Solo (Aka the Cretan Lover) (v5) (21 page)

Morgan had said that she owed him. If that was true, what he was due was her honesty and concern and that could only be expressed in one way.

It was like a shot in the arm, new energy coursing through her. She couldn't wait to get off the plane, was one of the first through to Immigration where she presented her passport and asked to be put in touch at once with the nearest Special Branch officer.

It was just after half past two when Captain Charles Rourke got back to his office in the British Embassy at Plutarchu 1 in Athens. His phone rang almost at once. When he picked it up, Benson, one of the Second Secretaries with consular responsibilities, was on the other end.

'Hello, Charles. I asked them on the door to let me know when you came in. I've had a chap kicking his heels here for almost an hour, wanting a temporary passport to get him home. His official one is in pieces.'

'Hardly my department, old boy.'

'Actually, Charles, I don't like the smell of it at all. He walks in here looking like a tramp and when I examine what's left of his passport, he turns out to be a serving officer if you please
and
a full colonel. Name of Morgan.'

But Rourke had already slammed down the telephone and was leaving his office on the run.

Morgan looked awful, the black, silver-streaked hair tousled like a gipsy's and he badly needed a shave. His linen suit, stained with salt, had shrunk and strained against his shoulders, seams splitting.

'Oh, it's you,' he said when Rourke came into the waiting room. 'A fine old balls-up you made of it at the airport the other day.'

Rourke was horrified at his appearance. 'Good God, sir, are you all right?'

'Of course I'm not,' Morgan said. 'I'm held together by blood, guts and piano wire, but that doesn't matter now. What I want is a temporary passport and a seat on the first plane to London this afternoon.'

'Actually, I'm not too sure about that, sir. I'd have to check elsewhere first. I've strict orders where you're concerned.'

'Brigadier Ferguson?'

'Yes, sir.'

'So, you're DI5? That's encouraging. Maybe those lectures I gave you at the Academy back in 'sixty-nine did some good after all.'

'You remembered me, sir?'

'Of course I did. Never forget a face. Now, you cut along and make your phone call.'

'Just a minute, sir,' Rourke leaned forward, concern on his face. 'Isn't that blood coming through your sleeve?'

'I should imagine so, considering the fact that a certain gentleman tried to inflict bodily injury on me with the aid of a Walther PPK. Maybe a doctor would be in order as well, while you're at it? Only make sure he's one who can keep his mouth shut, boy. I don't want anything keeping me off that plane.'

14

It was almost six o'clock when Kim answered the ring at the door of the Cavendish Square flat and found Baker and Morgan standing there.

Ferguson was in the dining-room eating alone at one end of an elegant Regency table, a napkin tucked into his collar.

'That smells nice.' Morgan said. 'What is it?'

'Beef Wellington. For a Gurkha, Kim has a remarkable talent for traditional English cooking. My dear chap, you look awful.'

'I'm not as young as I was, that's all.'

He went and helped himself to a brandy from the sideboard. Ferguson said to Baker, 'No problems, Superintendent?'

'He nearly didn't make it, sir. Fog coming in fast while I was waiting. I should imagine Heathrow will be shut down completely in another couple of hours.'

Ferguson took a sip from his glass of claret and leaned back. 'Well, Asa?'

'Well, what?'

'Come on now. You quite obviously went to Greece in search of the Cretan Lover. You deliberately gave my man the slip, then turn up four days later with a couple of gunshot wounds in you and a ruined passport, desperately keen to get back to England as soon as possible.'

'All those tourists,' Morgan said. 'I just couldn't take it.' He emptied the glass. 'Is it all right if I go now? I could do with a decent night's sleep.'

Ferguson nodded to Baker who opened the sitting-room door. Katherine Riley entered.

'Christ Almighty,' Morgan said bitterly.

'Don't be stupid, Asa. Doctor Riley has acted entirely in your best interests and under very difficult circumstances. She's told me everything.'

Katherine Riley stood there, very pale, waiting. Morgan ignored her. 'Where is he?'

'Mikali? Busy rehearsing at the Albert Hall with Andre Previn and Previn being the perfectionist he is, it looks as if they'll be there right up till concert time.'

'Rather awkward for you.'

'Why on earth should it be?' Ferguson poured himself another glass of claret. 'We could arrest him on stage now, but what would be the point? Ask the Superintendent.'

Morgan turned to Baker who nodded. 'Sealed up tight, Asa, every entrance guarded. 'I've got over fifty men down there now on top of the normal uniformed personnel usually on duty for crowd control. Mostly in plain clothes and all of them armed. I've even got long-hairs from the Ghost Squad queuing for tickets with the Promenaders.'

