Chapter Nineteen

Joe and Alejandro had spent the night curled up tightly around each other, as if their closeness and only that would repel all the horrors of the world.

The next afternoon, Patrick paid a visit. While Alejandro sat on the sofa, Joe sat on a kitchen chair, trying to invent space between them that neither of them wanted.

“So what’s the news, Commander?” Joe asked.

“I’m not going to draw this out,” Patrick said. “Mr Fuente, we were looking for a man named Baqil al-Abbasi in connection with the attacks that were claimed by Leviticus. Last night, a masked man was caught on CCTV arriving at your studio in a black Ford Mondeo. The same car that was used to launch the firework and the same car that Mr al-Abbasi drives. He disabled the camera feed prior to breaking in and triggering the silent alarm. It took officers seven minutes to reach the location. Five minutes after he arrived, the studio exploded.”

“We saw it,” Alejandro murmured, looking down at his fingernails.

“The fire crew recovered a body from the studio in the early hours,” Patrick went on. “I’ve just had confirmation that it was Baqil al-Abbasi. I have to tell you, because this will come out, we believe he intended to wait until you arrived, however long that might be, and trigger the explosives then. Obviously, something went wrong and the bomb detonated, resulting in his death.”

Alejandro put his hand to his mouth and took a deep, shaky breath. Then he nodded and said, “So that’s it? Oh God.”

“That’s the end of Leviticus?” But Joe wasn’t happy. He should’ve been, but a man had died. Even if it was by his own hand. He wanted—needed—to put his arm around Alejandro, but he couldn’t in front of Patrick.

“We believe so. I personally intend to make a very strong point to the powers that be that this could have been avoided four years ago if we’d been less concerned about upsetting the delicate feelings of some members of our society.” He shook his head. “But that’s for other ears. Our attention shifts now to mopping up the mess left by our Islamic friend and seeking out the suspiciously quiet Mr Smythe-Unwin. Although security will be scaling back, I’d like you to stay on as Mr Fuente’s CPO for the time being.”

“Of course. I’m happy to stay on. But can I just comment on something, Commander?” Joe fidgeted on the hard chair. It had seemed a good idea at the time, to make himself look business-like rather than reclining across a chaise-longue, but it wasn’t half uncomfortable. Especially with what he was about to say. “Baqil was investigated thoroughly at the time, but there wasn’t any evidence. Unless you’ve read a different set of reports from me on the case, I don’t think anyone was sparing anyone’s feelings with the investigation. In fact, quite the opposite, Baqil was grilled. And nothing was found. To be honest, it seems to me that the investigation of Baqil was too thorough, and the result was a recluse who called himself Leviticus.”

Patrick waited, serene and unflappable. Only when Joe had finished speaking did he nod and draw in a deep breath. “Joe, you’re a friend to me and one of the best men in my division but I’m privy to information that you aren’t. Every week things you couldn’t even believe cross my desk. Believe me when I tell you, this country is at war, and when we face men like the al-Abbasi brothers, we put ourselves on the front line. I predict great things for you if you stay in the force, but you need to lose that hands-across-the-ocean approach of yours. We’re under siege, and we all need to recognise it.”

Joe tried not to glance at Alejandro. Should Patrick really speak like that in front of a principal?

“Right. Well, I’m sure you’ve got a lot to be getting on with.” Joe rose from the hard chair.

“Forgive me, Joe.” Patrick rose too and held out his hand. “What happened last night brought back some difficult memories for this old soldier. You were right, they catch you unawares.”

Joe patted his shoulder. “It’s okay. I understand.”

Uninvited, Joe saw again the glassy eyes of the man who’d tried to kill the duchess. A blank, hollow stare through a muddy windscreen.

Joe blinked. “Let us know if there’s any developments. If Mr Smythe-Unwin makes an appearance, or tries to make contact, I’ll inform you and Control right away.”

“Of course.” The two men shook hands, then it was Alejandro’s turn to say his goodbyes, though Joe wondered if this wasn’t all a little overwhelming. Alejandro wasn’t a part of this invisible world of secrets and protection, after all, and now he had to be. Joe walked Patrick to the door and saw him off into the sea of cameras, closing the door on him as he descended the steps towards his waiting car.

“Osito.” Alejandro had moved to the doorway of the sitting room. He smiled and held out his hand to Joe. “Do you want to talk about the car that night? When you were hurt?”

“You’ve got enough on your plate, Alejo. You don’t need me going over old ground.” But even as Joe stood there, looking at Alejandro, the driver’s eyes floated in front of him as if they were projected onto a screen.

“My plate’s emptier than it has been in a long time.” He took Joe’s hand. “I need to process all of this but… I’ll get there. You’ve looked after me all this time. Now you look as though you need looking after, and that’s my job.”

Joe squeezed Alejandro’s hand. “It’s just…thinking of that guy blowing himself up. It feels like this case has gone wrong. I wanted him caught, and tried. I wanted it done properly. First job back, and it’s all gone wrong. That guy who tried to kill your mum, he was mentally ill. Couldn’t stand trial. I just feel like this isn’t what I signed up for. Innocent until proven guilty. Trial by jury. Everything done by the book. Even I’m not doing it by the book. What the fuck, Alejo? I don’t know what to do.”

“Let’s go to bed,” Alejandro said. “Nobody can see us there, no press on the doorstep or whatever, we can just cuddle and talk and you can say what you need to or say nothing. It doesn’t matter. Whatever you need.”

“Bed. And a bottle of wine?”

“Aye-aye, Sergeant!” Alejandro lifted their joined hands and kissed Joe’s fingers. “And I’ve been plotting. I rented a cottage on the coast for the shoot, and since the shoot isn’t happening now, I thought maybe we could use it anyway and shut ourselves away for a week or two. You don’t have to say now, but just in case. And we’d be home in time for our first Christmas!”

“We could both do with a holiday!” Joe chuckled. “A cottage by the coast sounds perfect. But do you know what’d be perfect right now? Cuddling up in a great big bed with you.”