Читать книгу The Last Exile - E.V. Seymour - Страница 11

TALLIS burrowed deeper beneath the duvet. After finishing the wine the night before, it had seemed the obvious thing to hit the Scotch. Bad idea.

He turned over, groaned, his head throbbing with the highlights of last night’s conversation. He’d already come to the deeply unsettling conclusion that Cavall had used her Home Office contacts to get into his home. How she’d been privy to such personal and what he’d thought confidential information he was less certain, though that too seemed to point in the same direction. Clearly, someone, somewhere had talked. Not that he was denying Cavall’s obvious powers of persuasion. Hers was a rare combination of cleverness and good looks. No point having those kind of attributes if she didn’t exploit them. She’d done her homework well, using the intelligence with rapier-like precision. He was still bleeding from the final thrust.

The only person who could have betrayed him was Stu, but Tallis didn’t believe his old friend would do such a thing, not even if he were absolutely trousered. Tallis pulled a pillow over his head, thinking that this was a morning when he really didn’t want to go out to play. Budding Jimmy Paige next door wasn’t helping. Perhaps if he lay very, very still, his head would stop hurting and his mind stop racing. But they didn’t. Instead, his thoughts dragged him kicking and screaming to a period of time he didn’t want to revisit, to him and Belle, to the exposure of their affair.

They’d been seeing each other intimately for about six months. On this particular occasion, Belle had told Dan that she was letting off steam in town with some of the girls from the Forensic Science Service where she worked. In truth, the two of them were meeting at a bustling country pub eighteen miles away. Later on, when Belle had called Dan from her mobile to let him know she’d be back later than expected, making the excuse that she was going onto a restaurant with the girls for something to eat, she’d accidentally left her phone line open. Worse, she’d left the phone on the table where they’d been sitting, exchanging sweet nothings. Dan had heard her every word, every promise, every declaration. He’s also identified the man to whom she’d been making them. The fallout had been devastating.

“Don’t you ever darken my door again,” his dad had spat in the aftermath. “Know what’s going to happen to you?” he’d added with breathtaking savagery. “You’ll end up walking the streets, holes in your shoes, stinking of piss, with a carrier bag in your hand. A useless nobody. Just like you’ve always been.”

And, yes, Tallis felt remorse, guilt about the affair, about the betrayal of his brother, but there had been extenuating circumstances. In reality, had either he or Belle exposed the truth, the consequences would have been cataclysmic.

Tallis struggled out of the covers and forced himself into a cold shower. Dried and dressed, he downed a handful of painkillers with a pint of water, made strong coffee and picked up the phone. It was coming up for noon. The line rang for a considerable time before being answered. Tallis didn’t dwell too heavily on the standard hi, how are you warm-up routine. He could tell from Stu’s voice how he was—grim, sense of humour failure, depressed.

“You ever spoken to anyone about my reservations about the Liberian girl?”

“Fuck you take me for?” From sour to fury in 0.4 seconds.

“Fine,” Tallis said.

“Why?” Stu growled. There was a paranoid hitch in his voice.

“Nothing, nothing. Know how it is. Too much time on my hands, I expect.”

His poor-old-soldier act had the intended effect of softening his friend’s prickly edges. “No luck, then? Still doing the warehouse job?”

“Got one or two irons in the fire,” Tallis said, jaunty. Who was he kidding?

“Glad for you, mate. Does your heed in, not having a proper job. I should know.”

“But you’re all right,” Tallis pointed out.

“Aye, pushing bits of paper around.” His voice was corrosive.

If Tallis had been a decent sort of a mate, he’d have told Stu that he was never going to get his old job back as long as he was on the sauce. Truth was, Stu wasn’t in the mood for listening. Hadn’t been for quite some time.

“You’ve got to stop thinking about the past, Paul. Won’t do you any good.”

Tallis could have said the same. Why else was Stu drinking himself to hell in a bucket? “You’re right,” he said. “Well, you take care, now.”

“Aye, have to meet for a bevy.”

“You’re on,” Tallis said, eyes already scanning his address book for the next number on the list.

This time it was answered after the first ring.

“Christ, you’re quick off the draw.”

“Right by the phone. How you doing?” Finn Cronin’s voice was full of warmth and, for a moment, Tallis was reminded of Finn’s brother, Matt. Matt had served with Tallis way back. They’d joined the army together, trained together, got drunk and pulled birds together. Matt had been the colleague he’d rescued under friendly fire. In spite of Tallis’s best efforts to save him, Matt hadn’t made it home.

“Good,” Tallis lied. “And you?”

“Not bad. Carrie’s pregnant again.”

“Christ, how many’s that?”

“This will be our fourth. But that’s it.”

“Going for the unkindest cut of all?” The thought made his eyes water.

“Carrie’s idea. Doesn’t want to spend the rest of her days on the Pill, screws around with her body apparently, mood swings, headaches, mostly.”

“Fair enough,” Tallis said, feeling awkward. “I was wondering if I could ask a favour.”

“You want to doss down at ours for the weekend.”

“Smashing idea but no.”

“Pity. I’d hoped we could have a repeat of the Dog and Duck.”

“Only just recovered from last time.” Tallis let out a laugh. “No, it’s…” He hesitated. Was he asking too much of Finn? Would it put him in a difficult position? Oh, sod it. “I need something checked out.”

“Come to the right man. I spend my entire life checking things out.”

“Well, it’s not a thing exactly, more a person, a cool-looking blonde, actually.”

“Tell me more,” Finn said, voice throbbing with curiosity. “I can feel my journalistic streak stirring.”

That what these Southerners call it, Tallis thought drily. “Her name’s Sonia Cavall. She’s connected to the Home Office.”

“The Home Office?” Finn sounded amazed. “And you’re asking me to check her out?”

“That’s about it, yes.”

“Nice looking, you said.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Not like what?” Finn laughed. So what’s it really like? his voice implied.

Tallis held back. He’d known Finn for years. After Matt’s death, they’d vowed never to lose touch so that whenever Tallis was in the West Country, he made a big point of seeing him. However long the absence, they always had a blast. Tallis was also godfather to Finn’s youngest son, Tom. Tallis trusted Finn, but he was still a journalist and God knew what he might do with the information. “She’s tying up loose ends, you know, from last year,” he said elliptically.

“Right,” Finn said, his curiosity seemingly appeased. “Timescale?”

“Soon as. Don’t kill yourself for it.”

They talked a bit. Tallis sent his love to Carrie and the kids, double-checked Tom’s birthday, which happened to be the following week then signed off.

In the two hours before he went to work, Tallis tidied up, pulled on some sweats and trainers, and went for a run in the hope that it would flush the last of the alcohol from his system. A shower and cheese sandwich later, and dressed in black trousers and a bright white shirt with the company logo emblazoned on the breast pocket, he drove the short distance to the out-of-town warehouse where he worked.