AT SEVEN-THIRTY the following morning, Tallis drove to a link-detached house on an estate in Coventry. Letting himself in, he was delighted to find that he already had company. Lavender was wearing black motorbike leathers.
‘Right, then, first things first.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll make the coffee.’ By this very simple act he was trying to say he was sorry for doubting her.
‘Sounds good to me.’
‘You cool with all this?’ he said, filling the kettle with water and putting it on.
‘All what?’
He flicked her a direct look. ‘This is going to be one hell of a change from Devon and Cornwall.’
She laughed softly. ‘What are you saying, that I’m a numty?’
‘A what?’
‘Devon slang for stupid person.’
‘Christ, no. But this could get rough.’
‘For you, yes.’
‘For both of us.’
Their eyes met. The air seemed to tingle. ‘I’ll take my chances,’ she said.
Tallis nodded, first to drop his gaze. ‘So what have you been told?’ he said, rummaging through a cupboard and locating a jar of instant.
‘It’s all in there,’ she said enthusiastically, pointing to a thick folder on the coffee-table. ‘Target information. Addresses. List of known associates. Business interests. Kennedy’s history, criminal and personal. Details of time spent in prison. Kennedy’s deal with DCI Napier. Contact sheets with his handler, DI Gavin Shaw. Shall I go on?’
‘Mind if I take a look?’
‘Help yourself.’
Tallis picked it up. The file was marked ‘Top Secret, Johnny Kennedy, code name Michael Shaman.’ Eyes scanning the early text, it all seemed pretty much in order. No unexpected or unpleasant surprises. Then it got interesting. A whole paragraph had been blacked out. Tallis remarked on it to Lavender. She gave a shrug. ‘I guess it’s connected to the evidence linking Kennedy to Carroll’s murder.’
Tallis sat back and thought about it. Often in such cases it was the individual paid and hired to kill and dispose of a victim who talked, not that it always played well with the courts. He’d known of instances where evidence like that had been ruled inadmissible. How else had Shaw and Napier put the squeeze on Kennedy? he wondered. He went back to the file. Kennedy’s medical notes in prison told the story of a man devastated by his son’s accident. In the immediate aftermath he was moved to the hospital wing of Winson Green Prison, where he was heavily sedated. There followed a regime of anti-depressants, and for a time Kennedy was put on suicide watch. Tallis knew how much Kennedy loved his son, but even he found it hard to believe the depth to which the man had fallen. Perhaps even more amazing was his slow but steady rise from the pit of despair.
‘Here,’ Lavender said, putting a mug down in front of him. ‘No milk, sugar’s there,’ she added, pushing a spoon and a bag of granulated towards him.
‘Thanks. Sorry, I was supposed to get that.’ He looked up, studied her face. A perfect oval, her features were symmetrical, pupils large. Unlike at the fight club, she’d reverted to no make-up again. Still looked great. She really had the most enchanting smile.
He returned to the file, turned the pages. Next up, Simon Carroll, the driver responsible for the devastating injuries to Kennedy’s son, Billy. In spite of escaping a custodial sentence, he’d swiftly gone into hiding in the West Country, last known address in the small market town of Kingsbridge supplied. Reported missing by his wife after he failed to return from work at a nearby business park, he was found seven weeks later. Body parts washed up on the beach, just as Shaw said, Kennedy suspected of ordering the killing and police gathering enough evidence to nail him on a conspiracy to murder charge. Tallis read over the interview notes. Kennedy didn’t even deny it.
Why not? Tallis thought, sitting back, trying to work it out and failing. He returned to the file. Shaw’s contact sheets revealed an amazing tale of revelation and betrayal. In the six months following Kennedy’s decision to turn informer, he offered hard information on the identity of a contract killer, the names of two violent armed robbers who’d carried out a series of thefts in London, the whereabouts of a man suspected of killing a schoolgirl in West Lothian. The text was liberally sprinkled with names and addresses of dealers, times and locations of drugs deliveries by boat, lorry and courier. It was only when he’d flicked through to the end that Tallis realised a chapter was missing. No mention of Tardarti or Garry, or even Kennedy’s trip to Turkey. Had Kennedy taken off of his own accord? Surely that was impossible. Somewhere along the line, he suspected Napier’s involvement.
‘Interesting, huh?’ Lavender smiled.
