Secrets (17 page)

‘Sorry, don't get it,' Alec said.

‘OK, well, if you have, say, a newly independent state, one which is rich in natural resources, but a bit lacking in infrastructure, or skills or reliable government or cash flow. Say, for instance, that you are a more developed state or big corporation and you look at this new country and you think, yes, I'd like a slice of that pie. Well, you might just send a representative over, authorized to offer some very nice little package of loans and expertise, of private security, perhaps, just to ensure that the people most sympathetic to you might be the ones with enough clout to get the best positions in the new government. In return, of course, you might ask for oil or mineral concessions and offer to build the roads and airports or ports that you need to get those minerals out – all to help this new, emergent state and its fledgling government, of course.

‘Nine times out of ten, your offers will be accepted and a few years down the line, the government of the country you now all but own will realize that these loans are accruing frightening levels of interest and the only people really profiting from the new infrastructure and investment in mining or drilling or whatever it might be are living it up half way round the world. Meantime, you can't afford food or education or homes for even a fraction of your population, because all the money you might have had from your mineral reserves or your coffee production or your oil is going to pay back loans and interest on loans for something that was meant to benefit everyone.'

‘That sounds very simplistic,' Naomi commented.

‘Oh and it is. And I'm missing out the fact that those in power are also the ones benefiting from the money paid by these foreign powers and they probably don't now give a damn about anyone else. And that most of the time, as I said, these offers get accepted with little or no argument. And not always because of corrupt governments, sometimes just out of pragmatic, political and economic need.

‘Sometimes, quite often in fact, there is more than one foreign power trying to curry favour. You get a bidding war. You get factions wanting to take up one offer or the other. You get conflict.

‘Or, sometimes, just sometimes, you might get a government or a president or a dictator that tells the foreign power to go to hell, they're going to do things their own way and foreign investments will not be welcome.'

‘And your economic hit man?'

‘Is sent in with a bigger, better deal. Is sent in to find the cracks, the leverage points, the people who can be coerced, blackmailed or simply paid off. Sometimes it gets a little more dramatic than that and the odd individual in a key position might need to be eliminated. Taken right out the picture. Sometimes, it means triggering an actual conflict. Sometimes even a major war.'

‘Seriously?' Alec laughed. ‘Sorry, Gregory, but it sounds all a bit conspiracy theory.'

‘Maybe it does. But it happens and has happened, for centuries in one form or another.'

‘And your friend? Is that what he did?'

‘In part. He had a talent for gossip, for finding the scandals, the tiny chinks in the armour. The less than honourable deeds of otherwise honourable men.'

‘So he made enemies,' Alec said. ‘So the pool of those who might want him dead is pretty big.'

‘Large and deep and wide,' Gregory agreed. ‘Though, mostly well in the past. As I said, most of his one-time enemies are dead or old or retired. But evidently someone out there thought they had unfinished business.'

‘And what does this have to do with Molly and Edward and, you mentioned another name, Clay, wasn't it?'

‘Clay. Yes. I think I need another drink. What would you like?'

‘I take it you aren't driving tonight,' Naomi said.

Gregory laughed. ‘Still the police officer,' he said. ‘No. I have a friend collecting me later.'

He gathered their glasses and went to the bar. The noise in the lounge had increased now as the evening drinkers arrived and settled. Naomi recognized a few of the voices and assumed these must be regulars.

‘You think he's telling the truth?'

‘Why not?' Alec said. He sounded tired and deflated.

‘He hasn't mentioned Herbert Norris. Do you think he's part of all this?'

‘Why don't we ask?' Alec sighed. ‘You know that week you gave me? Do you feel like downgrading the offer?'

Gregory returned and set down the tray. Naomi heard the rattle of ice in glasses. He set one down close to her hand. She could feel the chill of it.

‘And what part did Molly play in all of this?' she asked.

‘Where to begin?' Gregory said, but she had the feeling he had already worked it out and was just looking for the right words.

‘She met Edward in Kenya,' Alec said. ‘In Mombasa, I think. She said she was just strolling along the beach one day and there was this man, just standing by the water and they got into conversation. They were married three or four months later and stayed together until Edward died.'

‘Nice story,' Gregory said.

‘You don't believe it?' Naomi asked.

‘More that I don't really care, I suppose. Who do you think actually runs the world?'

Naomi laughed. ‘Oh, God, we're back to the conspiracy theories again, are we?'

‘No, we're back to a very simple question.'

‘Bankers,' Alec said. ‘People with money.'

‘Clay used to call them the three B's. Bankers, Big Business and Bureaucrats.'

‘Clay. You keep mentioning him. So what's the connection to Molly?'

Again the pause as Gregory took stock. He seemed to find the start point of his story and he began. ‘In 1961, Edward was dispatched to Leopoldville as part of the British trade mission to what had been the Belgian Congo. For about a century the kings of Belgium and later the Belgian government had treated the country as their personal piggy bank. When the country finally got independence in 1960 and elected their own president, big business and big governments were lining up, ready to negotiate their own deals; get their own piece of the pie.'

‘Dag Hammarskjöld,' Alec said abruptly. ‘The UN guy that was killed. Plane crash, wasn't it?'

‘It was,' Gregory agreed, ‘and by the time Edward and the others arrived, trouble had already begun. One of the richest states, Katanga, wanted to secede from Congo. It wouldn't have worked in practice. They were rich enough in mineral resources and the like, but didn't have enough agricultural land to feed themselves. Anyway, their bid for freedom was backed by some very big corporations, bankrolled by those who hoped to take control if the secession succeeded. The country as a whole had got its independence in June 1960 and Patrice Lumumba had been elected president in May of that year. Many considered him to be too impetuous to be a good politician, but he'd been elected as part of a democratic process, so—'

‘And Molly and Edward were mixed up in this? I still don't see—'

‘Let me get to it. Clay had been sent in ahead. His job was to take advantage of whatever situation seemed to be emerging. To make whatever promises he needed to make to secure economic and political footholds in what was then an emergent and potentially very rich country. He wasn't the only one, of course. You've got to remember, this was the middle of the cold war and the Russians and the US had sent their own big hitters into play.'

