by Liz Mistry
As Taffy leaned forward the thought crossed his mind that perhaps, if whatever Compo was about to show him was so important, he shouldn’t have spent the last half hour eating Nando’s and performing strange mantras with his poster collection. However, as soon as he began to read the stuff that was on the screen all he could think was Holy Shit!
He glanced at Compo, who nodded, his face, despite the smear of extra hot peri-peri sauce on his cheek, looking more serious than he had ever seen. Taffy swallowed. ‘Encrypted burner phone?’
Compo inclined his head and lifted an innocuous phone from the shelf above his workstation. Fingers speeding over the screen, he composed a text and hit send.
66
16:15 North Manchester General Hospital
The dark had settled in, the sky heavy with snow yet to fall. Many of the parking spaces at the hospital were taken up with mucky piles of snow, rendering them unusable and they were just doing their second circuit of the carpark when Gus felt a vibration in his back pocket. A quick glance at Nancy informed him she was unaware of it, as she continued to moan about inconsiderate hospital visitors’ parking over two spaces, the snow and parking charges. He had to get away from her for enough time to see what Compo had decided was too sensitive to be sent to his normal phone. With his pain medication wearing off, the familiar pressure of one of his headaches bore down on him. It would become so intense as if his skull was being compressed by giant pliers. He could have done without the added worry of Compo’s text, so he popped an Ibuprofen and swigged it back with the dregs from his can of Irn Bru.
Pointing to a space right next to the entrance, he said ‘Drop me there and you go park up. I can’t walk very far in this weather with crutches. I’ll wait inside for you.’ He needed to get away from her for just a few minutes – just long enough to rehydrate and deal with the text before she came back. Much as he loved Nancy, she could be a phenomenal pain in the backside at times and, right now, he was in the position of having to put up with it – at least until he worked his way out of her bad books again. However, he had no intention of involving her in Compo’s deep diving on the expedition on the darknet. As soon as Nancy drove out of sight, Gus accessed his encrypted phone and dialled Compo’s number.
Ten minutes, later sitting on the leather-covered bench near the entrance, a cone of water in one hand and his crutches balanced between his legs, Gus observed the comings and goings. North Manchester General differed only a little from Bradford Royal Infirmary. The ethnic make-up of the patients and the staff was similar, the hustle and bustle familiar and the range of injuries and ailments echoed Gus’ memories of his last visit to BRI. He hated it. Instead of relieving the throb in his head, he could sense the pressure increasing with each passing second.
Compo’s revelations hammered away at his brain and his skull was ready to splinter into a trillion shards. Gulps of air hitched in his chest and around him noise became echoey and distant, as if it was filtered through a funnel. He dropped the half-filled cone of water and pressed both his palms onto the leather bench. If he made a connection to the seat he’d be okay. If he willed himself to reconnect with the world he’d be fine. It was too late though. He couldn’t press hard enough onto the seat, so he lifted one hand and clawed his fingers against his wound. The pain brought tears to his eyes, yet still he was falling… and then Nancy was there. Perching beside him, pulling his hand away from his thigh injury, talking low and soft and gentle. The fuzz behind his eyes lessened, his chest muscles slackened and breathing was easier.
He glanced round and cursed. His panic attack had secured him a sizeable audience and as well as the sweat dotted across his brow, the sensation of a wine-coloured flush spreading through his cheeks made him want to scream ‘What the fuck are you looking at?’ He didn’t need to because Nancy was there, in his corner – his friend as well as his boss.
‘Seen enough have you? Go on, piss off. Mind your own business.’
Her words brought a smile to Gus’ lips. She didn’t swear often but when she did she put it to good use.
‘You okay, Gus? Panic attack?’
What makes you think that? A year ago Gus would have shrugged and tried to laugh it off, but he’d grown stronger since then. The corner of his mouth quirked up and he nodded, ‘Yep. Bastard of a panic attack this time. Should have realised I was due one. Been a busy few days.’
Nancy prodded him on the arm. ‘See, this is what happens when you go prancing off on your own, like Batman and his Incredible Hunk sidekick.’
