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

circle and towards the lane that ran up the hill into woodland. Gunnymede looked back again to see if they were being followed but there was nothing but smoke.

She drove as fast as she dared along the lane, up the hill through the trees and down the other side.

‘Left,’ he said as she reached the main road which she turned sharply onto. ‘That’s my bike,’ he said a few hundred yards later.

She pulled over and stopped, leaving the engine running while she gathered herself.

‘You okay?’ he asked.

‘I think so. You?’

He opened the door, climbed out painfully and stretched his back. He pulled up his trouser legs to inspect his skin by the glow from the car's lights. The skin was red, covered in a rash, but otherwise it seemed okay.

She stopped the engine and climbed out. ‘Would we know right away if any of that stuff touched us?’

‘No idea.’

‘Should we go to hospital?’

‘If you start feeling weird maybe you should.’

She was still frustrated with him. ‘If you didn’t go there for revenge what were you doing there?’

‘I just wanted to check him out and it kind of escalated.’

‘Why did he want to kill you?’

‘You know he’s a major heroin dealer?’

‘I didn’t. I’ll have to tell my boss about tonight ... I’ll obviously have to tell him about you. Will that be a problem for you?’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

He finished stretching and made his way over to his bike. When he looked back at her she was still by her car, watching him. ‘You should get going.’

She didn’t move.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘You remember the trend I told you about? British military homicides?’

‘Yes.’

‘I have a theory. They’re not all random killings. Many of them are connected. Organised. An organised group of revengers made up of British military. They avenge the deaths of soldiers where the perpetrator hasn’t been brought to justice.’

He didn’t answer.

She suddenly realised something. ‘You know about it, don’t you?’

‘There’ve been rumours.’

‘What rumours?’

‘They’re years old.’

‘Like what?’

He sighed. ‘That’s the point. None of them are meaningful. No names or places. Just anecdotes.’

‘So you knew about it when we went to Albania?’

‘I never made any connection.’

‘What kind of intelligence officer are you?’

‘I’m not an analyst. Or an investigator.’

‘What are you then?’

‘I’m a field operator.’

‘You’re allowed to think, though, right?’

‘There’s no need to be insulting.’

‘I believe these avengers were behind the Albania border guard killings and also your Afghan security director, Lamardi.’

He studied her as he thought of something. ‘You think I’m a part of it?’

‘Why would you say that?’

‘You just said I was allowed to think.’

‘Are you? Part of it?’

‘I get the feeling you wouldn’t believe me if I said I wasn’t.’

‘Actually I would. I don’t believe you are a part of it.’

‘Why not?’

‘You have a motive for killing Krilov. If you were a part of the organised revenge you wouldn’t be here. Someone without a motive would’ve come in your place so as not to implicate you. That’s how it works.’

‘So why’re you telling me about this revenge mob?’

She shrugged. ‘It’s going to come out. I wanted you to know.’

‘Why?’

‘I feel protective about you.’

‘You just tasered me.’

She stifled a smirk. ‘Was it painful?’

‘Actually, it was pleasant compared to the dopros vody.’

‘The what?’

He looked around, conscious of where they were. ‘You should get going.’

She nodded. ‘Sorry and thanks,’ she said. ‘Sorry for suspecting you and thanks for saving me.’

He came over to her. Stepped closer. She looked into his eyes. He kissed her softly and they had a much needed hug.

‘I don’t suppose you’d like to come back to mine?’ she asked.

‘I would. But I’ve got some things to do.’

She understood and let go of him. ‘Be safe.’

‘I’m in the wrong job for that.’

She climbed into her car.

‘I’ll call you,’ he said.

She smiled, started the engine and drove away.

He watched her go.

As he walked to his bike he opened the photo file of Krilov’s plans on his phone and sent them to MI6 Ops. He climbed stiffly onto the machine, pulled on his helmet, started the engine and drove onto the road.

A few miles down the road his phone chirped and he touched the hands free button.

‘Devon Gunnymede,’ Simons said in his patronising manner. ‘You’ve had a busy evening. What’s Krilov like?’

‘He’s an arsehole.’

‘I hope he’s not a dead arsehole.’

‘He’s a pissed off arsehole.’

‘I hope you didn’t put him off his plan. We need that ship to come in. Interesting connection, Saleem and Krilov. It ties Saleem into the heroin convoy.’

‘What about the ship?’

‘The police have known about it for a week. It’s scheduled to arrive tomorrow evening. Saleem could be on board.’

‘If Krilov suspects I know about it, he’ll warn it off.’

‘Do you think he does?’

‘I don’t know. We should board it now.’

‘Not my first option. We’re putting a bird on it. If it stays on course and nothing comes alongside it we’ll let it run its course and the police can do their job in Southampton. Otherwise we’ll take steps. Let’s see what the next twenty-four hours brings. With luck we can wrap up this part of it.’

‘Krilov could be a link to Spangle.’

‘I’m sure he is. Have a good night.’

The phone went dead.

 

 

Chapter 22

Krilov leaned over a kitchen sink, dabbing his face with a wet cloth. The flesh around his eyes was tender. He examined himself in a mirror. Krilov was not the prettiest of creatures but that didn’t hinder his vanity. He poured himself a vodka with a heavy hand and downed it without a wince.

One of Krilov’s men