forty-nine

“Tiggi Sgornik’s dead,” Aston announced quietly. He loosened his tie and collar, a gesture that was as surprising as if he had suddenly announced a profound belief in aliens. It was accompanied by a pull of the mouth as if the words tasted bitter.

They were in the living room, with Gina keeping Nancy occupied upstairs. They had taken seriously Aston’s warning that the news he had was not something she would want to hear.

Ruth and Vaslik were on the sofa, with Aston slumped in an armchair opposite. He looked beat, as if he had run a marathon, his usually neat, sharp edges slightly rumpled. Before speaking, he’d placed a small plastic box on the coffee table and flicked a switch, explaining that it was one of James Ellworthy’s toys—a jammer to counter the listening devices in the house.

“I had to tell you in person,” he continued, “and I’ll have to ask you to keep this from Mrs. Hardman for a while until more is known.”

“Will do,” Ruth agreed. “What happened?”

“Miss Sgornik’s body was found late last night just below Putney Bridge. Early indications are she was beaten to death. The Serious Organised Crime Unit is involved and the Foreign Office wants answers.”

“What now?” Ruth felt numbed. Was this a precursor to Beth also being found dead, a grisly sign that the kidnappers had finally given up waiting for Michael Hardman and cut their losses?

“I’ll come to that. We’d put out her name earlier as a person of interest and got the heads-up of her death from a contact in the Met. That gave us some leeway.”

“To do what?” This from Vaslik.

“Initially we’re handing over everything to them.” At their looks of surprise, he explained, “If we don’t and they find the link later on, they’ll slaughter us. There are already questions being asked in the House about the involvement of private security contractors in criminal investigations. And since our guards went missing in Nigeria, we’re under even closer scrutiny.” He winced. “It seems that along with the military nowadays, we’re not supposed to lose people; as if it had never occurred to anyone before that fighting or protecting others in openly hostile areas is an inherently dangerous occupation. If we’re accused on top of that of withholding evidence about a child abduction here in London, I doubt we’ll survive the fall-out.”

“Not even with our new friends in Washington and Amsterdam to back us up?”

Aston gave a bleak smile at Ruth’s acid tone. She was referring to Martyn Claas and Bob Zitterman.

“They won’t protect us.” His voice was blunt. “If their investment is threatened in any way they’ll drop us like hot coals. We’re hardly in the same territory as Blackwater, but neither are we big enough to fight off a government enquiry unscathed. The publicity would rip us to shreds.”

Blackwater was a powerful American private security company, some of whose men had been accused of brutality and excesses in Iraq. With the suspected help of influential friends, the company had weathered the media and political storm, but had since changed hands and name. Aston was correct: Cruxys wasn’t in the same league.

“How was the body identified?” Ruth queried. It seemed pointless to pursue it but she was curious to know what role Tiggi had played in Beth’s abduction. Had she been an innocent caught up in the kidnap … or something darker?

“A label was found stitched inside the pocket of her jacket, believe it or not. It led to her father, a clothing manufacturer named Czcibor Sgornik. She was allegedly in the UK on an extended visit to improve her English, although there are doubts about that. However, she had a habit of calling her father once a week—his instructions, I gather. He was worried about her. When he hadn’t heard from her for a few days he rang his embassy and got them involved. It seems he carries a lot of weight with the government, courtesy of making, among other things, uniforms for the Israeli police and army.”

Vaslik’s eyebrows shot up and he exchanged a glance with Ruth. He hadn’t missed the significance. “Israel? Is that where’s she’s from?”

“Yes. Czcibor’s parents arrived in Israel from Poland sixty years ago. Tiggi was educated in Haifa. This is another reason we’re having to step back from this: with the involvement of another country it’s simply too messy. Let the police and security service sort it out.”

Ruth leaned forward. “Why MI5? Is there a spying connection?”

“Not as far as I know. They’re playing safe, that’s all. Hardman works in some very questionable, even threatening places; place that in connection with almost anything Israeli and the warning flags go up as a matter of course.”

There was a “but” in there somewhere; Ruth could hear it. Aston hadn’t given up that easily, surely. “What about Beth? She’s still out there.”

