He found ways to distract himself for a while longer but eventually there came an inflection point, his fear overcome by the nagging frustration that no matter what he did to postpone it, it would still need to be done. At least he could stop wondering about the reaction. Only one way to know.
'George.'
'Who's this?'
'It's me George, it's Daniel Campbell.'
Silence for a beat. 'How was Cornwall?'
'Not so nice this time of year.'
'Thought you might have gone away a little longer.'
Campbell noted an odd tone to the man's voice. There was still the gruff threatening manner that he had encountered before but gone was the menacingly playful tone. There was something slightly hesitant now, something apprehensive lurking there. Campbell remembered the way he had spoken to him after Gresham had tried to threaten an ex-girlfriend and was surprised that the man wasn't baying for his blood down the telephone.
'Yeah, well. Change of plan.'
'What you playing at?'
'Just trying to work out what the hell is going on George,' said Campbell.
'It's got nothing to do with you lad.'
'Well that isn't true is it?'
'I just want that stick back.'
'See, I don't quite get this George. From what I can see from the data on it, there just doesn't seem to be anything that might be in your line of work. I mean no offence of course but you know what I'm getting at.'
'Don't start getting clever son.'
'Look, George. I don't want this thing alright?' he snapped. 'I don't want any of this to be happening but you aren't the only person after this are you? And it seems to me that if I just hand it over to you and you promise to be nice, then I might end up upsetting somebody else instead. So humour me.'
There was a pause on the line and Campbell started to sweat. This was a dangerous man he was annoying. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
'OK. Listen up. Since I can't find you I can hardly threaten you. It looks like you have the advantage, so I'll ask nice.' His tone had actually softened much to Campbell's surprise. 'That memory stick is worth a fair bit of money. I happen to owe a fair bit of money to a very unpleasant man called Frank Walker who has decided that to make sure I pay him back, he has kidnapped my daughter.'
Campbell wasn't sure what to make of this. There was no reason to trust the man and every reason to assume that this was some new ruse to get his hands on what he wanted. But there was something in his voice that made Campbell wonder.
'You've met her actually,' Gresham continued. 'Just before we met, she lent Slater a bit of a hand convincing you to come along and see me.'
The pretty girl on his doorstep when Slater had first appeared. Angie he'd called her.
'Family business George. Heart warming,' he said.
'Mmmn,' the response sounded distant, distracted. Perhaps he wasn't making this up. Certainly if Gresham was just the courier, just moving the stick from one place to another it made a little more sense.
'Look George, that may be true or you may be spinning me a line. I don't really care so long as I can back out of this mess without anybody getting hurt and just forget about the whole thing. Tell me what you know. I mean, even if you get off my back I still have whoever it was tried to off me the other night to contend with and at the moment that's more scary than you are.'
A pause. 'I didn't have anything to do with that. Frankly, I'm not about to go chucking my weight around like that on someone like you.'
'My ribs would disagree.'
'Shut up. You've had worse than that in the playground. Now this is what I know. We did some job a week or so ago, which is what that memory stick is all about. Not usually our thing but the money was good - and like I said, I have a debt to pay off. The job was easy and we had pretty clear directions about what to collect. Problem was, one of the boys got his boat clocked by the cameras and it all started looking a lot nastier than we expected. So we took steps.'
'I think you may have mentioned my gatecrasher before.'
'Right. Not particularly proud of it but self defence really. Anyway, seems that the stick has something on it that should be kept quiet and we weren't the only ones worried about getting caught with our pants down. Which explains this other guy trying to off you.'
'I'm not seeing any great reason to trust you yet George.'
'I guess not. But believe me, I didn't want that to happen. I need the stick and to be honest, it's a shame you've got caught up in this. You seem like a decent enough lad but this whole thing has got way, way out of control.'
'Thanks a lot,' Campbell replied, unable to check his sarcasm.
'Bottom line is, I just need the stick to get Angie back. That's all I care about now.'
'This chap you were working for, he sent someone after me, right?
'Yes.'
'He still after me? I mean is he planning to send someone else?'
A pause before he spoke. 'I think you can assume he won't be happy to hear that you're still around.'
'If I let you have this memory stick George, can you call him off?'
Silence.
'George?'
'Yes. Yes, sure.'
It was a lie and Campbell knew it immediately.
'I'll call you back.'
49
Monday. 4pm.
Sitting at the table with the two ministers from the Department for International Development Geoffrey Asquith was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on the task at hand.
As they examined the dossiers and tender documents from the various companies vying for the construction contracts, it was becoming ever more clear just how much weaker the ones he had been instructed to choose were than the others.
Having had so little time to really chew over the proposition that had been put to him he was trying to continue his work as if nothing were wrong. But every time one of the other men highlighted a particular feature or benefit of one of the stronger tenders it felt as if they were just rubbing it in. He wanted to shout; Yes, I get it! I understand!
'Are you OK Minister?' one of them asked. He must look distracted.
'Sorry? Oh, yes. Fine. Lots on, you know.'