‘This is fine,’ he said, tapping the file and putting it back down on the table then, leaning forward, meeting her luscious green-eyed gaze, he said, ‘But this is what you really need to know. Kennedy is suspected of being directly involved in terrorism.’
Two hours later, after Tallis had described his own personal observations of Kennedy, they’d made a full risk assessment, discussed logistics, codes, radio communications, target addresses, vehicles used by the main players, and covered every eventuality. Between them there were no secrets. Trust nobody, Asim had told him. Sometimes, especially if your life depended on it, you had to.
‘How do you think Kennedy will react?’ Charlie said.
He almost found her more engaging when she was serious. Part of his brain wondered exactly how old she was, whether she was married, had a boyfriend, husband and kids maybe. ‘To my change of allegiance? He’ll be nice as pie to my face, scheming behind my back.’
‘As long as it stays at scheming, we’ll be all right.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, standing up, indicating the meeting was over. ‘You clear, then?’
‘As crystal.’
‘See you later.’
‘I’ll be ready.’
‘Where are you staying?’ he blurted out as she reached the door.
She grinned. ‘I’m heading back to my digs in Halesowen where I’m going to phone my mum and dad and tell them I’m all right.’
‘Sure, of course,’ he said, trying to sound a bit more businesslike. After wishing her good luck, he waited and watched her leave. Cute rear, he thought admiringly as she hammered up the road riding a top-of-the-range Yamaha. The sight of the motorbike spiked a chain reaction. Picking up his phone, he decided to give Gayle Morello a call. It rang three times. A bloke answered. He had a northern accent, wasn’t in-your-face northern, softer like the Dales, Yorkshire. Tallis asked to speak to Gayle.
‘She’s not up yet. Who’s calling?’
Tallis told him.
‘Paul,’ the man said, seeming to make the connection. ‘Friend of Garry’s.’
‘Yeah,’ Tallis said.
‘I’m her brother.’
‘Glad she’s taken my advice.’
‘Yeah?’ The man sounded baffled.
‘I told her she shouldn’t be alone.’
‘Oh, right. Look, can I give her a message or something?’
‘Just wondered how she was. Gather the police have identified Garry’s killers.’
‘Yeah. Looks like Garry poked about where it wasn’t appreciated.’
‘Poked about?’ An unfortunate choice of words, Tallis thought, bridling. Suddenly, he heard a woman’s voice in the background. ‘Is that Gayle?’ he said, straining to make it out.
‘No, I told you she’s—’
‘Hello, Paul.’ It was Gayle Morello.
‘Sorry to disturb you. Your brother made a valiant effort to put me off.’
‘Unfortunately, he’s rather undiscriminating.’ There was freshness in her voice, amusement even. Good, she was starting to move to a different plane, where the days weren’t all entirely bad and filled with despair. From experience, Tallis knew it might be only a temporary respite.
‘I was saying to your brother—’
‘Stephen,’ Gayle helpfully interposed.
‘Yeah, Stephen, that I heard the police identified the blokes responsible. Did anyone ever mention the name Johnny Kennedy to you?’
‘No.’
‘Garry didn’t mention him either?’
There was a brief pause. ‘No. Is it important?’
‘Maybe. I’m not honestly sure.’
‘He mentioned some Moroccan. Damned if I can remember his name.’
Tallis felt his stomach lurch. ‘Tardarti.’
‘Goodness, that’s right.’
If Garry had been so careful, why the hell would he have let Tardarti’s name slip? ‘You told the police this?’
‘I couldn’t quite zero in on the name. Think it’s significant?’
Yes, but he didn’t understand how. He felt as if he were drowning in tons of disparate pieces of information, none of which seemed to be apparently linked. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
He heard a burble of voices. Gayle told him to hang on. She must have clamped a hand over the receiver because the line went very quiet.
‘Sorry about that,’ she said. ‘Someone at the door.’
‘No worries. Gayle, about the funeral…’
‘We haven’t got a date yet. There’ve been some complications with bringing Garry’s body back.’
‘Oh?’
‘Bureaucratic stuff,’ she said, sounding philosophical. ‘And there’s still people to contact. A lot of Garry’s mates work abroad.’
‘Yes. Sorry. But you’ll let me know?’
‘Of course, Paul.’
‘Right.’ He was about to wrap up the call when Gayle asked when he’d be next in town. ‘Not sure. Bit busy with work at the moment.’
