“Is that right?” O’Neill murmured. “Well I got to thinking about coincidences, and how I don’t believe in them. Two crack shots, one after another,” he repeated his words from last night, emphasising them with two taps on my shoulder. I suppressed the urge to scratch. “I know you from somewhere, no mistake, and sooner or later it’s going to come back to me where that is.”
I didn’t reply to that and when I next glanced round, he’d gone. I found myself clutching a desperate wish for him to suffer sudden, total, and irrevocable amnesia.
***
After the driving we were in the classroom until lunch, learning about the organisation behind successful bodyguard work. Checking out hotels, restaurants, itineraries, schedules. It would have been right up Shirley’s street, had she lasted that long.
Just before the lesson finished, Gilby dropped it on us that we’d be back in Einsbaden over the course of the next few days, carrying out site surveys of the village.
“For the purposes of the exercise, your principal is going to be staying there. He wants to relax, see the sights, visit the local bar and café,” he told us. “You need to know where the dangers could come from, and your best escape routes.” He picked up his notes and gave us his usual parting cool stare. “You will be tested on this.”
At lunch, ignoring the table manners that had been drummed into me since I was a child, I bolted my food as fast as I could shovel it in. It was efficient rather than stylish, but I managed to get my lunch finished before anyone else and almost ran up the stairs. This time, when I dialled Sean’s number, it was picked up on the third ring.
“Sean!” I said, the relief like a weight lifted. “Thank Christ for that. Where have you been?”
“No, sorry,” said Madeleine’s ever-efficient voice. “He’s not here at the moment. If you’d like to tell me what you need, though, I’ll try and help.”
“Where’s Sean?” I demanded, feeling cheated.
“He’s away. Rush job,” Madeleine said carelessly. “Some Arab prince flew in for a quick shopping trip and he won’t venture into the jungles of Knightsbridge without Sean by his side. Don’t worry. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
Yes, but that’s no good when I need Sean now.
I sat on Shirley’s empty bed and stared at the rain slanting across the window. Below me I heard an engine and when I looked down I saw Major Gilby returning from some short run out in the platinum-coloured Skyline. He walked a couple of strides away from the car, then turned and looked back at it for a moment, disinclined to hurry despite the weather. I was too far away to see his expression, but I knew that look. Pride. New toy.
At the other end of the line there was silence for a second longer, then Madeleine said, “So, what’s been happening over there?”
I vacillated over launching into the whole story, or waiting until Sean was back. In the end I decided any other viewpoint was better than none.
“We went out for a bit of R&R in Einsbaden last night,” I said, “and one of the lads, McKenna, got a bit out of hand.”
“With you?”
“No, he had a go at one of the instructors – guy called Blakemore.” I could have added more detail, but some perversity made me want her to have to ask for more information.
“Blakemore. He’s the unarmed combat man, isn’t he?” she said. I should have known she’d be fully up to speed on all the major players in this drama. “McKenna’s a brave boy. He must have been pretty drunk.”
“That’s just the thing,” I said. “He was making out that he was completely sloshed, but when I caught up with him outside, he was sober as a judge.”
“Hmm, you wouldn’t say that if you knew many judges,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.
Dammit, take this seriously. Out loud I said, “I need to know if the kid’s got any connection with Kirk. He accused Blakemore of getting careless and then people dying. Something about it not being the first time. He can’t have pretended to be drunk in order to take Blakemore on, because they never actually got to blows, so it must have been to deliver that little speech without repercussions. Can you check out his background for me? He’s not exactly the chatty type.”
“Of course,” she said, all trace of amusement gone. “Anything else?”
“Yeah,” I said. “That black Peugeot I told Sean about is back. They were hanging around outside the bar last night. Took off when they knew they’d been spotted. Any clues as to who they might be?”
“Mm, I’ve already been looking into that one,” Madeleine said, and I heard her rustling papers in the background. “Ah, here we are. The car is registered to a German security company who, in turn, have their roots in Russia. I get the impression the German company’s a front, but I’m still trying to get past the layers.”
“Russia?” I echoed, almost to myself. “Why would the Russians be interested in Gilby?” Something stirred in my mind, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. I shook it off.
“That’s a good one. We’re working on it.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve found out any more about the identity of this German security agent have you?” I asked. “I’m getting a bit fed up of looking over my shoulder all the time.”
Madeleine sighed. “No, we’re still working on that, too. They’re not exactly the easiest people to get information out of.”
“Well, speaking of getting information out of people, I’ve had O’Neill hanging round me today, making noises about how he knows me from somewhere.”
“Hmm, not the most original line in the world,” she said.
I almost smiled. Almost, but not quite. “I thought that, but are you sure there’s no way he can access any information about me other than what you’ve planted?”
“We-ell,” she said slowly, “reasonably sure.”
“What do you mean, ‘reasonably’?” I snapped. “I thought you were supposed to be providing me with cover.”
“We are,” she said, not sounding offended. Not sounding that concerned though, either. “Trouble is, Charlie, you’re ex-army, and you’re surrounded by other people who are ex-army, too,” she went on, her voice patient, as though she was explaining the patently obvious. “I can plant all the info you like, but if someone actually remembers you from that time, there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.”
After I’d ended the call I sat for a time, remembering back to my army days. It seemed so long ago it might as well have been another life. Despite my words to Gilby in his study after the first-aid sim, the army had suited me. Up until my attack, it had suited me very well.
For possibly the first time in my life I’d found somewhere I fitted, where clearly I had talent. I’d gone looking for a long-term career, and I’d never intended to jeopardise that by having a spur-of-the-moment fling with Sean Meyer.
Things don’t always work out quite the way you plan them.
Sean and I had only met when I volunteered for the Special Forces course. I’d been encouraged to apply for it by the commanding officer of my own unit. He’d recognised my skills and had seen a channel for them.
Sean had been one of my new instructors, a sergeant then. He had a tough reputation and eyes that seemed to be able to penetrate your soul. Of all of them, he was the one who scared me the most. He was the one who could see when I was weakening, could sense when I was closest to giving up, giving in.
And he’d exploited that ability to its fullest extent. He was never vicious, never sneering. He was the reasonable one who stood there at the end of an all-night orienteering exercise and asked who would like a hot meal and a shower, and who would like to go the whole route again. Some of them fell for it, opting for the truck back to camp. By the time the rest of us got back, they’d already packed their kit and been Returned To Unit.