Betrayal's End, Chapter 19: "Is Now the Time?" FRT
Chapter summary: Goren and Sienna go outside the system in a desperate attempt to save Eames’ life, but the man they’re relying on might turn out to be more dangerous than their enemies.
Chapter no: 19
Story: Betrayal’s End.
Warnings: Some language.
Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of “Law and Order: Criminal Intent” and acknowledge the rights of those who do. I will make no profit from this story.
This is possibly the craziest thing I’ve ever done.
He was back in the tiny flat that he and Sienna had rendez-vous’d in when he first arrived in London. Specifically, he was lurking in the tiny bathroom with the door open a crack, feeling slightly stupid, but mostly afraid. On the other side, Sienna was alone with a killer.
MI5 had been watching them at their hotel, of course, all the way out of it and into a cab. They hadn’t, however, expected to lose their tail so easily; Goren wondered if Amelia Jenkins had had a hand in that. Putting on the brightest-coloured clothes they had with them - a red hat for Sienna, a bright blue scarf for Goren - they’d asked the cab driver simply to take them to the nearest Christmas market, playing the “American tourists loose in cute little old London” card for all it was worth. Once inside the market, it had been relatively easy to lose their followers for a few minutes among the throngs of shoppers in the maze of stalls, buy new clothes in dark brown and black, shed their old clothes, and slip out of the market looking like two entirely different people.
Once they were sure they’d lost their tail, they stole a cab from an angry woman with a full load of shopping. The taxi driver miraculously forgot he’d seen them do this after Goren slipped him a £20 note, and Sienna gave him the address for the street nearby. They’d hurried back through the maze of back alleys, Goren passing the spot where John Durham had knocked him out with a slight wince, and back into the tiny apartment, Sienna talking all the time hurriedly on her cellphone, setting up the arrangement with Doyle.
She’d already had to wire the man two thousand pounds as a sign of good faith before he would even agree to meet them. Once the price had been paid, however, he had agreed to it seemingly quite willingly. That alone bothered Goren… no, everything about this bothered him.
He was gambling with his partner’s life, gambling that Sienna could talk a hired killer into helping them rescue her and Davenport. It was a desperately wild shot, but what else could they do? They needed help now, within the next hour.
He kept telling himself, as he anxiously listened for footsteps outside. In the room beyond, he could hear Sienna pacing up and down. He could almost picture her vibrating with nerves, her jaw clenched so that it wouldn’t shake.
He kept going over and over what she had told him in their hotel room, during a hurried planning session (there was only so long that they could keep up the pretence of his consoling an upset Sienna before any hidden watchers would start to get suspicious).
“Who is it?”
“His name is Doyle. If he has another name, nobody knows it.”
“Mystery man?”
“Hired killer.” He felt her tremble with fear. “He’s a professional, works for anyone with the right amount of money. He’ll do anything, he has no conscience at all. We don’t use him, but several other intelligence agencies do. Five don’t either - officially.”
“Why do you think he’ll help?”
“Drew once told me that Doyle owed him his life, and that if ever I had to, I was to call in that debt.”
“You just said he has no conscience.”
“He doesn’t, but Drew set things up so that Doyle has to help him - the situation it happened in had the highest level of security, and if word got out that Doyle was involved, he’d be a dead man. Everyone from the CIA to the Russian mafia would be after him.”
“You want to blackmail a killer.”
“You have a better idea?” She glanced up at him desperately. He hated having to, but shook his head.
“Besides,” she managed a faint smile, “I have the right amount of money, Bobby. I’ll pay for Doyle’s services if I have to.”
His heart jumped at the sound of footsteps outside. There came a sequence of knocks on the door, and Sienna hastily rushed over to open it. He heard the rattle of chains and bolts, then he heard another man enter the room.
Goren had positioned himself so that he could just see through the keyhole of the door. They’d argued fiercely over this. He had wanted to be in the same room as Sienna. The thought of leaving her alone with a killer chilled his blood. Not to mention, if he was honest, that it was his partner’s life at risk. He trusted Sienna’s negotiating skills, but…
Sienna had insisted with equal fierceness that it was too risky for both of them to be in the same room.
“It’s too dangerous, Bobby. What if this… goes wrong?” She paused and swallowed. “One of us has to be able to raise the alarm.”
