The Company of Saints (18 page)

He couldn't have burdened the sick old man in the Kremlin with his fears. Zerkhov wanted him to succeed. He believed in Borisov's strength and skill. Only a man who possessed both qualities to a superhuman degree could hope to rule Russia. There was nobody in the world Igor Borisov could tell that he was afraid because, for the first time in his life, he didn't know who his adversary was. All he could do was look around at his colleagues in the Kremlin and begin a process of elimination. Because nobody outside Russia could have made a traitor of Alexei.

Colin Lomax couldn't believe it. But the message was there on his ansaphone. Miss Graham would like you to call her. After 6.30. A number he didn't know. She had moved from the flat they had shared together. It was a Belgravia exchange. He switched off the tape. It didn't affect him, hearing from her suddenly like that. His love for her had died the night he found her locked in Tony Walden's arms. He had never really possessed her anyway. They had worked together in Mexico, become lovers and partners in the hunt for the traitor hidden inside the SIS, but she had never really belonged to him. And in the end she had let herself be taken over by that whizz-bang advertising tycoon.

Lomax hated the thugs his company contended with, but bank robbers and gangsters were faceless men. He had a very clear picture of Tony Walden and his hatred for him was purely personal. Why had she rung up? Why seek him out when there was no meeting point between them? He had resigned from the SIS, gone into business with an old army friend, made a life for himself which was satisfying and free from emotional commitment. He had girlfriends, but that was all they represented in his life. Women who were friends who slept with him. He had had his bellyful of love. He played back the message. If Davina had made the first move, then there must be a damned good reason. Pride was her middle name. He remembered her saying it was his first. He waited until after 6.30 and then dialled.

She knew she would hear his voice. It was exactly 6.35 when her telephone rang. He was punctual to the minute, a man who never cut corners. That was what had made him so good at his job. ‘Colin? How are you?'

The faint Scots burr was emphasized on the telephone. ‘I'm fine, and yourself?'

‘I'm fine too,' she said. ‘Would you meet me? Something's come up and I'd like to talk to you about it.'

There was a long pause. ‘Okay. Where?'

She said, suddenly exasperated, ‘Stop being so bloody off-hand, Colin. It isn't easy for me to speak to you like this. If you don't want to meet, then say so!'

‘I don't mind.' His voice was cool. ‘So long as I don't see lover boy.'

She kept her temper this time. ‘Don't worry. You won't. Do you know the Bunch of Grapes in Brompton Road?'

‘Lady, I know every pub in London. It'll take me about half an hour.'

‘I'll see you there, around seven.' When Davina put back the receiver, it rattled. Her hand was not quite steady. She looked at herself in the mirror. It was a pale face, with lines on the forehead that hadn't been there when he knew her. A pale face with a tight mouth. Embittered and alone. She turned away quickly.

The saloon bar at the Bunch of Grapes was quite full, mostly young people having a drink before going home. Davina pushed her way through to the bar and ordered a whisky and soda.

‘You can make that two,' Colin's voice said behind her.

He hadn't changed. The fair hair was shorter, the green eyes still keen and almost colourless in the light. They didn't shake hands or touch. He paid for the drinks and carried them to a corner table. He sat down, put a packet of cigarettes on the table. She looked up in surprise. ‘You're not smoking, are you?'

The affair in Mexico had left him with only one lung, which was damaged; a later operation had saved that.

‘I have one now and again,' he said. He offered her the packet.

‘Thanks.'

For a while they sat in silence. Then he said, ‘You're not looking well.'

‘You haven't lost your tact, I see,' Davina retorted. ‘I'm working very hard. That's why I rang you.'

‘I didn't think it was for Auld Lang Syne,' he said. ‘You looked tired and pissed off. What's the problem, Davina, besides lover boy? How is he, by the way – still selling Tampax or whatever it is?' He reached out and lit a cigarette.

She couldn't stop herself. ‘You shouldn't, Colin,' she said. ‘Put it out.'

He looked at her and shook his head. ‘Still the bossiest woman I've ever met,' he said. But there was no rancour in his voice. ‘Drink up – we'll have another and call a truce. How's that?'

