No Sleep for the Dead

Chapter 31

‘You two are paddling in some very deep waters, you know that?’ Charlie studied his pint then squinted at Riley and Palmer in turn. They were in a pub off St Martin’s Lane, where Charlie had suggested they meet. He had done some digging around in the vast boiler house that was the security department pool of information, and agreed to share what he could.

‘Adventurous, that’s us,’ said Palmer cheerfully. ‘How deep is deep?’

‘Well, that place in Harrow, where you might or might not have chucked some conman out of a six-storey window, and where you’ve been playing silly buggers with other persons named or unnamed? It’s been red-flagged, that’s how deep.’ He sipped his drink, pulling a face. ‘Try as in over your heads and likely to sink.’

‘Red flagged? What does that mean?’ Riley knew a lot of the official jargon, culled from years of brushing up against the police. But the world of security departments was an unknown quantity to her, and there was always some new terminology waiting to be discovered.

‘It means,’ explained Charlie, ‘that somebody’s keeping it under surveillance. The flag is to warn other agencies to tread carefully in the area, so as not to compromise any ongoing operation.’ He looked at Palmer with raised eyebrows. ‘Am I right?’

Palmer’s nod confirmed it, but he said nothing.

‘I checked with a mate,’ Charlie continued, ‘but all she could tell me was that the flag was issued on a Home Office security docket. There was no department designation that she could find, but that’s not unusual.’

‘She?’ Palmer grinned happily, sensing his friend’s slip of the tongue. ‘Well, well, you old dog. Nice, is she?’

‘Behave yourself.’ Charlie scowled back at him, but he blushed nonetheless and concentrated on his pint.

‘So it could be anyone watching the place,’ said Riley. ‘That’s a pity.’

‘It could be anybody with the right operational clearance, from Revenue and Customs — bloody unstoppable since they teamed up, I can tell you — to MOD… and maybe one or two little Embankment ferrets we mere mortals know absolutely nothing about.’ Charlie went on to explain that there were various sub-branches within MI5 and MI6, neither of whom were quick to disclose all of their departments to each other, let alone anyone else. These sub-branches were often created to deal with specific problems, then disbanded when no longer needed, their personnel re-assigned to normal duties.

‘And you can’t tell who they’re watching?’ queried Riley, twirling her glass on a beer-soaked mat. She didn’t want to push Charlie’s friendship with Palmer too far, but she sensed he needed to be guided towards disclosing any information that could help them, rather than giving it out too freely. Palmer was sitting back with his eyes on the yellowed ceiling of the bar, content to let her lead the way with the questions.

‘No idea. Not listed. But if I was laying odds, I’d say it was your feller Radnor, or maybe his east European partner in crime. There’s no-one else in the building with the right profile, as far as I can tell.’ He gave Palmer a twisted smile. ‘At least, not since Frank tossed Gillivray out of the window. Allegedly.’

Palmer rode the jibe with forbearance. ‘Very allegedly. Presumably Six must know Radnor’s there, though?’

‘MI6?’ said Riley.

‘Yes. They must keep tabs on their former employees.’

‘If he is former.’ Charlie looked wary. ‘I can’t tell that, either, so don’t ask. All I know is, it appears he left MI6 several years ago and went private, but nobody knows where. He seems to have dropped out of sight before re-emerging in London. My guess is, they either think — or know — he’s up to something, which is why they’re keeping the place under observation. He wouldn’t be the first spook who hopped the reservation and went freelance. People like Radnor are hardly trained for the pipe and slippers option once their time is up. They’ve got too much invested in a different kind of lifestyle. It looks like he chose to go bent.’

Riley frowned. ‘So these watchers will have recorded our visits, then?’

