The Becket Approval by Falconer Duncan (best big ereader .TXT) 📗

a great deal has changed since you left us. We still don’t know who Spangle is. We’ve narrowed the list to Kanastov, Reeshekov, Malakov, Siskiv. Three kovs and a kiv. My money’s on Malakov. Jervis thinks it’s Siskiv. Aristotle doesn’t think it’s any of them. We’re all agreed it can’t be a woman because Spangle has to be highly connected, has to be former Russian Federation, council of ministers, a cabinet member or military intelligence and at a level that no woman has yet reached in the Russian government. We used to believe Spangle was all about heroin but it may be a lot more than just narcotics this time.’

‘So, why are you here in between jail sentences and talking about Spangle?’ Harlow continued. ‘The answer is we’re putting a new operation together and we can’t think of anyone better positioned than you to join it.’ He looked at Gunnymede for his reaction. ‘We want you to come back in.’

Gunnymede did his best to hide his shock.

‘You have many qualities that we need. You know the players. The environment. The rules. The smell. The fabric. But most importantly, even though you’re filthy dirty, you’re clean as fresh laundry for this task. Not only have you been tucked away for the last five years, everyone is expecting you to be tucked away for another five. In short, you not only have your freedom, but your old job back. What do you say to that?’

Gunnymede could only sit and watch while digesting as much as he could.

‘Of course, you’d have to play by the rules,’ Harlow added. ‘Scrutiny will be severe. Things have changed quite a bit since you left. Accountability has tightened. If you’re not a good boy, you’ll find yourself back behind bars. Let me re-phrase that. If you’re not a successful boy, you’ll be back in lock-up.’

Gunnymede finished his whisky and put the glass down. Harlow stared at him. Gunnymede appeared to be contemplating.

‘What do you say?’ Harlow asked.

Gunnymede got to his feet. ‘You can shove your job up your arse.’

Harlow chuckled. ‘You do talk a load of bollocks, Gunnymede.’

‘You don’t know me as well as you think.’

‘Oh, I think I do. Not that I have to. Even a fool would take this opportunity.’

‘Take me back to the police,’ Gunnymede said to Aristotle.

‘I don’t see the disadvantages. Give me one reason why you would refuse?’

‘It stinks. You’re setting me up.’

‘How?’

‘I can’t see it right now but it’s there.’

‘You were never this paranoid.’

‘Of course I was.’

‘This is the only chance you’ll get.’

‘Fine.’

‘Once you step into that police station you’ll be stuck in the judicial system and we won’t be able to get you out.’

‘Fine by me.’ Gunnymede headed for the door.

Harlow watched him step through it and out of sight. But he wasn’t quite finished. ‘You haven’t heard from Megan recently, have you?’

It was a long few seconds before Gunnymede looked back into the room.

‘You wouldn’t have heard of course,’ Harlow continued.

‘What?’

‘I have some bad news, I’m afraid. Megan’s in hospital.’

‘Why?’ Gunnymede asked, trying not to look too shocked but deep down he was.

‘She’s in the Hammersmith and Fulham mental health unit. She was assaulted. In a bad way I’m afraid. Would you like to see her?’

The answer was pretty obvious.

‘Aristotle will take you.’

Gunnymede left the room. Aristotle glanced at Harlow with what appeared to be a look of disapproval. Harlow waved him out.

Less than an hour later, the two men arrived at the hospital.

‘They’re expecting you,’ Aristotle said before Gunnymede got out of the car.

Gunnymede had been anxious for the entire journey. ‘What happened?’

‘The worst thing that can happen to a woman.’

Gunnymede stared at him, controlling his anger. ‘Who did it?’

‘The police have no suspect.’

Gunnymede wondered about Aristotle. What was his role? He climbed out, walked up a ramp through the main entrance and across the lobby to the reception desk where he was asked to take a seat and wait to be called. He was filled with concern.

A pair of heavy doors leading into the main hospital mechanically opened and a male nurse stepped through at a very slow pace alongside a young man who was physically and mentally challenged. An older couple sitting near Gunnymede got to their feet and, with broad, painful smiles and outstretched arms, greeted him as if he was their most precious belonging. The young man didn’t respond other than to stare at the floor as they held him, cooing softly.

Gunnymede was too engrossed to hear his name being called.

The receptionist tapped him on the shoulder. ‘You can go through, Mr Gunnymede,’ she said. ‘Turn right and Ward 6 is at the end.’

Gunnymede walked into the main block and along a corridor to a pair of doors that were electronically locked. A sign above declared it was Ward 6.

He took a moment to prepare himself. Was she badly injured? Disfigured? Was it life changing?

He pressed a button on the wall and pushed the doors inwards. It was a large room with a collection of beds, chairs and tables randomly placed. A dozen patients were in various stages of activity or inactivity. A couple of nurses hovered. A teenage boy nearby rocked from side to side on his feet making a whining sound, unaware of anyone else.

Gunnymede saw Megan the far side of the room sitting alone by a window. She was wearing a simple dress, her hands were folded on her lap. She was staring at nothing, a blank expression on her pretty face. Gunnymede’s heart ached for her.

He walked over and stood in front of her. She didn’t appear to be damaged in any way. Other than being spaced out, she looked normal. Her long, dark hair was shiny and combed. So young, so innocent,