'I hope you don't mind me saying but you don't look at all well.'
Asquith was a little taken aback hearing this from the younger man. He looked at the other whose expression told him he agreed.
'Can I get you a glass of water?' said the first man helpfully.
'No, no. That's?' He was about to say it was quite alright but stopped and then excused himself. In the bathroom he stood at the sink and gazed in the mirror. They had been quite correct; he looked dreadful. His skin was pallid and his eyes dark and a thin sheen of sweat glistened along his hairline and lip.
That telephone call had hit him harder than he thought.
Shortly he was back in his office alone again. His effusive apologies had been waved away by the junior men as they left, insistent that it was no problem and they just hoped he felt better soon. He was a busy man and shouldn't overdo it. His secretary had dutifully, if a little reluctantly, cleared his diary for the afternoon and he had told her that he would be leaving shortly because he was feeling unwell and should she wish to leave early she was welcome to do so.
When he was sitting in traffic on his way out of town he made a brief call and then told the cab driver to make a detour and pick someone up. They both got out at Asquith's home in Hampstead and began to walk the quiet streets near the Heath.
'Has something happened?' said Horner. The effort of remaining silent throughout the entire journey seemed to have taken its toll on him.
'You might say that. You have put me in an extremely awkward position Michael. Extremely awkward.'
'I'm sorry Geoffrey, I never wanted to involve you.'
'Well you have! I had a call this afternoon. It's an insider-trading scam, Michael. Whoever they are, they are trying to set up an insider-trading scam.'
'What? That's insane.'
'Not really. I am currently overseeing a Hydroelectric Dam project that our overseas aid department is part-funding. As is usual, these contracts will probably go to British contractors to build the thing. I'm sure you're familiar with this type of deal.'
'Well construction is not my area and nor is Asia but I have an idea.'
'Yes, well they have kindly informed me exactly which firms they want the contracts to be awarded to.'
'Incredible!' Horner looked surprised. 'How can they ever imagine they'll get away with it?'
'Michael please. That seems plain enough.'
'Well perhaps it's the firms themselves. I mean, maybe they all have ties to one another? Organised crime, front-companies, that sort of thing?'
'I'm not really interested Michael to be perfectly honest with you. I don't really give a shit,' Asquith hissed, momentarily losing his cool. 'The point is it's extremely corrupt and illegal and will probably mean my job, my reputation and my livelihood.'
Horner sighed. 'God, I'm so sorry Geoffrey. I wish there were something I could do, put myself in the firing line.'
'What would you do Michael? In my shoes?' Asquith sounded genuinely interested in the answer.
'I'm not in your shoes Geoffrey, thank God. This is ludicrous. I've never heard anything like it. Is there no way round this? Call their bluff? Have them arrested?'
'If we gamble and lose we're both ruined. Completely. Prison for you probably and for me too possibly. Not to mention the political ramifications. We're looking at a General Election in a little under a year.'
'So we play their game?'
'If we do, they say they'll hand over the data they took from Griffin and disappear. Simple as that.'
'You believe them?'
'On the strength of one phone call? No. But they do have us backed into a corner somewhat. I don't suppose they expect me to play along without some proof but that's a moot point really. Andrew Griffin told me exactly what data had been accessed and copied and filled in a few blanks. It's pretty obvious that the data is incriminating Michael, even if you hadn't confessed it yourself.'
Horner was staring at the ground as they walked, not meeting Asquith's accusing eyes.
'Do you have no idea who it might be Michael? For God's sake, how do they know this? What sort of people do you associate with?'
'That was in the past Geoffrey, I learned my lesson the hard way. When you move in the circles I do you cross paths with an assorted cast of characters. A few of them not nice. That's inevitable really. Maybe someone heard about it from the guys I was in with back then. Maybe it's one of them, I don't know. Our links were pretty loose and easily terminated, of necessity. We didn't have a lot of contact really. Lots of middlemen, lots of smoke. I tried to cut those ties long ago. It isn't like we have diamond smugglers reunions.'
Asquith slowed his pace and stared at the younger man at his side, astonished to find how little he'd known him, at how cheaply cast aside was his trust and hard work when they had been partners. Horner glanced up again and then back at the floor.
'So that's it then. We're fucked.' The word sounded strange coming from such a refined and well-spoken man, somehow the ruder because of it.
'I can't change the past Geoffrey.'
'So we play ball?'
Michael Horner just kept on staring at the ground.
50
Monday 6pm
Sarah turned and closed the door behind her and locked it, dropping her bag to the floor and her jacket from her shoulders. Campbell watched her back, not sure what to say and wanting to look her in the eyes before he opened his mouth.
She looked shattered.
'Hi. How was your day?' she said.
Campbell shrugged. 'You first.'
Sarah wandered past him into the living room and flopped onto the sofa, stretching out and kicking off her shoes.
'I thought I was going to get attacked or kidnapped or sacked or arrested about a hundred times today. Before lunch.'
Campbell stood looking down at her trying to look sympathetic.