The phone rang in the hall and Baker went out. Ferguson said, 'So, as you can see, he isn't getting anywhere. Let him give his concert. The show, as they say, must go on. In any case, my dear Asa, Rachmaninov's Fourth is seldom played. To have John Mikali perform it at the last night of the Proms is a musical event of the first magnitude. I wouldn't miss it for anything.'

Katherine Riley turned, went into the sitting-room and slammed the door behind her. Ferguson sighed. 'Women really are the most perverse of creatures, aren't they? Why is it the Mikalis attract them?'

Baker returned with a note. 'Apparently this Frenchman, Deville, who visited Mikali at Hydra, is at the flat now. When I contacted French Intelligence about him, they thought I was crazy. He's one of the most celebrated criminal lawyers in Paris. Anyway, they did put him through the computer.'

'And?' Ferguson said.

'One interesting point, sir. He was a slave worker for the Nazis during the war. One of thousands shipped to Eastern Europe to work in coalmines and so on. Those who survived were returned by the Russians in nineteen forty-seven.'

Ferguson smiled softly and turned to Morgan. 'And what would that suggest to you, Asa?'

'KGB?'

'Perhaps, but their main task was to infiltrate the French Intelligence system itself in the years after the war. I should have thought Soviet Military Intelligence much more likely. From the sound of him, Deville has style, something I've always found conspicuously lacking in the KGB.'

'Even the Old Etonian variety?'

'A fair point.' Ferguson wiped his chin with a napkin. 'But a man like Mikali. It really is quite astonishing. Why, Asa? What is his motive?'

'I haven't the slightest idea. I can tell you where his experience came from, that's all. He joined the Legion when he was eighteen. Served two years in Algeria as a paratrooper.'

'How very romantic of him.'

'Excuse me, sir,' Baker interrupted. 'Might I ask about Deville? Do you want him lifted now?'

'A moment, Superintendent.' Ferguson turned to Morgan. 'I think, Asa, it might be politic at this point if you slipped next door and made your peace with Doctor Riley.'

'Which means you don't want me in on this discussion?'

'Exactly.'

Baker went and opened the sitting-room door. Morgan hesitated, then passed inside and the Superintendent closed it behind him.

Katherine Riley stood at the Adam fireplace, her hands on the mantelshelf, staring into the flames. She raised her head and looked at him in the ornate ormolu mirror.

'You've been in hell without a map, Asa. I couldn't leave you there.'

'Oh, but you have a way with words,' he said. 'I'll give you that. That's what comes of an expensive education.'

'Asa - please.' There was real pain in her voice now.

'I know,' he said harshly. 'Passion had you by the throat and wouldn't let go. But who for? Me or him?'

She stood there, staring at him, her face even paler now and when she spoke, her voice was very low.

'We washed you between us the other night, Maria and I. How many times have you been wounded? Five? Six? And those are only the scars that show. I'm sorry for you.'

She walked past him, opened the door and went into the other room. Ferguson looked up and Baker turned to face her.

'Can I go now?' she asked.

Ferguson glanced at Morgan standing in the doorway. She leaned forward, her hands on the dining-table. 'Please!' she demanded urgently. 'I can't take much more of this.'

Ferguson said, 'And where would you go, Doctor Riley?'

'I have the use of a friend's flat in Douro Place. My car's there. I just want to get back to Cambridge as soon as possible.'

His face was very calm and his voice surprisingly gentle when he said, 'And that
is
what you want to do? You're quite sure?'

'Yes,' she said dully.

'Very well.' He nodded to Baker. Tut Doctor Riley in a car, Superintendent. Have her taken to this address in Douro Place. We can always contact her in Cambridge if we need her.'

She made for the door and Baker went after her. As she got it open, Ferguson said, 'One point, Doctor. Please don't try to leave the country until you receive full security clearance. It really would be most embarrassing to have to stop you.'

Kim came in with a covered dish. Ferguson said, 'Ah, pudding. I was beginning to think he'd forgotten.' He sat down and tucked his napkin into his neck again and the Gurkha served him. 'A rather special cheesecake, soaked in Grand Marnier. Try some, Asa.'

'No thanks,' Morgan said. 'But I'll have another brandy if you don't mind.'

'Help yourself. Is it hurting much, your arm?'

'Like hell,' Morgan told him, which was true and yet he deliberately exaggerated the pain in his face as he poured a generous measure of Courvoisier into a shot glass.

As he swallowed, Baker came back. Ferguson said, 'No problem?'

'None, sir.'

'Good. Mikali's made no attempt to leave?'

'No, sir, I've just phoned our mobile command post in the car park there. The most recent information is that they've just finished rehearsing.'