“I want to protect you,” he said simply, appealing to her feelings.
She looked back at him, met his gaze and said with equal simplicity: “If you’re in the same room as me, Bobby, all that means is that Doyle will have a clear shot at both of us. You can protect me best by being my back-up.”
He couldn’t disagree with the logic, but that didn’t stop him hating it. They’d agree that he would wait in the bathroom whilst Sienna did the preliminary negotiations. If Doyle was amenable… well, then, they’d have to see how this went.
He remained calm. Forced himself to breathe evenly, not make any sudden movements. Startling Doyle was likely to have fatal consequences.
“Ah, Ms Tovitz!”
The voice was higher-pitched and younger than he’d expected. He supposed that he had pictured Doyle as some sort of strapping ex-Marine type, but the high voice and light footsteps suggested a smaller man. He could see little through the keyhole, but caught a glimpse of a slight man not much taller than Sienna’s own height, wearing dark green. He had an incongruously musical Irish accent, but it sounded somehow odd, occasionally flat, as though its owner was faking the normal rise and fall of a human voice, and occasionally forgot to fake.
“So, now, what’s so urgent that it can’t wait?” He heard footsteps, and pictured Doyle moving around the room. “Don’t mind me checking the walls, I’m a suspicious bastard by nature. You wouldn’t believe the number of times people have tried to catch me out with listening devices, wiretaps, you name it.”
“I wouldn’t try anything like that.” Sienna’s voice was subdued. He wondered if the fear and strain in it was as apparent to Doyle as it was to him. The answer was undoubtedly yes.
“No, you’re a smart girl, aren’t you? You wouldn’t try doing that at all, now. Though mind you, you’d be surprised the different ways people try to catch you out these days. Well, maybe you wouldn’t, being as how you’re in that line of work yourself… I’ll bet you have easy access to all sorts of nasty little things.”
“Only if I want to use them. Please, Doyle…”
“In due course.” He could hear the nasty smile in the man’s voice. “I like to be sure of these things. Take off your clothes.”
He hoped his sudden intake of breath hadn’t been audible. Sienna made a wordless sound of shock.
“Oh come on, you’re not a blushing virgin now. If you’re wearing a wire and I find out now, you’ll still be alive in ten minutes. If I find out halfway through all of this that you’re wearing a wire, well, things won’t turn out too well. Strip.” Doyle’s voice was completely flat now, terrifying. He heard the sounds of rustling, of Sienna taking her jacket and shoes off.
“Push your shoes over to me… That’s it, good girl. Don’t worry, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
He heard more rustling, then the sounds stopped. Sienna’s voice, a little defiant. “Satisfied?” He heard sounds, thought that she must have turned on the spot.
“Nearly. Come on, now. And the rest.”
“You can see…”
“For God’s sake. Take off the rest of your clothes or I’VE GOT A GUN TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S HEAD, COME OUT OF THAT BATHROOM RIGHT NOW WITH YOUR HANDS OVER YOUR HEAD OR I’LL SHOOT HER!”
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. He barely paused; he had no other option. He pushed the door carefully open with his foot, and obeyed.
The sight that met his eyes chilled his blood even as his heart raced. Sienna was standing shivering in the middle of the room, naked except for her bra and panties. Doyle was stood facing her with his gun drawn and pointing steadily at her head.
In his other hand, he held another gun, which was pointing at Goren’s head with equal steadiness.
Doyle was a small man in his early thirties, dark-haired and pale-eyed. He was wearing a long green overcoat which, combined with his delicate features and Irish accent, gave him the appearance of a malevolent pixie. It might have been amusing, except that the two guns were black, solid, and being held in his hands with no apparent strain. He guessed by their appearance that they were plastic firearms, in which case Doyle could undoubtedly keep them both drawn on Goren and Sienna for as long as he needed to.
“Funny that. Once you start telling their girlfriends to strip, men always seem to react badly and start fidgeting.” Doyle smiled chillingly, then flicked his gaze to Sienna. “You’ve got half a minute to tell me what’s happening, and I’d better like the explanation. I don’t like being ambushed.”
Sienna took a deep breath, and replied: “Is now the time, Mr Doyle?”
