Red Station

SEVENTY-FOUR

‘ You were right,’ said Rik, staring out across Hyde Park. It was a week later and they had met at Harry’s suggestion. Somewhere open and public, he’d said. They had been keeping their heads down ever since Bellingham’s death.

‘How so?’ said Harry. He peered into a bag of peanuts and flexed his fingers before selecting one. His injury was now down to a dull ache, and lifting much easier than a few days ago.

‘Down by the river. After you left, a couple of blokes turned up in a black car. Some sort of security, I reckon. They took a look, called an ambulance and carted Bellingham away. He must have been dead — they covered his face.’ Rik rubbed his fingers across a leather satchel on his knee.

‘Well, that suits everyone, doesn’t it? He’ll get an honourable mention in despatches, good and faithful servant, blah, blah, blah. End of story.’

‘That’s a bit cold, isn’t it?’

‘It’s reality. He went too far, stepped over the line; him and Paulton, both. If it ever got out, it would have gone international. Thing like that, the Russians and Georgians would have had no choice but to raise hell. We were on their turf, along with the Clones and a government hit-man.’

Rik looked surprised. ‘You make it sound like his death was… sanctioned.’

‘I doubt that. I think the bodyguard disappearing was a signal to Bellingham that he was isolated. On his own. He’d have been picked up — that’s probably what the two men you saw were there for — and made to resign. Only he didn’t get the opportunity.’

A woman jogger was running under a line of trees. She moved confidently, flowing in an easy gait across the grass towards them. Harry felt a jolt in his gut. She reminded him of someone.

‘It was her, wasn’t it, who did Bellingham?’ said Rik sombrely, also watching the woman. ‘Clare, I mean.’

‘Forget it. If it was, she’s gone. It’s done and dusted.’

‘Do you think we’ll see her again?’

‘Jesus, I hope not.’ Harry had certain views on the kind of psyche it took to use a knife on someone, especially the way it had been done on Bellingham. If he ever did see her again, he hoped he was armed and ready to shoot. He changed the subject. ‘Did you get your clearance?’ He was referring to the official security clearance they had both been granted in the wake of Bellingham’s death and the investigation into Red Station. It was a token forgiveness only, and did not include re-employment. But it was better than nothing. It offered a severance payment in lieu of all claims, which was government-speak for going away and developing total amnesia. He’d also had a call from Bill Maloney. The man killed with the girl in Essex had been identified as Romanian, with known drugs trafficking connections across Europe. And the Land Rover had contained a handgun, two false passports and a secret compartment under the floor panels.

‘Yeah. You?’

‘Yes. How’s your mum?’

‘She’s fine. Pleased I’m back, even if I haven’t got a job.’ He grinned, and for the first time since Harry had known him, looked thoroughly relaxed.

Harry knew how he felt. Jean had expressed similar delight, albeit thankfully of a far less motherly nature, when he’d called the previous evening. Learning that he wasn’t going to be hung out to dry and consigned to hard labour for thirty years had clearly pleased her. The pleasure had lasted into the small hours, and he had left her flat just two hours ago with a smile on his face and a spring in his step.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the freedom. Then Harry said, ‘I’ve been offered some private security work. Good pay and conditions. Freelance. It’s in the area of internet fraud.’

It hadn’t sounded quite his thing, but he was too young to retire and too old to sign on for Iraq as a ‘consultant’ — even if he’d wanted to. And it would do to keep him going. He had some ghosts to lay along the way, and that would take time, after everything that had happened. One ghost in particular.

Then Rik surprised him. ‘You’re going after Paulton,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t deny it.’

‘Maybe.’ He had little to go on, save some knowledge of the man. But knowledge was power and eventually, people who ran usually surfaced somewhere they knew well; somewhere they felt secure.

All he had to do was unpick Paulton’s past life and find that place.

‘Hey, that’s good,’ said Rik enthusiastically. He shrugged. ‘I wish I could help. I’ve got a few job feelers out myself. Something will turn up.’

Harry looked at Rik, nudging him with his elbow. ‘I just offered you a job, you geek. I need someone I can trust. You do the IT, I’ll do the legwork. You in?’

Rik looked stunned. ‘Me?’

‘You. Don’t take too long or I’ll go elsewhere.’ He stood up and looked at his watch. ‘I know quite a few ex-security bods who’d jump at the chance-’

‘I’m in!’ Rik leapt to his feet and threw his satchel over his shoulder. ‘When do I start?’

Harry was walking away. ‘You already have,’ he called back. ‘I’ll buy the coffee, you fire up the laptop.’