Even (23 page)

“So make them listen. Don’t just nag at them. Find something positive to engage them with.”

“Such as?”

“Use your brain. Think it through. You reckon the Ukraine IDs were planted?”

“Right.”

“So go back to Simon’s body. Get someone to check his dental work. Vaccination scars. Surgical scars, if he has any. All that stuff is done differently in the U.K. It’s a dead giveaway.”

“I don’t know. It sounds a bit tenuous.”

“OK then, how about this—how did Simon and this other guy get back to the States?”

“They flew.”

“On a commercial flight, or does this firm have their own planes?”

“They do have planes, but Simon said they took a regular flight because of the short notice.”

“Good. Which airport did they use?”

“JFK, I think.”

“Excellent. The INS fingerprints every foreign national who arrives
there. The FBI can get access. Ask them to compare the prints from the railway victim with the passengers on Simon’s plane.”

“Much better. That would put it beyond doubt. Excellent, David. Thanks.”

“No problem. Just let me know how it works out. I’m in your corner. And let me know if the feds give you any grief. I’ll make some calls. See if Weston needs any more help closing his computer.”

I can still remember what my new commanding officer said to me when I first stepped into his office in Canberra, thirteen years ago.

“I like to rattle cages, me.”

I remember wondering what on earth he was talking about. Was it a threat? A confession? Had he confused me with someone else? But I soon found that this was his motivation technique. Or what passed for it. He thought he could get the best out of people by frightening them. Only no one was exactly quaking in their shoes. A few people felt sorry for him, certainly. But the net result was that he ran the most inefficient and unpopular unit anywhere in the Royal Navy. Even the torpedo refurbishment plant in the Falkland Islands had a better reputation. No one wanted to stay a moment longer than necessary, so I did what most of the others did. Kept my head down, bided my time, and transferred out at the first opportunity.

The whole experience wasn’t a total waste, though. It did teach me two things.

You can bully people all you like, but they’ll only go the extra mile if they want to.

And you don’t have to be the boss to take advantage of that.

_______

Regular travelers all have strategies for dealing with long-haul flights. Some are pretty complex. Others are simpler, but just as effective. My personal routine, for example, has been honed to perfection by years of experience. I eat in the airport. And I sleep on the plane.

The breakfast they serve in the old Concorde room at JFK is pretty good. Not quite the whole nine yards, but big enough to last until we land in London. I like to take it slow, savoring every mouthful, and then move over to the armchairs for the last part of the ritual. A second refill of coffee, and a good hour catching up with the U.K. papers.

I was coming to the end of the final broadsheet with ten minutes to spare when a stocky man in a gray suit eased his way through the gaggle of passengers loitering near the reception desk. He paused, scanned the room, then came across toward me. He stepped in close so no one else could see and took out a Homeland Security ID for me to inspect.

“Someone would like to speak with you,” he said.

“Really?” I said. “Who?”

“A woman from your consulate. She says it’s urgent.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Wilson. Ms. T. That’s all her ID said.”

“Oh, that’s all right. I know her. Tell her to come in.”

“No can do. She’s not traveling today. Not permitted this side of security. You’ll have to come with me.”

I checked my watch.

“Well, OK,” I said. “But she better make it quick.”

Tanya was waiting for me by the self-service machines in the check-in hall. Two other people were with her. The first was Agent Weston. And as I moved closer I realized the second, allowing for his swollen, discolored face, had to be Agent Lavine.

“No one told me Herman Munster would be here,” I said. “Who let him out?”

“Now David, I want you to take a deep breath,” Tanya said. “Count to ten before you say anything.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you probably won’t believe me. This isn’t what I meant to happen. It was London’s idea.”

“What was?”

“You’re not going back today. You have to stay a little longer.”

“How much longer? What for?”

“Turns out we’ve got a bigger problem than we thought. I talked to London. Brought them up to speed. And you were their solution.”

“Solution for what? Is this about your friend?”

“Partly. There’s more to it, now. But look, we can’t talk here. Come back to the car. I’ll fill you in properly.”

“Let me do that,” Lavine said. “I’ll fill him in permanently.”

