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

stay in the same team for years.’

‘Can you tell me how long the current K-17 team has been together?’

‘I would have to check. But as I said, I would not expect to find many transfers between the teams.’

‘Do you know if K-17 was involved in any incidents?’

‘There are often incidences at the checkpoints. Many go unreported. Only the serious ones tend to get filed. How far back do you want to go?’

‘Five years.’

‘Five years?’ Kostag seemed daunted by the request. ‘That’s a long time.’

‘Three then. As far back as you can.’

‘Are you looking for anything in particular?’

‘I’d be very interested in any incident involving a British subject.’

Her comment got Kostag thinking. He accessed the police data on his computer.

‘Ardian?’ Bethan wondered if she’d lost the connection.

‘I’m just checking something,’ he said. ‘There was an incident involving a British person. There are not many incidences involving British people at border checkpoints so it should not be difficult to find. Give me a moment.’

Bethan waited patiently while Kostag went through a list of files. The noise grew louder and then quieter again as someone left the office.

‘Here we are,’ he said. ‘Interesting.’

‘What is?’

‘I have an incident. And it was involving K-17. Eight months ago. I wasn’t in this department then. A car was passing through a checkpoint. The passenger was a United Nations lawyer, a Brazilian. The car was driven by his bodyguard who was British.’

‘Bodyguard?’

‘Yes. One minute ... a man named Alan Masters. Scottish. There was an argument between the lawyer and the border police. The report states the lawyer was arrogant and aggressive and fuelled the argument. Things became physical. Masters stepped in to separate them.’

There was a moment of silence while Kostag read the rest of the report.

‘And the outcome?’ Bethan asked.

‘Not good. Masters was shot by one of the border police. He died the next day in hospital.’

‘Where did this take place? The checkpoint?’

‘The same checkpoint where K-17 was executed,’ Kostaq said.

‘Can you send me Masters’ details?’

‘I have a copy of his passport page. I’ll send it to you ... are you onto something, Bethan?’

‘I don’t know. I have a few thoughts I’d like to pursue. Hopefully they’ll shed some light.’

‘I hope so too. As always, if I get anything else I’ll pass it on. I would appreciate it if you would do the same. I would very much like to close this case more than any other I think I have had.’

‘I completely understand, Ardian. I’ll be in touch.’

‘You have a good day, Bethan. And good luck.’

‘You too. Thank you.’

Bethan disconnected and scribbled some notes into the file. A flag popped up on her computer screen indicating an email. It was from Kostag. She opened the attachment. A copy of the British bodyguard’s passport filled the screen. She copied the significant information into the police database and seconds later a window displayed a picture of Masters and his biography. He was a former member of the British Army, notably the Green Jackets, and also served eleven years in the Special Air Service.

She looked towards Dillon’s office. He was at his desk. As she got to her feet to head over there, Dillon stepped out of his office and walked towards the elevators. ‘Everything okay?’ he asked her.

She forced a smile. ‘Fine, thanks.’

‘It’s lunchtime,’ he said, hitting the elevator call button. ‘Go and grab a meal. You look pale.’

‘Will you be back this afternoon?’

‘Yes, but late. Got a working lunch.’ He stepped inside the elevator and the doors closed.

Gunnymede sat in a cafe sipping a coffee as he watched the world go past the window. His phone chirped and he answered it.

‘It’s me,’ Aristotle said. ‘Do you know Krilov?’

‘No.’

‘You never heard of him before?’

‘Nope.’

‘You sure about that?’

‘You don’t need to get me interested in him more than I am.’

‘What is your interest in him?’

‘He’s the man who raped Megan.’

‘I see. Why do you want to know about him?’

‘Why do you think?’

‘You want revenge?’

‘If you don’t want to give me the info I’ll find it elsewhere.’

Aristotle went silent for a moment. ‘Krilov is former Spetsnaz,’ he finally said.

‘Spetsnaz?’

‘He’s a specialist thug. An assassin. The type the GRU uses to kill people with nerve agents in foreign countries.’

‘Is he still serving?’

‘Hard to say. He joined the civilian security circuit eight years ago. Spent a couple years running armed security against Somali pirates. Some close protection work in Chechnya. Then he disappeared for three years. There’s no record of his employment. Like he was dead. He closed his bank account even. Then a year ago, he showed up in Kabul. Face recognition picked him up arriving at the international airport. There was no reason to monitor him, so he was left alone. They think he went to Helmand Province. He left two weeks later. Nine months ago he turned up in the UK as a visitor. Lots of cash. Investing in property using various offshore accounts. But he was clean and so he was left alone.’

‘Anything on the rape – why he wasn’t charged?’

‘I couldn’t find out. I have an interest in your intentions,’ Aristotle said. ‘Are you going to tell me them?’

‘I don’t have any at the moment.’

‘I hope that’s remains the same. You cannot afford to have any problems with the police. The lifeline keeping you out of jail is a thin one.’

‘Then tell me.’

‘Tell you what?’

‘Why a former Spetsnaz raped my girlfriend?’

‘I grant you that’s an interesting question.’

‘You think Spangle had anything to do with it?’

‘How do you connect him to Spangle?’

‘Who was it said Spangle is everything?’

‘She was raped while you were in jail in the USA.’

‘I don’t believe it