One month later
Winter remained in full swing, though at least now the days were beginning to lengthen once more. Spring would arrive soon enough, and as Ryker approached the stone bench overlooking the Vltava River, he was glad the sunshine was out to at least help against the chilly temperature.
Lange was already waiting for him, a steaming paper cup in her gloved hand. She gave him a half smile as he took the space on the bench next to her.
‘You’re alone,’ Ryker said.
‘You weren’t expecting me to be?’
‘I thought Kaspovich might have come to snap some cuffs on me and whisk me back to London.’
He noticed the quizzical look on her face.
‘I know you two have some sort of history,’ she said, ‘but I actually think he’s one of the good guys.’
Ryker raised an eyebrow. ‘Wait, he’s not listening to this, is he?’ He looked around theatrically. ‘He’s going to jump out at any second…’
‘Very funny.’
They went silent for a few moments. Ryker looked over the riverfront. Not many people were out and about, though a few eager tourists idled over the arched bridge a hundred yards further down, heading toward the historic center.
‘So, Prague,’ Lange said.
‘Yeah.’
‘Any particular reason why?’
Yes. This was where he’d been right before he found out Grichenko had been murdered. He didn’t like to leave a place before he was properly ready to, before his business was done.
‘No,’ he said.
She stared at him for a few seconds. It was clear she didn’t buy his answer. ‘Can you believe I’ve never been here before? All the years I’ve worked in the field, and this is my first time to one of Europe’s capitals.’
Ryker didn’t have much to say to that.
‘I like it,’ she said.
‘You wanted to talk to me?’
‘I thought you’d be interested in an update.’
He was, even if for some reason he had a hard time admitting it.
‘Devereaux is out of hospital. She’s in a maximum security cell somewhere in France. We’re not yet sure what will happen to her. The French authorities are trying their best to keep everything quiet, given how events played out so badly on their soil.’
‘Gone are the days of keeping something like this quiet.’
‘You’d think so. Although I’m sure you agree that in many ways it’d be in all our interests for that to be the case.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Anyway, we’re working hard behind the scenes to get Devereaux to the UK.’
‘What do you know about her? Who she really is, what she’s done?’
‘Not as much as we’d want to.’
The way she said it was odd. Ryker wasn’t sure he believed her, but he didn’t bother to pry. The main thing was that Devereaux was locked up. Ryker didn’t need to know her history.
What he was more concerned about was the likes of Kyri Anastopoulos. Wes Aldern. Gerardo Silva. Because the wrongs of all of those men had shaped the events of Doha ten years ago, one way or another, and Ryker wanted to understand how and why. Many people were dead because of them. Each of those three had paid the ultimate price, but – most worryingly – those men weren’t operating alone. How many governments were tarnished by their actions? How many people within those governments were complicit and remained in positions of power? Ryker was sure the answers would never come out fully, nor timely, and that was what bothered him the most.
‘Do you know who turned Aldern?’ Ryker asked.
‘No.’
‘What about his paymaster, Anastopoulos?’
She shook her head.
‘Do you know who he was working with? There must be someone in MI5, MI6, the UK government, who helped with Grichenko’s new identity. And that means they worked against us in Doha.’
‘I know, but it’s not that easy.’
The troubled look on her face suggested she genuinely meant her words.
‘Isn’t it?’ Ryker said.
‘If you care so much, why don’t you come and help me? I’m sure we could work something out that’s unofficial enough for you. It probably won’t surprise you to know I’ve had Peter Winter on the phone asking the same.’
‘Not going to happen.’
He’d said goodbye to Winter, his old boss, for good, and that’s the way it would stay. As much as he wished, corruption would never stop. He couldn’t solve every problem.
‘You don’t want to right the world’s wrongs anymore?’
He didn’t answer that.
‘Then why did you get involved in this at all?’
‘Perhaps you misunderstand why I do what I do,’ he said. ‘I didn’t start this. It all started from one man’s personal grievance. Gerardo Silva. He was the one who set in motion Grichenko’s death in England. Nothing more than petty vengeance on his part. Everything else flowed from that.’
Although Ryker realized that was a very simplistic way of looking at things. Did the British authorities know Aldern had faked his death? Was Aldern simply hunting down his ex-colleagues to hide the fact he was a double agent and scared that Grichenko’s death would lead to his secret being exposed somehow? Who exactly were Kyri and Gerardo in league with? Which governments? Which intelligence agencies?
It was all so murky it made Ryker’s head hurt.
He wished he knew the answers. But the fact was, it wasn’t his fight now.
‘You could have just stayed in the shadows and watched this all unfold,’ Lange said. ‘You didn’t and—’
‘How could I with someone like Devereaux on my tail?’
He glared at her now, as though she were badgering him unnecessarily. But which one of them was it that really didn’t get the point?
‘Sorry, Nadia, but I did my bit for you,’ he said, ‘and now we say our goodbyes. You won’t be able to contact me again.’
He got up from the bench. As he looked down at her he struggled to read the look on her face. Disappointment? Apprehension? Fear?
‘But you’ll always know how to contact me,’ she said.
‘I will. But I won’t. Stay safe.’
Ryker turned and walked away.
* * *
Two hours later Ryker was walking past the Golden Angel building. Today, the etched angel, looking over the square, glistened in low winter sunlight, and the entire area felt more positive for it. He carried on across the two blocks to the smaller and quainter square. The bar was right in front of him. He paused for a few moments before moving across the street and heading inside.
It felt like an age since he’d been here, yet it was less than two weeks. Still, the place was abundantly familiar as he switched his gaze from the table with the two young, rough-looking men to the bar where Simona was standing playing with her phone.
She looked up and frowned then very nearly smiled. Ryker walked over and took a seat on a stool.
Simona stared at him for a few moments as though she wasn’t sure what to say or think.
‘Dobrý den,’ Ryker said.
‘You’re back,’ she said. ‘I’m surprised. After you left me like that.’
‘I’m sorry.’
She looked at him but said nothing to that.
‘You want goulash?’ she asked.
‘Only if you’ll eat it with me.’
Now she smiled, just a little, as she held his eye. But Ryker could hear the shuffling behind him. Footsteps. He swiveled on the stool to see the bearded man up on his feet.
‘I told you to stay away.’
‘Yeah, about that—’
The man lunged forward. Ryker jumped up from the seat, grabbed him, twisted his arm behind his back then smashed his face down onto the corner of the bar. His legs wobbled, nearly gave way. Ryker pulled the arm up more tightly behind his back and all resistance was gone.
‘Let go!’ a voice behind Ryker shouted out.
He glanced up at the bar to look at the man behind him in the mirror but was left looking at Simona instead. She shook her head. A shocked look was plastered on her face. Fear, but also something else. Optimism?
‘Do you know what you’ve done?’ she said. ‘They’ll come for you.’
Ryker smiled. ‘I hope so.’
He drove the man’s face down onto the bar again. The guy crumpled to the floor.
Then Ryker turned and launched himself at the next one.