Vicious Circle (23 page)

The food held them in respectful silence for another few minutes, then Nastiya sighed with pleasure and dabbed her lips with her napkin before she spoke.

‘She is a sweet child, this Victoria. I like her. Of course she is very naïve and crazy about men, like every healthy girl of her age. But she is not really bad. She drank two glasses of the wine and she thinks that now I am her new best friend. She is lonely like Hector says. She wants someone to talk to. In the end it was not easy for me to get away from her. She thinks this Aleutian character is going to come back from America and marry her.’

‘So that’s where he has disappeared to. It fits in with his accent and his tattoo. Does she know that he was involved in Hazel’s murder?’

Nastiya was firm and certain in her reply. ‘I am sure she does not. Of course, I could not press her on the subject, but knowing I work for Hector, she brought up the subject herself. She knew all about the murder of Hazel from the TV and papers. But she never made the connection to Aleutian. Aleutian told her that he is a big wheel in the oil business in California. He asked her to help him set up a meeting with Hazel. He wanted to interest Bannock Oil and Hazel in some kind of deal he is brewing up. He asked Victoria to let him know when Hazel left Doctor Donnovan’s clinic that day so he could wait to meet her, accidentally on purpose. I told you, Vicky is very naïve and a little bit stupid. But I like her.’

‘So I suppose we are not going to snatch Vicky and make her warble?’ Paddy looked at Hector. ‘I am disappointed. That could have been fun.’

Hector smiled and replied, ‘I am pretty damn sure Nastiya is correct. This girl is a patsy. She isn’t very bright and she knows nothing. But there is a chance that Aleutian might come back for another taste of the good stuff she dishes out so freely. That is about the only use she is to him or to us now. Do you know if Vicky has his current telephone number or any other contact details?’

‘I asked her, but she only has the number we got from her iPhone. She says he never answers her calls. She thinks that’s only because he does not have roaming on his phone in the USA. All she knows is that he promised he would come back and then they would shack up together. She trusts him to keep his word.’

‘Keep in contact with her please, Nazzy. It might just happen.’

‘So what do we do until then, boss?’ Dave Imbiss asked. ‘Have we hit another dead end, or what?’ They all looked at him but Hector did not answer at once. He took a sip from his wine glass and rolled it around his tongue.

‘This Chablis really goes so well with the sole.’

‘We all know that you are a great connoisseur, but that does not really answer David’s question,’ Nastiya pointed out.

Hector was saved by the reappearance of Stephen, his butler, and he turned to him with mild relief. ‘What is it, Stephen?’

‘I am sorry to bother you, sir. But there is a gentleman at the front door. Well, to be truthful, sir, I think he is more a scruffy youth than a gentleman. I tried to send him away but he is very insistent. He says that he has been sent to you by somebody named Sam Mucker. He said you would know who he means. He says it’s a matter of life and death; those were his exact words.’ Hector thought about it for a moment.

‘Sam Mucker? I do not have the faintest idea what he is talking about. It’s after ten o’clock and we are in the middle of dinner. Please, Stephen, tell the fellow to kindly piss off.’

‘It will be a pleasure, Mr Cross.’ Stephen smothered a grin and headed back to the door with a firm and determined step. As he closed the door behind him Hector suddenly leapt from his chair at the head of the table.

‘Shit!’ he cried. ‘He means Aazim Muktar! Stephen, come back here at once!’

The door reopened and Stephen stood to attention in the doorway. ‘You called, sir?’

‘I did indeed. Change of plan; please take the gentleman to the library and offer him a drink. Treat him like a gentleman no matter what. Be kind to him. Tell him I will be with him right away.’ Hector turned back to Dave. ‘No, young David, my lad. I don’t think we have hit another dead end. In fact, I think the real fun may just be about to begin.’ He rang for the footman and told him, ‘Ask Chef to keep the rest of this excellent meal in the warmer for me.’ Then he stood up and told the others, ‘Don’t wait for me, I might be a little while.’ And he left the dining room and went to the library.

The fewer people who got a look at Aazim Muktar’s agent, the better for all of them.

*

The visitor stood in front of the fireplace warming his back. He had a Coke can in one hand and Hector saw at once why Stephen had taken exception to him. He was unshaven and his hair was matted and greasy. His jeans were tattered and had probably never seen the interior of a washing machine. His mouth was sullen and his manner hangdog. Everything about him proclaimed that here was one of life’s rejects, one of the losers.

