“In other words, you don’t really know what happened?” I asked.
“I suppose so, yes, or no, we don’t know, yet.”
I stood up.
“Then there’s no point going into this any more until we do. Look, I’m actually okay about this now, but if ever you do find out, then I’d be interested, okay?”
I then left to fulfil my next assignment.
Harrison sat at a table. The room was deliberately austere and bleak, with only the table and two plain wooden chairs as furniture. The long one-way mirror ran down one side of the room, Howard was already in the observation room when I arrived.
I stared at the man who had almost killed me and had probably killed my mate Knocker Armes.
“He doesn’t look much does he?” I stated.
“It’s like the Nazis at the end of the war. All the really nasty ones looked like filing clerks.”
“What will happen to him?” I asked.
“Do you want a crack at him?”
I shook my head. “No thanks, boss, he’s not worth it. Will he be done for Knocker?”
“I have a job for you,” he said, instead of answering me.
“Oh yes?”
He handed me a buff file.
“This is the evidence we’ve collected. There’s enough in here to send him away for a long time. There’s forensic evidence on Knocker’s demise, plus the tapes of his confession. There’s also an admission of your murder, or rather, Rob’s.”
“So?”
“As a member of the security service, you’ve no power of arrest or any legal standing regarding evidence. I want you to hand him over to the anti-terrorist branch of the Metropolitan Police.”
“Me, why?”
“I thought you needed closure.”
“Thanks, I might enjoy it.”
“Oh, and Rebecca?”
“Yup?”
“He’s not to die trying to escape, okay?”
I simply grinned.
“Besides, Martin Finch will come with you, just to make sure you all get there in one piece.”
“Don’t you trust me, boss?”
“It’s not a matter of trust; it’s a matter of common sense. Oh, and Standing still thinks he’s been captured by the Russians, what gave him that idea?”
“I haven’t a clue, boss.”
He smiled, shaking his head. “I called his wife. I told her you’d found him and brought him back. I also told her that he would be somewhat late home from work, by a few years.”
“What was her reaction?”
“Surprisingly calm, considering.”
“Yup, that’s her.”
I left him and unlocked the door of the room. Harrison looked up when I entered. I have no idea who’d been running his ‘debrief, but he looked surprised to see me.
“Mr Harrison, my name is Rebecca and I’m to take you to your next location.”
It was at that point he went deathly white and started to shake. I glanced at the mirror, wondering what Howard had said to him. Then it dawned on me, the man believed he was now going to be terminated.
Martin Finch, another member of Howard’s team came in and stood by the door, saying nothing. He didn’t have to, he was six five in each direction.
“Are you going to come with me gently or has Mr Finch got to use force?” I asked.
“Look, I never did anyone any harm, I keep telling you people, I simply did what I was told,” he said.
“Tell that to two widows,” I said, feeling nothing. I thought I’d be angry, or at least contemptuous, but I felt absolutely nothing for this man.
“I didn’t know the professor was a traitor, honest!”
“Come on, on your feet,” I said.
He suddenly got a hard look in his eyes, so I stepped in, took one of his arms and, using his shoulder as a fulcrum, took him in a straight-arm lock, applying pain compliance to the joint.
“You have a choice, Mr Harrison, you can come with no fuss, or I shall have Mr Finch carry you. Which is it to be?”
“Shit, what the fuck did I ever do to you?”
“Me? Well, considering that because of you, I’m now what and who I am, that’s quite a complicated question. Now, move!”
I know I’d confused him, but he did as he was told. I was tempted to tell him that I’d been the thing on the floor with the melting flesh that he kicked and later dumped as if dead, but something held me back. I didn’t want him to know, as one day he could get out and be my undoing. I drove through the Friday traffic, while Martin sat in the back of the Jaguar. None of us spoke, and Harrison tried the door once to check if it was locked. Then he sat in miserable silence.
The silence turned to something akin hope when we left the country lanes and hit the M4 motorway.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“You’ll see,” said Martin.
An hour later, I drove up to the security gates at Paddington Green police station in London.
“Yes?” said the disembodied voice of the intercom. I stared into the camera and told them my name. The gates opened and I drove in and parked in the only free bay. We walked our prisoner into the back door, which consisted of a series of doors, each locked before the next could open. Finally, we found ourselves in the custody office. A young man in a suit came over to me.
“Miss Carter?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Detective Sergeant Malone. I’ve been expecting you.”
We shook hands.
“Is this my prisoner?” he said looking at Harrison.
“Yes, and here’s the evidence,” I said, handing over the dossier.
He took it, opening it and reading the summary.
“Shit, there’s quite a lot here. Do you want to be present while I book him in?”
“No, he’s all yours now.”
I turned and looked at Harrison, who had regained some colour and composure.
“You’re being charged with conspiracy to murder, murder and offences contrary to the Official Secrets Act. I must also tell you that there is a marker against your case, so no parole and no early release if you plead anything other than guilty. You’re looking at life, so at least you might live to a ripe old age,” I told him.
“You have to prove it first.”
“This officer will advise you of your legal rights, and I’m sure any solicitor worth his salt will advise you properly. You see, the thing with traitors and murderers, there’s usually only one other option.”
He said nothing.
With that, I turned and walked out.
I let Martin drive back, as I was lost in my thoughts.
“Miss Carter?” Martin said, as we joined the M4 again.
“I’m Rebecca, what?”
“What really happened in Paris?”
I smiled.
“What’s the rumour say?”
“Just that you took on a complete covert special ops unit, and won.”
“Okay, that’s near enough, but I did have help.”
“Oh.”
He drove in silence, but glanced at me every now and again. I was about to tell him I wasn’t available when my mobile rang. It was David.
“Dave, hi.”
“God, Rebecca, I’ve been going mad. Have you any idea how often I’ve tried to get hold of you?”
“I know and I’m sorry, I had a rush job that took me away for a while. But I’m back for a bit now, how about we meet up?”
“I’m still in plaster, so that sort of limits what we can do.”
Not for what I had in mind.
“Fine, look, I’m going back to my office now. I’ll pick my car up and be with you by four, okay?”
“Wonderful, what do you want to do?”
“Be normal,” I said, smiling into the phone. Not that long ago, my future had seemed rather bleak; it wasn’t bleak any more.
END