Heaven's Door (27 page)

David went through the pile of papers on his table, studying the photographs and sifting through the documents to check what Jo had brought him. They were mostly copies of official notes from statements and interviews relating to his earlier offences, plus printouts of investigating officers' reports. He went back to the CCTV images and studied them for a long time.

“So that's handsome Jack-the-lad Tomlinson-hyphen-Brown. What a waste. What a terrible waste.”

“You're absolutely right there. He's beautiful; just about perfect. And remember, I've seen him in just his boxer shorts.”

“So, where am I most likely to find this Laser?” asked David.

“Look,” said Jo, leaning forward and placing her hand on his. “You will take care, won't you, and not get involved in a scene or anything?”

“Jo, what a hurtful thing to say,” he said, frowning in mock surprise. “You know me; I'll be virtually invisible.”

She smiled across the table at the massive human frame in front of her.

“And just how are you planning to achieve that? Borrowing Harry Potter's invisibility cloak, are you?”

David smiled back.

“Let me worry about how; you just tell me where.”

“I wish I knew,” said Jo, withdrawing her hand. “I guess you could ask his aunt. She might be able to point you in the right direction, though she's much more likely to call the police, of course. Perhaps the railway station at Cobham might be the best starting point. That's where he's known to hang out fairly regularly. At least there, if you're seen, you could be waiting for a train. Not that you
will
be seen, of course, being invisible and all that.”

“You're right, that would be the best place to start. I could just be waiting for someone off the train,” said David. “In fact, I would be, wouldn't I? Do we have a timescale on this? I mean, when are they due to start their passage?”

“The Wednesday after next, but I guess we have until just before they get shipped to Alpha. In practice they'll be retrievable until then and that could be some time. There's enough ahead of them in the queue to fill the first platform and then they've got to get the second facility in place. I'm guessing, then, it could be up to a year or more. So I suppose there's no rush from that point of view. But you know how it is. This story will pass quickly and soon no-one will care – except the families, of course – and me …”

“And me,” added David. “I'm in it as far as you are now.”

“Sorry,” said Jo, putting her hand back on his and squeezing it gently this time.

“No need to be sorry,” he said. “My idea, remember?”

She smiled at him, and then frowned as she withdrew her hand again. “All this depends on your not being too expensive, of course,” she added.

“I'm
very
expensive,” he said, “but you get what you pay for.”

“Seriously, I don't want you to be out of pocket for this. I can put stuff through on miscellaneous expenses, I guess. You know, fuel, rail fares, stopovers, whatever.”

“You can't do that,” said David. “You're a police officer, not a member of parliament. And this case is closed, don't forget. In my day, you had to at least show which case the expenses applied to.”

“Same now,” said Jo. “But it's still in pursuit of the cause of justice,” she added.

“Tell you what, if I find myself short, I'll let you know. Otherwise, we can discuss finances later. Okay?”

“Okay.” She got to her feet. “And now I must love you and leave you.”

“But apparently not in that order,” said David.

She laughed, kissing him on the cheek.

He showed her out and waved goodbye as she drove off. Then he turned and swaggered purposefully back to the lounge to finish off Liberty Valance.

*

“I'm sorry about the short notice, but I need you to attend an emergency meeting in my office at 7.00 am tomorrow morning – Monday. This is regarding some information, which has just come – today – through Ruby's area, relating to hostile colonisation of the redundant rigs in the North Sea. If the information is correct, then – worst case scenario – we have potentially a very significant threat to national security. We need to discuss this with the utmost urgency. See you tomorrow morning.”

Tom left the same message for Andrew, Grace and Jonathan.

He phoned Jenny, getting through to her voicemail.

“Hi, Jenny. Long time no hear, but just to let you know I've got a meeting in my office tomorrow morning – Monday – at seven o'clock. Hopefully, we can catch up with stuff after that. Look forward to seeing you.”

Finally he called his driver.

Week 11; Monday, 1 June…

The gravel outside crunched at 5.25 am as Paul eased the car as quietly as possible up to the front door. Tom turned and looked up briefly towards Mags's bedroom as he walked across to it. He thought he saw the curtains twitch.

Paul Webster mumbled an incoherent greeting, accompanied by a loose salute, as was his custom.

“Morning, Paul,” said Tom, “how are you? Long time, no see.”

“I'm fine, thank you, sir. And you … I'm so sorry about … you know …it must be …”

“Thank you, Paul,” said Tom. “Do you think we can make it for six-thirty?”

“No problem, sir. There shouldn't be much traffic at this time.”

He closed the door as Tom settled into the back seat, slumping down.

“Seat belt, please, sir,” said Paul, as they turned into the lane, the second car slipping in behind them.

*

Jo's alarm woke her at 6.30 am in the small B&B in Enderby which would be her home for the duration of her assignment. Just about right for a leisurely breakfast and an unhurried start to the day, she thought. The place was only a few minutes drive away from the Leicestershire Constabulary's headquarters where she would be attending her first briefing at 8.00 am.

She was just about to step into the shower when she heard the ring tone on her mobile.

“Hello, DI Cottrell.”

