The Nothing Job (17 page)

All that needed to be done now was to arrange an escort for Scartarelli from the prison in Larnaca in which he was lodged and for that to tie in with the scheduled flight back to Manchester the next day. Henry also needed to be met at Manchester with a further escort to take the prisoner to the cells in Lancashire.

The four looked at each other.

‘Mine's a pint,' Bill ventured.

‘Mine's a red wine,' Georgia continued the theme.

‘I'll have whatever's going,' Henry said manfully.

Tekke grimaced, stood up and left the room, saying nothing.

The three of them, showered and changed after a clammy day inside, walked on to the harbour at Kato Pafos and ate a meal at one of the waterfront restaurants. As the sun dropped, the heat fell a little, but it remained warm and pleasant. Bill decided on a lone stroll after the meal, leaving Henry and Georgia sitting across the table from each other, slowly and thoughtfully spinning their wineglasses by the stems, inspecting the ruby liquid as it rolled around.

‘How's the guy you shot?' Henry asked to break the ice.

‘Well enough to face trial.'

‘And what's eating Tekke?' Henry asked eventually.

‘Mm … he asked me to marry him last night. I said no.'

‘Bit of a bummer for him,' Henry said, realizing this must have been the reason for their no-show the previous evening.

‘Add to that his unexpected departure from Pafos.'

‘That, too.'

‘And the fact I'm taking over his job.'

‘And that.'

‘And he simply doesn't want me being a cop – especially after our little shoot-out in the Akamas. Not a woman's job. He thought it would have dawned on me after that, the drive-by shooting, and the chase after Scartarelli, and Haram's murder – still undetected, incidentally. A woman's place, at least in the eyes of the men in our society, is still in the home, cooking, giving birth, screwing her husband. He's a through-and-through sexist and I think our relationship has come to a grinding halt.'

‘I'm sorry to hear that. Deep down I'm sure he's a good man.'

Her face tightened. ‘And there's the age difference.'

‘That's not his fault,' Henry said reasonably.

‘I mean – he's as old as you, Henry,' she laughed.

Henry sat back and surveyed her, a smile twitching on his lips. He had very much come to be obsessed with her and he knew she felt the same way about him. At least neither of them had done anything about it, other than flirt and enjoy each other's company. No harm done so far.

‘You need to do what's right for you,' Henry said in a very clichéd way. ‘Sometimes you fall into things, relationships, that seem right but they turn very wrong and it's hard to pull yourself out of them, but it can be done.'

‘There speaks the voice of experience.' She sighed deeply. ‘But there is a part of me that thinks I should settle down and have kids, grow fat, feed an even fatter man. That is a big pull, believe it or not. But I know Tekke isn't the man for that side of me. Oh shit, Henry, what should I do?'

They made their way up from the harbour, spending a little time in a couple of bars before finding their way to the hotel where Bill and Henry were staying. They sat and chatted for a while in the bar, then Georgia excused herself reluctantly and left. Bill and Henry had a couple of nightcaps, ouzo and lemonade.

‘You OK about tomorrow?' Henry asked.

‘I'd be better with an MP5 slung across me and a Glock in my holster – but yeah.'

‘Just make sure you're happy with everything, OK? Not that I'm expecting anything to go amiss, but you never know …'

Once again, Henry Christie's male ego and self-destruct button were working in parallel with each other – but only in his mind, fortunately.

His hotel room was pretty standard fare, two double beds side by side and air-conditioning blasting away, but even this comfort did not help him sleep that night. He tossed and turned on the wide bed, unable to drift away, until midnight passed. As the time approached 1 a.m. he rolled off the bed, had a much-needed pee, then did something he rarely did – raided the mini-bar. He took two mini-bottles of Bell's whiskey and a couple of chunks of ice from the freezer unit and went out on to the balcony overlooking the pool.

The whiskey hit his throat harshly, but felt great going down into his chest.

He was annoyed with himself.

He couldn't get Georgia out of his mind and he was annoyed with her too. Why hadn't she come knocking? Why weren't they making hot, passionate love?

But most of all – why was he bothered?

Why in the name of hell and his new marriage was he even thinking like this?

