A Perfect Likeness (27 page)

‘I thought you might and I understand, but be careful, Edward. I’ll get things arranged once you give me the flight details.’

Page was followed to a local bar where he had a toasted sandwich accompanied by a gin and tonic. It had quickly been established Edward Page did not like company and seldom looked as though he enjoyed life. He returned to the office long enough to collect his briefcase and headed straight home.

*

Rawston was always working. Long hours were spent aboard Blue Star on scuba diving trips or taking a fishing group in search of the best biting area. The lawful side of Star Boats activities. When not at sea he was either preparing for the next trip or spending luxury time with Sylvia Page on board Red Star. Most evenings he visited the Page’s home, but later returned to his own apartment.

*

Fraser knocked once and entered Deckman’s office without waiting for an invitation. He knew he would get away with it, no one else could. Especially Rexton.

‘Guv, thought you might enjoy a cup of Bob’s special.’

‘What is it, Colin?’

Fraser looked into the cup. ‘Not exactly sure, but it’s brown and warmish and smells like it could be …’

‘One day you are going to surprise me by coming out with a serious answer.’

‘Sorry, Guv, could be bad news or could be interesting. Take your pick. Our Miss Page went into a travel agent this morning, a different one this time, and booked her father on a direct flight to Moscow the day after tomorrow. He has a return ticket for two days later, but there’s no saying he’ll decide to come back, especially if he’s getting a bit nervous or suspicious. What do you reckon, Guv, stop him going or hope he doesn’t waste his return fare? Could always use passport irregularities because I’m damn sure he’s not really Edward Page.’

Deckman was not known for over reacting, but almost broke with tradition. The pencil he was rolling between the fingers of both hands snapped in two. The smaller length, he threw into the bin with such force it bounced out. Fraser returned it to the bin without comment. The longer piece, with the sharpened end, was slammed away in the side drawer.

Deckman rose and looked out of hi
s
window. It was raining, the people below were dressed for winter and bright coloured umbrellas were the order of the day. Deckman made a quick decision.

‘Let him go, Colin. We must just hope he decides to come home.’

‘The travel agent did say there was an international boat show in Moscow and that was his motivation for the trip. Sounds reasonable bearing in mind his business. Miss Page paid cash for the ticket and used a false address, like before, saying they were between homes.’

‘Make sure he gets on the plane and, more to the point, I want to know as soon as the return flight takes off that he is on board. Liaise with airline security. Whilst he is away make sure we keep a sharp eye on Sylvia Page and Rawston, just in case they too have got any similar thoughts of leaving us.’

‘And if they have, Guv?’

‘Then I think we may just persuade them not to go.’

‘Any point in contacting the police in Moscow to keep an eye on him?’

‘I think we’ll give that one a miss, Colin, you never know who is in who’s pocket over there.’ Deckman lifted the coffee to his lips and twisted his face in disgust. ‘I think I’ll give this a miss as well. Ask Bob to give it a clean will you. Or, better still, get a new one. I’m sure the kitty can run to it.’

‘Ah, glad you reminded me, Guv. That just happens to be another thing I need to talk to you about. Bob tells me you haven’t paid for four months.’ He closed the door behind him.

Two minutes later Deckman entered the outer office. ‘I am meeting Jackie Salter and Trish Lister and I will be going straight home from there. Anything you feel I should know about, you’ve got the number.’ He waved his mobile before putting it in his coat pocket. ‘By the way, Bob, I think I must be several weeks adrift with tea money contributions.’ He placed a ten pound note on his desk. ‘Keep any change, but I’d like a new mug and make sure you remind me if I get behind. Okay?’

‘Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.’

Fraser winked at Kensit and grinned his approval.

‘And you can take that smile off your face, Sergeant,’ said Deckman without turning his head. ‘See you in the morning.’

*

Deckman had arranged to meet the two ladies at a little café not far from his office and overlooking the beach. He sat in the corner where he could get the best view along the whole length of the promenade. It was dark, but the ornate lamp-posts with three clusters of two lights on each created an almost spectacular picture. The café was well known for its cream cakes and Deckman remembered Jackie’s appreciation of things sweet.

