consultancy firm two bus rides away. It was demeaning. This evening, Clive had finished his final shift and he didn’t believe any of the late-working execs would notice when he failed to show the following day.
A knock on the door.
Clive peered down from his window at the entrance to the laundrette. The street was deserted. He hadn’t seen anyone approach.
Setting his currywurst aside, he shuffled through his living room to his front door, wiped his hands on his vest and undid the three security bolts Nick had insisted on fitting.
The man standing before him was short and muscular, with grey lidless eyes set wide in his head. He was wearing a blue-and-white tracksuit and carrying a weighted holdall. The number 26 was printed on the front of his tracksuit top.
Which, to Clive’s mind, could mean one of two things.
It could be a simple 26, or a 2 and a 6, or a 6 and a 2, all of which were harmless.
But if you took that 2 and you divided the 26 by it then you got 13. And 13 was always bad.
Clive wheezed as he opened his mouth and asked, ‘Do you have the money?’
‘No money, Clive. There’s been a change of plan.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Late morning the following day, Miller stood among the pyramids of fruit outside the corner shop across from Clive Benson’s apartment. There was a police van and a patrol car parked in front of the laundrette. An officer in a blue uniform and high-lace boots guarded the door.
It was obvious to Miller that something had gone badly wrong. The Red Flag was no hoax. But it was also clear that whatever had happened here had taken place many hours ago. The uniformed officer looked complacent, almost bored, and there were no emergency lights or rubberneckers gathered on the street.
Kate leaned towards him. ‘What do you think?’
‘Hard to say.’
‘Do you think your client is up there?’
Miller didn’t reply. It was possible, he supposed, but if Clive was inside his apartment, it was because he was dead. That would explain the presence of the police and it would account for the stutter of camera flashes that kept lighting up the window above the laundrette sign. Miller had seen the work of enough forensics units during his years with Manchester CID to have a reasonable idea of the procedures the German force would be following.
Kate leaned closer. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘ We’re not going to do anything. You shouldn’t even be here right now.’
Which had to be the understatement of the year. Miller was breaking all his rules by allowing Kate to accompany him to Hamburg, let alone to the street where one of his clients was based. But then it wasn’t as if she’d left him with a lot of choice. As soon as the Red Flag had blipped up, she’d insisted on coming with him. She needed to know his system was still secure. She had to see it functioning with her own eyes before she could commit to it for good.
Miller could understand where she was coming from but he’d had to decline. He had no idea what he’d find when he reached Germany because Clive hadn’t responded to any of Hanson’s attempts to contact him. So he’d refused Kate’s request point blank, only for her to up the stakes.
‘I’ll go to the police. I’ll give them your alias and tell them about everything you’re involved in here. I’ll give them Hanson’s name. Becca’s, too.’
Becca had looked like she might slap her. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘Try me.’
‘That would be a really bad idea, Kate.’
‘Without us, Lane will find you,’ Hanson added.
‘Maybe.’
‘No “maybe” about it. He’ll track you in days.’
‘You told me you were the best.’ Kate looked at each of them in turn. ‘All I’m asking is for you to prove it.’
‘You’re blackmailing us.’
‘I’m seeking assurances. You’d do the same thing if you were in my shoes.’
Miller doubted that. Not after everything they’d done for Kate already. But her threat was explosive enough to be
A knock on the door.
Clive peered down from his window at the entrance to the laundrette. The street was deserted. He hadn’t seen anyone approach.
Setting his currywurst aside, he shuffled through his living room to his front door, wiped his hands on his vest and undid the three security bolts Nick had insisted on fitting.
The man standing before him was short and muscular, with grey lidless eyes set wide in his head. He was wearing a blue-and-white tracksuit and carrying a weighted holdall. The number 26 was printed on the front of his tracksuit top.
Which, to Clive’s mind, could mean one of two things.
It could be a simple 26, or a 2 and a 6, or a 6 and a 2, all of which were harmless.
But if you took that 2 and you divided the 26 by it then you got 13. And 13 was always bad.
Clive wheezed as he opened his mouth and asked, ‘Do you have the money?’
‘No money, Clive. There’s been a change of plan.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Late morning the following day, Miller stood among the pyramids of fruit outside the corner shop across from Clive Benson’s apartment. There was a police van and a patrol car parked in front of the laundrette. An officer in a blue uniform and high-lace boots guarded the door.
It was obvious to Miller that something had gone badly wrong. The Red Flag was no hoax. But it was also clear that whatever had happened here had taken place many hours ago. The uniformed officer looked complacent, almost bored, and there were no emergency lights or rubberneckers gathered on the street.
Kate leaned towards him. ‘What do you think?’
‘Hard to say.’
‘Do you think your client is up there?’
Miller didn’t reply. It was possible, he supposed, but if Clive was inside his apartment, it was because he was dead. That would explain the presence of the police and it would account for the stutter of camera flashes that kept lighting up the window above the laundrette sign. Miller had seen the work of enough forensics units during his years with Manchester CID to have a reasonable idea of the procedures the German force would be following.
Kate leaned closer. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘ We’re not going to do anything. You shouldn’t even be here right now.’
Which had to be the understatement of the year. Miller was breaking all his rules by allowing Kate to accompany him to Hamburg, let alone to the street where one of his clients was based. But then it wasn’t as if she’d left him with a lot of choice. As soon as the Red Flag had blipped up, she’d insisted on coming with him. She needed to know his system was still secure. She had to see it functioning with her own eyes before she could commit to it for good.
Miller could understand where she was coming from but he’d had to decline. He had no idea what he’d find when he reached Germany because Clive hadn’t responded to any of Hanson’s attempts to contact him. So he’d refused Kate’s request point blank, only for her to up the stakes.
‘I’ll go to the police. I’ll give them your alias and tell them about everything you’re involved in here. I’ll give them Hanson’s name. Becca’s, too.’
Becca had looked like she might slap her. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘Try me.’
‘That would be a really bad idea, Kate.’
‘Without us, Lane will find you,’ Hanson added.
‘Maybe.’
‘No “maybe” about it. He’ll track you in days.’
‘You told me you were the best.’ Kate looked at each of them in turn. ‘All I’m asking is for you to prove it.’
‘You’re blackmailing us.’
‘I’m seeking assurances. You’d do the same thing if you were in my shoes.’
Miller doubted that. Not after everything they’d done for Kate already. But her threat was explosive enough to be
Similar Books