Hector went to him and offered his hand. ‘Hello, I am Hector Cross.’ The boy took Hector’s hand without hesitation. His eyes were light brown, friendly and intelligent, completely at odds with the rest of his appearance.

‘I know. I googled you, Mr Cross. Very impressive you are too. I am Yaf Said, but I used to be Rupert Marsh before I found Allah.’ His voice was pleasant and decisive.

‘So what do I call you?’

‘Take your pick, sir.’

‘Yaf means friend. I’ll call you that, okay?’

‘Okay, I would like that, sir.’

‘Take a seat, Yaf,’ Hector invited him and he set an example by sinking into one of the leather armchairs.

‘The fire is good, sir.’ Yaf declined. ‘It was cold on my bike. Besides, I prefer to stand in the presence of my elders and betters.’

Hector blinked with surprise.
This kid has got class,
he thought, and Yaf seemed to read his mind.

‘Please excuse my hair and beard, and my general turn-out. This is my working kit.’

‘Aazim Muktar told me that you help other kids find the road they’ve lost.’

Yaf’s face lit up at the name. ‘Just the same as Aazim Muktar did for me. When I wandered into his mosque I was a wreck, a total wreck. I was sick of life, sick of myself and full of drugs. He showed me the way and turned me around. He is a truly great man. A great and holy man.’ He grinned sheepishly. ‘Hey! Sorry, Mr Cross. I sound like a TV commercial!’

‘I know how you feel. I am also one of his fans.’

‘Aazim Muktar tells me you are looking for a man. He didn’t tell me why, and I am not going to ask.’

‘For what it’s worth, the name of the person I want is Aleutian,’ Hector said, and Yaf smiled.

‘Out there in the netherworld, names mean either not much or nothing at all. Do you know what he looks like, sir?’

‘I have pictures of him,’ Hector confirmed.

‘You have made my day, sir. Pics will make the job a cinch. May I see them, please?’

‘I will get them for you. It may take a little time.’ Hector stood up. ‘When did you last eat, Yaf? You look pretty skinny to me.’

‘I don’t get much time to eat out there.’

‘Well, you’ve got time now. I’ll have the cook send you a stack of sandwiches and a bowl of chips with ketchup.’

‘Thank you, sir. That sounds great. But please, no meat. I am a veggie.’

‘Eggs and cheese?’

‘Both those are good.’

Within an hour Dave had printed a dozen stills from Vicky’s videos and Hector took them back to the library where Yaf had just demolished a platter of cheese, tomato and Marmite sandwiches and was busy with the hard-boiled eggs and the bowl of chips. He sprang to his feet when Hector walked into the library again.

‘Those were the best sandwiches I have eaten in the fifteen years since my mum died and I took to the streets.’ To Hector he did not look much older than twenty-five. So he must have been living rough since he was ten.

‘What about your dad?’ he asked, and Yaf smiled ruefully.

‘Never knew him. I don’t think even my mum knew much about him either. Maybe I am one of those lucky guys who have only one mother but twenty-five putative fathers. I just don’t know.’

Hector smiled at this brave little jest and handed the prints to him. ‘Take a look at these, and see what you make of them. But do me a favour and sit down, will you? You’re making me nervous, Yaf.’

Yaf sat on the edge of the chair facing Hector and thumbed through Dave’s prints, examining each of them carefully.

‘You see the tattoo he is wearing?’ Hector asked.

‘Yeah, that’s a Maalik gang mark. He must be a made man.’ At last he looked up at Hector and said, ‘I am sorry, sir. I don’t know this guy but he looks like bad news.’

Then he saw Hector’s disappointment and he hurried on. ‘But please don’t worry about it, sir. If he is within fifty miles of London I will find him. I will have a lot of eyes on the street looking out for him. Can you give me a number where I can call you in a hurry? Guys like this move around fast, like cruising tiger sharks.’

‘When you do have a contact, you can call me on this number.’ Hector went to his desk and scribbled his iPhone number on a blank card. ‘You can get me wherever I am on the globe. Call me reverse charges.’ He handed the card to Yaf.

Hector walked to the front door with Yaf and watched him climb onto his BWs 125cc scooter and putter away out of the gates.

