The Dead Lie Down (Adam Lennox Thrillers: Book One) (23 page)

The taller of the two, red tracksuit, big nose, no jewellery broke the
silence.

"Funny man. They said you were a funny man."

Adam frowned. "Who said I was a funny man? Bel do you think I am a funny man? I
think I could take exception to that. I know my rights and this could be
discriminating or downright insulting. I may consult my MP. Bel tell me. Am I
funny?"

"Humour is beyond you Adam. Strangeness is another matter."

Adam leapt in. "Strangeness is indeed another matter. In fact it is an attribute
of sub-atomic particles discovered in the late eighties or early nineties."

There was a pause during which Adam scanned the horizon for any sign of Cavalry.
He could only hold off the Indians for so long with his witty repartee before
they decided to get to the point of their presence.

"It's no good looking for Mitch," said Tall and Skinny. "We've already talked to
him and told him to go take a powder."

Take a powder. Very sixties gangster film, he must have seen them on the re-runs
thought Adam, he wasn't old enough for first time around. Goodness, even Adam
wasn't that old. So Mitch had been warned off and seemed to have accepted the
guidance. They had to be Government in that case. So why were they here?

"Well my friends, I presume you haven't come here to enjoy the spring sunshine
whilst gaining beneficial exercise so perhaps you had better let us in on the
reason for this interruption to our weekday ambulatory excursion, that we might
be enlightened, and then you can push off."

Short and Fat, moustache, blue tracksuit, wedding ring, displayed signs of
impatience at the flippancy that Adam was using as a defence.

"Lennox, you're meddling in things you don't understand, matters where national
security starts to become an issue, and there are connected people in high places
who are getting extremely nervous about your ham fisted digging around. It's
time to stop."

Why did Adam get the impression he was in a game of chess? "National security?
So that makes you what, government men right? You are what, MI5, Special Branch,
Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries or what?"

White Bishop to Queen's pawn four.

"It doesn't matter if we're government or not."

Black Knight to King's Rook four.

"Oh I think you'll find it does," said Adam. He paused and carried on. "Just so
that we are completely clear on this. The meddling to which you refer relates to
what, the death of Granger Bartlett, or his son John?"

White Knight to Kings Bishop three. Check.

"Don't mess around with us, you've been cleared of any involvement in John
Bartlett's murder but you're continuing to dig up dirt on Granger Bartlett and I
repeat, it's time to stop."

Black Bishop to King's Bishop four, block.

Adam smiled. "So this has nothing to do with the death of my wife."

White Rook takes Black Bishop, check.

Tall and Skinny was caught of guard. "We don't know anything about the death of
your wife."

Black King retreats from White Rook.

Adam repeated. "So it's just about Granger Bartlett."

White Rook advances, Check.

"Yes."

Black King retreats further.

"So it wasn't an accident then. What was it? Suicide or Murder?" Checkmate.

Before they had time to react Adam's mobile rang. What? You expect him to set it
to vibrate at a time like this?

He looked at Short and Fat with a raised, questioning eyebrow.

"Answer it but be very careful, put it on speaker phone," he said.

Adam looked at the phone display and hit the green button.

"Gerry, what can I do you for?"

Gerry sounded agitated. "I've had a call from the Zoo."

"What did the Zoo want?"

"Apparently the tigers have gone down with some virus. They're blaming the
incident with the camera."

"What? Because the elephant threw a camera into their enclosure, the tigers are
ill? Don't be ridiculous."

Gerry coughed. "They've repeated their threats to sue."

Adam snorted. "The zoo can't sue us. Get onto our lawyer tomorrow and get him to
sort it out."

"Okay," said Gerry. A brief pause. "Are you all right Adam? You sound out of
sorts."

"I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow." He hung up and turned to Mr Tall. "My vet. He
calls me all the time."

Short and Fat was sceptical. "So. A coded conversation. Very clever. Very
sophisticated."

Adam rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "You have no idea."

"So who are the tigers and what's their relationship to the elephant?"

