‘I’ll tell you later. It’s about the man I recognised in Harrow.’
She looked at him. ‘You think my visitor just now was something to do with him?’
‘Could be. This one was tall and thin and looked like his hair was in dreadlocks. I couldn’t be sure of the car model, though.’
Riley’s eyes widened in understanding. ‘Dreadlocks? I didn’t recognise what they were in profile. It was a vague shape around his head… the light wasn’t that good.’ Then, with a start, she remembered something else. ‘Wait. I’ve seen him before — at least, I think it was him.’
‘Where?’
‘Here — outside the house, earlier this evening. He was just leaving and I assumed he’d been calling on Mr Grobowski. Mr G talks to lots of other community people, like outreach workers.’ She took another sip and pulled a face. ‘Christ, why am I drinking this? Do you want coffee?’
Palmer shook his head and relieved her of her glass. He tipped the contents into his own and murmured, ‘Waste not, want not, as me sainted old mum used to say.’ He took a sip and studied her closely. She still wasn’t her old self and was probably suffering flashbacks. He was annoyed with himself for not having anticipated the speed with which the man in Harrow would track them down, yet puzzled as to how it had been done. ‘Don’t worry about him. We’ll find out who he is and I’ll get someone to beat him to a pulp.’
His attempt at lightening the atmosphere didn’t quite work. Riley banged her hand furiously on the worktop, catching a cup and sending it skittering away. ‘How dare he? Coming into my own home like that! Christ, if I’d had a gun…!’
The cup teetered for a moment on the edge of the worktop, before tipping over and crashing to the floor. In the silence that followed, a car horn hooted.
‘A gun’s no answer,’ Palmer said evenly. He spoke instinctively, the ex-military man’s automatic response to the use of firearms. He was unprepared for the strength of her response.
‘Really? You think so?’ She glared at him, her face colouring with outrage and anger. ‘You’d be bloody amazed at what I think is the answer right now, Frank!’
He returned her look without comment. The rare use of his first name was an indication of her anger and shock. Not that he blamed her entirely. ‘Picking up a gun is easy,’ he said after a moment or two of silence. ‘It’s a lump of metal, that’s all. No big deal. But shooting someone? You have to point it, first. Decide where you want to hit them: head, stomach — maybe just a wingtip. Shoot to wound or shoot to kill? Most people aren’t that good. Most guns aren’t that accurate, either — not unless you get up close. That’s when they do the damage. You might hit a main artery or blow off their arm. Have you ever seen anyone gut-shot? It’s pretty nasty.’
Riley looked stunned by the flat brutality of Palmer’s words and the images they painted. ‘Palmer, for God’s sake-’
‘I mean it.’ His voice was utterly calm now, but insistent, drilling into her. ‘Pulling the trigger…it takes almost no pressure at all. One small squeeze and it goes off. Bang.’ Riley blinked at the harsh sound. ‘But once you do it, once that gun goes off, it’ll change your life forever.’
The sound of the cat’s claws tapping on the tiled floor broke the spell.
‘Talking from experience, Palmer?’ Riley could have bitten her tongue, the words out before she could stop them. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.’
‘Forget it,’ he said easily. ‘I thought you should know, that’s all.’
Riley nodded guiltily and touched his arm. ‘I’m grateful, too. Just sounding off a bit. Ignore me.’ She took a deep breath. ‘There’s something you should know. Gillivray’s dead.’ She told him about Jimmy’s call, and he looked puzzled.
‘A disgruntled victim, maybe?’
‘I’ve no idea. But you could be in the frame, you know that?’
Palmer shrugged. ‘Then I’d better keep my head down, hadn’t I?’
‘Yes. Talking of police, who did you call just now to find the car number? Your friend in the Met?’ She was referring to a contact Palmer had made some time ago, somebody who could access useful information whenever he needed it. Riley still didn’t know the person’s name, only that it was a woman and the mere mention of her could bring a silly smile to Palmer’s face.
‘Not this time,’ he said enigmatically. ‘I got Donald onto it. He’s got a back door to the DVLA records. He said to give him an hour or so.’
‘Fine.’ Riley reached for the phone on the wall, glad to be doing something. ‘In that case, while we’re waiting, how about a large pizza with all the toppings and a bottle of red? I need some serious stodge. Then you can tell me where you’ve been the last day or two and what that man means to you.’
Chapter 15
‘As we came down in the lift from Gillivray’s office,’ Palmer reminded her, disposing of the last of his pizza, ‘three men got in on the first floor. One in shirt-sleeves, another young, smart, with black hair. The third older and thinner, with a deep suntan.’
‘His name’s Arthur Radnor,’ said Riley, and grinned at the surprised look on Palmer face. ‘Come on, Batman, you think you’re the only one with contacts?’
Palmer rolled his eyes. ‘Okay, what else do you know?’
‘Only that the young man is called Michael, possibly Russian nationality, and the third man is a part-time bookkeeper or accountant. They’re in the import-export business, bringing in works of art from eastern Europe.’ She paused, her face sombre. ‘Michael was asking about us the following day, about what you and I were doing in the building.’
Palmer’s face grew serious. ‘How do you know that?’
Riley filled him in on her return visit to the office block in Harrow and her talks with Nobby and Jimmy. He listened without comment, then sat back and stared at the ceiling, puffing out his cheeks. ‘Damn,’ he said mildly. ‘So he did recognise me.’
‘If you want a cigarette,’ said Riley, ‘go ahead, smoke. You look as if you need it.’
But Palmer surprised her with a shake of his head. ‘No, thanks. If I’m right, and Radnor remembers me, it might explain the visitor on the stairs.’ He scowled at this latest development. ‘What I said about guns and shooting people? Forget it. There are some people you should shoot, preferably more than once.’
‘What do you mean?’ When he didn’t reply, Riley leaned forward and tapped the coffee table. ‘Palmer. You’re worrying me now. Why the face?’
‘Because if your visitor was from Radnor, they’ve traced your address. Only I can’t figure out how. I didn’t put our real names in the visitors’ book.’
‘As I discovered,’ she said dryly. ‘You could have warned me. Luckily, the security man on the front desk was a former boy scout, like you.’
Palmer looked guilty. ‘Sorry. I didn’t expect it to become an issue. It was meant to be a one-time visit.’
‘The bad news is,’ said Riley, ‘he’s got your address, too.’ She told him about her talk with Javad, who had seen a man and woman arrive by car, and her own impression the following day that someone had been in Palmer’s office. ‘Tall and black with dreadlocks, according to Javad. It has to be the same man.’
‘Yeah. Was anything missing?’
‘Not that I could see. You’d know better than me. But how does the woman fit into it? Javad said she looked old.’
He frowned. ‘Beats me. The timing’s all wrong, though, to be connected with Radnor. They can’t have popped up so soon after the Harrow thing. And the last old woman I knew was my Auntie Dot. And as far as I know I haven’t upset the local Coalition of Pensioners and Cool Dudes in any way.’
‘So,’ said Riley. ‘are you going to tell me where you’ve been?’
Palmer gave a long sigh. ‘Okay. Germany, nineteen eighty-nine. I hadn’t been out there long. I was a junior RMP, and feeling my way around. I’d been assigned to a forward base. One morning there was an incident involving the border police. A man tried to cross to the west and the guards shot him. At least, that was the story.’