Despite himself, Gus grinned at her description of Gore as the Incredible Hunk. He was a good-looking bugger, but Nancy was on a roll.
‘Worrying everyone, going in unarmed, not waiting for back up. This has got to stop.’ And she punctuated each of the final five words with a bony prod on Gus’ arm.
She had a point. Gus acknowledged that, but did she have to prod him so damn hard? Did she have to choose this precise moment to go off on one? Her reference to Gore had reminded him that they didn’t know how his operation had gone. But Nancy was still wittering on, all loud and annoying again.
‘Just as well the operation was a success…’
Gus frowned, rewound, ‘You telling me Gore’s out of the woods?’
With an elongated sigh and an eyeroll that would have been the envy of any self-respecting, stroppy teenager, Nancy tutted. ‘I’ve just been telling you. They managed to relieve the pressure on his brain and he’s back in the high dependency unit. They’re cautiously optimistic he’ll be okay. Sandra has requested he be transported to Bradford or Leeds as soon as he’s able as she can’t get here with the little one.’ She lifted her hand, index finger extended again, but before she recommenced her prodding, Gus slipped his arms into the crutch cuffs and pushed up onto his feet, ‘Come on Nancy. No time for your blame fest. Let’s go see what Daniel Farrier has to offer.’
67
16:25 North Manchester General Hospital
The information Compo had given him was still as sharp as acid in his gullet. If anyone other than Compo had given him this intelligence, Gus would have knocked it back. However, he would trust Compo with his life – unpalatable though it may be, Compo’s foray into the dark web had paid huge, if unexpected, dividends. Despite his headache, the cumbersome crutches and the crowds of people thronging the corridors, Gus set off at a pace towards the side ward where Daniel Farrier was and aware of the looks Nancy kept throwing in his direction. He said ‘How long before MI6 swoop in on their broomsticks – or maybe it’ll be the Death Star?’
Nancy shrugged, ‘Couple of hours tops, I reckon. They’d have already been here if it wasn’t for the deterioration in conditions in the South of the country.’
Right, long enough! Pulling to a stop outside the door, Gus nodded at the uniformed officer who’d been put on guard duty outside and paused. He could hear Gabriella’s voice, loud and domineering, accompanied by a lower rumble that was Daniel and the occasional offering from his sister drifting from inside the room. This wasn’t ideal, he’d much prefer to do this interview with just him and Nancy present. But it’d take too long to convince Gabriella to leave. When had he ever managed to convince her to do anything he wanted? And the last thing he needed was for MI6 to storm in and sweep Daniel away before he could put the evidence before him – get an explanation.
Hands on her hips, Nancy glared at him. ‘What the hell is wrong with you? You’ve got a face like a gnarled old Rottweiler and it’s not just the after-effects of your little ‘do’ earlier.’
‘Little do’ indeed! Damn woman’s too perceptive for her own good. He leaned on the wall next to the door and spoke in quiet but urgent tones. ‘Nance, you got to go with me on this one, ok? You just need to trust me.’
Her chest heaved as she inhaled and abruptly released the air with an audible whoosh. ‘Compo?’
Gus inclined his head, ‘Yeah, Compo.’
Nancy tapped her booted foot on the floor and flung her hands in the air, �
��Okay. Go for it Gus.’
He could have kissed her. Nancy was trusting him with not only his own reputation, but hers too. Smile tight, he bobbed his head once, pushed himself away from the wall, straightened his body as much as he could and entered the room.
‘Where have you been? We had to make our way from the airport – cost us an arm and a leg!’ Gabriella sat next to her brother, arms folded across her chest, dark eyes accusing.
Katie jumped to her feet and rushed to meet him, guiding him to the chair that she’d vacated on the other side of Daniel. ‘God, Gus. Daniel didn’t say you were so badly hurt.’
Gabriella snorted, ‘He’s not exactly bed ridden, is he?’
Before Gus had the chance to retort, Nancy cut through Gabriella’s continued moaning. ‘You always were a nasty little bitch. Some things haven’t changed. For your information, Danny boy here would have been dead if not for Gus and, just so we’re clear,’ she pointed at Gus’ thigh as he settled onto the plastic chair, ‘an inch in the wrong direction and you’d be attending his funeral right now, not feeding grapes to your brother.’