The effect of this apparent nonsense on Doyle was surprising. He looked genuinely shocked, the first human expression Goren had seen on his face, but it was soon replaced by an expression of anger.
“You shouldn’t know that. Oh, you should not know that at all…” Doyle said very quietly.
“Drew told me that if ever his life was in danger and I needed help from someone who could do what others can’t, I should come to you and say that.”
“Davenport’s life is in danger? Well, now, there’s a surprise.”
“He’ll die if you don’t help us. You owe him your life. I’m here in his place to collect that debt.”
“Really.” Doyle considered for a second. “Of course, theoretically, I could kill you both and wait to see what happens, since if he’s in so much danger even his own people can’t help him, it’s odds-on he’ll be dead soon, and I’ll have saved myself a job.”
Sienna’s voice didn’t waver, although the courage it took for her to speak was apparent to both men. “He also said that if you said anything like that, I was to inform you that a full record of what happened is in storage - I don’t know where - and that I was to make a call to a certain number - I don’t know whose - before I spoke to you. If Drew doesn’t make another call within the next two days, that record gets released to MI5 and the CIA. I don’t know what’s in it, I don’t know who I called, I don’t know anything, so torturing me or Bobby won’t change that.” She visibly screwed up the last of her courage. “I do know that he said you’d be dead if that happened.”
“Hmm.” Doyle frowned, and considered. “Interesting. He is a devious little bastard, isn’t he? Do you know where he is?”
“We know where he is, and who he’s there with. We just need you to get him and the people with him out of there.” Goren’s voice surprised Doyle, who raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, it speaks!” Doyle smiled ironically. “Who’s he got with him, then? Somebody you care about, that’s obvious…” He left the question hanging.
“My partner. Alex Eames.”
“I thought… Oh, I see.” Doyle smiled. “Well then. I don’t really have too much of a choice, now, do I?” His face turned serious. “Give me the location.”
“We’re coming too.”
Doyle raised an eyebrow at this but seemed surprisingly amenable. “Don’t trust me, Ms Tovitz?”
“If I did, I’d be so stupid that you’d lose all respect for me, wouldn’t I? We can’t stay here whilst our friends are in danger somewhere else.”
“Oh, you have feelings for Davenport!” Doyle grinned gleefully at Goren. “Did you see that, now? Isn’t it touching? Well, maybe you’d think not, you being her boyfriend and all.” His voice changed to deadly serious. “Fine. I’ll take you if I can do it. If I think for one minute that you’ll be in the way, I’ll ditch you and you can fend for yourselves. I’m in charge and you do what I say. Understood?”
They both nodded. He held out his hand for the piece of paper with the address.
Not long afterwards, they were in what Goren assumed was a storehouse that Doyle kept his weapons in, on a lonely stretch of the Thames. They’d travelled there in his car, both Goren and Sienna wearing blindfolds (an experience he would be just as glad never to repeat), then waited whilst Doyle checked maps and collected the equipment he thought he would need. He was frighteningly quick and efficient, but Goren was having to repress the urge to tell him to hurry. It was dropping dark quickly, and they had already lost far too much time.
He kept telling himself that Eames was okay. She had to be okay. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
“It’ll be extra for your friend.”
“I’m sorry?” Doyle’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
“Your friend.” Doyle’s smile was unpleasant. “What Davenport has on me is enough to cover his life, but it’ll be extra if you want me to try to rescue her. I mean, difficult situation, bullets flying around - a man needs a bit of extra incentive to take risks in a situation like that.”
He stared at the man, open-mouthed. Before he could say anything, Sienna jumped in quickly. “How much?”
“Forty thousand.”
Goren felt his face go white. He simply didn’t have that sort of money - he could borrow it, given time, but he didn’t have it right now.
“Done, but I can’t raise that much at once, not from here - I’ll need to sell some shares. Twenty-five thousand now, the remainder afterwards.” Sienna’s voice was shaky, and Goren knew why. They had talked about using that money to put towards a larger apartment, maybe even a house for them both. That would have to be shelved now, and they’d probably have to consider selling his apartment to raise the rest; Sienna rented hers.
Doyle looked annoyed, but agreed after it became obvious to him that Sienna wasn’t simply stalling. He stood over her as she arranged to transfer the money to an account he provided details of.