‘Hello, Inspector,’ said Jackie Salter, interrupting Deckman’s thoughts as he gazed along the promenade. He had failed to notice the approaching reflections in the window.

‘Sorry we are a bit late, it’s my fault,’ said Trish. ‘Rawston was a bit talkative today. Didn’t say anything of interest though. Only about the mechanical problems with Red Star.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ve only been here a minute or two myself. Have been admiring the view, it never fails to relax me. Right, ladies, as we have not spoken for a couple of days I thought it would be right to give you an update on where we are at this moment as I believe the investigation is coming to an end.’

Jackie’s eyes lit up at the arrival of coffee and buns. ‘I shouldn’t, but I suppose we can forget the diet for another day. Cor, you sure know how to win a girl over, Inspector. Hope you have good news for us?’ she asked.

‘We are gathering new evidence on a daily basis and it means a good few years in prison for many people. I am sure, with what we have, Michael will be released, but you know what I want and we have not yet got it.’

Jackie’s face showed her disappointment. She had expected more. ‘Oh dear, I thought you were going to give us good news.’

‘Jackie, it is good news,’ said Trish. ‘It’s all coming together nicely. Just be patient.’

‘I know. Sorry, Inspector, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.’

‘Don’t worry. What I will say is that when Star Boats collect their next delivery of drugs that is then we shall make arrests. Trish, as soon as you hear anything please let me know. The more notice we have the better.’

‘I checked the log-book and calendar today. I would say it should be in four or five days time.’

‘I won’t speak with you again until after the arrests,’ said Deckman, ‘except to receive your call to confirm the delivery, Trish. So please be patient and don’t talk about it to anybody. And that includes Michael. I will contact Dr Ingles and ask him to speak with Michael to reassure him.’

Deckman got up to leave and Jackie grabbed hold of his hands. ‘Inspector, I can’t thank you enough for what you are doing for Michael. I do appreciate it.’

‘Thank you, Jackie, I know you do, but it’s down to Trish for making it impossible for us not to take notice. She is the one who deserves the thanks. Listen, both of you, let’s drop the Inspector bit when we’re alone. Terry is fine.’

*

‘I’d best be off,’ said Rawston gently easing Sylvia Page’s head from off his shoulder. He got up from the settee and stretched. She looked into his eyes with a longing that almost made him change his mind. ‘It’s alright for you two, I’ve got a journey home and an early start in the morning.’

‘Tough life, Tom. See you in the morning,’ said Edward Page without taking his eyes from the paper he was reading.

‘What’s the matter with Edward, he’s been very quiet all evening?’ asked Rawston as he and Sylvia Page cuddled by the front door.

‘He has a lot on his mind. You know that his wife was killed by a speeding car not long after they were married.’

Rawston nodded.

‘Well, after all these years he’s been told who it was who was driving the car and he needs to go to Moscow to carry out what he has been promising to do. To make the driver pay with his own life. The chiefs in Moscow have said they would deal with it, but Edward has made it clear he has to sort it out himself.’

‘What’s the problem? We can manage while he’s away.’

‘It’s not that, Tom. The driver is now a senior member of the Politbureau and access to these people is not easy. He was, at the time he killed Edward’s wife, a young up-and-coming politician, but was having an affair with a married woman. He wasn’t married, but is now. The woman has had another recent affair and her husband has kicked her out. She now needs money and has resorted to blackmail. The politician refused to pay up so she’s allowed certain facts to come to light. He’s denied everything and the Party is standing by him. So is his family. Mafia investigators are confident he was the driver and are planning his assassination. The problem is that Edward could take risks because he’s not bothered if he gets himself killed in the process. As long as he gets his revenge.’

‘I can understand how he feels,’ said Rawston squeezing her even closer. ‘I would do exactly the same.’

They kissed for several more minutes, until Sylvia Page prised herself from his grip, tapping the glass of her watch.

‘No more. Tom, we haven’t time. And Edward could come out at any moment.’