‘Pity. It would be nice to get together. You know, to talk about Garry.’
‘I’ll call you.’
‘Don’t leave it too long, Paul.’
After making a phone call to Crow and running the usual gamut of flirtatious and not so flirtatious suggestions, he asked her to check a couple of things out.
‘I’m on the case,’ she said. ‘Seen the news this morning?’
‘Not yet.’
‘You should.’ Click.
He walked into the plainly furnished sitting room and switched on the television to News 24. Sure enough, there were reports of joint police raids with Customs and Excise on a number of premises throughout the city with an estimated haul of 200 kilos of Turkish heroin worth over £25 million. After that, he left the safe house in Coventry and, to confound even the most persistent tail, deliberately took a tortuous route, watching out for anyone pulling in behind him, speeding up, slowing down and indulging in the odd U-turn. He drew the line at jumping a red light to see if anyone was daring enough to follow. He didn’t want West Midlands’s finest breathing down his neck.
Kennedy had asked Tallis to pick him up from Shakenbrook. As Tallis headed up the S-shaped drive, he kept a watchful eye out for Lavender, but saw no sign of her. Good, he thought.
Flanked by a stone-faced Justin, Kennedy greeted Tallis with typical warmth. It seemed strangely paradoxical to Tallis that he was now playing protector to the man he’d tried to expose. From now on, Johnny Kennedy was effectively his principal.
‘I’ve got some coffee on the go in the summerhouse,’ Kennedy said affably. ‘Want some?’
‘Thank you,’ Tallis said. He felt uncertain. This really felt quite odd.
Kennedy dismissed Justin, giving him orders to go straight to the clinic. Once they were alone, Kennedy began to laugh. ‘It’s all right, Paul,’ he said, clapping him on the back. ‘You didn’t have me fooled for one moment. Always reckoned you were a bit special.’
Tallis turned, looked into Kennedy’s laughing eyes. Either he was bluffing or he was cleverer than even he’d given him credit for.
‘To business,’ Kennedy said, purposefully leading the way over lawns soaked with autumn rain.
The summerhouse was smaller inside than Tallis had imagined. Just about room to swing a cat. He sat down close to Kennedy, who poured coffee from a cafetière into a plain white china mug, which he handed to him.
‘Sugar?’ Kennedy said, offering him a spoon and a packet of sugar lumps.
Tallis took two cubes, chucked them into his mug and stirred. ‘I’ve got some cartons of cream somewhere,’ Kennedy said, opening up one of the seats to reveal a cold compartment inside. It struck Tallis that Kennedy seemed to have the answer to everything.
‘No need. I’m good.’
‘Well,’ Kennedy said, sitting down, looking long and hard at Tallis. ‘At least we no longer have to play stupid games with each other.’
‘That’s the idea,’ Tallis said, unsmiling. He didn’t want Kennedy to run away with the thought that they were best chums. ‘About Gabriel. Think he talked?’
‘I’m working on the premise he didn’t.’
Why? Is that what you’ve been told to say? Didn’t exactly square with Kennedy’s behaviour at the time, Tallis remembered. ‘Nothing rattling your alarm bells? No threats, no strange occurrences?’
‘Everything’s fine. Business as usual.’
What a relief, Tallis thought, sharp enough to realise, however, that true revenge was never usually dispensed with speed. If Kennedy’s treachery had been revealed, those in the know might take their time. ‘You did well this morning.’
‘The Turkish haul.’ Kennedy smiled. ‘Actually, it’s not where it’s really happening.’
‘What isn’t?’ Sometimes Kennedy had an obtuse way of speaking that Tallis found confusing. He wondered if it was a deliberate ploy.
‘Three-quarters of heroin comes from Afghanistan, smuggled in direct via India and Pakistan.’
Now he was getting the drift. ‘And Asian dealers in Birmingham have major links with Pakistan and India.’
Kennedy nodded. ‘Why bother importing through Turkey?’
‘When you can cut out the middle man and improve your profit margins?’ So all that blarney about visiting Turkey for a drugs deal really was a smokescreen. At least Napier seemed to have got that bit of intelligence right. And then it dawned on him. The reason there was no mention of the visit to Turkey in the file was because SOCA had stepped in at that point of the operation, leaving Shaw out of the loop.