Adam sighed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Short and Fat made as if to try, but thought better of it.

Tall and Skinny came to his rescue. "It is not in the national interest for you
to continue. I'm giving you a final warning. Don't speculate. Don't ask any more
questions, just let it go."

Bel, who had let Adam do the running butted in. "So if we find out where the
body's buried, you don't want to know."

"If I were you I wouldn't even let it be known that you know, for your own
safety."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a friendly warning, you're dealing in issues where people get hurt,
caught in the crossfire."

Adam joined in. "So who's doing the shooting?"

No answer.

Adam's mouth set a grim line. "With the friendly warning comes friendly
fire?"

"If you're alluding to what I think you're alluding to then you need to be very
careful, the Official Secrets Act has very long fingers." And as if to
demonstrate his point Tall and Skinny reached out a long arm towards Adam who
didn't react. Mr Cool, not afraid, Batman would have been impressed.

"What happens if we keep digging?" asked Bel.

Tall and Short looked at each other. "We can't guarantee your freedom or your
safety. From anyone."

Adam interrupted. "This is getting rather boring. You're the third set of people
to play this record and I'm getting suspicious. Whilst I'd love to spend more
time with you, I think you're beginning to frighten my friend and it's time you
left." He looked at Bel who showed no evidence whatsoever of being
frightened.

He turned to find out Tall and Short's response, but they had already gone,
disappeared completely, leaving Adam and Bel alone in a small dell amongst the
flowers in the spring sunshine.

They sat down on a convenient bench and Adam broke the silence.

"Was that weird or was that weird? I'm beginning to believe in conspiracy
theory. That's the fourth time someone's warned me to keep my nose out."

Bel smiled and the sun came out. "Onset of paranoia. No, that...was a good
sign."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "You're losing me Trent."

"Someone is getting extremely worried that we're onto something Lennox. We are
obviously rattling the right cages, lifting the appropriate manhole covers in
our drains up investigation. If we weren't then they would be merely sitting in
their offices drinking coffee and laughing at us behind our backs."

"The question is, which of the manhole covers that we have lifted is the one
that really smells."

Bel wrinkled her nose. "These metaphors are getting rather malodorous for my
liking, time for coffee to stimulate the brain cells."

A
short walk took them to one of those tea-rooms so beloved of public parks eager
to tease loose change out of their clientele, where the elderly and infirm could
rest bunions. This was little more than a summer-house with a scattering of
tables around it but had obviously been smartened up with a coat of paint over
the winter. The climbing roses had been carefully put back after painting but
looked rather artificial as a result.

An exchange of legal tender found them sitting down at a remote table. Adam
always chose the hardest, most uncomfortable seat with the greatest wobble. It
was a knack he had had since birth, the envy of the world. The gift extended to
supermarket trolleys and their wheels, which is why Adam did most of his
shopping by the basketful in the local grocery store.

He took a good look around him at his fellow drinkers. He was becoming
increasingly suspicious of the world around him and was starting to look for
danger signals anywhere. Iraq had taught him that even the most insignificant
could be dangerous, a child with an automatic weapon was no less dangerous than
a trained assassin. Fortunately there were no children in the tearoom capable of
wielding a semi-automatic and he relaxed slightly.

He looked back at Bel. "Do you want to pull out of this. Go away until it all
blows over?"

She leant over the table and spoke in that determined voice that Adam was
beginning to realise was not to be argued with.

"If you think I'm going to come this far Lennox and then skive off somewhere
then you've got another think coming. I want to find out what happened to Fran
as much as you do. I'm damn well going to see this through to the end and
no-one, but no-one is going to tell me otherwise! I need to know."

Adam looked at her strangely as if to try and read something into the
statement.

"Don't look at me like that." Bel continued. "How did they manage to get rid of
Mitch. I thought he was protecting us?"

"He is, but only from the bad guys. If they were bona fide and they managed to
convince him then he would have backed off."

The coffee arrived. Proper cups and cafetieres, Adam was impressed.