‘Yes, but I thought we might pop into the scuba store for five minutes.’

‘Why, Tom Rawston, do the rubber suits turn you on?’

‘No, but you do.’

‘No, Tom, tomorrow, after you come back from the early trip. I’ll be waiting for you. Just think, a little more business followed by a lot more pleasure. Sounds much better, don’t you think? And I’ll make sure it’s all well worth waiting for.’

Chapter 21

Edward Page was chauffeured from Sheremetyevo airport in the back of a new Gaz Volga limousine, accompanied by two members of Moscow’s Solntsevskaya Mafia. He was briefed during his journey to the city centre. The target was staying in a small, elegant, block containing only four apartments, one on each floor. All were used by senior politicians as their weekday home, but tonight the target would be the only one there. The others were attending meetings in St. Petersburg and Nizhniy Novgorod and wouldn’t be returning until the following evening. They drove slowly past the residence of his prey, situated in a tidy, tree-lined side street between the Bolshoi Theatre and the Supreme Court. He noticed the police guard at the door; a member of the elite Berkut force. Page glanced towards his companions.

‘What about the guards?’

‘Don’t worry about them,’ said the round, swarthy man sitting next to the driver. ‘It has all been taken care of. Twenty-four hour guard, changed every two hours during the night. The Berkut are a powerful force, but when it comes to women they are like all Russian men. And
our
women are very beautiful and very persuasive. Five minutes before you get there, two of our best women will divert the guard’s attention and keep him occupied for twenty-five minutes. That should be enough time for what you want to do. Your man is on the third floor.’ He told the driver to stop the car. ‘We’ll drop you off here at 2. 15am. This area is not part of the night scene so there will not be many people about. The guards will have changed at 2am prompt so by the time you have walked the hundred metres to the apartments our girls will be making sure he is having a night to remember down the steps at the side of the main entrance. In the basement store. Here is the security key for the main door and the key to your target’s apartment. We have made sure the inside bolt has developed a fault making it impossible to use.’

Page took the two keys. ‘I’m impressed, you’ve thought of everything,’ he said.

‘Everything,’ the man repeated, as if insulted by the need to mention it. ‘We will pick you up outside the all-night bar over there, at 3am.’ He pointed across the road to a neglected building with the entrance surrounded with bright coloured lights. It appeared completely out of place in this more preferred area of the city. ‘It is being closed down next month, a top fashion designer has bought it. We’ll give you your gun later. Choice of two, select the one you prefer. Both will be fully loaded and silenced.’

‘I only need three bullets, said Edward Page. ‘Both knees and the head.’

‘Fine, that is your choice, but we will leave it loaded just the same. Your insurance.’

Page was taken to his hotel, the Rossiya, on the banks of the Moskva river at the north end of Red Square. After a shower and change of clothing, Page spent the remainder of the afternoon making contacts at the Moscow Boat Show. The reason he had given to the airport immigration officer as the purpose of his visit.

At 10. 30pm Page left his hotel, telling the receptionist he would not be back until after three. ‘I have an invitation to see the Moscow night-life with one of the exhibitors at the boat show.’

‘Very good, Sir. I hope you enjoy our city. I’m sure you will. Mind our girls though, they can be very tempting.’

He climbed into the back of an older styled Lada with a continuous rattle from the rear end. He couldn’t decide exactly where from, but it didn’t detract from his enjoyment of the journey. He was back home, in his precious Moscow, and that was all that mattered. Despite what was going to happen in a few hours time he was savouring every minute.

They drove alongside Gorky Park, passed the Mining College and the Academy of Science before cutting through the park on Vorobyevskoye Shossé. Even in the night sky he could make out the distant shape of the Moscow State University with its massive Stalin Gothic Tower. He knew it well, with those panoramic views over Moscow from its location on Sparrow Hills. He disliked the new name of Sparrow Hills, much preferring the original Lenin Heights and never understanding why it was changed. The Lada groaned as it stopped outside a bar close to the Kiyev railway station, where he was met by a long time friend and senior mafia member.