‘Asian gangs also have major links with terrorist organisations.’
Tallis felt his stomach crease. ‘You know that for a fact?’
‘It’s a good supposition. Think about it.’
‘Christ, is this the so-called intelligence you gave MI5?’
Kennedy’s response was to stare with burning eyes. ‘I believe I know the identity of what you blokes call a fixer.’
Tallis understood the phrase, the kind of man who facilitated travel to places like Pakistan for terrorist training. ‘You’re certain?’
The burn in Kennedy’s eyes grew brighter. ‘Do you trust me?’
‘I trust you to tell me the truth,’ Tallis said, cool. ‘I can’t protect you unless you do.’
Kennedy flashed a smile. ‘Good answer.’
‘And do you trust me, Johnny?’ It was the first time Tallis had ever used his first name.
‘I trust you as if you were my only son.’
Tallis stared at him, silent. Was this emotional blackmail or genuine affection? Careful, Tallis thought, don’t be seduced.
Even though they couldn’t be overheard, Kennedy leant towards him. ‘You know about the Commission?’
Tallis nodded. ‘A modern-day gathering of current crime lords. I’m presuming it was set up as a sensible measure to ensure co-operation and prevent turf wars.’ It suddenly occurred to him that, with Kennedy spilling the beans at regular intervals, the need for a Commission where everyone could close rank and protect each other’s backs would seem even more vital. ‘I’m also guessing that it provides the means for you to work together in criminal endeavours.’ Including terrorism, perhaps.
‘Doing well.’ Kennedy smiled.
‘As far as the law’s concerned, would I be right in thinking your aim is to provide a united front against it?’
‘Partially,’ Kennedy said. ‘Put it this way, the Commission’s aim is to keep the law at arm’s length. We don’t, therefore, want to draw the law’s attention by, for instance, killing a police officer, an act, under the Commission’s rules, which is punishable by death, I might add.’
‘Good to know,’ Tallis said dryly. ‘What about buying people off?’
‘The thorny topic of bent coppers.’ Kennedy smiled. ‘Yeah, it happens.’
Tallis knew. His brother Dan had been one of them. ‘How long has the Commission been in action?’
Kennedy shrugged. ‘Twenty years.’
‘Twenty?’ Tallis couldn’t believe his ears. How come police hadn’t tumbled to it? He felt as if all his years in law enforcement had counted for nothing.
‘Naturally, some of the faces have changed due to natural wastage,’ Kennedy said matter-of-factly. ‘But some of the blokes I deal with I’ve known for a very long time.’
‘So there’s a good level of trust between you?’
Kennedy didn’t flinch. ‘There is. You get to know these men, how they tick, how their policies, plans evolve and change. Nothing stays the same in this business, Tallis. You probably know that better than anyone. It’s a case of keeping up to date, reading the market and adapting to it. Cocaine is the drug of the moment. It’s halved in price so it’s as accessible to punters living in Sutton Coldfield as in Surrey. You only have to walk into the toilets of any club and pub in the city centre to see the evidence—devil’s dandruff, they call it,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘but crack is the drug of the future. We’re already seeing an increased demand. When it comes down to it, it’s all about the money.’
‘And what are you all about?’ Tallis’s change of direction was deliberate, as was the hardness in his expression.
‘Family,’ Kennedy said. ‘If I hadn’t turned, I would have missed seeing my daughter grow up. I wouldn’t be able to spend time with Billy and care for him.’
Sounded plausible. And yet…‘Going back to my original question,’ Tallis said. ‘About the Asian connection.’
Kennedy nodded. ‘There’s an Asian gang headed by a bloke called Ahmed. Runs a cab company and a couple of garages, legit on the surface. Known him for a while. He’s highly educated, comes from a good family, and took over chairing the Commission while I was inside. He’s the man you need to watch.’
Tallis studied the older man’s face, looked closely into his eyes. It all sounded so outlandish and yet Kennedy had, to date, delivered. Time and again, as Shaw had already pointed out, he’d put his life on the line. If word leaked out about his treachery, he was a dead man. Thing was, in spite of Asim’s more recent disclosure, there was no evidence to support the allegation of terrorist activity. Even Asim was keeping his cards stubbornly close. As far as Tallis could see, and notwithstanding the change in the threat level, which as far as he was concerned went up and down like a tart’s knickers, it was all rumour and speculation. Without something harder, MI5 would do nothing more than watch Ahmed, add him to a long list of others. Depending on resources, he would either be watched closely or hardly at all.
