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‘You have everything?’
Jimmy looked down at the black holdall.
‘I seem to have bugger all, but I suppose I’ve got all I really need.’
‘You have euros for when you’re out of Denmark?’
‘Don’t worry, I have everything.’
Udo gave him an encouraging grin. He liked Jimmy, he would miss him. They were alike in many ways, both lost souls trying to find their way to a God neither of them was sure existed. They both understood wickedness more than goodness, both were lonely and exiled. Had the circumstances been other than they were, they might have become friends. As it was, if Jimmy was going to run it was time for him to start.
‘You remember what to do when you get to Lübeck and you have the number to call when you get close?’
‘I remember and I’ve got the number.’
‘You have the address as well? You have everything I gave you?’
‘Udo, I’m not a kid. I remember what you told me. I know what to do.’
‘Of course. I’m just nervous, that’s all. It’s been a few years since I was involved in anything like this. What time’s your train?’
‘The same time it was last time you asked.’ Udo fell silent. It was questions for the sake of questions. He knew Jimmy was as ready as he’d ever be. ‘What will you do when they come and ask about me?’
‘Tell them the truth. You went out in the morning, you didn’t come back. I have no idea what’s going on.’
‘That’s the truth.’
‘It’s true enough. Do you really know what’s going on? Do either of us?’
Jimmy smiled. He liked it.
‘Very Jesuitical, not a lie but not quite the truth either. A sort of grey area of honest dishonesty.’
‘All areas of life are grey, except to saints or fanatics. You’re not a fanatic, are you, Jimmy?’
‘Only if you’re a saint.’
They both laughed and then shook hands.
‘Take care, Udo. I’d have liked to stay. I’m really sorry it didn’t work out.’
‘So am I. I think we could have got on together. Is there anything else I can do?’
‘Yes, one thing. Let Professor McBride know.’
‘Know?’
‘Everything. Maybe she won’t be interested but I think she ought to be told. Can you do that?’
‘Sure. I’ll pass on the message through her tame Monsignor. Well goodbye, my friend, and remember, Gott mit uns.’
‘Whose mittens?’
Udo laughed loudly and spontaneously then slapped Jimmy on the back.
‘They’re God’s mittens, and it means we can’t lose because we’ve got God’s mittens on our side.’
Jimmy shook his head. Udo could be a strange bloke. ‘Whatever. See you. Take care.’
Jimmy left and Udo spoke to the empty air.
‘God with us, Jimmy. If he exists, which I sometimes doubt. But I hope you do exist, God, because I think we’re going to need you.’
Her mobile rang. It was Charlie.
‘Yes?’ She checked her watch, it was just before ten thirty in the morning.
‘Things have started.’
‘Explain.’
‘He’s on the train and it’s just pulled out of Nyborg.’
‘What! You can’t have got him on the move since yesterday.’
‘It’s nothing to do with me. I came to Copenhagen to watch him, get some idea of his movements. It was pure chance I was watching when he left the house.’
‘What the hell’s he doing on a train?’
‘Travelling west towards Jutland, I don’t know where to. I bought a ticket to Aarhus. The train finishes there.’
‘Why do you think he’s moving?’
‘He’s running, that would be my guess. If he thinks I’m on to him and that the police and Danish Intelligence have connected him to the car bomb, he would reckon it’s only a matter of time before he gets picked up. He might even think that the friends you mentioned could get wind of where he is and turn up. Whatever the reason, he’s on the move and moving fast.’
‘Any guess where he’s heading?’
‘He could be making for an airport. There’s one at Aarhus, another at Esbjerg. Or he could be making for Billund. Billund would be my bet.’
‘Why Billund?’
‘Because it’s a tourist airport. It’s near Legoland. One more Brit wouldn’t be noticed.’
Henry Clarke-Phillips ran over it again. ‘You sound very sure. Why do you think he’s running?’
‘Because before he got on this train he bought a ticket to Hamburg and he did it in a way that would get remembered. Fussed with his money, asked questions, made himself memorable. But he didn’t get on the Hamburg train. Like I said, he headed west. I waited till Nyborg, there was an outside chance he had business there. He didn’t, so I’ve called in. I thought you’d want to know.’
‘Too damn right I wanted to know. Go on.’
‘He’s carrying a small holdall, travelling light and fast. He’s running all right and I’d say he’s good at it. He must have had practice.’
‘Damn.’
Charlie waited but after a couple of seconds he pressed on. She was the one who warned him to be careful of the battery.
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Give me a minute.’
He gave her another few seconds then he carried on again.
‘If he picks up a plane to the UK I can hardly follow and do him there. I need instructions if we’re going to do anything before he gets anywhere near an airport.’
