Название: The Mephisto Threat
Автор: E.V. Seymour
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Полицейские детективы
isbn: 9781408912546
isbn:
Always Dan, even to the last, he thought bitterly. The compassionate part of his nature was having a difficult time shining through, yet even he realised that Dan needed to be there as much as his old man had desired it. How the hell he was going to manage it was another story. Dan was in no ordinary prison for any ordinary offence. His only hope was Asim. ‘I’m not making any promises, but I’ll see if I can pull some strings.’
‘Thank you.’
They talked a little more. Now that he was home, they planned to go ahead with the funeral in five days’ time. To his surprise, his father was going to be cremated. Somehow Tallis had envisaged a full Catholic funeral, all bells and whistles. He had to remind himself that his mother was the religious one. His father never had much time for it. So much he hadn’t had time for.
‘You’ll let me know,’ she said, ‘about Dan.’
‘Soon as I can.’
Asim got to him first. Tallis was halfway down a bottle of fine malt whisky, all peat and bog, the taste suiting his mood, when Asim called. ‘The Moroccan was a guy known as Faraj Tardarti,’ Asim told him. ‘He’d trained at camps in Pakistan, was not considered to be a main player, although known to have contacts to those who were.’
‘Looks as though the Americans have a different take on him.’
‘He was on their watch list. Of more interest as far as Morello’s concerned,’ Asim continued, ‘two British men flew out of Heathrow to Istanbul and back again in the very twenty-four-hour period in which Morello was shot. Customs cottoned onto them because they were travelling light, and alerted the embassy.’
That prat Cardew, Tallis thought. Damn him and his blasted procedure. Either he didn’t make the connection or he was bought. ‘Names?’
‘Toby Beaufort and Tennyson Makepeace.’
What sort of names were those? ‘Having a laugh, were they?’
‘They were indeed.’
Forged passports.
‘Looks like they might be good for Morello’s murder,’ Asim said. ‘Must have picked up their gear the Turkish end.’
‘I’d say so. Still think there’s no connection between Morello and our Moroccan?’ Tallis couldn’t disguise the playful note in his voice.
‘Go on,’ Asim said, humouring him.
‘I went to visit Morello’s widow. She told me that Garry was working on a book exploring the link between organised crime and terrorism.’
‘Historically, there’s always been a link. Only have to look at the IRA.’
Asim could be so infuriating. ‘I don’t believe it was in a general sense,’ Tallis persisted. ‘Garry wanted to pick my brains, ask me about my patch, Birmingham, who the movers and shakers were. My take is that he was talking about current events. Gives more credence to what we already suspect.’
‘Birmingham, you say?’
‘Yes.’
Asim remained silent. Tallis assumed this to be a good sign. What he said was being taken seriously. ‘Maybe we should have left you at home.’
‘And deny me my two-night stay in a Turkish gulag?’ Tallis cracked.
‘Still got your contacts within the police?’
‘Some.’
‘Then maybe you should check out those movers and shakers.’
Tallis cut the call. It was only afterwards he remembered that he hadn’t asked Asim about Dan.
10
TALLIS had never been able to lie to his mother. ‘I simply don’t think it’s possible.’
He was back at home in Herefordshire. They’d spent the morning sitting in the little room they called the snug, going through the funeral arrangements. Hannah was forced to return home to Bristol for the kids. Her husband, a nice enough bloke in Tallis’s opinion, wasn’t a very handson dad. She promised to return with the rest of the family for the big send-off.
‘Take care of each other,’ Hannah said, tipping up on her toes to kiss them both. She didn’t really look like either of her parents. Small, with chestnut hair, she resembled more the photographs he’d seen of his grandmother as a young woman. As soon as Hannah left, his mother collared him.
‘Did you try?’ Her blue-grey eyes looked up into his brown.
‘Not yet.’ Shame made his neck flush. She’d been through so much, watching his father’s slow and lingering death. Then there’d been Dan and Belle. He didn’t want to let her down. And what was he really afraid of? That Dan would be allowed to come? That Dan would act in loco parentis? That all the fear and intimidation his father had visited on him would be transmitted through his evil elder brother? Or was he more frightened of his own reaction to seeing Dan again? He patted her hand gently. ‘But I will.’
After they’d eaten, she insisted on washing up the dishes immediately. He offered to help.
‘No need. Won’t take more than a few minutes.’
And so he went out into his mother’s garden, walked along the carefully created paths with the little bridge over the lily pond and, crossing to the far end, took out his mobile phone. As he looked back at the house, he remembered summer evenings watching the bats burst out, as in a hail of machine-gun fire, from underneath the eaves, dozens and dozens of baby horseshoes and pipistrelles.
Asim was sympathetic but not hopeful.
‘I’m not asking for me, but for my mum,’ Tallis pleaded. ‘You’re the only person who can swing it.’
Asim sounded doubtful about that, too. ‘When’s the funeral?’
‘Friday.’
‘I’ll get back to you,’ Asim promised.
Tallis spent the rest of the day with his mum. They talked of old times, laughing a little, avoiding the bad, which was easy. When two people remembered an event they generally viewed it in the context of their own personal narrative and prejudice. Staying the night was more taxing. He slept in the old room he’d shared with his brother, the same room in which he’d received taunts and beatings from his dad.
The next morning his mother announced that she wanted to go into town. Tallis offered to drive but she declined. ‘Time you went home.’
‘But I’ve only just arrived.’
‘Don’t you have work to go to?’ His parents had always had a strong work ethic, something they’d imbued into their kids. Tallis had led her to believe that he was some kind of private investigator, an occupation of which she disapproved. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she insisted.
‘But, Mum…’
She СКАЧАТЬ