He sneered at himself, feeling his face darken with anger.

Would he never change?

Would he always be destined to feel the need to seek new sexual adventures for as long as he could manage it? Encounters which clearly had no rhyme or reason?

He felt pathetic and inept, both as a man and husband.

There was no doubt that he and Kate really had something going now, better and deeper than it had ever been, and here he was, two thousand miles from home, wishing a sexy, vulnerable woman would come knocking on his hotel-room door and fuck him.

‘You pathetic shit,' he said aloud.

‘I'm not sure that's the way you should be talking about your travelling companion,' a voice called back from the next balcony along. Bill Robbins' head bobbed up over the dividing screen and held up his glass of double whiskey and clinky ice and said, ‘Cheers. I hope these are on the firm.'

The knock came at 2.16 a.m., about three-quarters of an hour after Henry had finally managed to get to bed, having clambered across on to Bill's balcony and raided his fridge for another couple of miniatures each before calling it a night.

Henry was asleep, but the persistent light tapping eventually worked its way into his brain and switched him on.

He jerked awake, swallowing something hard, trying to recall a strange dream about being naked in a shopping trolley in Debenhams. What the fuck did that mean? He flipped off the single sheet and, pulling up his baggy sleeping shorts, padded to the door and peered through the spyhole.

His heart fell and soared at the same time.

He took a moment to compose himself, detached the security chain and opened the door to see a very distraught Georgia out in the corridor. She immediately stepped into the room and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face between his developing man-boobs, sobbing.

‘Hey, hey, hey,' he said gently, easing her away from him. ‘What's happened?'

‘I told him,' she gagged, ‘I told him it was over.'

‘Ah. How did he take it?' Henry held back from saying, ‘How did he
Tekke
it?' in a Lancashire accent.

‘Badly.'

Henry stepped into the corridor and checked it both ways before closing the door and shuffling Georgia ahead of him into the bedroom. He sat her down on the edge of a bed. ‘I'll get you a drink.'

He raided the minibar again, finding an ouzo for her and another whiskey for him. He poured both neat, handing her the ouzo.

Rubbing his eyes, he sat next to her.

‘I'm sorry to bother you, I'm so sorry.'

‘Not a problem.'

‘It's just – my family are in Nicosia. I've no one else to go to. Just you, Henry Christie.'

‘That's OK,' he said with a shrug of acceptance and a smidgen of dread now. ‘Come on, take a deep breath, tell me everything.'

There were moments, Henry knew, when he could easily have taken advantage of the situation. He could have put his arms around her, held her tight, turned her face up to his and kissed her, but something inside held him back. Not long ago he would have done, but Kate and the girls were now his first loyalty and infidelity was no longer on the to-do list. It would have to remain within the confines of his cranium for the rest of his days.

Georgia told him how she had informed Tekke their relationship was over. He had exploded. She had never seen him so angry and dark. At one point she thought he was going to attack her, but he held back – fist in the air – and at the last moment stormed out of their flat. He hadn't been seen since.

‘He mentioned your name,' she said. ‘He accused me of having an affair with you.'

A chill of fear swept through Henry's veins. ‘I hope you put him right on that?'

‘Yes, yes, of course, but I don't think he believed me.'

Henry exhaled long and hard, wondering how he'd got himself into the middle of this mess.

Eventually she calmed down and said it would be best for her to return home. Henry didn't try to prevent her from leaving and with a heavy heart he steered her to the door after pulling on a pair of jeans and a shirt. He accompanied her to the hotel foyer and on the steps outside she turned to him and kissed him.

‘Thank you,' she said simply, and walked away. Henry watched her get into the Terrano and drive off. He turned glumly back to the hotel, knowing he would be unlikely to get any sleep now.

He failed to see the dark shadow, which then moved, revealing the brooding figure of Tekke.

Next morning, two bleary-eyed men and one delicately balanced woman met in the hotel foyer and had a breakfast together. They discussed the fine-tuning of the plans for the day, the main problem being timing. They had to ensure that the prisoner was picked up at the prison by an armed and properly briefed escort at the correct time; was taken to the airport to meet the plane due to fly him back to Blighty; was handed over to the British authorities on the tarmac (i.e. to Henry Christie and Bill Robbins, ambassadors extraordinaire of the British justice system); and was flown out of the country – and then the Cypriots could wash their hands of the bastard. Lots of bits of things depended on other bits being right and if the plane was delayed, the whole process would be thrown out of kilter.