“Hi, Jo. It's Maggie. I'm sorry to phone so early. I was planning to leave a message. Can you talk now?”

“Well, I'm naked, actually, and I've got the shower running – just about to get in – but if it's a quick one …”

“Well, that depends on what you've got to tell me. You said you'd keep me informed.”

“And I will, Maggie, if and when I have something to tell you. It was only Friday, remember, when you asked me to look into it, and I did say I would do my best, but … well, you know.”

“Yes, I'm sorry. I don't want to be a pest. But, it's a week on Wednesday he gets moved out – I'm not sure I told you that on Friday…”

“You didn't tell me, but I knew anyway.”

“After that, I guess we'll never see him again.”

“Listen, Maggie. Just so you understand, there is virtually no chance that anything is going to happen in the next ten days. You'll have to come to terms with that, I'm afraid.”

“Oh, God!” Mags gasped.

“
But,
” Jo went on. “
But
… Jack – and Jason – will be in the system, on passage and accessible, up to the point they step onto the transfer vessel. At this point in time no-one knows when that will be. I wouldn't like to even hazard a guess. But it will be a lot – a
lot
– later than a week on Wednesday. I can't even begin to imagine how you must be feeling, Maggie, so if it sounds insensitive asking you to be patient, then I apologise. But that's the way it is.”

There was no reply from the other end. Jo could hear Mags breathing deeply.

“Listen,” said Jo, after a long silence. “I'm freezing here. I must get into that shower.”

“Yes, of course,” said Mags in a small voice. “I know I'm being a nuisance, but you're all I've got, my only hope. I don't suppose you can tell me what it is you're doing. I mean,
how
you're looking into it.”

“You're
not
a nuisance, Maggie, but you're quite right, I can't tell you. And it's not me, actually; it's someone I know who I believe is our very best chance.”

*

Tom checked his phone again for messages as the car pulled up at Number 2 Marsham Street. Surely someone should have replied to his voicemail yesterday, he thought, coming as it did out of the blue like that; at the very least confirming their attendance, but much more likely with urgent questions as to the nature of the threat. As he approached his office he noticed the door was slightly ajar. He knocked gently before pushing it open. Andrew was sitting in Tom's chair and facing him across the desk. Tom looked round the room for the others.

“Morning, Andrew,” he began, “you're here bright and …”

The look of open hostility on the prime minister's face stopped him in his tracks. His countenance was anything but bright.

“Look, Andrew, I'm sorry it's so early, but …”

“The time is not the problem,” Andrew boomed. “The
problem
is that pathetic message I received yesterday after nearly six weeks of complete silence. I'm not sure what to do about someone of your seniority who tells ridiculously transparent lies in order to get his own way.” He paused as if to let the statement register. “So, come on, prove me wrong. Shock me with this potentially cataclysmic security issue. And then perhaps you can explain to me how the information managed to ‘come through Ruby's area' as you put it, without Weller knowing anything about it herself. I realise communications in the Home Office haven't been exactly world class recently, but … Well, let's hear it.”

Tom sank into one of the chairs in front of his desk. He looked across at Andrew.

“Look, I've been trying to get to speak to you for the last couple of weeks” he said, “but you wouldn't get back to me. No-body would. I was desperate; I had to do something if there was even the smallest chance of saving Jack …”

“Saving Jack,” Andrew repeated, shaking his head. “So not, quote, because of public concern, unquote, after all? Well, what a surprise.”

Neither man spoke for a long time. Tom slumped further in his seat, his head sagging forward, like a schoolboy who had just been found guilty of lying to his headmaster. Then suddenly he snapped out of it. He sat up, leaning forward across the desk, his eyes flashing with anger.

“You don't know what it's like,” he said. “You make the rules, but you don't play the game. If
you
had kids, if it was
your
son, you might be entitled to play God and decide who lives and who dies. But as it is …”

“
Me
play God!”

“Yes, that's what I said. I'm going to pull this off, with or without your cooperation. I'll swing the whole fucking country if I have to. You'll see who the people want to lead them!”

Andrew sprang up from the chair, sending it careering backwards on its castors into the wall behind him. He towered over Tom looking for a moment as if he was going to reach down and grab him.

“My
cooperation
! You arrogant bastard,” he yelled. “You're out of your fucking mind. How dare you sit there and say
I'm
playing God.
You
, who have started believing that you
are
God. A few weeks ago, I sat in that very chair on the morning before the debate discussing with you whether we should hold back on that piece of legislation! You sat here with that smug, smarmy expression of yours and said, ‘Nah, they'll get used to the idea'. And afterwards, when God knows how many people were urging a rethink, not a murmer of hesitation, not a hint of a doubt, not a word of compromise left the golden larynx of this most wonderful of men. Absolutely typical, predictable reaction – Tom knows what's best for
everybody
. Trust Tom. He's charming and charismatic, after all. He
must
be right.”

Tom half rose. Andrew reached forward and pushed him back down onto the chair. Tom jumped up and gave Andrew a shove in the chest that caught him off balance and sent him staggering backwards a few steps so that he dropped onto his chair again.

“Don't you put your hands on me!” hissed Tom “You don't have any of the equipment necessary to push me around. I'm not Jackie Hewlett or one of your fucking puppets.”