‘Probably never see him again, but you never know.’

*

He tried to put the lad out of his mind. However, over the next few days Yaf kept wheedling his way back into Hector’s thoughts; even when he was trying to concentrate on reading through Hazel’s documentation.

‘This is a cocked-up society when the bankers pull in multimillion-pound bonuses and good kids can’t find a job and so they rot on the streets and turn bad. We have a shit storm brewing up out there,’ he observed to Paddy one day.

It made him think about Catherine Cayla and what the world had in store for her further down the line. He realized how much he had missed his daughter and how desperately he needed to see her again. So a few days later he took Paddy, Nastiya and Dave Imbiss and they all flew back to Abu Zara.

*

‘We have been a very good little girl, Daddy. We have put on almost a whole pound since you went away.’ Bonnie placed Catherine in his arms the moment he entered the lobby of the Seascape penthouse. ‘But we have missed our daddy so much, haven’t we, baby?’

Hector’s ear was slightly out of tune to this variety of nursery talk and he was not quite sure who had missed whom, but he hoped it was not the way Bonnie made it sound.

Hector’s arrival was just in time to allow him to give Catherine her bottle and put her into her cot. The next morning he placed her in a modern version of the papoose, a cocoon made of nylon on an aluminium frame, ergonomically designed to protect and cosset an infant. Dave Imbiss had obtained from somewhere this high-tech baby carrier for him. When it was strapped to his chest Hector could watch Catherine’s face as he ran. Or he could strap it on his back so Catherine could look over his shoulder.

He took her for a ten-mile run along the beachfront. She seemed to enjoy the rocking motion, at least she made no audible protest; rather she slept the whole way and only woke up when they returned home with an appetite like a lion cub. She had missed her feed, as Bonnie announced to the world in stentorian and disapproving tones.

The days settled into a quiet but not unpleasant routine. Of course Paddy and Nastiya had their own apartment in Abu Zara City. They both worked out of Cross Bow headquarters in the same building, although days might pass without them meeting. However, Paddy phoned Hector every evening to discuss developments; but there were few of these and none of any great significance.

At least twice a week Nastiya invited Hector to dinner at their apartment or at one of the many five-star restaurants in the city. Always there would be one of Nastiya’s guests in the company: young, female, nubile and unmarried. It was amazing where she found so many of them. She must have trawled the cabin crews of all the airlines, the offices of the secretarial staff of the British and American embassies and the major global companies operating in the city. Even when Hector adroitly side-stepped these obvious man traps, Nastiya never gave up trying. It became a friendly game between them. Paddy looked on with an amused air.

Dave Imbiss spent many hours each day at the Seascape penthouse checking and improving the security arrangements surrounding Catherine Cayla, and making certain that his men stayed alert and at the top of their game. Baby Catherine was never left alone. One of her three nursemaids was by her side every minute of the day and night. There was always an armed guard outside the nursery door, and another Cross Bow team in the CCTV monitor room down the passage watching all the entrances to the apartments and the interior of the nursery on the screens.

Hector ate breakfast with Catherine at six every morning. He waded into the bacon and eggs but she stayed with her bottle. Afterwards he took her for their constitutional run along the beachfront. When they returned to the penthouse he handed her over to her nurses and spent the rest of the morning perusing the poignant records of Hazel’s life.

For Hector, the principal and most fascinating of these were her diaries. These were the only documents of Hazel’s that Agatha had not digitized. Hazel had started writing them up from her fourteenth birthday. There were over twenty identical black booklets in her collection, one for each year of her life after puberty.

The diaries were written in a minute script, and strewn with her codes and secret writing. It took all of his imagination and ingenuity to break some of her codes. She had recorded every detail of her life, both trivial and apocalyptic. Hector was enthralled. He had already learned as much about her as he had ever dreamed was feasible. But here were her boasts and her confessions written in her own hand. She even described with relish the loss of her virginity on her fifteenth birthday, to her tennis coach on the back seat of his old Ford. This gave Hector a stab of jealousy.

‘The randy bastard was almost thirty years older than my innocent little baby. He should have been locked up for what he did to her. Bloody paedophile!’ Then he consoled himself with the thought that the bloody paedophile was probably fat, bald and impotent by now, and that Hazel had patently enjoyed the experience. He shuffled through the diaries, skipping the intervening years until he came to the day of their first meeting.