I’d expected Tanya to still have the Jaguar, but they’d obviously switched to Weston’s car at some point during the morning. It was the one we’d used yesterday to raid Lesley’s house. Lavine was in the passenger seat this time, so I climbed into the back with Tanya.

“I’m listening,” I said.

“It started with your idea, funnily enough,” Tanya said. “We got the INS records for the plane Simon and the rest of his team were on. We did the comparison. And we got a match straightaway.”

“Simon.”

“Yes. I’m afraid so.”

“Well, I’m sorry you lost your friend, Tanya, I really am. But what’s that got to do with me? These two geniuses notwithstanding, the FBI are world experts on serial killers. They’ll get the guy who did it.”

“We don’t think it was a serial killer,” Weston said. “Not in the accepted sense.”

“There’s an unaccepted sense?” I said.

“Stop it,” Tanya said. “We didn’t just test Simon’s prints. We also checked on the other four railway victims. And got four hits. From a military database. I ran the names past my brother. He confirmed it. They were the four U.S. guys from Simon’s team in Iraq.”

“Someone took out that whole team,” Weston said.

“Except for James Mansell,” Tanya said. “The other Brit. He’s still out there somewhere.”

“Unless his body hasn’t turned up yet,” I said. “Maybe it got eaten by a bear.”

“Alive or dead, we need to find him,” Tanya said.

“Someone needs to find him,” I said. “It doesn’t have to be me.”

“London wants you on the team,” Tanya said. “The FBI has agreed.”

“Reluctantly,” Lavine said.

“I’m not a team player,” I said.

“No shit,” Lavine said.

“Stop squabbling, both of you,” Tanya said. “One marine is dead. Another marine is missing. The navy wants something done about that. And they want you to do it, David. So what’s your problem?”

“They’re not marines anymore, Tanya,” I said. “They’re ex-marines. No offense to your brother, but these are guys who put their wallets before their regiments. You go outside to make money, this is the sort of thing that happens. End of story.”

“Never thought I’d agree with him, but David has a point,” Lavine said.

“Sorry, Tanya,” I said, opening the door. “This is no good. I’m going back to London. I need to sort this out with the brass, face-to-face.”

“Wait,” Tanya said, sliding out of the car behind me. “Please. Don’t go.”

“Why not? Simon’s been identified. That’s what you said you wanted.”

“It was. But now we know about James Mansell.”

“What about him? If he’s alive, he can take care of himself. If not, the FBI will find his remains and you can bring him home. Either way, you don’t need me.”

“Think about it, David. All his companions were killed. If he’s alive, he must be in danger.”

“That’s his problem.”

“Mine, too. Because I know about it. That means I can’t just ignore it. I’m obligated. I’ve got to do something. And I need your help.”

“Why you? What makes it your responsibility?”

Tanya closed the car door, took my arm and led me to the other side of a concrete pillar, fifteen feet away.

“Will you just trust me on this?” she said.

“Why?” I said. “It makes no sense.”

“I’m only asking you to hang around for a few more days. A week at the most. Until we know Mansell’s safe.”

“What if he doesn’t want us butting in? Maybe he wanted to disappear.”

“If he’s alive I just need to find him and warn him. After that, it’s up to him.”

“Why? Who is he? An ex-boyfriend?”

“No. Nothing like that. I’ve never met him in my life.”

“Then why do you care so much?”

“Because he’s in danger.”

“Everyone’s in danger, Tanya. Give me the real reason.”

She didn’t answer.

“Explain it in a way I can understand,” I said. “Or I’m on the next plane home.”

“I can’t,” she said. “I’m in an impossible situation.”

“Is this London nonsense? Is it classified?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“If I don’t say, you won’t help. If I do say, you’ll hate me and you won’t help. What can I do?”

“I’m not going to hate you, Tanya,” I said, taking her hand. “Whatever it is, just tell me.”

Tanya pulled her hand away, closed her eyes for a moment, and started to sway slightly, like someone in a trance.

“OK,” she said, finally. “Here goes. After Morocco, did you ever hear what happened? Officially?”