As Gabriella, red faced, opened her mouth to respond, Katie moved to her side and placed her hands on her partner’s shoulders, ‘Let’s call a damn truce Gaby. None of this is Gus’ fault and you are behaving like a bitch.’
Gus tensed in anticipation of the inevitable eruption, but it never came. Instead, Gabriella raised one hand to cover Katie’s where it lay on her shoulder and smiled. ‘You’re right, sweetie.’ And with an inconsequential shrug she added, ‘Sorry Gus.’
Gus and Nancy exchanged surprised glances and Gus pulled his chair closer to the bed. ‘Got some more questions to ask you, if that’s okay.’
Daniel rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner and spoke to his sister. ‘He’s just not letting me off the hook. Izzie’s dead, yet he’s still hassling me.’
Gus glared at Gabriella before she had a chance to reply and was pleased when instead of speaking, she bit her lip and patted Daniel’s arm. ‘Just a few questions – it’s not like you’ve anywhere else to be, is it?’
Katie cleared her throat, ‘Before you start, Gaby and I will go and grab a coffee.’ She turned to her partner and all but manhandled her out of the room. Gus could have kissed her for that. Katie was nobody’s fool and she’d clearly interpreted Gus’ tone correctly – this was going to be good.
He waited till his sister and ex-wife had left the room and Nancy had settled on the other side of the bed before beginning. ‘Bank account in the Cayman Islands is looking good, Danny boy. MI6 is paying big bucks these days.’
It was only a fleeting flicker – gone almost before it began – but it was enough to confirm that Compo’s intelligence was accurate. Daniel played with the monitor attached to the middle finger on his good hand – the one with the fingers intact and said, ‘You lost me there. Never been to the Cayman Islands.’
Gus took out his burner phone and consulted the information Compo had texted him, ‘You see, I don’t believe you. We’ve got a trail that leads from Russia to you, round the houses through the streets – a bit like Wee Willie Winkie – and straight into a Cayman bank account to the tune of three million US Dollars.’ Gus looked at Nancy. ‘Shame he’s trussed up in a hospital bed, or no doubt he’d be en route to sunnier climes.’
Nancy snorted and nudged Daniel’s poorly hand.
Gus smiled as Daniel jumped wincing – maybe in need of a morphine top up – poor sod! ‘Then there’s the intercepted emails. Gus pretended to be flipping through his phone. ‘Oh yeah – here’s one – to Furkan Narkis – encrypted and wiped, but – when you’ve got a shit-hot team, you’ve got a shit-hot team. Yep – says here you hired them to find out where Izzie was keeping the formula.’ Gus leaned back, ignoring the twinge across his shoulders that warned him the crutches were forcing him to use muscles he’d forgotten he had. His eyes were gritty, his vision blurred until he blinked. He had to keep on top of this. Had to see it through. ‘Words like ‘torture’ and ‘do what it takes’ and ‘Russians getting antsy’ – care to explain?’
Daniel, face pale – looked from Nancy to Gus, ‘No, no, you got it all wrong. I work with MI6, just trying to trap the Turks – they were the ones going to sell it to the Syrians.’
‘Ah,’ Gus shook his head and tutted, ‘See that’s not what Vulcan’s telling us.’
Daniel snorted. ‘Phew, you believe that piece of scum?’
‘Well, you see it’s not just ‘that piece of scum,’ is it? There’s also that wee matter of the recovered messages between you and a certain Grigory Dobrynin of Russia’s Main Intelligence Directorate detailing the payment schedule and exchange thereof of the bio-weapon formula. You got your eye on the big bucks and Izzie was just a pawn in your game.’ Gus let the disgust show on his face.
But Daniel wasn’t giving up just yet. ‘Good try. But way off the mark. I’m an MI6 agent. You wouldn’t understand the complexities of an undercover operation if it hit you in the face. You with your big friend, bumbling in like an idiot to a scene that I had perfectly under control. You fucked up, McGuire. You – not me. No one will ever believe any of the crap you think you have on me.’