“I’m aware of that.” Aston met her glare with absolute calm. He tapped his knees and looked at them both in turn. “We probably have twenty-four hours to get this cleaned up. Find the kidnappers and bring Beth home. But,” he paused, “I’m giving you both an opt-out. If you want nothing more to do with it, I will understand. You can transfer to other assignments and we’ll let the authorities do what they can. In fact, Claas is demanding it; he wants the publicity of being seen to be a responsible company. If that means you two disappearing into the background with a gagging order, all the better.” His expression was wintry, clear enough evidence of his feelings about the Dutchman’s tactics.

“Everything goes to the police?”

“Yes. Briefings, data, the listening devices—even your reports and the briefing boards. Full disclosure.” He lifted his hands, wrists close together. “I have no choice.”

“What about the smart card?” said Ruth.

“No. Not that. At least, not yet.”

“Why?” asked Vaslik.

“It’s a question of jurisdiction. This is a fair bit of supposition on our part, but the moment Ellworthy brought it back I sent it to a friend at Vauxhall Cross.” He was referring to MI6, the Secret Intelligence service. “It took them about ten minutes to crack enough of it to get excited. As far as I know they haven’t yet shared that excitement with their friends along the embankment.” This meant MI5. “But they will have to sooner or later. I can put Claas off until tomorrow, but that’s it.” He looked at them. “Are you in or out?”

“I’m in,” Vaslik muttered.

“Me, too,” said Ruth. She was damned if she was going to allow Claas to kick her off the job and leave Beth to God knew whatever fate awaited her without at least trying to find her. And if that meant risking bumping up against the police and the security services, so be it.

Aston smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He reached in his top pocket and took out a slip of paper which he passed to Ruth. “Because of the information on the smart card there’s somebody you need to talk to. I don’t know if it will help find the Hardman girl, but it might explain why she was taken.”

“Do you know why?”

“I can only go by what I’ve been told, which is limited information only. All I can say is, talking with this man will answer a lot of questions, but it won’t necessarily mean you’ll find her. She may be beyond our reach. You’ll have to judge that for yourselves. It might, however, influence what you do next. Be at this location in Hyde Park at six this evening. Sorry about the cloak and dagger, but he’s flying out from Northolt immediately afterwards and it can’t wait.”

“How will I know him?”

“You won’t—but he will know you.”

The knowledge didn’t reassure her. “Why are you letting me do this? It could be messy for Cruxys if it all goes wrong.”

“Because I trust you. Because you care. And I want to see an outcome for this, not for it to be swept under the carpet like a minor dust problem. But take great care, Ruth. Claas is watching you and we’re dealing with some very ruthless people.”

“I will. Do I get any help?”

“Vaslik here, if he’s willing.”

The American nodded. “Damn right.”

“You can also have Fraser if you think she’s up to it. If I can get one of the specialists, I will, but don’t count on it. We’re a little stretched right now.”

“What if we tread on any toes?”

Aston’s mouth curled. “What can I say—just make sure they’re the right ones. And in that respect, I advise you to take precautions.”

Ruth blinked in surprise. Aston was talking weapons. It wasn’t like him.

“Serious?”

“Just to be safe. Fraser will kit you out.” He studied the pair of them. “I don’t like sending people out into the field unprepared; I never have and never will. But you know the rules.”

Ruth nodded. He meant no comeback. If they got caught carrying weapons, they were on their own. “I know.”

When Aston had gone, Ruth looked at Andy Vaslik. He’d been quiet throughout Aston’s talk, content to stay in the background. But his demeanour worried her; something was going on that seemed to be distracting him but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She didn’t know him well enough to guess his mood swings, but she sensed a tension in him that she hadn’t witnessed before.

“You’re very quiet.”

“I’m just wondering where this is going.” He laid his hand out flat and waggled it from side to side. “The way he was talking, it could get heavy. Are you sure you want to continue?”

Ruth felt a tremor run through her, like a tiny charge of electricity. Was he warning her off? If so, what did he know? Or should that be what else did he know?

“Why do I get the feeling you aren’t as blind here as you pretend?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She waited for him to say more but he didn’t. The silence in the room was intense.

“Does the American connection worry you?”

“Why should it?” His face was still, and that concerned her.

She waited to see if he would unload, but he remained silent. In the end she said, “No reason.” She checked her watch. It was going to be tight and she didn’t want to be late. “Come on, let’s go talk to a spook.”

“You think that’s what Aston’s friend is?”

“Of course. Didn’t you know, London’s full of them.”