess? "National security? So that makes you what, government men right? You are what, MI5, Special Branch, Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries or what?"
White Bishop to Queen's pawn four.
"It doesn't matter if we're government or not."
Black Knight to King's Rook four.
"Oh I think you'll find it does," said Adam. He paused and carried on. "Just so that we are completely clear on this. The meddling to which you refer relates to what, the death of Granger Bartlett, or his son John?"
White Knight to Kings Bishop three. Check.
"Don't mess around with us, you've been cleared of any involvement in John Bartlett's murder but you're continuing to dig up dirt on Granger Bartlett and I repeat, it's time to stop."
Black Bishop to King's Bishop four, block.
Adam smiled. "So this has nothing to do with the death of my wife."
White Rook takes Black Bishop, check.
Tall and Skinny was caught of guard. "We don't know anything about the death of your wife."
Black King retreats from White Rook.
Adam repeated. "So it's just about Granger Bartlett."
White Rook advances, Check.
"Yes."
Black King retreats further.
"So it wasn't an accident then. What was it? Suicide or Murder?" Checkmate.
Before they had time to react Adam's mobile rang. What? You expect him to set it to vibrate at a time like this?
He looked at Short and Fat with a raised, questioning eyebrow.
"Answer it but be very careful, put it on speaker phone," he said.
Adam looked at the phone display and hit the green button.
"Gerry, what can I do you for?"
Gerry sounded agitated. "I've had a call from the Zoo."
"What did the Zoo want?"
"Apparently the tigers have gone down with some virus. They're blaming the incident with the camera."
"What? Because the elephant threw a camera into their enclosure, the tigers are ill? Don't be ridiculous."
Gerry coughed. "They've repeated their threats to sue."
Adam snorted. "The zoo can't sue us. Get onto our lawyer tomorrow and get him to sort it out."
"Okay," said Gerry. A brief pause. "Are you all right Adam? You sound out of sorts."
"I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow." He hung up and turned to Mr Tall. "My vet. He calls me all the time."
Short and Fat was sceptical. "So. A coded conversation. Very clever. Very sophisticated."
Adam rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "You have no idea."
"So who are the tigers and what's their relationship to the elephant?"
Adam sighed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
Short and Fat made as if to try, but thought better of it.
Tall and Skinny came to his rescue. "It is not in the national interest for you to continue. I'm giving you a final warning. Don't speculate. Don't ask any more questions, just let it go."
Bel, who had let Adam do the running butted in. "So if we find out where the body's buried, you don't want to know."
"If I were you I wouldn't even let it be known that you know, for your own safety."
"Is that a threat?"
"No, it's a friendly warning, you're dealing in issues where people get hurt, caught in the crossfire."
Adam joined in. "So who's doing the shooting?"
No answer.
Adam's mouth set a grim line. "With the friendly warning comes friendly fire?"
"If you're alluding to what I think you're alluding to then you need to be very careful, the Official Secrets Act has very long fingers." And as if to demonstrate his point Tall and Skinny reached out a long arm towards Adam who didn't react. Mr Cool, not afraid, Batman would have been impressed.
"What happens if we keep digging?" asked Bel.
Tall and Short looked at each other. "We can't guarantee your freedom or your safety. From anyone."
Adam interrupted. "This is getting rather boring. You're the third set of people to play this record and I'm getting suspicious. Whilst I'd love to spend more time with you, I think you're beginning to frighten my friend and it's time you left." He looked at Bel who showed no evidence whatsoever of being frightened.
He turned to find out Tall and Short's response, but they had already gone, disappeared completely, leaving Adam and Bel alone in a small dell amongst the flowers in the spring sunshine.
They sat down on a convenient bench and Adam broke the silence.
"Was that weird or was that weird? I'm beginning to believe in conspiracy theory. That's the fourth time someone's warned me to keep my nose out."
Bel smiled and the sun came out. "Onset of paranoia. No, that...was a good sign."
Adam raised an eyebrow. "You're losing me Trent."
"Someone is getting extremely worried that we're onto something Lennox. We are obviously rattling the right cages, lifting the appropriate manhole covers in our drains up investigation. If we weren't then they would be merely sitting in their offices drinking coffee and laughing at us behind our backs."
"The question is, which of the manhole covers that we have lifted is the one that really smells."
Bel wrinkled her nose. "These metaphors are getting rather malodorous for my liking, time for coffee to stimulate the brain cells."
A short walk took them to one of those tea-rooms so beloved of public parks eager to tease loose change out of their clientele, where the elderly and infirm could rest bunions. This was little more than a summer-house with a scattering of tables around it but had obviously been smartened up with a coat of paint over the winter. The climbing roses had been carefully put back after painting but looked rather artificial as a result.
An exchange of legal tender found them sitting down at a remote table. Adam always chose the hardest, most uncomfortable seat with the greatest wobble. It was a knack he had had since birth, the envy of the world. The gift extended to supermarket trolleys and their wheels, which is why Adam did most of his shopping by the basketful in the local grocery store.
He took a good look around him at his fellow drinkers. He was becoming increasingly suspicious of the world around him and was starting to look for danger signals anywhere. Iraq had t
aught him that even the most insignificant could be dangerous, a child with an automatic weapon was no less dangerous than a trained assassin. Fortunately there were no children in the tearoom capable of wielding a semi-automatic and he relaxed slightly.
He looked back at Bel. "Do you want to pull out of this. Go away until it all blows over?"
She leant over the table and spoke in that determined voice that Adam was beginning to realise was not to be argued with.
"If you think I'm going to come this far Lennox and then skive off somewhere then you've got another think coming. I want to find out what happened to Fran as much as you do. I'm damn well going to see this through to the end and no-one, but no-one is going to tell me otherwise! I need to know."
Adam looked at her strangely as if to try and read something into the statement.
"Don't look at me like that." Bel continued. "How did they manage to get rid of Mitch. I thought he was protecting us?"
"He is, but only from the bad guys. If they were bona fide and they managed to convince him then he would have backed off."
The coffee arrived. Proper cups and cafetieres, Adam was impressed.
"So, what do we know for fact?" he started, optimistically.
There was a pause for thought and then he continued.
"We know that Bartlett's ships were smuggling arms."
"According to your Anna," continued Bel.
Adam stuck out his tongue. Mature, very mature. "Yes, according to Anna who works for the Customs and Excise," He paused. "Well we have to believe someone."
Bel snorted and nearly choked on her coffee.
"Someone tipped off John Bartlett, who decided to check it out, found out things he shouldn't, and was killed for it."
Bel interrupted. "Why kill him? Someone else obviously knew. The person who had tipped him off for a start. Why draw more heat? I don't think it's that straightforward, besides, what are these papers that everyone is looking for?"