“No. There was never a proper report.”

“There was. Only I made sure you never saw it.”

“You did? Why?”

“The ambush that killed Dog? I knew about it. Well, I didn’t exactly know. I’d received a tip.”

“When? Who from?”

“The day before. A local informant. Someone new. I didn’t know if he was reliable, so I wanted to verify his story before passing it on.”

“It checked out?”

“It rang true enough. But I was too late. It took too long. When the bomb went off under your truck I was actually on the phone, trying to reach you.”

“So you made sure the threat was credible, and then you sent up the flares?”

“Yes, but—”

“And the report—did it censure you?”

“No.”

“Were you disciplined?”

“No.”

“Demoted?”

“No. But that’s not the point. The report judged what I did. Not what I could have done. And looking back, I’m sure I could have been quicker. If I’d got to you five minutes sooner . . .”

“That’s ridiculous, Tanya. You did the right thing. Dog would have said the same. Let it go.”

She didn’t respond.

“And even if you were wrong, what’s done is done,” I said. “Life goes on.”

“Not for Dog,” she said.

“So what do you think? By warning James Mansell you can make amends, somehow?”

She didn’t answer.

“What do you think will happen?” I said. “Dog will spring back to life?”

She stayed silent.

“You can’t change the past, Tanya,” I said. “However hard you try. I’m sorry. You’ll just have to find another way to deal with it.”

A car horn sounded, to our left. I looked around and saw that Weston had rolled down his window.

“Hey,” he said. “Hurry it up. We need to get moving. Varley called. He wants us back at the office.”

Tanya turned to go and as she brushed past me I glimpsed the trace of a tear nestling in the corner of her right eye. It reminded me of the hospital, in Rabat, when I’d woken up and found her in my room. Maybe she’d come to Morocco out of guilt that day, but she’d still been there for me. And the way she blamed herself for what happened may not have been logical, but in a way I could understand it. Ultimately, you feel what you feel. You have to recognize it, deal with it, and move on. Sometimes, people need help with that. Especially in our business. The only question is, are they worth enough of your time?

I slid onto the backseat just as Tanya was about to slam the door.

“Changed my mind,” I said, cupping her hand with mine. “Too much paperwork in London. Rosser’s complaints will still be ringing in their ears. Better to let things settle. Around a week should do it.”

Mitchell Varley was back on his throne, lording it over the boardroom table. Tanya and I were on the left-hand side, in the places we’d used for the debriefing. Weston and Lavine were sitting opposite us. But that was all. There was no one else to soak up Varley’s questions. And worse than that, no one to fetch the coffee.

“OK then, gentlemen,” Varley said. “Things are moving on. Yesterday, we discounted Lesley from our railroad investigation. Which is a shame, since she’s now in custody. Today, we’ve uncovered new facts about the case. Disturbing new facts. It seems we’re not talking about a lone serial killer anymore. Or even a gun for hire. The victims weren’t random, as we’d assumed. They were part of a group. There’s some kind of connection here we don’t fully understand.”

No one responded.

“So,” he said. “How do we proceed from here? I want options. Bartman—you first. And welcome back, by the way.”

“Thank you, sir,” Lavine said. “I think we should go back to the crime scene evidence first. And start again. Whatever’s going on here, it sounds structured. Organized. We’re talking about professional hits, now, obviously. Not a whacko. Not an amateur. We need to go much deeper than we thought.”

“Just with the evidence?” Varley said. “Or should we revisit the scenes, as well?”

“Just the evidence to start with,” Lavine said. “We won’t find anything new at the scenes. It’s been too long. But I guess it might be worth a quick look, to see if the choice of locations can tell us anything. Maybe throw some light on the killer’s training, background, or whatever.”

“OK,” Varley said. “Get someone on it. What about witnesses?”

“None came forward,” Lavine said. “But it sounds like the stakes are higher now. Maybe we should think about a reward?”

“Not yet,” Varley said. “That would bring out too many cranks. We’ll save it for a last resort. Just get the local PDs to go with a straight recanvass for now. So, Kyle? Over to you.”