‘When you went to Turkey you were seen with a Moroccan.’
‘Faraj Tardarti. I believed him to be Ahmed’s contact. I went in under the pretext of arranging a drug deal.’
‘Tardarti was involved in supplying drugs?’
‘If the price is right,’ Kennedy said, dismissive, ‘most people are.’
Only in the circles you keep, Tallis thought. ‘Wasn’t that risky?’
‘Life’s a risk.’
Tallis didn’t buy it. He flashed a smile. ‘Talking of risk, you need to pay serious attention to overhauling your security. Justin’s a loose cannon.’
‘He’s loyal,’ Kennedy countered.
I prize loyalty more highly than love, Tallis remembered. ‘Your choice, but I’d prefer you make more use of Rex. He’s older, less likely to overreact, more likely to think first.’
Kennedy rubbed his chin. ‘Yeah, I’ll go with that.’
‘Good. As for here,’ Tallis said, looking out of the window. ‘The lake is a gift to anyone who wants to infiltrate your property.’
‘It’s a swamp. You’d have to be mad to try and cross it.’
Tallis smiled. ‘You know better than anyone that sanity has nothing to do with matters of security. Get it properly fenced off, for Melissa’s sake, at least. You also need to seriously watch your back when you go into a building and when you leave. At present, you’re far too sloppy. You should also make a point of altering your routines. It’s no use simply relying on basic anti-surveillance techniques.’
‘Served us well enough in the past.’
‘The past is a foreign country.’
‘Very smart.’ Kennedy cracked a smile. ‘But before you give me any more lectures, I’d like to show you something.’ He stood up, indicating for Tallis to follow. They went back outside into the rain. Tallis glanced up and saw a fleet of clouds skidding past. Kennedy took him to the west wing of the house towards the indoor squash court and wine cellar. They passed through a barn, empty save for a stinking vat of what looked like silage. Tallis commented on it.
‘It’s a digester,’ Kennedy explained. ‘Waste products are fed into it to provide energy for the house.’
‘Didn’t know you were a green fan,’ Tallis commented.
‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me,’ Kennedy flicked back with a smile.
Once inside the main building, they came to a door with an entry code. Kennedy punched in a number and the door slid open to reveal a control room. From the threshold, Tallis saw a boiler, a generator, an air-conditioning unit and various pieces of hitech equipment. Walking in further, he was faced with a wall of video cameras for monitoring and tracking intruders.
‘Here, check this out,’ Kennedy said, opening a door to a panic room fully equipped with bunk beds, sanitation and enough supplies to feed an army. Tallis stared in wonderment. ‘Escape tunnel’s that way.’ Kennedy pointed to a door beyond. ‘You were saying?’
Tallis shook his head and smiled. Back out into the main body of the house again, he told Kennedy that he would stay with him at all times.
‘I can promote you to lieutenant,’ Kennedy said.
‘Might be tricky. How are you going to explain me to your chums? They’re not going to like the fact I was a serving police officer.’
Kennedy smiled. ‘They won’t know. We’ll give you a different name. We’ll call you Milton.’
Tallis shook his head again. ‘These guys are smart. A false name isn’t going to cut it.’
‘No,’ Kennedy said, grave. ‘But if I give my word, it will.’
‘So I’m to take Gabriel’s place?’
Kennedy nodded darkly.
‘Why did you ask me to kill him?’ Tallis’s expression was direct and unforgiving.
‘I wanted to see how you’d react.’
‘You were taking a risk.’
‘Not really. Like I said, I had you sussed. I knew you wouldn’t shoot,’ Kennedy said, slate-eyed. Before Tallis had the chance to respond, Kennedy fired another question. ‘Do you realise what you’re getting into? If you’re unmasked by any one of these people I’ve told you about, to a man they will happily come after you and pay to watch you suffer agonies.’
‘Which brings me to one final point,’ Tallis said, his voice rock hard. ‘You ever try to pull a stunt like you did with me and Gabriel, pitting me against another man, and I’ll kill you and feed you bit by bit to one of your own incinerators.’
Kennedy broke into a wide smile. ‘Time we got going. Wouldn’t look good to be late for my own meeting.’