Somebody had to make a decision and it was a big one. ‘Keep an eye on him. I’ll get back to you.’
She ended the call. Charlie put away his phone, pressed the flush and went back from the toilet into his carriage.
Henry Clarke-Phillips dialled a number. The direct line in London rang and the man answered it.
‘Yes?’
‘Costello is on the move.’
‘Good. That was quick work. Where are you driving him?’
‘We’re not. He’s running. He’s on a train heading west towards Jutland. Once he’s on Jutland he’s got a choice of three airports.’
‘You blew it! For God’s sake, you bloody well –’
‘Shut up.’
The sudden sharpness of the words silenced him. People who worked for him didn’t tell him to shut up. But she went on before he could respond.
‘It’s not us. I don’t know why he’s running but it’s not us. He’s heading west, we think to an airport. Aarhus, Esjberg or Billund. And before you ask, Billund is near Legoland. Lots of Brit tourists in and out.’
He decided to forget the ‘shut up’.
‘Do you think the police have spooked him?’
‘How should I know? If it was the police, that makes it worse for us. If they spooked him they may be watching him. If they are, they’ll know he’s on the move and can have airports watched. Do we want him picked up by the police?’
‘Very funny.’
‘All right, not picked up by the police. So someone has to make a decision.’ There was a moment’s silence. She had said the forbidden words. He must make a decision. He couldn’t delegate it and he couldn’t take it upstairs.
The silence went on.
‘Hello, anybody there?’
‘Don’t try and be funny. I’m thinking. This is tricky.’
And she knew exactly what he was thinking. How to shift the blame? At the first little hint of trouble, his self-preservation instincts kicked in and took over. He finally spoke.
‘If he gets on a plane for the UK we’re in the shit. Either he’ll get picked up at the airport, or get through and then go to ground. Both ways we lose him. What do you suggest?’
Oh great, she thought, if I give him a way out and it works it will become his idea and if it doesn’t he gets ready to make me the whipping boy. But if they lost Costello or let him get taken by the wrong people, there would be enough shit coming from the fan to bury both of them and have plenty left over. Her best hope was to come up with something. Either that, or maybe find herself cast as a rogue agent acting alone, someone who set up a private party and organised it so she would get all the glory – except there turned out to be no glory.
‘Can we do it in Denmark? Before he reaches the airport.’
‘No, definitely not. Not Denmark.’
‘OK, how about Bronski shows himself and tries to drive him away from where he can catch a plane?’
‘That’s no good. If he sees Bronski he might do anything, he might even call the police himself. Then where would we be? I wanted him to feel threatened, frightened. I wanted him to behave like a blown agent and run while we were in control. I didn’t want him to just pack a bag and set off to God knows where.’
‘So what do you want me to do? We need a decision. Can we call it off? Can we still salvage something by giving him to Mossad or the CIA?’
Silence. She could almost feel his nasty little mind turning, finding a way to get something for himself out of this instead of trying to come up with some sort of field decision.
‘Make sure Bronski sits on him, stays out of sight and calls in hourly or at once if anything happens. I’ll get back to you.’
He ended the call, then dialled.
‘Candice, there’s been a development. How far have you got at your end?’
Her answer was not good news. He forced enthusiasm into his voice.
‘Good, that’s great, everything’s in place?’
Damn, she’s all set, no changing anything now.
‘The development? Oh, Costello is on the move, we’ve begun driving him. It’s going like clockwork. We arranged it so he thought your people or Mossad had him located him and he ran, just like I told you he would.’
Christ, she’s congratulating me.
‘Yes, thanks, I know it was quick but why wait? The way I look at it, if we’re going to get it done, let’s get it done, especially as I knew you’d have everything ready at your end. I was sure you’d be efficient, as always.’
God damn and blast the bloody woman.
‘You’re sure you’re ready?’
He tried a casual laugh but it petered out.
‘Well, it looks like we’re off. Thanks, I’ll be in touch.’ He put the phone down. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’
She had set up her end, so they couldn’t cancel now. Some- how it had to go through. But how? He tried to think of something, but field operations weren’t anything he had much experience of, just enough to get him his desk, and all long ago now. How the hell to get Costello where he wanted him? No, not wanted him any more – needed him. What the hell to do? The irony of the thing was, there were half a dozen people in the building he could have asked who would have come up with any number of good ways to get it done. And he couldn’t talk to any of them. He had to be Control on this one all by himself. Why in God’s name had he started the whole thing?
He pressed a button. The door opened and his secretary came in.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Get me a couple of aspirin will you, Gloria. I feel a headache coming on.’
‘Certainly, I have some in my desk.’
The secretary left.
