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

‘I’ll send you what I have,’ Aristotle said and disconnected.

Great.

As Gunnymede sat in thought, his phone vibrated and a banner showed a file from Aristotle. Gunnymede clicked it open. To his surprise it included Krilov’s UK home address, vehicle details and a mobile number.

Bethan walked up the street away from Scotland Yard, her mind in turmoil. She took several turnings and found herself walking past a familiar pub. She had a sudden thought and paused to look at the entrance. It was an idea worth pursuing.

She pushed her way inside and scanned the moderately busy place at the tail-end of the lunchtime rush and found who she was looking for. Jedson was in a corner clutching a pint and chatting with two other men. She looked away as if she hadn’t seen him and headed towards the bar.

Jedson stopped in mid conversation as he saw her cross the room. ‘Target front,’ he said.

‘Isn’t that the analyst on the third floor?’ a colleague asked.

‘You still trying to corner her?’ the other said with a chuckle.

‘She’s a long term project,’ Jedson replied without taking his eyes off of her. ‘Had her claws out earlier. Softly, softly, catch a tiger,’ he added with a wink before heading off on an interception course.

Bethan sat on a stool a second before Jedson arrived.

‘I come in peace,’ he said, hands up, putting on a clown smile. ‘I want to apologise for being rude earlier.’

She put on a tired expression and backed it up with a heavy sigh. ‘No, it is I who should apologise. I was out of place talking to you like that.’

Jedson was surprised to hear that. ‘We’ll call it quits then. I was just saying to the lads, we don’t often see you in the staff canteen.’

Bethan glanced at the two men who looked as socially retarded as Jedson, forced a smile and turned her attention to the row of bottles on the shelf at the back of the bar. ‘I’ve had a long and frustrating day and it’s only halfway through,’ she sighed.

‘You need some medicine. Allow me to fill your prescription. Bartender?’

‘I can get my own drink.’

‘Come on. It’s not a sexist thing. You can get the next round.’

‘I’ll have a scotch,’ she said, conceding.

‘Single malt?’

‘A cheapy will do fine.’

‘Nonsense. Only the best for you,’ he insisted and looked for the bartender. ‘A single malt, please mate. Make it a double. On the rocks?’

‘No ice. Just some water, thanks,’ she said.

Jedson looked pleased with himself as the bartender placed the whisky in front of her along with a jug of water. She poured some water into it, took a sip and expressed her deep appreciation of it.

‘Cheers,’ Jedson said, raising his glass.

They touched glasses.

‘There was a reason I came to see you earlier,’ he said.

She gave him a warning look.

‘No, nothing naughty. It was to do with work.’ He moved a little closer to her in order to lower his voice. ‘Am I right in thinking you might fancy joining our little gang?’

‘What, S C & O 19?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Where’d you hear that?’

‘Your boss Dillon’s been down to the office. He was talking about you as I understand it.’

‘I don’t think he was there to see if I might join.’

‘You sure?’

She shrugged. ‘News to me.’

‘No? Pity.’

‘But then again, all that cloak and dagger Serpico undercover stuff does have a certain attraction.’

‘Like a bit of danger, do you?’

‘A little bit of excitement might improve the job.’

‘You’d be perfect for it.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘We’re short of women. Quality that is. The ones we have look like blokes. I think they’re all bloody dykes.’

She humoured him with a smile and took a sip of her drink. ‘What sort of cases are you working on?’

‘All sorts. Anything that requires an undercover element. Surveillance and technology. Working against seriously bad guys. Drugs. Guns. Organised crime. Stuff like that.’

‘Sounds exciting.’

‘You’d need to learn how to shoot a pistol and SMG.’

‘Really? That would be different. What attracts me to S C & O 19 is how laidback it is.’

‘It’s how you’ve got to play the game. It’s a tough job but you don’t see me getting stressed.’

‘And you don’t have to put up with all the red tape I’m always coming up against.’

‘Na. We’re usually the ones making the red tape.’

‘Tell me about it. I run into it all the time. Your latest red tape has been a pain.’

‘Mine?’

‘Not you personally I’m sure.’

‘What was that then?’

‘Maybe it was you.’

‘Go on.’

‘Let’s enjoy the drink and leave work out of it,’ she insisted.

And he did. Not what she was really hoping for.

‘I can’t resist the opportunity,’ she had to finally say. ‘It was to do with a case I’m working on.’

‘What was that then?’

‘It’s probably small fry for you.’

‘That’s what relationships are for, aren’t they? Helping one another.’

‘Okay. I’m looking into unsolved British military related homicides.’

His brow wrinkled as he thought on that one. ‘Unsolved soldier deaths?’

‘No. That was a bit vague of me. Homicides directly connected to the military. Where the perpetrators are military personnel.’

‘I see. I’ve never heard of that. How did we get in the way?’

‘One of the cases involves someone your people are interested in.’

‘Who would that be?’

‘A Russian. Milo Krilov. As soon as I started to dig I ran into the wall.’

Jedson gave her a sideways look. His gormless expression had hardened a little.

‘There, you see. That’s the wall I ran into earlier. Let’s just forget it.’

His tone subtly altered from buffoon to something more serious. ‘How does this Krilov person relate to unsolved military homicides?’

‘You know him, then?’

‘I’m wondering how the military