‘Probably. Time in, time out, faces, feet, the lot. But don’t panic yet; it’ll take time to process all the faces. But you can be sure you’ll show up sooner or later. Bad pennies.’ He finished off his beer and looked cheerfully at Riley. ‘No offence to you, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘Purely by chance, after your call the other day while Frank, here, was taking in the delights of the German hinterland, I stumbled on some info about Radnor’s little mate, Michael. If it’s the same bloke, and I think it is, he’s got himself a small file in one of Five’s archives. His name’s Mikhail Rubinov, aged thirty-eight. He was a junior officer in one of the Soviet security departments. Not KGB as was, but close enough to make him interesting. He did some work in Afghanistan — undefined, as you’d expect, although that could mean he was just some low-level junior spook — then he was assigned to a trade directorate in Berlin about five years ago. That was where he came to the notice of the watchers over there, which automatically got him a file. I think he got bored, because he jumped ship after a few months and re-surfaced in Switzerland on the open job market. He’s had his fingers in various enterprises ever since — mostly bent, like currency scams.’

‘He might have known Radnor in East Germany, then,’ Riley guessed.

‘Highly probable. It’s a small world and shit attracts flies. Whatever, they must have formed a partnership, which is why there’s a flag on the building.’ He looked at them in turn. ‘You mentioned a woman in Streatham… the dead runner’s sister? There’s no record of her that I could find. It doesn’t mean she shouldn’t be here — just that she hasn’t come to anyone’s attention. She could be clean. What did you get from her?

‘Not much,’ said Riley. ‘She showed us a photo of Radnor and her brother, though.’

‘It was taken in East Germany,’ Palmer put in. ‘It doesn’t prove anything…except that they knew each other.’

Charlie’s eyebrows rose at the implications. ‘If he had some dealings with a local who was killed trying to cross the wire and never reported it, I’d say that breaks a few rules.’

‘How do you know he didn’t report it?’

‘Because Radnor’s name doesn’t come up in the report of the border shooting, nor on the sheets about Sergeant Paris’s death afterwards. I can only guess it must have been suppressed. A bit iffy, I’d say.’

‘Iffy?’

‘If he didn’t disclose that he was actually there when — who was it — Wachter? — was shot, nor that he’d been around with Paris just prior to his death, then he was hiding something.’

‘Isn’t that standard procedure for spies, hiding things?’ said Riley.

Charlie suppressed a snort. ‘I know they’re supposed to be the Secret Service, but not that bloody secret. They’re accountable to their bosses if nobody else.’ He looked at Palmer. ‘You said something about art works. Radnor’s listed as an art dealer, although I suppose that could cover anything.’

‘I know.’ Palmer handed Charlie the scrap of greased paper he’d found at the VTS premises. ‘He must have been bringing in works of art for years, starting when he was working in the east. But they wouldn’t wrap canvases or icons in this stuff. I think they’ve been mixing the shipments with something a bit more interesting.’

Charlie nodded, studying the piece of paper before slipping it into his breast pocket. ‘It would explain why he teamed up with Rubinov. The Russian would have the contacts in the east, or at the very least, know where the various arms dumps are located.’ He shook his head wearily. ‘The security over there is a joke. There are stashes of weapons everywhere, and every quartermaster with a brain is selling to the first person to come along with ready cash — dollars or euros.’ He paused. ‘I’m surprised they’re risking bringing in icons and stuff, though. The Russian police have really cracked down on it. Still, it must be worth the risk.’

‘Who would Radnor be selling the weapons to?’ said Riley.

Charlie shrugged. ‘Depends. If he’s got the right contacts, he could be choosy and ship in stuff to order — weapons or valuables. That would jack up the price. If not, anyone with the right amount of ready cash.’

‘I’d bet on a specialist market,’ Palmer said. ‘Radnor’s training wouldn’t let him get tied up with any old team. He’d want solid connections and selected goods.’

Charlie nodded. ‘I’d go with that. Less risk.’

‘But if he’s being watched,’ said Riley, ‘why are they letting him carry on?’