‘There's no point in my staying unless we do,' she answered. ‘Before we get down to business I'll put one thing straight. There is no lover boy. It's finished.'

He raised his eyebrows, mocking her. ‘Already? That didn't last long. I did better than that. Did you kick him out?'

She didn't look at him.

‘He kicked himself out. And it's none of your business, Colin. Make it a single this time. I've got to get my facts straight.'

He laughed for the first time. ‘Don't give me that bullshit, darling. You have a head like a rock and you never ballsed up a fact in your life.'

As he took their empty glasses, she said, ‘One thing hasn't improved, and that's your language.'

‘I'm in a rough business,' Lomax retorted. ‘And so are you.'

Later he said, ‘So you're the Chief now? What do they call you, behind your back, I mean?'

Davina said, ‘The Boss Lady. I've got a pretty sharp assistant, one of the bright young career men. He started it.'

Lomax grinned. ‘The Boss Lady. I suppose you'd be annoyed if I said it doesn't suit you?'

‘I'd be much more annoyed if you said it did,' she came back at him.

He picked up his glass. Davina took the opportunity. He had needed careful handling, but then he always did. Proud and quick to take offence, never an easy man to deal with. ‘I'm in trouble,' she said. ‘We've got a very nasty situation, and nobody competent to deal with it. Leave the drinking for the moment. Will you listen to me while I tell you about it?'

‘I don't hear well on an empty stomach,' Lomax said. ‘There's a steak house down the road. Let's get something to eat.' He looked at his watch. ‘I'm meeting someone at ten-thirty.'

Davina got up. ‘Let's go then. We can walk, can't we? I found a place to put my car. This is a rotten area for parking.'

‘Yes,' he agreed, opening the door into the street for her. ‘Marylebone was better.' That was where their flat had been. She walked into Brompton Road and didn't answer.

While she explained the situation, Lomax didn't ask a superfluous question or interrupt. When she finished, he took his time before he made a comment. ‘Why don't you get an independent to check on this girl for you? There are plenty of them around.'

It was very calmly said, a friend offering advice. She hadn't asked him to take on the job, but he had just said he wouldn't.

‘Colin,' she looked him in the eye, ‘you're the one we want. Don't toss it out of the window like that.'

He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. He had a broad chest and heavily muscled arms. She knew his body well. Too well. But nothing moved her any more.

‘I tossed the whole thing out of the window when you walked out on me,' he said. ‘Now you and the Service are in a fix, so it's send for Lomax. I'm not amenable to orders any more, Davina. I'm not in the Army and I resigned from your lot. I'm not going back.'

‘I'm not asking you to come back,' she countered. ‘This is a one-off assignment, a freelance job, and I'm in a position to pay very well. Colin, this isn't a personal issue between you and me. That's over. You've got your life, and I've got mine. This is to fight something important. Organized assassination. Can't you think of it like that?'

‘I've spent the best part of my life thinking of it,' he said. ‘I've got a body full of bomb splinters and a rubber lung to prove it. Don't give me the morality bit, Davina. There is nothing to choose between their lot and yours.' For a moment the pale eyes narrowed. She saw it and knew she had made a mistake somewhere. ‘Tell me about the pay.'

‘If that's your attitude these days, I wouldn't give you a brass farthing,' she snapped at him. ‘Forget I mentioned it.'

Lomax leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. ‘Didn't fall into that one, did you? Clever girl. I wouldn't take any bloody money if I did do the job, and you nearly screwed up everything by mentioning it, didn't you? What kind of rubbish are you working with anyway?'

She reached for his cigarettes. ‘Oh, shut up,' she said.

‘You smoke too much.' He put his hand over the packet. ‘How are the family?'

‘My father died last week.'

He was genuinely upset. ‘Oh hell – I'm sorry. What about your mother?'

‘It was an awful shock, but Charlie's looking after her for the moment. I've promised her a holiday when I've got this business under control.'

He was watching her intently. ‘How's Charlie?'

‘Much the same. She's got herself a new man, and she hates my guts because I blew the lid off John.' She gave him a quick glance. ‘She wouldn't be too keen on you either, come to that. We did do a good job of work together.'

He laughed. ‘You don't give up, do you? Flattery will get you everywhere. But not this time, darling.'

