Execution

TEN

Harry stared at the small screen as he walked along Piccadilly towards Park Lane. The caller had hung up without speaking. He’d expected it to be Rik Ferris but the number on the screen was unfamiliar. Probably a misdial.

It reminded him that Rik was still looking for a way into HM Prison records, and if he became impatient, was likely to start cutting corners and delving into sites and files where he had no business. It was the reason he’d been kicked out of MI5 in the first place: in moments of boredom he’d gained access to files that the security services had wished to remain forgotten. No harm had been done, but, like Harry and Clare, his punishment had been a posting to Red Station and an intended ticket to a quiet oblivion.

He veered into the quieter sanctuary of Green Park and dialled Rik’s number, checking his surroundings. A few tourists were milling about, unfurling maps and sipping drinks, and early walkers and runners were making their way along the paths and across the grass. But nobody was close by.

‘Fong’s Restaurant. We hep yew?’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Exactly what you asked,’ Rik replied, and switched to a Yoda voice. ‘No more it is, no less. Up against a hard place I am.’

‘Cut it out,’ Harry growled, ‘or I’ll confiscate your toys. You haven’t strayed from the brief, have you?’

‘No, I haven’t. HMP only, just like you said. Honestly, between Five, Six and you, it’s like working in a goldfish bowl.’

‘Blame the digital revolution. It’s for your own good, anyway. I’ve got another brief for you.’ He gave him Tobinskiy’s details. ‘Run up everything you can on him, see if he had any friends in London.’

‘Sure. Anyone in particular?’

‘Yes. See if his world ever collided with Clare Jardine’s.’

‘Seriously?’ Rik sounded surprised. ‘Why would it? Anyway, if it had, it wouldn’t be public knowledge, would it? Ergo, nothing on the web.’

‘Maybe. It’s just a thought. Check his name for any images, and look for her face.’ It was a remote stretch, he knew. But stranger things had happened, such as a known face spotted in a crowd where no mention of them had been made in print. ‘I’m on my way to your place. I’ll tell you more when I get there.’ He had a thought and added, ‘You might also run Clare’s name through the mixer and see if you come up with anything. . friends, school. . social media contacts.’

‘I did that once before, but no joy. I’ll try again, though, see if anything’s leaked out. Are you saying she’s out in the wind by herself?’

‘If Ballatyne’s telling the truth, yes. She cut and ran.’

‘Jesus. That must hurt.’ Rik spoke with feeling. He’d been shot himself not long ago just a few hundred yards from where Harry was standing, and was well acquainted with the pain of a gunshot wound.

‘Put the kettle on. I’ll see you later.’