Ivory Nation, Andy Maslen [e manga reader .txt] 📗

we haven’t talked about.’

‘What’s that?’

‘What happens when you find the people who killed the Paras?’ she asked.

Gabriel looked into her eyes. Searching for a glimmer of complicity in those blue-green irises. ‘Interesting. You’re not assuming we’ll be arresting them.’

‘You don’t have the legal power.’

Gabriel paused before answering. ‘We’ll bring them to justice.’

Stella nodded. The glimmer brightened, just for a moment. ‘That sounds about right.’

‘How about if, I mean when, you find the second shooter?’ Gabriel asked her.

‘Much the same,’ she said airily. ‘Have him arrested, extradite him back to the UK, have him charged, sent for trial and, hopefully, a long prison sentence. Just like you’re going to do with your guys.’

There! Was that the ghost of a wink?

Eli drove Gabriel to the airport. They stood, entwined, beside the ivory elephant. She kissed him, hard, on the lips.

‘I’m going to miss you.’

‘Me, too. Miss you, I mean. Stay safe.’

She nodded.

‘Get going or you’ll miss your flight.’

After a second, lingering kiss, Gabriel headed towards check-in and a reserved first-class seat on a Cathay Pacific flight to Hong Kong. First stop, Jo’burg.

28

GABORONE

The Syrian assassin watched his vibrating phone creep towards the edge of the table. The glass top amplified its buzz to that of an enraged insect. Just as its centre of gravity approached the chipped edge, he picked it up between long, manicured fingers.

He glanced at the Caller ID, saw a codename he’d assigned his client, and felt his jaw muscles tighten. Rule One: you don’t call me after a job is completed.

‘What is it?’ he said.

‘I need to know you’re clear.’

‘Clear?’

‘Yes, clear. You know, out of the UK.’

‘You think I hang around? Do the tourist thing? Visit Buckingham Palace? Take selfies?’

‘No, of course not! Sorry. Where are you?’

‘That, my friend, is no concern of yours.’

‘But you’re safe, yes?’

‘Neither is that.’

‘Please, work with me on this.’

‘Look, my friend. You paid for my services. I delivered. I tell you what. You’re curious. So am I. Answer me one question and I’ll answer yours.’

‘OK, fine. Yes.’

‘Why no middleman?’

‘What?’

‘People like you, normally they use go-betweens. Deniable, you see? But you, you come direct. I want to know why.’

A pause. Long enough for the Syrian to look up and signal the hovering waiter for another mint tea.

‘Deniable, yes. But also leaky. In this game, the only way to ensure total secrecy is to do it yourself. Happy?’

‘Yes. I am in Gaborone.’

‘That’s Botswana.’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘Why are you there?’

‘Like I said, my friend, that’s not your concern.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong. The police here are investigating the shooting and there’s no way I can intervene. Not overtly. They found a link to Bots. You need to go. Find another bolthole.’

‘Bolthole? You think I’m hiding?’

‘Isn’t that what you people do? Lie low for a bit.’

The Syrian bit back an urge to hang up.

‘I can’t speak for anyone except myself. But I am not lying low, as you put it.’

‘What, then?’

The Syrian sighed. He supposed it wouldn’t do any harm to let ‘Leon’ in on his plans.

‘A detective is here. From London. She is asking questions. The wrong questions. I am here to ensure she does not leave with answers.’

‘You’re going to—’

‘Never mind what I’m going to do!’ the Syrian snapped. ‘Do not call this number again.’

He looked up, rolled his eyes as the waiter, an elderly man with tightly curled silver hair, placed the glass of tea on the table and picked up the empty.

‘My ex,’ he said. ‘Some people don’t know when it’s time to let go.’

The waiter smiled. A man-to-man, ‘I hear you, Brother’ kind of smile.

29

HONG KONG, GABRIEL’S HOUSE

Gabriel raised his glass to Mei. She tipped the rim of hers until they clicked together.

‘Cheers!’ he said.

‘Cheers, Big Bro.’

He took a sip of the champagne. Off-dry, stewed apple, hazelnuts. Delicious.

‘Are you ever going to stop calling me Big Bro?’

She grinned.

‘How does BB sound to you?’

‘It sounds great. BB King’s one of my favourite guitarists, so I’ll take that.’

He set his glass on the table. The moss was spongy beneath his bare feet and he enjoyed the sensation as he curled his toes down into the soft mat. Away in the distance, pale-blue mountains floated in the mist, their bases obscured by white cloud.

The air on the hill smelled fragrant – perfumed creeping flowers, pine, and top notes of seawater from the harbour below.

‘I hope we can spend some time together,’ Mei said.

‘Me, too. Apart from business.’

‘Yeah. Because there’s something I want you to do for me.’

‘Anything.’

‘Will you take me to see Michael’s grave?’

‘You haven’t been yet?’

She shook her head.

‘I didn’t want to go alone. I want you there with me.’

‘We can go now, if you want?’

Mei looked up. The whites of her large eyes were as clear as porcelain. She returned her gaze to her ‘big bro’.

‘Yes, please.’

Gabriel led Mei along a wide gravelled path that led away from the cemetery’s car park. They passed the office building and chapel, with its non-denominational stained-glass window in blue, green and gold glass. Above their heads, clouds had clumped into gloomy, rounded masses, their greenish-grey undersides pregnant with threat.

Ahead, the gravestones stood in serried ranks, the grass between them mown down to a half-inch of startling green. Here and there, mourners stood or knelt by the graves of their loved ones, singly or in pairs. Gabriel turned his head towards a keening sound.

A young woman, no more than thirty, stood on her own by a small white headstone topped with a carved angel. A net veil obscured her face; in his mind’s eye he saw red-rimmed eyes, tears on her cheeks, bitten lips. She clutched a white handkerchief in black-gloved hands.

Your husband? Please, God, not your child.

She turned suddenly and he caught a flash of her eyes behind the veil as she stared straight at him. He looked away and walked on, relieved when Mei threaded her left arm through his right.

He steered Mei around a tall laurel bush, clipped into a perfect cone, and nodded the way ahead.

‘He’s just down here, on the right.’

Reaching