Garrett and the van moved further down the road and were preparing to take a left when the Range Rover skidded out of its parking space and set off in pursuit. “Go on, fuck off you wankers,” Harper shouted, gathering up his things and running for the hatch. He jumped in the lift and after a few minutes he was across the road and opening the door Garrett had just come out of. He made his way to the top floor and found the flat as quickly as he could. He jammed a makeshift pick into the keyhole and after a few twists, pushed open the door.
He listened for company, but there was no sound.
The huge flat spanned across to the other side of the building. He crept in, making as little noise as possible. He looked into the bedrooms and found one seemingly decorated by a teenage boy. Sci-fi models hung from the ceilings and Hollywood film posters adorned the walls. Harper opened a few drawers and looked for anything connected to Vitsin’s studies. He got down on his knees and pulled some boxes out from under the bed, but all he found was a football and a few clothes. He started to panic as his search looked like drawing a blank. He leant against the wall as he felt his throat tighten and his vision start to blur around the edges. “Keep it together Harper, for fuck’s sake.”
He let himself breathe for a few minutes before walking back into the dining room. As he looked around, a neatly arranged set of family photographs caught his eye. He walked over. Vitsin stared out at him from several frames, his face intense and serious, emitting a searing stare towards the camera each time. He realised this was the first time he had seen the boy’s face. Harper scanned the collection and noticed a small frame at the end of the row. The picture showed Vitsin standing next to a scruffy, middle-aged man. Harper looked at it, trying to figure out why it looked different to the others. Then he noticed that the boy was smiling. Not just smiling for the camera, but a genuine happiness at being pictured with the man standing next to him. There was even less doubt in Harper’s mind now about where he would find him.
He ripped the back off the frame and took the photograph out. He held it up to the light to get a better look and saw an imprint from some writing on the back. He flipped it over. Seva at Professor Ruminenko’s home, Hong Kong. Harper threw the frame on the sofa and slipped the photo into his pocket. The anxiety bubbled back up and he held the mantelpiece to steady himself. He walked back out of the flat and headed towards the lift. As he descended, he looked again at the photo. Vitsin’s boyish face possessed a sharpness that somehow elevated him beyond his years. Harper rushed back towards the road, took out his phone and punched in Garrett’s number.
“Garrett?” said Harper, struggling to hear anything over the sound of the engine. “Where are you?”
“I don’t know,” said Garrett. “It’s behind me. I can’t shake it.”
“What?”
“The Range Rover.”
“Where are the Vitsins?”
“I dumped them.”
“Where?”
“In town. I thought they would draw away the surveillance, but this one seems more interested in me. What shall I do?”
“Look, just meet me back at the hotel, can you find it?”
“I think so. Wait. Oh fuck. It’s nearly on me. I’ve gotta go…”
- Chapter 22 -
Ghosts
Morton checked over his shoulder again as he walked further into the Heath. He could see Cohen and Russell up ahead in the distance and signaled to them to follow him onto the open ground. The three men converged and continued walking together across the grass, carefully avoiding the muddier patches of ground.
“It’s best to keep moving,” said Morton.
“What’s going on Guv?” said Cohen. “Isn’t this a bit extreme?”
“You can’t trust your phones anymore. We’ve been bugged.”
“Bugged?” said Russell. “Who the fuck is going to bug us?”
“I don’t know yet. But it’s happening. I had my comms swept this morning and they were riddled with traces of surveillance. Phone, email, even my car.”
Russell looked at his phone. “Is it internal affairs?”
“I doubt it. They’re not that clever.”
“Do the Russians have the capabilities to get into our systems?” said Cohen.
Morton checked over his shoulder again. “I think the Russians have got the capability to hack into anything they want.”
Russell quickened his pace and walked up alongside Morton. “Ashansky and Gershov have both vanished Guv. Ashansky was transferred out of Belmarsh and has just disappeared off the grid. Gershov skipped bail.”
“I know,” said Morton. “I’ve been asking around too, but everyone in the know is either scared shitless or unavailable.”
“So what do we do now?” said Russell.
“Good old-fashioned policing,” said Morton. “I want to know what happened to those fucking Russians. Pull in as many of Ashansky and Gershov’s known associates as you can, today. I want every two-bit Slav villain in this city spilling his guts. And leave the police brutality rulebook at home.”
“Happily,” said Russell.
“Where does this leave Harper?” said Cohen.
“There’s a strong chance his cover has been compromised.”
“We need to warn him.”
“We can’t do that until he gets in touch.”
“Does Bailey know about all this?” said Russell.
“I’m going to see her now. If there’s one positive in this, it’s the fact we have the Deputy Commissioner in our corner. The woman’s a Rottweiler.”
The secretary shuffled along the corridor with an embarrassed look on her face, occasionally turning and flashing a crooked smile in Bailey’s direction. The school was silent. They reached the end of the hall and the secretary rapped on the old, wooden door before pushing it open.
“Deputy Commissioner Bailey to see you Headmaster.”
The secretary beckoned her into the room and excused herself, quietly closing the door. Bailey took in the grand office and the man sitting in the expensive suit at the end of it. She thought of the school fees she struggled to hand over every year and whether they contributed to the décor.
“Thanks for coming Lynn. May I call you Lynn?”
“Of course.”
“I’m Peter.” He stuck his hand out and motioned for her to take a seat. “I’m sorry for making you come all this way, but I did feel this was something that we should discuss face-to-face.”
“How serious is it?”
The Headmaster sat back down in his seat, facing her, but looking towards his desk drawer. He opened it, pulled out a plastic bag and placed it on the table. Bailey knew what she was looking at. The 20 ecstasy pills were crammed into the bag, each with a tiny logo stamped on one side.
“We found these in Maria’s locker.”
“But…she wouldn’t,” said Bailey, struggling to look him directly in the face.
“It looks like she was planning to sell them to other pupils.”
“With all due respect Peter, that’s preposterous.”
“Ordinarily, I would agree. But we can’t ignore the evidence.”
Bailey stared at the bag of pills. She searched her mind for an explanation. An excuse. Something. “How do you know they weren’t planted?”
“We don’t. But that’s something for the local police.”
Bailey shifted uncomfortably in her seat and thought about her words carefully. “Is that necessary?”