Charlie gave a faint smile. ‘Wheels within wheels. They might be hoping he’ll lead them back to his suppliers, or they could just be tangled in red tape, unable to make a decision.’ He tapped his pocket where he’d placed the piece of paper. ‘This will help, though. I’ll pass it on as ‘information received from interested parties’. But,’ he stared at them seriously. ‘You two stay clear of the place in Harrow from now on, got it? You get in the way, and you might find a lot of violent young men in black jump-suits and goggles trampling all over your faces.’ He levered himself to his feet. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date.’

They stood up with him, and Palmer shook his hand, aware that his friend was risking his job by having contact with them on what was a sensitive subject.

‘Thanks, Charlie,’ he said warmly. ‘I appreciate your help.’

‘Of course you do, Frank. And my auntie’s a member of the Bader Meinhof.’ He smiled nonetheless. ‘By the way, what happened with Lottie what’s-her-name?’

‘Grossman,’ said Palmer. ‘We’re not sure, but it looks like she may have bitten off more than she could chew.’ He related what Szulu had told them about Ragga Pearl taking Lottie away.

‘Jesus.’ Charlie took out a fold of paper and made a quick note, then stuffed it back in his pocket. ‘I’ll pass that on to a mate in SOCA. He’ll be pissed off that I know more than he does.’

‘Since when has the MOD had connections with the Serious Organised Crime Agency?’ asked Riley.

‘Ah, well, we’re all one big happy family now, didn’t you know?’ said Charlie sourly. ‘It’s called information pooling. Ever since the Sovs went belly-up and stopped pointing their nasty rockets our way, the various agencies have been scouting around for more work to keep themselves busy. And this new lot have got something to prove.’ He paused and eyed them both. ‘As a matter of interest, you don’t think Radnor and this Ragga Pearl would do business, do you?’

‘God forbid,’ breathed Riley. The prospect of the man described by Szulu in such horrific terms getting hold of some serious firepower was something she didn’t like to think about.

Palmer shook his head, unable to see a valid connection. ‘Forget it. From what we’ve heard, Radnor wouldn’t deal with a man like Pearl.’

‘It was just a thought. It’s all about budgets, see? More work equals more allocation. And we can’t have our common criminals going round killing each other, can we? Think of the mess on the streets.’ He gave Palmer a penetrating look. ‘How come this Szulu character was so talkative? You’re both white and sworn enemies of his current employer; that hardly makes you bosom buddies.’

Palmer cleared his throat heavily to forestall Riley saying anything. Mention of persuasion and gunshot wounds might lead to Mitcheson. Charlie was a friend, but he didn’t want to place him in a difficult position. ‘He became disenchanted with his old employer.’ He nodded towards the note Charlie had just placed in his pocket. ‘Can you hold off doing anything with that information for a while?’

‘Maybe,’ Charlie conceded. Then he studied them in turn and his mouth dropped open. ‘Christ, you’re never going looking for the old witch? Are you nuts?’

‘Call it unfinished business,’ said Riley. ‘While Lottie’s out there, we’ll be looking over our shoulders all the time. She sounds seriously ill, but from what Szulu said, she’s in worse danger than that if Ragga Pearl’s got her.’

‘So? That would solve your problem, wouldn’t it?’

‘Maybe. But Lottie’s as devious as a barrel of eels. We just want to make sure she hasn’t talked Ragga Pearl into helping her.’

‘How are you going to find that out? These guys don’t exactly see people by appointment. It’s not like popping into your doctor.’ He gave a sigh. ‘Actually, with my doctor, that’s bollocks — it’s probably easier.’

‘We’ve got Szulu working on that right now,’ said Palmer. ‘He’s currently without paid employment, so we asked him to set up a meeting.’

‘Asked? I’d love to hear how you did that.’ Charlie eyed them both, then shook his head. ‘On the other hand, maybe I wouldn’t.’ He could see he wasn’t going to change their minds. ‘Okay, but don’t blame me if it all goes sour and he holds you both hostage. I’ll see myself out.’ He turned and walked away.

As the door closed behind him, Riley’s mobile rang. It was Szulu. She listened for a moment, then switched off and looked at Palmer with a wary smile.

‘Szulu says Ragga will see us tomorrow at noon.’