“Doyle, MI5 said that Eames had a companion with her - not Drew,” Sienna explained. “We don’t know who it is.”
“Oh, do you want me to try and rescue them too? Fucking guardian angel, I’m being tonight,” Doyle commented.
“I don’t know. I don’t know who it is… but yes, I do.” Sienna swallowed hard.
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll do what I can. And that’ll be another ten thousand.”
Once the transfer was arranged, he motioned them both to the back of the storehouse, where a small black motorboat sat under a tarpaulin.
There was a small jetty at the back. They helped him uncover the boat and drag it out onto the water.
“Right, now. Remember. You do what I say, and when we get there, leave everything to me.” At Goren’s expression, he continued. “When I get near that warehouse, I’m going to kill anyone who gets in the way. You’re a copper, and you can’t do that. So you leave it to me, just do what I say, and you’ll have your friends back, all safe and sound.”
He started the engine, and the boat moved smoothly and slightly off, a dark shape on the water. It had no lights, but Doyle had his own navigation system and night-vision goggles. They crouched in the back, hiding under a dark blanket to keep from being seen. Goren tried to keep focussed, not easy when Sienna’s face was so white and drawn. He longed to embrace her, but knew he couldn’t allow himself to do so, lest he lose his self-control… He gave her a reassuring smile, and she smiled wanly back, and muttered quietly, “Bobby, I’m so, so sorry. I got you and Alex into this…”
“Sienna.” He made his voice as reassuring as possible. “Sienna, it’s not your fault. You’ve done everything you can.”
“No, Bobby. No, I haven’t. I could have tried harder to contact Drew, but I was willing to go along with Langford. Now, for all we know-“
“Don’t think that. Don’t let yourself think that. Stay focussed, Sienna.”
“I love you so much.”
He frowned slightly, then, seeing her face, let his mask slip a little. “I love you too, Sienna, but we can’t think about that now.”
In front of them, Doyle turned round and admonished them, “No talking, now. We’re almost there.”
They could see the great grey shape of the warehouse looming up ahead on the banks of the river. There were no apparent signs of life. Doyle cut the engine, and pulled the boat in close to the shore. He gestured fiercely at them to be silent. The boat drifted a little further… then, suddenly, he leapt from it.
They heard the thud of his boots landing on the deck of another boat, then a sudden, horrible soft sound and some gurgling. There was a faint splash, as if Doyle had lowered something heavy into the water. He motioned that they could stand up.
“Stay here.” He murmured and pointed at Sienna. “Do you know how to drive a boat?”
She nodded. “Then you both stay here and keep an eye on the boats. Anyone comes near you who you even think might not be me or Davenport or - what’s your partner’s name? Eames? You shoot the bastards. You’ve got the silencers on your guns, and don’t be shy to use them, now, or we could all be dead. So you do what I tell you.”
He smiled at them, a white flash of teeth in the darkness, then leapt ashore, scrambled up the bank, and ran. In the dull twilight, his dark clothes easily blended in with the surroundings; soon, he was almost indistinguishable.
They waited and waited, for what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes; they had lost all trace of time. Suddenly, they heard footsteps, heavy footsteps that didn’t sound as though they could belong to either Eames, Doyle, or Davenport.
Goren raised his arm, taking aim at the running figure. He was just about to pull the trigger when Sienna hissed fiercely “Bobby, no!”
“What!”
”It’s Amp!”
He glanced again at the running figure, and realised with a shock that it was indeed Duncan Ampirelli. His clothes were torn and his hair was wild, and he had a large gash on his thigh which was dripping blood over his sodden jeans. Jesus, I could have shot him.
Ampirelli reached them, his breath coming in shuddery gulps. He didn’t so much jump into the boat as fall into it, and he lay there for a few seconds, catching his breath, then forced himself to speak. Pointing at the warehouse, he gulped wildly, then heaved out the words: “You’ve… you’ve got to go… go help…”
“What’s happening?” Goren questioned him urgently.
He drew a deep breath. “They’ve got them trapped at the top… that man… rescued me… said he needed you to back him up…”
Goren and Sienna exchanged glances.
“It has to be me, Sienna,” he said firmly. She nodded in complete agreement. “We’ll be here, Bobby. Get back here as fast as you can.”
