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

thoroughly enjoying it. ‘I’ve decided that more than five cigarettes a day is unhealthy for the body and less than five is unhealthy for one’s contentment. No point being alive if you’re unhappy.’

He poured himself a glass of water and looked at her as if measuring her up. ‘Aunt Grace.’

‘Something important coming,’ she said, drawing on the cigarette. ‘You have about five ways of saying Aunt Grace and that’s one I don’t hear often.’

‘Tell me about the death of my father.’

She exhaled, filling the air between them with smoke. ‘The last time you asked me about your father you were eleven years old.’

‘I’m looking for the adult version.’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Tell me how he was killed.’

‘He was caught by a roadside bomb as he was leaving the embassy.’

‘You told me that much when I was eleven.’

‘Why the sudden interest?’

‘It’s not so sudden. It’s just time to ask.’

‘You’re more cynical now.’

‘I think there was more to it than just a roadside bomb. Was it bad luck or was he the target?’

‘You’re looking for bad guys.’

‘I’d like to know who was responsible.’

‘Then you’ll want revenge.’

‘That’s not what’s driving my curiosity.’

‘What is?’

‘I’m in the business. I know a lot of people who were killed and I know why. But I don’t know why my own father died.’

She stubbed out the cigarette. ‘Of course you have a right to know. But if you want details I’m not the person you need to ask.’

‘You never told me he was military intelligence.’

‘Didn’t I? I suppose it was obvious. He was always doing his own thing in the name of the military. He never wore a uniform. He was a hammer like you, not one of the academics. He got his hands dirty and liked it.’

‘Was he targeted?’

‘That was the question on everyone’s lips at the time. You know I was just MI6 administrative.’

‘To a department director.’

‘There was nothing conclusive. There were rumours, but they were coming upstream, from the ranks. Unreliable. There was one rumour, however, that came downstream, several years later, a few months before I left – I’m going to have another cigarette,’ she said, lighting up. ‘I suddenly feel like I’m back in the office. We smoked like chimneys in those days.’

‘What was the rumour?’

‘The device was Hezbollah, the bomber was Hezbollah, but the request was from outside Hezbollah.’

‘Who?’

‘I don’t know. The suggestion was it wasn’t local.’

‘You mean not from within Lebanon?’

‘That was the suggestion.’

‘So, outside of Lebanon was the Russians and allies.’

‘And the rest,’ she said, staring ahead at nothing, deep in her own images.

‘Was there an enquiry?’

‘If there was I didn’t get sight of it. You can understand why of course. He was my brother. They would have made a point of me not seeing it ... if there was one.’

‘What would you have done if you discovered foul play?’

‘That would depend on who was behind it. There were a lot of players in that conflict. Russians. Syrians. Israelis. Palestinians. Americans. Iranians. Christians. Muslims. Amal. Druze. Maronites. Us. And more ... I suppose, when you boil it all down you could say it was essentially West v Soviet. What would I do if I thought there’d been foul play? Are you asking me as a hammer or a pen? We use the skills we have, Devon. I would’ve written, internally of course, in the hope that someone might do something. But it was just a rumour. And now, a long time ago,’ she said with some finality, taking another deep drag and blowing the smoke into the room.

An hour later she walked with him to the front door. She smiled at him. ‘I’m sorry I called you a hammer. You are a hammer. But everyone thinks that’s all you are. Let them think that. It’s to your advantage. Because you’re much, much more.’

They hugged affectionately. As they parted, Gunnymede remembered something. ‘Harlow sends his regards.’

‘Harlow?’ She looked surprised.

‘I didn’t know you knew him.’

She didn’t smile and looked into the distance as if in thought. ‘He was already in the firm when I arrived. A skinny whippersnapper.’

‘What was he like?’

‘A twit at first. But he became amusing. Not my type really though he thought otherwise.’

Gunnymede kissed her on the forehead. ‘See you.’

She watched him walk down the stairs. Her smile remained until he was out of sight and then faded and disappeared.

Bethan bit into a piece of toast followed by a sip of coffee and pulled on her jacket, all in one fluid motion as she picked up her phone and laptop bag.

The front door knocker sounded. She took another sip of coffee and went to see who it was. Jedson was standing on her doorstep looking sheepish.

‘What do you want?’ she asked coldly.

‘To apologise. Again. Twice I’ve been really very rude and I don’t have any excuses.’

‘Go away,’ she said and started to close the door.

‘Wait.’ Jedson stopped the door from closing. ‘I’ve decided to tell you everything you need to know about Milo Krilov. No strings.’

‘I don’t need to know anything about him. Now go away.’

‘Please, Beth. I also want to apologise for threatening to go to my boss. I didn’t mean it.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘Does Dillon know you went to Krilov’s farm last night?’

‘What?’

‘With that MI lad you went to Albania with?’

‘How did you know that?’

Jedson took a sly look to his side, along the street, out of sight to Bethan. Three thugs climbed out of a parked van. ‘I told you. I’m very special.’

He shoved the door hard, the edge catching Bethan on the side of her head knocking her back. Jedson pushed into the house, sealed her mouth with a hand and pulled her