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

also has a slim chance of a connection so I volunteered to check it out. And I thought it would be a nice opportunity to chat with you.’

‘I’m glad you did.’

‘I know a cafe on route where we can grab a bite to eat.’

‘Perfect.’

She takes a turn into another busy street.

‘There was an assassination in Skopje a week before the Albania shootings,’ she said. ‘Have you ever heard of an Afghan called Mustafa Lamardi?’

Gunnymede looked at her. Interesting coincidence. ‘Yes.’

‘You have?’

‘He was a former Director of Afghan National Security.’

‘You just know of him or you knew him personally?’

‘I worked in Afghanistan on occasion. Lamardi was a liaison between Afghan and British special operations. What’s his connection?’

‘Lamardi was killed by the same Dragunov rifle used to shoot the Albanian border guards,’ she said.

Gunnymede found that interesting. ‘Same sniper?’

‘We don’t know. Possibly. Seven days before the Albanian border killings. Same level of professionalism. I was hoping you might have some knowledge you might share with me.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t.’

‘Don’t or won’t?’

‘I would tell you if I did.’

‘Would you?’

‘Look, I’ll be honest with you. There are things that I would not be obliged to share with you but up until now there’s nothing about the Albanian case that I know and you don’t.’

‘Okay. I believe you.’

‘I’d tell you if I was lying to you.’

She glanced at him. ‘I’d tell you if I was lying to you?’

‘Yeh.’

She shook her head in wonder. ‘Amazing... Who’d want to kill Lamardi?’

‘A great number of people would be pleased to hear he’s dead.’

‘What people?’

‘He betrayed us; the British military. He used his privileged position to compromise an operation and caused the death of several operators.’

‘Military intelligence operators?’

‘And Special Forces.’

‘Were you involved in the operation?’

‘Not directly. I was in country at the time. I was in the ops room when the operation went bad.’

‘What happened to Lamardi?’ she asked.

‘Nothing. We discovered his connection months later but couldn’t prove it.’

‘How sure are you it was him?’

‘The operation was to destroy a large shipment of heroin. We believe Lamardi alerted the Taliban and by doing so got himself into the heroin business.’

She pulled into the kerb and turned off the ignition. ‘Food.’

They climbed out and entered the café. Gunnymede chose a table by the window while Bethan went to the counter. Minutes later she returned with two mugs of tea. He emptied a packet of sugar into the mug and took a sip as he looked around the simple, classic greasy spoon, most of the customers wearing overalls. ‘This doesn’t seem like your kind of local.’

‘It would be if I lived closer. Great bacon sandwiches. The bad guy in my last case would come here. He’d have a cup of tea, at this same table, looking out the window. He’d cross to that paper shop every morning. I knew he was our man before anyone else did. He was a creature of habit, but not the ones he showed the world. He created a routine but he wasn’t the type to do routine.’

‘A creature of habit but not routine?’ Gunnymede queried.

‘It can be a habit to not have a routine. He never read the newspaper. The family that owns the shop had a little girl. She was similar to the girls he’d killed before. The morning he didn’t turn up for his paper was the morning we caught him.’

‘Did you save her?’ Gunnymede asked.

‘Yes. Her body at least. I’m not sure about her mind though. We weren’t quick enough. I wasn’t quick enough. We thought we knew where he was taking her. But being a creature of habit he changed his routine. I didn’t see it coming soon enough.’

The café owner came over with two bacon sandwiches.

‘Classic doorstep,’ Gunnymede declared.

Bethan covered hers in ketchup and they bit into them. She nodded approval as she chewed. ‘Classic indeed,’ she said with a full mouth as tomato sauce ran down her chin. She stifled a laugh at herself as she wiped her mouth.

‘You know how to enjoy your bacon sarnie,’ Gunnymede said, also with a full mouth, grinning at her.

They settled into their meals as they watched the sodden world outside.

‘Tell me about where we’re going,’ he said.

‘There was a double homicide in the city last night. Two human rights lawyers. Both heavily involved in the prosecution of British soldiers who served in Iraq. They worked with IHAT, the Iraqi Historic Allegations Team. We’re going to see an old farmer who made death threats to both lawyers.’

‘And this is linked to those related cases – British military homicides.’

‘It smells like it to me.’

An hour and ten minutes later, Bethan brought the car to a stop at the gate to a farm and turned off the engine.

She opened the glove compartment in front of Gunnymede, pulled out a double taser gun and checked it was functioning.

‘You expecting trouble?’

‘Farmers have shotguns.’

‘You said he was old.’

‘Seventy-three.’

‘That would probably kill him,’ he said.

She thought better of it, returned the taser to the glove compartment and got out of the car. Bethan unlatched the main gate and led the way into the cobbled courtyard.

A wooden barn in need of repair was opposite an old stone farmhouse. Everything looked run down. There was no sign of any livestock. Not even a dog. An ancient tractor sat rusting. Various pieces of farm machinery lay about, poorly maintained. This was not a going concern.

Bethan crossed to the front door and knocked on it. There wasn’t a sound from within. The air was quiet.

She looked at Gunnymede. He had nothing to say.

She knocked again. This time there was the sound of movement inside. Seconds later the door opened and an