He smiled, fixed her face in his head, then holstered his gun for safekeeping, and jumped out of the boat, clawed his way up the bank, and drew it again on reaching the top.
He took a deep breath, and set off into the unknown.
***
Interlude 8: What Happened At Glastonbury: Body Marks
I blushed furiously, and hoped it was concealed by the heat of the sauna. What had gotten into me?
More like what hasn’t gotten into you.
I pulled a face. True, I was probably overthinking this. It was simple. The catastrophic consequences of my break-up with John, both physical and mental, had pretty much killed any desire I might have felt during the long, painful process of recovery. Now, I was physically healed for the first time in months, and, finally, somewhere I felt safe. Naturally, my sex drive was starting to return. I was naked, in a room with a naked man, and my subconscious wasn’t sophisticated enough to realise that said naked man was gay.
I wondered whether I should be more embarrassed. Then again, of all my friends, Drew was surely the most likely to understand the concept of appreciating the naked male form, regardless of the circumstances…
Nice attractive naked “male form” too, always wondered if Drew was a natural blond… SIENNA!
“Those are pretty,” Drew remarked, startling me slightly.
“Hmm?”
“Your freckles.” He swung his legs down from the top bench, sitting upright and bending at the waist slightly, gesturing at my shoulders. “They’re pretty.”
“Thanks,” I replied, a little uncertain of what to say to that. “I used to hate them when I was a kid.”
“I hear you. I used to wonder if I’d ever fill out. Kind of never happened, but I’m not complaining…” Drew’s voice trailed away, then came back, harder and sharper than before. “Who did that to you?”
The sudden change in tone made me jerk my head to the side, to meet his gaze. He was peering intently at my left shoulder, and I had a sudden strong urge to cover it with my hand. Christ, Drew had sharp eyes for spotting what people would rather keep hidden.
“It’s nothing, okay? It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. Someone bit you, didn’t they?”
I grunted in agreement, though only because I could hardly deny the pattern of faint white scars on my shoulder. Another year and they would have faded for good; the only reason it was possible to see them was because they cut across some of the freckles and stood out, white against dark brown.
“Yes, someone bit me, and no, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I want to talk about it. Who hurt you, SiSi? Was it John Durham? Did that bastard do that to you?” I hadn’t seen Drew so angry since we heard that John Durham couldn’t be tried for the worst of his crimes thanks to the lack of evidence, and would serve, at best, a two-year sentence.
“Jesus, Drew, leave it!”
“I’m not going to leave it if that bastard hurt you!”
We glared at each other. “It was Bobby, okay! It was Bobby! Are you fucking happy now?”
Drew’s face could not have shown more surprise if I’d replied “It was the Tooth Fairy”.
“Goren? Goren did that to you?” He looked so puzzled it would almost have been funny, except I was too fired up to laugh.
“Yes. Yes, he did that to me. Do you want to hear all the gory details?” He started to shake his head, holding his hands up, but I was on a roll. “We were having sex, okay? We were screwing. He was nibbling my shoulder, and he got a very bad cramp in his leg, and…” I tailed away, suddenly really wishing I hadn’t brought this up.
“…and he bit you a lot harder than he intended?” Drew finished the sentence. “Ah.” He looked about as embarrassed as I’d ever seen him.
It had been monumentally embarrassing for both of us; Bobby rolling about clutching his leg and trying not to swear with pain, me trying not to scream and frantically mopping up the blood that was slowly oozing from the cuts before Bobby could see it. It had actually hurt quite a lot, but what had been worse was Bobby’s expression when he realised he’d hurt me. It had screwed up our sex life for the better part of a month, and it was only after I’d put in a huge amount of work to persuade Bobby that I genuinely wasn’t scared to have sex with him again, that we managed to work our way back to normality.
“Yes. Now you know all the gory details. Happy?”
“Not really.” He caught my expression. “I’m sorry, SiSi.”
“Yeah, you’re sorry now. You couldn’t have backed off, could you? You wanted all the gory details.”
“I’m sorry! I just thought that bastard might have done it, and…” his words tailed off.
I continued to glare.
“Okay, I’ve said I’m sorry twice. I can keep saying it, but… I’m sorry? Really?” He smiled apologetically. I reminded myself that so far this evening Drew had been stunningly nice to me, compared to his usual behaviour towards… just about anyone else he knew, really. Apart from Tanya, whom he regarded as something of a cross between mentor and older sister.