‘And Edward?'

‘Was a lot further down the food chain. Edward loved Africa. He never settled as easily anywhere else. And he wanted things to work out well for the Congo. He'd been sent because not only did he have close friends in the newly elected government, but he also knew some of the big players. You've got to understand, usually we apply the word mercenary to the foot soldiers who are called upon to do the actual fighting, and, believe me, there were plenty of those in the Congo back then. But there are what I'd call executive level mercenaries. The top level economic hit men I was telling you about.'

‘Like your friend, Arthur?'

‘Like him, yes. As it happens, Arthur wasn't there at the time. His role had already been taken by Gustav Clay and, back in 1961, Clay's opposite number, who happened to be working for the USSR at that point in time, was a man called Joseph Bern.

‘I can't be sure that Edward and Bern knew one another before this time, but they certainly got to know one another back in Leopoldville and they continued to work together for years. For that matter, so did Clay, though for the purposes of our Congo story, Clay and Bern were technically on opposite sides. Clay even tried to scare Bern off by beating him senseless and keeping him prisoner in some little Bakuba village for several days. You've got to understand, I'm piecing all of this together second-hand. I don't know all the fine detail.'

‘Why not just kill him?'

‘Because that's not how the game was being played. Had Clay killed Joseph, then the Russians would have sent someone to deal with Clay. The whole operation, on both sides, would have been forced into a state of flux and no one would have been able to operate effectively. The odd beating was seen as an occupational hazard.'

‘So, where do Edward and Molly fit into this and, forgive me, Gregory, this is all very interesting but what does it have to do with the current murders?'

‘You asked me for a start to the story,' Gregory said. ‘This is the closest to a beginning I can think of.'

Naomi sipped her drink. The ice was melting rapidly. She allowed a small piece to sit on her tongue before biting into it. ‘Did you know the other dead man?' she asked. ‘This Herbert Norris?'

‘I know what he was, I think I can guess how he fits into our story, but personally, no, I didn't know him, though I suspect Arthur may have done.'

‘So …'

‘If you don't mind, I need to fill in some of the background, first. Every act has a history and I think you need some grasp of the history.'

‘OK,' Naomi said. ‘So …'

‘To cut things short, things went very wrong very quickly. The country stood on the brink of civil war. The UN had moved in and brought troops with them, Hammarskjöld had insisted that no troops should come from any country that may have an interest in the outcome. This was the biggest test, so far, of a very young United Nations. Their first real test as peacekeepers and it all fell apart around them.'

‘They fled in the middle of the night,' Alec said. ‘In the back of a flatbed truck. Molly said that as they drove up into the hills, they could see their home burning behind them.'

‘And that was the start of things,' Gregory said. ‘I hesitate to use the word friendship, but associations were formed back then that caused other things to happen. Decisions to be made that, I believe, are finally catching up with all of them.'

‘What decisions?' Naomi asked.

Gregory paused for so long that she began to think there would be no answer. That he would finish his drink and walk away and they would never know.

‘A child,' Gregory said at last. ‘It was the decision to save a child.'

B
ud watched the morning news with more than usual interest. He'd found a little boarding house in the Highlands and from there moved into a holiday cottage he'd discovered in a small valley. It was empty and deserted, the season already coming to an end. A query at the local post office and a phone call later and Bud had rented the place for a week. Mr Briars, as he'd become for the purpose, left his rental in cash with the postmistress.

He was still not being careful enough, Bud thought, but a feeling of resignation seemed to have settled upon him. The feeling in the pit of his belly told him that this was not going to come out well and equally that there was not a thing he could do about it. He'd either survive this last job and go on to enjoy the money it had made for him or he would not. Nothing he could do now would make an ounce of difference. He could feel it.

So he watched the news now and noted with interest rather than anxiety that the reports of two men found in a van close to where a warehouse robbery had taken place, was now on every channel.

‘Police were called by a security man at the warehouse. He'd been alerted by someone hammering on the van doors from the inside, but by the time the emergency services had arrived, the sounds had apparently stopped. Police broke into the van to find the two men inside, already unconscious. It's understood that one man never regained consciousness, while the other managed to speak briefly to a police officer. He too is believed to have died during the night.

‘Police will be releasing a statement later today. It is not yet known if the families of the two men have been informed of their deaths or even if the authorities are sure of their identities.

‘The security officer injured in the raid on the warehouse is still in a critical condition in hospital. He has not yet regained consciousness. It's understood that the warehouse, a former car plant, is now used as a self-storage facility. It is not known if any of the lockers were broken into or what, if anything, was taken. Customers are asked to call this number, which will appear on your screens in just a moment, if they have immediate concerns. The number will also be available on our website.'

‘So,' Bud mused, ‘what was it someone wanted from the lockers?' He jotted the number down and stared at it as though it might enlighten him. He thought about the other members of his team and wondered if they too were wondering about the circumstances; the organization, the complexity of it all. Usually, once a job was over, Bud just walked away; as far away as he could get. Put the whole thing out of his mind. So what was so different about this time? What was it that wouldn't let him loose this time?

Bud's phone chirped softly. He picked it up and stared at the screen. Hardly anyone had his number. He opened up the message and looked hard at the few words there. The weight in the pit of his stomach grew heavier.