The Becket Approval by Falconer Duncan (interesting books to read TXT) 📕

was leaving the embassy. It was during the civil war.’

‘I’m sorry. And you went to live with your aunt.’

‘She always looked after me when he was away. I think I spent more time with her than him anyway.’

‘How many other staff died?’

‘None. The embassy had already been evacuated.’

She looked at him questioningly.

‘He wasn’t an ordinary member of staff,’ he admitted. ‘I don’t know what he did, exactly.’

‘Where’s he buried?’

‘He’s not.’

‘His body was never repatriated?’

‘Never found.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Big bomb. Disrupted country in the middle of a civil war. No-one from our side in country to take care of things. I can understand.’

‘You could find out more if you wanted to, couldn’t you?’

‘It’s not that simple.’

‘You’ve never been interested enough to try? I’d be dying to know.’

‘Time out. Loo break,’ he said as he climbed off the bed and stepped out of the room into the dark hallway.

There were three doors suggesting three options to the bathroom. He went to the nearest and opened it. It wasn’t a bathroom, but it wasn’t a bedroom either. There was no bed at least. He was about to close the door when a wall with several pictures stuck to it caught his attention. He stared at them and, in the dim light could make out the word ALBANIA hand written on a card. There were other labels with strings connecting them to the various pictures.

His curiosity got the better of him and he moved inside to take a closer look. The matrix included the Afghan Lamardi shot in Macedonia with a piece of string linking it to the Albania killings. There was a floating label with British Special Forces/SAS on it. But what got his attention was a picture of Megan linked to a picture of a Russian called Milo Krilov.

Gunnymede unpinned the picture of Krilov.

Bethan stepped into the doorway behind him. ‘I forgot to lock this room,’ she said.

‘Milo Krilov is the rapist?’

‘I couldn’t tell you. I’m not supposed to know.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s a confidential case.’

Gunnymede weighed his feelings. ‘I’m not angry,’ he decided. ‘But I do feel betrayed.’

He walked past her and went downstairs. Within a couple of minutes he was dressed and out the door.

Bethan sat on the top stair and held her head in her hands.

Gunnymede walked along the street studying the picture of Krilov. He pulled out his phone, placed the paper against a wall and photographed it. He searched his contacts for a number and hit the call button. It took a while for it to pick up.

‘What do you want?’ Aristotle asked.

‘How do I check a name and face these days?’

‘You don’t.’

‘What do you mean, you don’t? I don’t? We don’t?’

‘You don’t. You don’t have access to that facility.’

‘That’s a part of my job.’

‘You want to know something, you ask me.’

‘Where’s the love?’ Gunnymede muttered, rolling his eyes. ‘I’m sending you a name and a face.’

The phone went dead. Gunnymede sent the picture as he entered Hampstead underground station.

 

 

Chapter 19

Bethan walked into her busy office, slumped into her chair, opened her laptop and, after a long moment of indecision, closed it and looked over at Dillon’s office. The pain of having to go and see him drained her.

Jedson stepped out of the elevator wearing an outfit that suggested homeless. He looked for Bethan, as he always did on arriving at that floor, made his way over and sat on the edge of her desk. ‘Hey.’

She didn’t appear to see him despite him practically breathing down her neck.

‘Heavy night?’ He nudged her.

‘Not now, Jedson, please.’

‘Why don’t we skip this place and get an early one? Hair of the dog and all that.’

‘What part of your ridiculously small brain informs you that I’m remotely interested in even talking to you?’

‘Hey, calm yourself. No need to be rude.’

‘Go away or I swear I’ll scream.’

The people nearby glanced at Jedson, of whom they appeared to share the same low opinion.

Jedson eased himself to his feet. ‘I can see I’ve caught you at the wrong time of the month. I’ll return when you’re in a better mood.’ He made his way out of the room.

Bethan’s phone chirped and she answered it. ‘Trencher.’

‘Bethan. It’s Ardian Kostag.’

‘Hello, Ardian.’

Ardian was on his computer at his desk in a large, crowded office. There was a lot of noise coming from outside, like people shouting.

‘Did you receive the forensics on the PAD device I sent through a couple days ago?’

‘Yes. Also the results of all foreigners passing through ports and border crossings in the last nine months. No flags though.’

‘And no further progress this end. Anything your end?’ Someone walked into Ardian’s office and while the door was open the sound of shouting increased.

‘What’s all that noise?’ she asked.

‘Those are protestors. Families of the officers killed. They’re demanding to know what is happening. We’ve had demonstrations for several days. They are angry we haven’t named those responsible. Some are saying there’s a cover up. We’re getting pressure to come up with answers. The conspiracy theorists are causing lots of problems. Some say it’s the Russians. Others it’s the Americans.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘You know, world wars have begun with much less in the Balkans.’

‘Indeed. I’d dearly love to see this case resolved, if only for your sake. I do have some questions for you,’ she said, consulting her notes. ‘I’d like to ask you about K-17. I’m interested in the team’s history.’

‘Go ahead.’

‘How long have they been together? Do individuals move between teams regularly?’

‘Actually, the teams can be very, um, nepotizum. Sorry, I don’t remember the word in English.’

‘Nepotistic?’ she guessed.

‘Nepotistic. Thank you. Many of the men are related. They can