Ferguson glanced at his watch. 'Six-fifteen. Let me see now. The concert starts with Debussy.
L'Apres-midi d'un Faune
followed by Haydn's Clock Symphony. That means Mikali will go on around eight-forty-five with the interval at nine-thirty.'

'And we lift him then, sir?'

'After the interval reception would be better, I think. He
is
guest of honour, remember. It would look a little odd if he wasn't there. Let's keep things as normal as possible for as long as we can.'

'Let me go with you.'

'I'm sorry, Asa. I understand how you feel, but you've done your job. Your involvement ends here. From now on this is police business.'

'All right.' Morgan raised a hand. 'I know when I'm beaten. Presumably I can go now.'

He turned to the door and Baker said, 'Wait for me, Asa, I'll run you home.'

Morgan went out and Ferguson said, 'Knows when he's beaten indeed. It's when he makes remarks like that that I
really
worry. Take him home. I want round-the-clock surveillance of his apartment until this thing is over.'

'I wouldn't worry, sir. The state he's in, I'm surprised he managed to walk to the door.'

'If you believe that of Asa Morgan, Superintendent,' Ferguson said, 'then you will indeed believe anything.'

When Mikali went into the Green Room at the back of the Albert Hall stage, his shirt was soaked with sweat and he was trembling with excitement. He had been good, he knew that. The hardest two days of rehearsals he had ever undergone and the prospect for the concert itself was now quite stunning.

The door opened and the stage manager came in with a pot of tea, cups, milk and sugar on an old tin tray.

'Did you try Heathrow?' Mikali demanded as he dried himself with a towel.

'Yes, sir. Both afternoon flights from Athens got in, the last one just before the fog descended.'

'Marvellous,' Mikali said. 'Don't forget to make sure Doctor Riley's ticket is ready at the box office and Maitre Deville's.'

As the stage manager opened the door, Previn came in. 'Everything all right?'

'It is now,' Mikali told him. 'Was I good out there?'

'Not bad,' Previn grinned. 'In places.'

'In places?' Mikali laughed out loud. 'Maestro, tonight I'm going to give you the performance you've been waiting for all your life.' He clapped Previn on the shoulder. 'Now, have a decent cup of tea for a change.'

When they reached Gresham Place, Baker told the driver to wait and they went up the steps to the entrance.

Morgan said, 'Do you feel like a drink?'

'Don't have the time.'

He gave Morgan a cigarette, lit one himself and they stood there in the porch smoking, staring out at the driving rain.

'Do you ever wonder what it's all about, Harry?'

'Too late for finer feelings, Asa. About twenty-five years too late in your case.'

'So what do I do?'

'Go to bed before you fall down.'

Another police car drew up on the far side of the street and Detective-Inspector Stewart got out, followed by two uniformed constables. They paused at the bottom of the steps.

Baker said, 'Colonel Morgan here is about to retire for the night. If he changes his plans, tries to leave these premises for any reason whatever, you will take him into immediate custody. One of you can watch this entrance from the car, the other get round to the courtyard at the rear.

'You'll be relieved in four hours,' Stewart told them. They moved away and he turned to Baker. 'Anything else, sir?'

'No, get in the car, George, we'll be leaving directly.'

Morgan said, 'Is all this legal, Harry?'

'Ferguson could have had you taken into custody if he'd wanted, until it was over.'

'On what charge?'

'Suspicious person would do for a start, suffering from gunshot wounds with no adequate explanation.' He tossed his cigarette into the gutter. 'Be sensible, Asa. Go to bed.'

He went down the steps, got into the rear of the police car beside Stewart and was driven away. Morgan looked across the street at the other car, waved to the young policeman behind the wheel, then went inside.

Jock Kelso was watching a football match on television when the phone started to ring. His daughter Amy, a pretty, dark-haired girl, came in from the kitchen drying her hands on her apron and answered it.

'It's Colonel Morgan, Dad.'

Kelso switched off the television and took the receiver from her. 'Colonel?'

'Jock. I have a slight problem. A police car parked at my front door and a copper in the rear courtyard to make sure I don't leave. Brigadier Ferguson wants to keep me out of trouble. I was wondering if there was anything you could do about it.'

Kelso laughed. 'Christ, Colonel, but this gets more like old times by the minute.'

Morgan put down the phone, opened the desk drawer and took out the Walther PPK. He checked the magazine carefully, then fitted the Carswell silencer over the muzzle.

He was beginning to feel tired and that would never do. He went into the bathroom, opened the cabinet above the sink and found a small bottle of purple capsules. Belfast bullets the Army called them, because they were designed to get you through the bad times when rest was impossible. Two every four hours and you could manage for twenty-four without sleep. The only trouble was you were like a corpse for a week afterwards.