As they reached the end of their discussion, Henry enquired about Tekke.

Georgia shrugged. She looked completely exhausted. ‘He reported sick, but I haven't spoken to him. Don't even know where he is.'

Henry thought about that and felt vaguely uncomfortable. A man on the loose who thought he was having an affair with his girl was not a good thing.

Bill eyed the two of them, not understanding any of the subtext.

Henry looked at Georgia, sensing Bill's position. ‘I think Bill should know what's happening.' She nodded. ‘To cut a long story short,' Henry continued, ‘Georgia has split up with Tekke. There are several private reasons for this, but the one you might need to know about is that he suspects Georgia and me of having an affair …'

Bill's eyes flicked from one to the other. Then he guffawed, ‘You and her? An affair?' and suddenly burst into a huge, sustained fit of belly laughter, interspersed with the occasional word such as, ‘You? … Her? … An affair? … You!'

Henry and Georgia watched the display of mirth stony-faced, Henry because he felt affronted by the realization that Bill seemed to think it preposterous that he could even contemplate sleeping with Georgia and that Georgia would even fancy him at all.

‘It's not that far-fetched,' he said.

‘Yes it is.'

Eventually he regained some sort of control over himself, wiping his tear-stained eyes with his knuckles. ‘Look, I'm really sorry you and Tekke broke up … that's not what I find funny … it's the thought that …' He gave a dismissive wave. ‘Sorry, sorry.'

Georgia hung her head. Henry glared at the firearms officer and shook his head in disbelief.

‘Totally inappropriate, Bill,' he said coldly.

‘I said I'm sorry, and I mean it.'

Georgia checked her watch. ‘Let's go to the airport, make sure everything's set there.'

The scheduled BA flight from Manchester touched down bang on time; 12 noon. There was a two-hour turnaround for refuelling and a fresh crew, then the boarding was due to begin at 2 p.m. for a 2.40 take-off. As the plane landed, Georgia was on her mobile instructing the escort to pick up Scartarelli and make their way to the airport.

Hopefully, everything was in place. The customs procedure would be carried out separately for the prisoner and then, before the embarkation of the normal passengers, Scartarelli would be driven out to the plane, still under armed escort. He would be taken to the top of the steps and handed to Henry and Bill. They had arranged seats right at the front, and the plan was to keep him sat between them, cuffed to one or the other, throughout the flight.

By all accounts, a foolproof plan.

Georgia's phone rang. She listened and said a few words, then hung up. ‘They're en route.'

‘How long of a journey?' Bill asked.

‘Forty-five minutes.'

The three officers were in the police room at the airport. It was hot and cramped, the air-conditioning ineffective and overworked. Henry checked his watch and rose from the plastic chair, his back and arse dripping with sweat. ‘I'll get some fresh air,' he declared and went through the security door into the departure lounge, where he knew he could find an outdoor seating area overlooking the runway. He meandered through the duty-free shop and the bookshop, bought a coffee and went outside thinking the air would be fresher. However, everybody seemed to be smoking and it was fairly unpleasant in the heat of the day.

Even so, he found a seat and plonked himself down whilst contemplating life and this situation in particular. He ran through the plan in his head, which seemed pretty straightforward. It should be smooth as silk.

He gazed across the runway, the heat haze rising from the concrete. He thought about Scartarelli and how little he actually knew about the man, the criminal. He was the whole point of the visit to Cyprus in the first place yet he seemed to have taken second place to the relationship that had developed between him and Georgia – and Tekke. Henry knew he'd taken his eye off the ball a little where Scartarelli was concerned. He knew he mustn't forget what a dangerous man he was, well connected and needing to be watched carefully, hence the armed escorts here and back home. He seemed to have the ability to move from country to country and mix in easily with the organized criminal fraternity and as such it had to be assumed that someone might want him released by any means possible. Or even try to kill him.