Gus looked at Nancy, his smile steady, his eyes direct. ‘Read him his rights. We’ll let the CPS decide, shall we? We’ve got the evidence.’
Nancy had just finished arresting Daniel when the door burst open and two suited men strode in. Who the hell do they think they are – CID? They flashed their badges, ‘MI6, we’ll take things from here.’
Nancy stepped in front of Gus with a warning look. ‘I’m afraid we’ve just arrested this man and so he stays in our custody for now.’
As Nancy uttered her sentence, two things happened. First Gabriella came into the room, her face flushing, eyes wild as she glared at Gus. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? He’s just lost his fiancée and he nearly died. Are you crazy?’
The larger of the two MI6 men, pushed forward, infringing on Nancy’s personal space.
Nancy glared up at him, her voice lowered to a growl, ‘Do not try to intimidate me. He. Is. Our. Prisoner.’ Her lips set in a thin line, her hands straight by her side, her posture rigid, claiming every inch of height she had.
‘MI6 trumps local police,’ said big man.
Nancy stepped into his space, ‘Not when the charge is murder. Tell your boss, I’ll be in touch, but for now he’s ours.’
There was a two-minute standoff, which to Gus seemed to last for hours. The big man nodded and motioned to his partner. They stepped out of the room and Gus could hear them talking on the phone. He turned to Gabriella and Katie, arms splayed, ‘I can explain.’
Gabriella rushed at him, her hands fisted and began to punch his face, his chest and his arms, while sobbing. ‘You just can’t move on, can you, Gus. You can’t let it go. You’ve got to take it out on my brother, don’t you?’
Gus’ arms in his crutches, fingers gripping the hand-bars to steady himself, put up no resistance. How could she think that of him? His cheekbone throbbed, his lip burst, but still he stood there until, at last – Katie and Nancy galvanised into action – dragged Gabriella away from him. As Gus looked at her, Katie wrapped her arms round a weeping Gabriella, her gaze venomous as she looked at Gus.
Nancy stepped close to them. ‘The situation is far more complicated than you are aware of – just back off.’ She turned and called the uniformed officer in. ‘Escort these two out of here. They’re pissing me off big time.’
Gus, shaking, barely able to stand even with the support of his crutches, watched as his sister and ex-wife left the room. Their last glances were venomous and directed at him. Gabriella’s words to her brother were, ‘Don’t worry, Danny. We’ll sort this out. Stay strong.’
As the door swung shut behind them, Nancy phoned through to the head of SCO19 team and asked for armed guards to be deployed twenty-four-seven to guard Daniel Farrier until they could move him to BRI.
‘You�
�re making a big mistake, McGuire. A huge one. Do you really want to lose your sister because of this?’
A flashback to the previous year, when Alice was being taken away by London police officers because of Sean Kennedy’s treachery and the image of the body of a young girl discarded down a valley in Bradford because of a police officer’s treachery, rocked him. He dropped his right crutch to the floor and slammed his fist into Daniel Farrier’s supercilious face. ‘Fuck you, Farrier.’
As the two MI6 agents rushed back in, Nancy yanked the sheet off Farrier’s bed and yelled, ‘You shouldn’t have attacked my officer.’ She turned to the agents and said, ‘Help my officer to a chair, this one pummelled him, look at his face – it’s swelling up.’
With armed guards – one outside and one inside Daniel Farrier’s side room – in place, Nancy was en route to a FaceTime meeting in Greater Manchester with the head of MI6 regarding Daniel Farrier’s move to the dark side. Detective Chief Superintendent Bashir had been unable to accompany Nancy but had issued strict instructions to be kept updated. Compo had encrypted and set up various firewalls and so on before sending all he’d scavenged to Nancy and Gus from an anonymous source that hinted at being from inside Russia itself. Somehow, he’d even managed to play with the times so that it looked like they’d received the anonymous information just after noon. According to Compo, he’d shut every back door that could lead to him, but in all honesty, Nancy doubted MI6 would be focussing anywhere other than Russia. This was a huge embarrassment to them and Nancy, still narked that they wouldn’t give her full access to Farrier’s file from the start, was prepared to draw as much blood and mortification as she could.