and then signalled that their session was over. It wasn’t quite therapy, but it came close. He set the pistol down and wondered: was this who he was now — the kind of man who needed a gun to feel in control of his own life?
“Do you, er, want to try some other equipment?” Karl carefully closed the lid on the Brownings.
He shrugged; he didn’t know what he wanted, other than to not go home. Karl returned with a pair of SIG Sauers.
“I’ll tell you this, Tommo, you’ve got an edge about you tonight. Whatever’s bugging you, it’s doing wonders for your hand-eye coordination.”
“You have a fair idea what it’s about.”
“Let me just annihilate your score and then we’ll get us a beverage.”
It still amused him that a private shooting club offered drinks and snacks. He watched as Karl sauntered back to their table with the goodies, silently acknowledging persons unknown.
Thomas picked at his pastry. “Incidentally, what happened to Jack Langton’s post that I lifted from Janey’s?”
Karl’s face pinched in. “Oh, right. It was mostly nonsense, apart from one interesting item. It’s in code, so we’ve been busy having a crack at it.”
“Oh?” He gave him his full attention, intrigued to hear there was something Karl and his cronies couldn’t do. “Tell me more.”
Karl’s eyes seemed to glint. “It’s a piece of brilliance — both simple and complicated – like a Vigenère code. It requires a key word; but we haven’t figured it out yet. We’ve tried variations on names — wife, Jack himself, their kids, even Jacob. Basically, anything we could associate with him. No dice.”
“What about ‘scumbag’?”
Karl laughed, raising his coffee in a toast. “That was one of my first choices.”
Thomas swallowed. “Try ‘Sheryl.’”
Karl took out his mobile and made the call in front of him — that was a first. He spelt out Sheryl’s name and waited a minute or so, with the phone at his ear. Finally, Karl nodded and ended the call. “I’m impressed. Honest to God, Tommo, you ought to be in intelligence.” Karl was all smiles but he wasn’t laughing.
Disparate details were aligning in Thomas’s brain and a disturbing picture was emerging. “Let’s play a game.” He dug out a pen and paper. “I’m going to write three statements down. You don’t have to add anything, just tell me if I’m right. Deal?”
Karl nodded; he didn’t look happy about it. Thomas gave every sentence careful consideration, adding to Karl’s discomfort. He could see Karl reading the words from across the table.
1. Jack Langton is at the end of a Shadow State supply line.
2. The merchandise at Janey’s flat belongs to the Shadow State.
3. Both Jack and Charlie Stokes were already persons of interest to your people.
Karl took the list and re-read it. “I wouldn’t contradict any of your conclusions.” The façade slipped a little. “Look Thomas, you have to understand . . .”
He cut Karl off. “How could I do that without the information?”
* * *
Back at his flat, Thomas searched Vigenère ciphers on the Internet and gave himself a headache. He flicked on the TV to fill the void and fixed a microwave meal from the freezer. Hunched over the table and shovelling shepherd’s pie into his mouth, he replayed the events of a shitty day. Did anyone tell him the truth anymore?
‘Let him who is without sin cast the first stone . . .’ his mother used to say. He thought about the times he’d driven past Christine Gerrard’s flat once they’d split up, coincidentally around the same time Miranda returned from Bermuda. Or that evening, working late with Christine, when a friendly drink nearly became something more.
Just after eleven pm he switched his mobile back on. There was a text waiting, all in caps: GEENA HAD A BOY. 8-3. SEND FLOWERS. AJIT & GEENA X.
He got in the car without a destination in mind. London seemed emptier because Miranda wasn’t out there somewhere. About
“Do you, er, want to try some other equipment?” Karl carefully closed the lid on the Brownings.
He shrugged; he didn’t know what he wanted, other than to not go home. Karl returned with a pair of SIG Sauers.
“I’ll tell you this, Tommo, you’ve got an edge about you tonight. Whatever’s bugging you, it’s doing wonders for your hand-eye coordination.”
“You have a fair idea what it’s about.”
“Let me just annihilate your score and then we’ll get us a beverage.”
It still amused him that a private shooting club offered drinks and snacks. He watched as Karl sauntered back to their table with the goodies, silently acknowledging persons unknown.
Thomas picked at his pastry. “Incidentally, what happened to Jack Langton’s post that I lifted from Janey’s?”
Karl’s face pinched in. “Oh, right. It was mostly nonsense, apart from one interesting item. It’s in code, so we’ve been busy having a crack at it.”
“Oh?” He gave him his full attention, intrigued to hear there was something Karl and his cronies couldn’t do. “Tell me more.”
Karl’s eyes seemed to glint. “It’s a piece of brilliance — both simple and complicated – like a Vigenère code. It requires a key word; but we haven’t figured it out yet. We’ve tried variations on names — wife, Jack himself, their kids, even Jacob. Basically, anything we could associate with him. No dice.”
“What about ‘scumbag’?”
Karl laughed, raising his coffee in a toast. “That was one of my first choices.”
Thomas swallowed. “Try ‘Sheryl.’”
Karl took out his mobile and made the call in front of him — that was a first. He spelt out Sheryl’s name and waited a minute or so, with the phone at his ear. Finally, Karl nodded and ended the call. “I’m impressed. Honest to God, Tommo, you ought to be in intelligence.” Karl was all smiles but he wasn’t laughing.
Disparate details were aligning in Thomas’s brain and a disturbing picture was emerging. “Let’s play a game.” He dug out a pen and paper. “I’m going to write three statements down. You don’t have to add anything, just tell me if I’m right. Deal?”
Karl nodded; he didn’t look happy about it. Thomas gave every sentence careful consideration, adding to Karl’s discomfort. He could see Karl reading the words from across the table.
1. Jack Langton is at the end of a Shadow State supply line.
2. The merchandise at Janey’s flat belongs to the Shadow State.
3. Both Jack and Charlie Stokes were already persons of interest to your people.
Karl took the list and re-read it. “I wouldn’t contradict any of your conclusions.” The façade slipped a little. “Look Thomas, you have to understand . . .”
He cut Karl off. “How could I do that without the information?”
* * *
Back at his flat, Thomas searched Vigenère ciphers on the Internet and gave himself a headache. He flicked on the TV to fill the void and fixed a microwave meal from the freezer. Hunched over the table and shovelling shepherd’s pie into his mouth, he replayed the events of a shitty day. Did anyone tell him the truth anymore?
‘Let him who is without sin cast the first stone . . .’ his mother used to say. He thought about the times he’d driven past Christine Gerrard’s flat once they’d split up, coincidentally around the same time Miranda returned from Bermuda. Or that evening, working late with Christine, when a friendly drink nearly became something more.
Just after eleven pm he switched his mobile back on. There was a text waiting, all in caps: GEENA HAD A BOY. 8-3. SEND FLOWERS. AJIT & GEENA X.
He got in the car without a destination in mind. London seemed emptier because Miranda wasn’t out there somewhere. About
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