'Don't give me that look Daniel. You want to help, get me a drink.'
He did, handing her a beer from the fridge and taking one for himself.
Sarah sipped at the beer quietly for a while and then she upended the bottle.
'I set it all up. Wednesday.'
'You spoke to him?' Campbell asked, with a note of surprise. His eyes were wide and he sat staring at her in amazement.
'You asked me to didn't you?'
'Yeah sure, but?'
'But nothing. Don't fuck it up,' she said and sat up. 'I need a shower.'
'I rang George.'
She was at the doorway with her back to him. She stopped but did not turn.
'The guy in Cornwall anything to do with him?' she asked.
'No. Like I said, not their type at all. George says it was someone else.'
'Who else?' Her back was still turned.
'Whoever it is wants the memory stick.' Campbell told her what he had heard from Gresham earlier that afternoon about being paid to break in, told what to steal. 'Someone else is pulling the strings. Maybe one of Horner's old shady business associates is after him. Maybe he messed with the wrong scumbag. Point is George is just a lackey. Hired help.'
'That doesn't really help us does it?'
'No,' Campbell replied. 'I don't think there's anything he can do about this other guy. He takes orders. Kind of a one-way deal.'
Sarah took a deep breath and nodded. Then she was gone.
Campbell sat down in the armchair and picked absently at the label on the beer bottle, staring into space. He listened to the sounds from the bathroom as the water hissed and splashed and wondered what to do next.
As scared as he had been since the whole thing had begun, Campbell still had not lost hope. At first it had just seemed like a strange and unfortunate situation to be in but as everything had snowballed the fear had driven him on, given him strength and determination.
Now though, he was beginning to think that he was out of his depth, that he should never have run or put up a fight or tried to do things himself. What was he thinking talking to a man like Gresham the way he had? How could he have involved Sarah like this?
He thought about the morning of the burglary, the two policemen that had come to his flat. Professional, sympathetic men. DCI Samuel, wasn't that the name? And didn't he have his number somewhere? The man had left a card.
He lay back on the sofa and he thought about what he had asked Sarah to do that day, what, indeed, she told him she had done. Don't fuck it up. He pondered the chances of his success, of what he would have to do, how persuasive, how convincing, how brave and resolute he would have to be, and how downright lucky too. He thought again of DCI Samuel.
He needed a Plan B.
51
Tuesday. 12.30am.
He had made her park the car a couple of streets away but he was not able to convince her to stay there and wait for him, just as he had failed to make her stay at home.
Having heard the tone of Gresham's voice that day, Campbell finally knew that they were on their own and that they were up against something and someone far more powerful and far more sinister than he could contend with any longer. He had tried to figure some way through the mess but at each turn he had become more deeply embroiled in it, more lost and isolated, more scared.
Sarah had suggested that they call the station to ask for Samuel or an off duty number if he wasn't there but Campbell had refused point-blank. The indications that the people behind this had power and influence were still too strong. Any call to the station might be intercepted or they might arouse suspicion by asking for a personal contact number. No, safer to wait until Samuel was likely to be well out of the station and then call, demand secrecy, some sign that they could trust him before they involved him and then, perhaps, turn themselves in.
Campbell had decided nothing yet. Samuel represented some hope in
a bleak scenario but there was no guarantee that hope would become concrete. He might be a useful back-up to have nonetheless and since there seemed to be nobody they could trust at the moment, just the thought of a sympathetic ear made him feel less desperate.
The first step would therefore be to go back, again, to Campbell's flat where the policeman's card was clipped to the fridge door by a magnet. Sarah had protested loudly that this was a crazy idea, that if there was anywhere that someone would be looking for them, or him, it would be there. Wasn't there another way?
Not, he had explained, unless they wanted to while away yet more scared and stressful hours. This way, taking the correct precautions, they could speak to Samuel that night, maybe meet with him too. As frightened as she appeared to be, Campbell could see that she had no wish to drag this out any longer. The incident in Cornwall had shaken her badly. Of course it had, it had shaken him too. But after the episode in Gresham's lock-up it had perhaps come as less of a surprise. For Sarah, who was just beginning to comprehend the scale of the situation, to be faced with such a brutal, terrifying demonstration of its reality must have been almost unbearable. The news that Gresham was unable to help them must have robbed her of the last scrap of hope that she had.
Now they approached the rear of Campbell's flat through an alleyway. They would clamber over his garden wall and go in the back door since walking right up to the front door was obviously insane. They could of course be watching both entrances but this was the lesser of two evils and so essentially, was their only choice.
'If any of the neighbours stick their head out the window, I'll say I lost my front door key,' Campbell said. 'But at this hour, I doubt we'll see anyone.'
Sarah nodded, too tense now to speak.
They stopped at the wall, where the brickwork reached Campbell's chin. He watched the darkened windows all along the row of houses on either side. There were some lights on too but he could see no signs of movement. Sarah, several inches shorter and in flat shoes, could see little, even raised on her toes.