I gave a small smile. “It’s okay.”
“Good.”
I made an effort to change the subject. “So, where’s that tattoo?”
“Hmm?”
“You mentioned a while back you had a tattoo. I’ve never seen it, so…”
He chuckled. “No, you wouldn’t have. Here, hold on.” He lay down again, this time facing the other way, with his other side facing me, and his finger traced a line down to a point just inside his left hipbone, low down on his stomach. I saw what he meant; the tattoo would be covered by his clothes unless he was wearing… well, nothing at all, really.
It was pretty simple, nothing like the ornate artwork decorating Tanya’s skin. Drew’s tattoo was the number 42, written in elegant curving script. I worked out the meaning and giggled.
“What’s funny?”
“You have the meaning of life on your stomach.”
Drew chuckled too. “Top marks for the red-headed lady. Most people don’t get that. Then again, usually when anyone sees it, it’s not the sort of situation where you want to stop and explain things…”
I met his gaze across the flat expanse of his belly, and had a sudden powerful realisation that I was looking at him from the perspective that anyone in that situation would see him from. Well, if they were about to… well, my head was barely inches from Drew’s groin, and I forced myself to hold his gaze rather than what I wanted to do, which was follow that line of hair I’d noticed earlier all the way down. What the fuck had gotten into me?
Drew’s pupils, I couldn’t help noticing were huge in the dim light, so dilated his eyes seemed almost black…
“Oh, am I interrupting anything?” A giggly voice from the doorway interrupted both our thoughts.
Drew and I didn’t exactly fly apart, but we both sat upright so quickly it was amazing we didn’t fall over each other.
Chapter no: 19
Story: Betrayal’s End.
Warnings: Some language.
Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of “Law and Order: Criminal Intent” and acknowledge the rights of those who do. I will make no profit from this story.
This is possibly the craziest thing I’ve ever done.
He was back in the tiny flat that he and Sienna had rendez-vous’d in when he first arrived in London. Specifically, he was lurking in the tiny bathroom with the door open a crack, feeling slightly stupid, but mostly afraid. On the other side, Sienna was alone with a killer.
MI5 had been watching them at their hotel, of course, all the way out of it and into a cab. They hadn’t, however, expected to lose their tail so easily; Goren wondered if Amelia Jenkins had had a hand in that. Putting on the brightest-coloured clothes they had with them - a red hat for Sienna, a bright blue scarf for Goren - they’d asked the cab driver simply to take them to the nearest Christmas market, playing the “American tourists loose in cute little old London” card for all it was worth. Once inside the market, it had been relatively easy to lose their followers for a few minutes among the throngs of shoppers in the maze of stalls, buy new clothes in dark brown and black, shed their old clothes, and slip out of the market looking like two entirely different people.
Once they were sure they’d lost their tail, they stole a cab from an angry woman with a full load of shopping. The taxi driver miraculously forgot he’d seen them do this after Goren slipped him a £20 note, and Sienna gave him the address for the street nearby. They’d hurried back through the maze of back alleys, Goren passing the spot where John Durham had knocked him out with a slight wince, and back into the tiny apartment, Sienna talking all the time hurriedly on her cellphone, setting up the arrangement with Doyle.
She’d already had to wire the man two thousand pounds as a sign of good faith before he would even agree to meet them. Once the price had been paid, however, he had agreed to it seemingly quite willingly. That alone bothered Goren… no, everything about this bothered him.
He was gambling with his partner’s life, gambling that Sienna could talk a hired killer into helping them rescue her and Davenport. It was a desperately wild shot, but what else could they do? They needed help now, within the next hour.
He kept telling himself, as he anxiously listened for footsteps outside. In the room beyond, he could hear Sienna pacing up and down. He could almost picture her vibrating with nerves, her jaw clenched so that it wouldn’t shake.
He kept going over and over what she had told him in their hotel room, during a hurried planning session (there was only so long that they could keep up the pretence of his consoling an upset Sienna before any hidden watchers would start to get suspicious).
“Who is it?”
“His name is Doyle. If he has another name, nobody knows it.”
“Mystery man?”