She picked up her bag. ‘Do you mind not calling me that? It doesn't sound friendly. If you've got an appointment at ten-thirty, you'd better get the bill.' She opened her bag and began to count out money.

Lomax said very quietly, ‘Just put that away will you?'

She shut the bag. ‘Thanks for the dinner, Colin.'

He walked with her to her car. ‘Good luck, darling,' he said. ‘And it is friendly, I promise you.… I hope you get this business sorted out.' He waited while she started the car, then lifted his hand in a slow salute to her and turned away.

His bell rang at 10.45. He opened the door and kissed the girl who stood outside. ‘Sorry I'm late,' she said.

‘How did it go?' Lomax asked and kissed her again.

‘Not bad,' she said after a while, ‘it'll make a good family series. Dead boring, but it'll run for
ever.
'

Lomax didn't ask any more about the series or her part, or the day spent at the television studios until they were undressed and in bed. ‘Making love to soap opera,' he murmured. ‘It'll be a new experience.'

She giggled and held him off long enough to murmur, ‘It always is with you.…'

She left early the next morning. They had eggs and bacon together, which she cooked. She was a very sexy girl, who liked making love and didn't have any hang-ups about playing house.

Lomax's office was a smart address and the office was in an unobtrusive block off Tottenham Court Road. But he and his ex-SAS colleague Captain Fraser were making money out of protecting the vulnerable. Small businesses with a payroll to bring in used Fraser and Lomax Ltd to guard against snatches; a jeweller carrying diamonds or the keys to his safe was protected by one of the company's men. Business flourished, which meant that crime was doing nicely too, as Fraser said. He was in the small interior room which they used as their private office when Lomax arrived. He looked up and grinned. ‘You look rough,' he said. ‘Have a good time last night?'

Lomax sat at his desk, leafed quickly through the opened mail. ‘Not very,' he said.

Fraser looked up. ‘I thought you were seeing Joan?'

‘I was.' Lomax was reading his mail. ‘Trouble is, I didn't get much sleep. Not the way you're thinking, cock. I mean I didn't
get
to sleep. How busy are we?'

‘Today?' Fraser was also reading, not really paying attention.

‘No, not today. Generally. How busy are we?'

‘Busy enough. Why?'

Lomax shuffled the letters and clipped them together.

‘Because I'm going to take some time off,' he said. ‘I'm going to Paris. I can't say how long for, but give it a couple of weeks anyway. You can manage, can't you?'

Fraser looked hard at him. ‘It doesn't sound like pleasure.'

‘It isn't. More like bloody lunacy. Let's get on with it today then. I'll leave my end in good order for you.'

Fraser and he had been friends and colleagues in places as far apart and as dangerous as Oman and Belfast. ‘No questions, Colin?'

‘No questions, Jim.'

The head of the Special Branch had gone through a list of the speakers at the CND rally. It was the climax to the great peace march which had brought central London to a halt. Supporters had streamed in from all over the country. There had been endless marches converging on London and the finale was a meeting in the Albert Hall for an audience of selected delegates from CND branches all over the United Kingdom. The speeches would be relayed to a vast gathering outside, confined to Hyde Park. There was almost a festival atmosphere. MacNeil was glad about that. The vast crowd was good-humoured, determined to keep its dignity and its public image intact. He wasn't too interested in his colleagues' nightmares about crowd control and possible clashes with fringe mobs of neo-fascists. That wasn't his worry. The bloody subversives hiding behind the genuine pacifists were what bothered him. The principal speaker was a well-known left-wing politician, openly in contention with his party and its leader on all the major topics, especially the possession of nuclear arms. There was nothing subversive about him, MacNeil grimaced. It just gave Special Branch the balls-ache trying to protect the bloody lunatic.

The next most influential member of the Peace Movement was a vociferous Anglican priest. Father Marnie was no ascetic, no spiritual descendant of John Knox, thundering against the evil-doers. He was a rotund, kindly, Christian soul with a fanatical belief in the principle of Christian meekness preserving the earth instead of trying to inherit it. He had aroused no passions, and he didn't rate a star on MacNeil's list of security risks. He wasn't likely to be assassinated, or to be secretly in Russian pay.