"So, what do we know for fact?" he started, optimistically.

There was a pause for thought and then he continued.

"We know that Bartlett's ships were smuggling arms."

"According to your Anna," continued Bel.

Adam stuck out his tongue. Mature, very mature. "Yes, according to Anna who
works for the Customs and Excise," He paused. "Well we have to believe
someone."

Bel snorted and nearly choked on her coffee.

"Someone tipped off John Bartlett, who decided to check it out, found out things
he shouldn't, and was killed for it."

Bel interrupted. "Why kill him? Someone else obviously knew. The person who had
tipped him off for a start. Why draw more heat? I don't think it's that
straightforward, besides, what are these papers that everyone is looking
for?"

Adam put down his coffee cup. "I was afraid you were going to bring that up.
There are the papers that Fran had when she was killed. There are the papers
that someone seems eager to kill and maim in order to find."

"We are fairly convinced that Brad was involved in, if not behind, the
smuggling," argued Bel, "and yet he had the opportunity to get the papers from
Fran after the killing."

Adam steepled his fingers in front of him. He liked to think it gave him an air
of deep meditative contemplation, but generally it indicated that he was stumped
for something useful to say.

"Ah." he said putting down his coffee with dramatic care.

"Is that a Eureka moment or just an appreciation of bad coffee?" posed Bel.

Adam shook his head. "We've been blind. We're dealing with two different sets of
papers. It has to be the case. As you've rightly said, Brad retrieved the papers
from Fran and was behind the smuggling, so why would our Irish friends be still
looking for them?"

"So," said Bel thinking out loud. "If the other papers weren't to do with the
smuggling then they must have been related to..... Granger's death. Papers that
are perhaps dangerous now, were they to come to light."

"So the question is to whom are the papers dangerous and why does he think we
have them. " Adam said.

Bel shook her head. Adam liked the way her hair bounced around like a shampoo
advert.

"No. You're asking the wrong question." she said. "The question is who has the
papers and where." She paused. "Who do we know who is still around from
Granger's days?"

Adam smiled. "I think I feel the need of that trip to Sevenoaks, don't you?"

At this point Mitch arrived and Adam took him to one side.

"Well?" he asked.

"Rozzers, the Fuzz," replied Mitch. "Special Branch. I've checked them out.
They're the business."

"So whatever we're into it's political. Is that the inference? We're interfering
with the well oiled wheels of government are we?"

"Could be. You need to be bloody careful. If you're in deep, this crowd could
lock you up and throw the keys away for long enough to be uncomfortable."

"We are in deep already, you know that, but we're locked in now with no way out.
Erikson would never forgive us." He nodded to the park exit. "I'll see you
later, we need to talk."

Adam went back to Bel. They finished their coffee and got to their feet as
Adam's phone rang.

The green button on his phone was getting worn, a sign that he needed to replace
it. He pressed it anyway.

"Yes."

"Mr Lennox. We need to talk."

The thought came back to Adam. The Irish are getting everywhere.

Chapter 32

The apartment looked even bleaker than it had done before. Frank stood in the
doorway of the bedroom where he had spent so much time and took one last look
around. All the furniture had gone, given away to some poor family who lived in
a shack two blocks away along the dirt road filled with pot-holes. The curtains
had come down, bundled into boxes for burning. The distemper on the walls,
loathed for so long, looked completely in character with the empty shell and the
bare light bulbs. The landlord moved around him checking that all the fixtures
were still in place. As the shutters were pulled together for one last time and
darkness invaded what had been his home these five years he felt as if his life
was closing down, his raison d'etre being robbed from him, his value being
sucked out.

Did he regret coming? Perhaps a little. If he hadn't come what would have
happened to him? Who knows. The need had been there and in the spur of the
moment, many years ago, he had decided to meet it. What was going to happen to
him now, he wasn't sure, but it was time to return to England, that place that
was now a foreign land to him but would have to become his home once again.
Perhaps Gerard would have an idea. Yes, Gerard would have an idea.