“Hired killer.” He felt her tremble with fear. “He’s a professional, works for anyone with the right amount of money. He’ll do anything, he has no conscience at all. We don’t use him, but several other intelligence agencies do. Five don’t either - officially.”
“Why do you think he’ll help?”
“Drew once told me that Doyle owed him his life, and that if ever I had to, I was to call in that debt.”
“You just said he has no conscience.”
“He doesn’t, but Drew set things up so that Doyle has to help him - the situation it happened in had the highest level of security, and if word got out that Doyle was involved, he’d be a dead man. Everyone from the CIA to the Russian mafia would be after him.”
“You want to blackmail a killer.”
“You have a better idea?” She glanced up at him desperately. He hated having to, but shook his head.
“Besides,” she managed a faint smile, “I have the right amount of money, Bobby. I’ll pay for Doyle’s services if I have to.”
His heart jumped at the sound of footsteps outside. There came a sequence of knocks on the door, and Sienna hastily rushed over to open it. He heard the rattle of chains and bolts, then he heard another man enter the room.
Goren had positioned himself so that he could just see through the keyhole of the door. They’d argued fiercely over this. He had wanted to be in the same room as Sienna. The thought of leaving her alone with a killer chilled his blood. Not to mention, if he was honest, that it was his partner’s life at risk. He trusted Sienna’s negotiating skills, but…
Sienna had insisted with equal fierceness that it was too risky for both of them to be in the same room.
“It’s too dangerous, Bobby. What if this… goes wrong?” She paused and swallowed. “One of us has to be able to raise the alarm.”
“I want to protect you,” he said simply, appealing to her feelings.
She looked back at him, met his gaze and said with equal simplicity: “If you’re in the same room as me, Bobby, all that means is that Doyle will have a clear shot at both of us. You can protect me best by being my back-up.”
He couldn’t disagree with the logic, but that didn’t stop him hating it. They’d agree that he would wait in the bathroom whilst Sienna did the preliminary negotiations. If Doyle was amenable… well, then, they’d have to see how this went.
He remained calm. Forced himself to breathe evenly, not make any sudden movements. Startling Doyle was likely to have fatal consequences.
“Ah, Ms Tovitz!”
The voice was higher-pitched and younger than he’d expected. He supposed that he had pictured Doyle as some sort of strapping ex-Marine type, but the high voice and light footsteps suggested a smaller man. He could see little through the keyhole, but caught a glimpse of a slight man not much taller than Sienna’s own height, wearing dark green. He had an incongruously musical Irish accent, but it sounded somehow odd, occasionally flat, as though its owner was faking the normal rise and fall of a human voice, and occasionally forgot to fake.
“So, now, what’s so urgent that it can’t wait?” He heard footsteps, and pictured Doyle moving around the room. “Don’t mind me checking the walls, I’m a suspicious bastard by nature. You wouldn’t believe the number of times people have tried to catch me out with listening devices, wiretaps, you name it.”
“I wouldn’t try anything like that.” Sienna’s voice was subdued. He wondered if the fear and strain in it was as apparent to Doyle as it was to him. The answer was undoubtedly yes.
“No, you’re a smart girl, aren’t you? You wouldn’t try doing that at all, now. Though mind you, you’d be surprised the different ways people try to catch you out these days. Well, maybe you wouldn’t, being as how you’re in that line of work yourself… I’ll bet you have easy access to all sorts of nasty little things.”
“Only if I want to use them. Please, Doyle…”
“In due course.” He could hear the nasty smile in the man’s voice. “I like to be sure of these things. Take off your clothes.”
He hoped his sudden intake of breath hadn’t been audible. Sienna made a wordless sound of shock.
“Oh come on, you’re not a blushing virgin now. If you’re wearing a wire and I find out now, you’ll still be alive in ten minutes. If I find out halfway through all of this that you’re wearing a wire, well, things won’t turn out too well. Strip.” Doyle’s voice was completely flat now, terrifying. He heard the sounds of rustling, of Sienna taking her jacket and shoes off.
“Push your shoes over to me… That’s it, good girl. Don’t worry, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
He heard more rustling, then the sounds stopped. Sienna’s voice, a little defiant. “Satisfied?” He heard sounds, thought that she must have turned on the spot.
