The Mephisto Threat. E.V. Seymour
with laughter. ‘Wasn’t a criticism. You did the right thing by keeping schtum.’
‘What I want to know is why they thought I had connections to the Moroccan.’
‘They mention the guy’s name?’
‘No, but shouldn’t be too difficult to find out.’
‘True.’ Asim paused. ‘Sounds to me as though they had limited intelligence, you burst into the picture, they decided to add three and three together and made fifteen.’
‘They being?’
‘Not entirely certain.’
Bet you have some idea, Tallis thought. ‘And Morello?’
‘A side-show.’
Tallis didn’t agree.
‘You said at least one of the hit team was British,’ Asim said.
‘Yup.’ He remembered the words: ‘…fuckin’ out of here’.
‘That may be significant as far as the hunt for the people behind Morello’s murder are concerned.’
More than significant, Tallis believed. He thought it was their first cock-up. All he had to do was find the next.
‘And this guy, Koroglu—an American you say?’
‘No doubt about it.’
Another pause. Tallis decided to go the direct route. ‘Are the Yanks outsourcing their detention centres to Turkey?’
‘The Turks are under pressure from extremists, too. They might see it as being to their advantage.’
‘Are they, or aren’t they?’ Tallis said, stubbornly pushing his luck.
‘I don’t know,’ Asim said smoothly.
‘Oh, come on,’ Tallis said. ‘You must have some idea. We’re all supposed to be best buddies.’
This time Asim’s laugh was hard. ‘Notwithstanding the change of head honcho across the water, a political event that takes time to download to the game on the ground, the Americans are no longer happy to play when it comes to intelligence concerning potential a-Q suspects.’
‘Because our government decided to voice opposition to Guantanamo Bay, and reduce our forces in Iraq?’
Asim concurred. ‘We’ve reached a fairly dire situation. If we want to know something from a suspect held in American custody, we’re no longer able to fly out and talk to them. We have to put the question to the American operative who will ask on our behalf.’
How very Russian, Tallis thought, remembering the Litvinenko investigation in which Scotland Yard officers were denied direct access to suspects.
‘It signals a grave lack of trust,’ Asim continued, ‘something that needs to be restored and quickly, which is why the head man is so hell-bent on getting Five, the Secret Intelligence Service and all the other British law enforcement agencies to bond together in the fight against terrorism.’
And they needed to, Tallis thought. It was reputed that at any given time there were two thousand terrorists and two hundred plots aimed against British citizens. No longer was it a case of if there would be an attack but when. In response to the threat, MI5 had launched a hip recruitment campaign aimed at young Brits, including Muslims, doubled its size, regarded languages for its operatives as crucial and had adopted a policy of international and national co-operation right across the board.
‘They ever thought about using organised crime?’
‘What?’ Asim said, baffled.
‘Use a thief to catch a thief.’ Asim gave a snort of ridicule. But Tallis wasn’t going to be deflected. ‘The CIA recruited Mafiosi to kill Castro.’
‘One man,’ Asim pointed out. ‘We’re up against entire legions, people from every walk of life, who think nothing of exploiting each single easy route into our country.’ Tallis thought of the Middle Eastern doctors who’d taken advantage of a shortage in the NHS to blag their way in and initiate a reign of terror in Scotland. ‘Who, in case you’ve forgotten,’ Asim continued pointedly, ‘are rumoured to have links with organised crime, which is what we’re investigating.’
‘I was wondering when you’d come back to that,’ Tallis said briskly. ‘Well, this is how I read the runes. I think the two incidents are connected. Morello discovered something. The fact he chose the Byzantium, a known criminal hangout, for a meeting is significant. Whatever he knew, someone wanted to shut him up. Somewhere our Moroccan is involved. You mention the purported links between British organised crime and terrorism. Well, I think I just stumbled across them.’
‘You’re making some fairly big assumptions.’
‘It’s the only picture that fits.’
‘In this line of work there are usually several pictures that fit, Paul, and the obvious one is usually a blind.’
Ouch, this was the nearest Asim, who it had to be said he didn’t know that well, had come to a rebuke. ‘Point taken,’ Tallis said with as much humility as he could muster.
‘Going back to the hit. Are you really sure it was meant for Morello?’
Tallis let out a sigh. He’d been over and over it. ‘Yes.’
‘Reason?’
‘Something Morello said before he died. He kept repeating the word “report”.’
‘What kind of report?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You’re sure that’s what he said?’
‘Quite certain.’
‘And you think this is what got him killed?’
‘Possibly. Not sure, could be a blind,’ Tallis said, a smile in his voice. Asim let out an appreciative laugh. ‘And there was something else,’ Tallis said. ‘Morello asked if I’d ever come across a guy called Kevin Napier.’
‘And have you?’
‘He fought in the first Gulf War same time as me and, like me, left to become a police officer, only his route took him to the dizzy heights of the Serious and Organised Crime Agency.’
‘Go on,’ Asim said, voice sharpening.
‘That’s it. I confirmed I knew the guy.’
‘And Morello didn’t state the reason for his interest?’
‘Didn’t get the chance.’
There was a brief silence. ‘SOCA is the UK arm of Interpol,’ Asim said, as if thinking aloud. ‘It also maintains a large network of overseas officers.’
‘So Napier might have been posted to Turkey?’
‘It’s possible.’
Another little piece in the jigsaw, or simply a meaningless piece of detritus? Tallis thought.
‘You’ve done really well,’ Asim congratulated him. ‘Shame about the screw-up with Morello, could have done without it, but you handled everything superbly. I’ll see what I can find out from my contacts and get back to you. In the meantime, I suggest you go back home, get some rest, forget about it for a bit.’
Forget about it? And poor Garry relegated to nothing more than a gross inconvenience. Tallis sadly shook his head. He really felt like a most reluctant spook.
He didn’t go back home. He stayed the night in London. The hotel was overrun with American kids doing a sightseeing tour. As he went down to breakfast the next morning, an anarchic help-yourself affair, he stood in line behind a youth wearing a T-shirt that announced he wanted to shoot all the fucking jackasses. Couldn’t agree more, Tallis thought drolly.
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