Andrew opened his eyes wide then threw back his head and laughed.

“Not one of my puppets! Not one of my puppets! That's hilarious, that is!”

Tom was trembling.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” he shouted.

“I mean, that's
exactly
what you've been for – what – six, seven, eight years now? A bloody good one, admittedly, but a puppet just the same. Hey, what's the big deal? You're famous … and popular. And now that Andy Pandy's finally retired, you might even get your own TV show; with your own signature tune. ‘Tommy Brown is coming to play, la la la la lah la…'”

He laughed again.

“Given that everything that's happened was
my
idea,” said Tom, “my
own
idea – I wonder how you come to the conclusion that
I'm
the puppet and, presumably,
you're
the puppeteer. I'd bet that most people in the country – the world, probably – see it the other way round. All you did was agree with everything I said, and did whatever I asked. You've got a strange idea of how the puppet business works.”

Andrew smiled at him.

“To be honest, Tom, I don't think
you
have any of the equipment to understand, so I'm not even going to try to explain it to you. But just so there's no misunderstanding about the plan for today, let me be absolutely clear. There is no meeting. I've spoken to the others and told them not to come; just to carry on with what they had already scheduled for today.

“There will be no reversal of the policy relating to drug dealer sentencing. Not yet, and probably not ever. Latest opinion polls show a definite movement towards public acceptance of the measures, in spite of their awareness of Jack's own predicament. From an initial seventy-thirty split against, we've moved almost to parity. And that's down to you, Tom. Well done. Your absolute intransigence on the matter in that first week or so seems to have paid off. And, I admit, this time you did it all on your own. No strings pulled by me – except, if anything, in the other direction.

“And finally, I need you to decide how you want to proceed in terms of your current position. And let me be clear on this as well. Continuing as Home Secretary is not an option, nor is moving to another post in Cabinet at any level. In fact, I would ideally like your resignation as a member of parliament as soon as possible; that way I won't need to formally suspend or remove you. You have forced my hand; I'm not so much of a bastard that I would otherwise choose to do this right now, but I can't have the integrity of this government put at risk by the destabilising effect of one man on a very personal crusade. What has happened with your son is regrettable, but the fallout from it has already hit our ratings. It's just a small dip, admittedly; two percentage points and we're still way ahead, of course. But it's significant in that it's the first reversal in over three years and it's down one hundred percent to you, and your family.”

“That's okay,” said Tom. “Pretty much
all
of what's happened in the last three years is one hundred percent down to me. I was the one who got us up there.”

Andrew shook his head.

“I'll miss this element of surprise, Tom. The way you can always push back the boundaries of arrogance just when I think it's impossible for you to go any further.”

“Arrogance or whatever, Andrew, it's served you well. Do you really believe you'd be where you are without me?”

“There you go; surprising me again. But you have a point, Tom. You played your part, dangling there on the end of your strings, along with Grace and Jackie and – well – any number of people. And, yes, you were the main mover and shaker. But you would never make a half-decent Home Secretary; not in a million years – a million terms, even. You made a really telling comment in your interview with Hanker. You said something like, ‘it's a Pareto analysis; you tackle the biggest thing first, then when that's sorted, you move onto the next biggest thing'. The perfect summary of the way you work. One thing at a time.”

There was a long silence. Tom chose his words carefully and spoke quietly.

“Well, Prime Minister, you've given me a lot to think about today. However, I can tell you right now that I shall certainly
not
be resigning and I doubt if you'd be stupid enough to sack me. I've got some very influential friends in the media, as you know. They'd be delighted to tell the country how traumatised I am to be kicked out at a time of such personal suffering by the very man I've put into 10 Downing Street. That's how it will read, whatever
you
believe is the truth. Now, if you'd please get out of my fucking chair, I've got some phone calls to make.”

The senior man rose from the chair slowly, the smirk frozen on his face but a sudden feeling of uncertainty betrayed in his eyes. As he stood up, he snapped into an exaggerated military salute, his raised hand shaking theatrically against his temple.

“Permission to whistle
Colonel Bogey
on the way out,
sah
!”

He marched stiffly past Tom and out of the room, pausing briefly at the door.

“We've achieved a lot together, Tom, you and I. Think how much more we could have accomplished if we'd actually liked each other.”

Tom sat motionless, looking across the desk at the vacated chair. He checked his watch – 6.58 am. He moved round to his own chair so that he was facing the door.

The minutes passed.

No one came; just as Andrew had promised.

At 7.15, he picked up the handset and phoned Mags, leaving a message when – as he expected – she didn't answer. More minutes passed. He checked his watch again. Still only 7.35; he had a long time to wait, and he was not going to spend it in an empty office.

He left the building and walked the few hundred yards to Balmaha. At 9.00 am, he made his call. The woman on reception was very helpful, and at 9.15, he left the apartment and flagged down a black cab.

*

Tom was shocked all over again at the thin limbs and drawn features of his friend as he got up slowly from his chair to greet him. His conscious memory of Jad was of the robust, dashing companion of his military years and even though he had witnessed his physical decline in recent months, his mind's eye still preserved this chosen image.