Reeve waited a few minutes, then walked to another vantage point and waited a few more. Nobody left the CWC building. As he’d guessed would happen, an unmarked police car eventually screamed to a halt outside the entrance. McCluskey got out, and was met halfway up the steps by Kosigin himself.
It was Reeve’s first real look at Kosigin, Allerdyce’s photographs aside. He was a short, slim man who wore his suit like he was modeling in a commercial. From this distance, he looked as dangerous as a hamburger. But then after what Reeve had learned lately, he couldn’t be sure anymore just how safe a hamburger was.
Kosigin led McCluskey into the building. McCluskey looked tired, pasty-faced. He’d had a very long couple of days. Reeve wondered if the detective had slept at all. He hoped not. He knew the beggar was inside, probably sandwiched between two security men. They’d want to ask him questions. They’d maybe take the money away from him; or threaten to, if he didn’t give a convincing description of his benefactor.
Reeve’s mobile rang. He held it up to his ear. Unsurprisingly, Cantona’s voice came over loud and clear.
“Hey,” he said, “your man just came out of the building. But get this, only as far as the steps where he met up with that fucking detective. They’ve both gone back inside.”
Reeve smiled. Cantona was doing his job. “Thanks,” he said into the mouthpiece. “Keep watching.”
“Sure. Hey, do I get to take a lunch break?”
“What? After that doughnut you just ate?”
There was silence on the line. When Cantona next spoke, he sounded amused. “You sonofabitch, where are you?”
“I’m just leaving.” Reeve put away the telephone, turned on his heels, and headed into the shopping district.
The first thing he did was get a haircut. Then he bought some very plain clothes which all but made him invisible. The barber had given him a shave, too. If he hadn’t been in fear of his life, Reeve would have felt great. He found a nice restaurant on the edge of Gaslamp and had lunch with the other businesspeople. His table was near the window, facing another table laid for two with a single woman eating at it. She smiled at him from time to time, and he smiled back. He had the sense that rather than flirting with him, she was acknowledging her right-and his, too-to dine alone. She went back to her paperback novel, and Reeve watched the street outside. During dessert, he saw his messenger slouch past, a dazed scowl on his face. The world had given him another punch in the teeth, and the man was trying to figure out how he’d walked into it. Reeve vowed that if he saw him later, he’d slip him a dollar without stopping.
Hell, maybe he’d make it two.
He gave Kosigin a couple of hours, then telephoned from his mobile. He was guessing they’d try to trace any calls made to Kosigin. Reeve sat on a bench in a shopping mall and made the call.
“Mr. Kosigin’s office, please.”
“Just one minute.” The switchboard operator transferred him to a secretary.
“Mr. Kosigin, please.”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“Sure, my name’s Reeve. Believe me, he’ll want to talk to me.”
“I’ll try his office, Mr. Reeve.”
“Thanks.”
The secretary put him onto one of those annoying music loops. He started to time how long he was kept waiting. He could visualize them setting up an extra telephone set so McCluskey could listen in, could see McCluskey busy on another line trying to get a trace on the call. Reeve gave it thirty seconds before he cut the connection. He walked to a coffee stand and bought a double decaf latte. He peeled off the plastic cover until he had a hole big enough to sip through, and window-shopped the mall. Then he sat on another bench and made the call again.
“Mr. Kosigin’s office, please.”
“Just one minute.”
And then Kosigin’s secretary again, sounding slightly flustered.
“It’s Reeve again,” he said. “I have an aversion to waiting.”
“Hold the line, please.”
Fifteen seconds later, a male voice came on the phone. “Mr. Reeve? This is Kosigin.” The voice was as smooth as the suit Kosigin wore. “How can I help you?”
“What did you think of the video?”
“Dr. Killin was obviously drugged, delirious. I’d say he’d almost been brainwashed into that crazy story. Abduction is a very serious offense, Mr. Reeve.”
“What did McCluskey think of it?”
That stopped Kosigin for a moment. “Naturally, I sent for the police.”
“Before you watched the video,” Reeve stated. “That’s a bit suspicious, isn’t it? Almost like you were expecting something. I take it you’re recording this call, that’s why you’re acting innocent. Fine, act away. But Kosigin, I’ve got the tape. I’ve got lots of copies of it. You don’t know who’s going to receive one in the mail one of these fine mornings. Maybe they’ll believe your version, maybe they’ll believe Killin’s.”
Another pause. Was Kosigin taking instructions from someone? Maybe McCluskey.
Maybe Jay.
“Perhaps we should meet, Mr. Reeve.”
“Yeah? Just the two of us, same as I was supposed to meet McCluskey? Only McCluskey turned up with his private personal army, and you, Kosigin, you’d turn up alone-right?”
“Right.”
“Apart from Jay, of course, training a laser sight on my forehead.”
Another pause.
Reeve was enjoying this. “I’ll call back in ten minutes,” he told Kosigin, then hung up.
He walked out of the mall into bright afternoon sun and a warm coastal breeze. He didn’t think he’d ever felt more alive. He made the next call from outside the main post office.
“So, Kosigin, had any thoughts?”
“About what? I believe you’re a wanted man in Europe, Mr. Reeve. Not a very pleasant situation.”
“But you could do something about that, right?”
“Could I?”
“Yes, you could hand Jay over to the French authorities, you could tell them he set me up.”
“You two know one another, don’t you?”
“Believe it.”
“There’s some sort of enmity between you?”
“You mean he hasn’t told you? Get him to tell you his version. It’s probably so fake you could install it as a ride at Disneyland.”
“I’d like to hear your version.”
“I bet you would, and at length too, right?”
“Look, Mr. Reeve, this is getting us nowhere. Why don’t you just tell me what you want.”
“I thought that was obvious, Kosigin. I want Jay. I’ll phone later with the details.”
Reeve walked back to the office-supply shop and handed over the mobile, signing some more documents and getting back his deposit.
“Any calls will be charged to your credit card,” the assistant told him.
“Thanks,” Reeve said. He went next door to the coffee shop. Cantona was reading a crumpled newspaper. Reeve bought them both a coffee.
“Hell,” Cantona said, “I didn’t recognize you there.”
Reeve reached into his pocket and drew out a miniature of whiskey. “Here’s something to pep you up.”
“I meant what I said, Gordon.” Cantona’s eyes were bloodshot and he hadn’t shaved in a few days. His stubble was silver and gray. “I don’t drink when I’m working.”
“But you’re not working anymore. I’m heading out.”
“Where to?” Cantona received no reply. “Best I don’t know, right?”
“Right.” Reeve handed over the money from his mobile de-posit.
“What’s this for?”
“It’s for looking after Jim, and taking some shit on my behalf last time I was here.”