He got up, went to a cabinet, opened it and poured himself a stiff Jack Daniels, then went back to his desk and sat down. Gloria returned and handed him the two tablets.
‘No calls, no interruptions. If anything comes from upstairs, I’m out.’
‘Very good, sir.’
She left, closing the door quietly behind her. She went back to her desk and checked how many aspirins she had left. He didn’t often have headaches; usually they started when he thought he’d ballsed something up. Four left. If this was going to turn into a big balls-up she would probably need another packet. She’d get one when she went to lunch.
He took the aspirin and washed them down with a big pull at the whisky then got back to the problem in hand. He felt the incipient pain in his head begin to come alive. It was going to be a bad one, he could feel it building already. Thank God for Gloria’s aspirin. But he would have to be careful.
He mustn’t let her see that he was worried. He mustn’t let anyone see.
And he returned to the problem of keeping Costello away from any of the airports.
Jimmy looked out of the window. He was still vaguely surprised at Denmark. When he had received the letter saying his placement was in Copenhagen his first thoughts had been of snow and fjords, a land of semi-permanent winter. He had lumped Denmark with all the things his ignorance associated with Scandinavian countries. Looking out of the train at the countryside he could have been in any rural English county. He watched as fields, hedges and small patches of woodland passed by.
Copenhagen hadn’t been a surprise to him. It was European, different, foreign, full of places for the tourists. He didn’t like or dislike it. He felt about Copenhagen much as he felt about Southwark: different from Kilburn where he’d been born and brought up, but not that different.
But Copenhagen wasn’t Denmark. The real Denmark was more like Nyborg, clean and well-looked after but with history and character. It would have been nice to have travelled, seen more places like Nyborg. He decided he liked Denmark and was sorry to be leaving. And that brought his thoughts back to what was happening.
How long would it take for anyone to notice he had left? Maybe a couple of days, maybe longer. He wasn’t important to anyone in Copenhagen and as for that bloke Bronski, he’d somehow got his wires crossed. God knows how. But once he was gone, and stayed gone, Bronski would probably forget about him, especially if whoever fitted up his car had another go. He was pretty sure he’d seen the last of Bronski. And the police wouldn’t think he was worth following, unless the Danish police had a damn sight more money to waste than the Met ever had.
Now he was leaving it all behind him he could put it into perspective. He had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and on the edge of something that was nothing to do with him. These things happened. Not often. But they happened. The important thing was not to let them get out of all proportion. If you’re in the wrong place, go to some other place. He didn’t think all that Hamburg ticket nonsense was needed but he’d done it like Udo had suggested. Enough fuss so he’d be remembered if anyone asked the ticket seller. But no one was going to come looking for him, no one that mattered anyway.
They passed a field. A fox was crossing it without a care in the world, heading for a small copse at the far end.
So this was cloak and dagger, was it? This was what Special Branch and the secret boys got up to, how to play hide-and-seek from the bad guys. It had sounded all very professional when Udo had told him, but now it didn’t seem so very much. You just got on a train and headed off in the opposite direction from the one they expected you to take. No tail, no last-minute dash from the shadows, no car chases. Not like the films or TV at all, really. Just get on a train and off you go. Still, he wasn’t complaining. Keep it simple, keep it safe. Who knows, he thought, maybe I’ll get where I’m going, maybe I’ll even make it all the way to somewhere. Not that he cared. But he wasn’t making it easy for them. He was just a bit surprised at how bloody easy it was to make it hard.
Jimmy looked out of the window again then at his watch. About an hour to Fredericia and the change of trains. Then south to Germany. Once he was out of Denmark he would be safe, for the time being anyway. Jimmy settled down to empty his mind and think of nothing. To forget Bronski, Udo, the police and everything else. And, as Denmark’s clean and efficient rail service hurried Jimmy west, every half hour, in another carriage, a call got made.
‘No change.’
Until the train pulled into Fredericia and Jimmy got off and bought a ticket to Hamburg. Then the call was made and the message was – all change.
In an office in London another whisky was poured and this time no more aspirins were needed. Costello was headed south, not to any airport. The man holding the glass smiled to himself. He’d toughed it out, kept his nerve. He’d been a true professional and he’d made it. Take your chance when it comes and see it through. Bold, incisive and clever. What was it they said? Cream and bastards always rise. The glass was held up in a salute and the man almost shouted, ‘To cream and bastards.’
The door opened.
‘Did you call, sir? Do you want another aspirin?’
‘No, Gloria. My headache’s gone. I’m fine.’
Gloria closed the door and went back to her desk. She was glad he felt better; he was an even bigger pain in the tits than usual when he had one of his headaches. Somebody must have sorted it out for him, whatever it was, and things were back to normal. She was pleased. She liked it when things were going well and everything was normal.