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

cut off.’

‘I meant the hospital.’

‘What are you sorry for?’

‘I left without an explanation.’

‘I think you were entitled.’

He went silent.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked.

‘Is that meal still on offer?’

‘Sure. When did you have in mind?’

‘Well ...’

‘Tonight?’

‘It’s late ...’

‘Tonight’s fine,’ she said.

‘You sure?’

‘Got to catch you when I can. Technically we’re still partners. The case isn’t solved.’

‘That’s right.’

‘I’ll send you the location.’

‘You’re sure it’s no big deal?’

'Nope.'

‘I look forward to it.’

'Bye.’

She grabbed her coat and headed for the elevator.

Gunnymede arrived at Bethan’s house holding a bottle of wine and knocked on the front door. It opened and Bethan was standing there with a smile.

‘I’m looking for Captain America’s sister,’ he said.

‘Shh. Not so loud. The neighbours have no idea.’ She let him in and closed the door.

He pulled off his coat. ‘It’s nice to be here.’

‘A rough one?’

‘Challenging.’

‘We’d better begin the treatment then. Wine or whisky?’

‘I’d prefer to start with a fine Albanian sheet-pees.’

‘I’m afraid we’re out. Would sir make do with a scotch?’

‘Damn it all, if I must.’

She poured two glasses and handed him one. They clinked and took sips.

‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘As a wise person once said to me in Albania recently, has there ever been a better all-round medicine in the history of the world?’

She saluted that and went back into the kitchen. ‘When’s the last time you had a home cooked meal?’ she asked.

‘Years,’ he said.

‘Can you actually remember?’

He took a moment to think about it. ‘My Aunt Grace. At her cottage. The last meal I had with Megan.’

He didn’t see her pause before scooping food onto a couple of plates. ‘How long were you together?’ she asked.

‘Altogether ... I suppose, eight years.’

‘That’s a long time.’

‘She was too good for me,’ he said, more to himself.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Lots of reasons. I was hardly ever home.’

‘She would’ve understood that, her father being SAS.’

‘How did you know that?’

‘A nurse at the hospital. I suppose it’s tough on both parties, a relationship in your business.’

‘It can be a distraction.’

‘Having a girlfriend?’

‘Having someone you care about. What about you? What’s your excuse?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I’m alone because my girlfriend hanged herself.’

She came in with the plates of food and put them on the table. ‘I don’t know why exactly. The right man hasn’t come along. I’m too particular. I rate myself higher than I am. Choose one.’

They tucked into the meal. ‘Why was it years since your last home cooked meal with Megan?’ she asked.

He carried on eating while considering her question. ‘That was a bit of a slip, wasn’t it,’ he eventually said. ‘I expected you to know anyway.’

‘That you spent time in prison?’

‘Is that all you heard?’

‘I didn’t dig if that’s what you mean.’

‘If you did, you’d find I was convicted of stealing twenty kilos of heroin.’

‘Wow. That’s a lot of heroin. So how come you work for military intelligence if you have a criminal record?’

‘MI has a long history of employing criminals.’

‘Really?’

‘Didn’t you hear the story about the Nazi safe that needed to be cracked during World War Two without the Nazis knowing and the only man who could do it was languishing in Wandsworth prison doing a twenty year stretch for a string of bank robberies? His employment by the SOE kicked off a long history or utilising underworld skills.’

She was impressed. ‘Why’d you do it?’

He shrugged. ‘Moment of weakness. Greed. Or maybe it was a cunning plan that went horribly wrong and left me high and dry. Choose one.’

She contemplated his answers as she sipped her drink. ‘What are your particular skills?’

‘Luring.’

‘What?’

‘I’m a lure. Bait.’

‘Can you elaborate?’

‘A decoy.’

‘As in, expand on.’

‘No.’

She reached for a bottle of wine and unscrewed the top. ‘Wine?’

‘Sure.’

She poured a couple of glasses and they took a sip.

‘Can I ask you something about your work?’ he asked.

She shrugged. ‘Sure.’

‘Do you know anything about Megan’s case?’

She paused to look at him. He was staring at her as if studying for signs. ‘I’m not involved with that case,’ she said, going back to eating.

‘I’m surprised they’ve no suspects.’

‘That’s how it goes sometimes.’

‘Is it possible they have a suspect and aren’t telling anyone?’

‘If that’s true it’s because they don’t have the evidence to get a conviction.’

‘So, no one was brought in for questioning?’

‘Like I said, I’m not involved in the case.’

They ate the rest of the meal in silence.

‘Thank you,’ he said, sitting back. ‘That was very nice.’

‘You’re welcome.’

She got to her feet and went to pick up his plate. He put his hand on hers. She didn’t pull away. He put his other on her hip as he looked into her eyes. She leaned down and kissed him on the lips. He got to his feet without disconnecting and they kissed deeply.

Bethan’s bedroom was dark but for a shaft of light from a streetlamp finding its way through a small gap in the curtain and cutting across the bed. Gunnymede and Bethan lay naked together, content in each other’s company.

‘You said he died in Lebanon while in the military.’

He glanced at her. They’d been lying in silence for some time. He looked back at the ceiling in thought.

‘What was he doing in the British military in Lebanon?’ she asked.

‘Do you ever stop working?’

‘I stopped for the last couple of hours. This isn’t work anyway. I’m interested in you – I hope you don’t mind.’

He didn’t. ‘He was working in the British Embassy.’

‘In Beirut?’

‘Yes.’

‘How’d he die?’

‘A bomb as he