“Nearly. Come on, now. And the rest.”
“You can see…”
“For God’s sake. Take off the rest of your clothes or I’VE GOT A GUN TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S HEAD, COME OUT OF THAT BATHROOM RIGHT NOW WITH YOUR HANDS OVER YOUR HEAD OR I’LL SHOOT HER!”
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. He barely paused; he had no other option. He pushed the door carefully open with his foot, and obeyed.
The sight that met his eyes chilled his blood even as his heart raced. Sienna was standing shivering in the middle of the room, naked except for her bra and panties. Doyle was stood facing her with his gun drawn and pointing steadily at her head.
In his other hand, he held another gun, which was pointing at Goren’s head with equal steadiness.
Doyle was a small man in his early thirties, dark-haired and pale-eyed. He was wearing a long green overcoat which, combined with his delicate features and Irish accent, gave him the appearance of a malevolent pixie. It might have been amusing, except that the two guns were black, solid, and being held in his hands with no apparent strain. He guessed by their appearance that they were plastic firearms, in which case Doyle could undoubtedly keep them both drawn on Goren and Sienna for as long as he needed to.
“Funny that. Once you start telling their girlfriends to strip, men always seem to react badly and start fidgeting.” Doyle smiled chillingly, then flicked his gaze to Sienna. “You’ve got half a minute to tell me what’s happening, and I’d better like the explanation. I don’t like being ambushed.”
Sienna took a deep breath, and replied: “Is now the time, Mr Doyle?”
The effect of this apparent nonsense on Doyle was surprising. He looked genuinely shocked, the first human expression Goren had seen on his face, but it was soon replaced by an expression of anger.
“You shouldn’t know that. Oh, you should not know that at all…” Doyle said very quietly.
“Drew told me that if ever his life was in danger and I needed help from someone who could do what others can’t, I should come to you and say that.”
“Davenport’s life is in danger? Well, now, there’s a surprise.”
“He’ll die if you don’t help us. You owe him your life. I’m here in his place to collect that debt.”
“Really.” Doyle considered for a second. “Of course, theoretically, I could kill you both and wait to see what happens, since if he’s in so much danger even his own people can’t help him, it’s odds-on he’ll be dead soon, and I’ll have saved myself a job.”
Sienna’s voice didn’t waver, although the courage it took for her to speak was apparent to both men. “He also said that if you said anything like that, I was to inform you that a full record of what happened is in storage - I don’t know where - and that I was to make a call to a certain number - I don’t know whose - before I spoke to you. If Drew doesn’t make another call within the next two days, that record gets released to MI5 and the CIA. I don’t know what’s in it, I don’t know who I called, I don’t know anything, so torturing me or Bobby won’t change that.” She visibly screwed up the last of her courage. “I do know that he said you’d be dead if that happened.”
“Hmm.” Doyle frowned, and considered. “Interesting. He is a devious little bastard, isn’t he? Do you know where he is?”
“We know where he is, and who he’s there with. We just need you to get him and the people with him out of there.” Goren’s voice surprised Doyle, who raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, it speaks!” Doyle smiled ironically. “Who’s he got with him, then? Somebody you care about, that’s obvious…” He left the question hanging.
“My partner. Alex Eames.”
“I thought… Oh, I see.” Doyle smiled. “Well then. I don’t really have too much of a choice, now, do I?” His face turned serious. “Give me the location.”
“We’re coming too.”
Doyle raised an eyebrow at this but seemed surprisingly amenable. “Don’t trust me, Ms Tovitz?”
“If I did, I’d be so stupid that you’d lose all respect for me, wouldn’t I? We can’t stay here whilst our friends are in danger somewhere else.”
“Oh, you have feelings for Davenport!” Doyle grinned gleefully at Goren. “Did you see that, now? Isn’t it touching? Well, maybe you’d think not, you being her boyfriend and all.” His voice changed to deadly serious. “Fine. I’ll take you if I can do it. If I think for one minute that you’ll be in the way, I’ll ditch you and you can fend for yourselves. I’m in charge and you do what I say. Understood?”
They both nodded. He held out his hand for the piece of paper with the address.
Not long afterwards, they were in what Goren assumed was a storehouse that Doyle kept his weapons in, on a lonely stretch of the Thames. They’d travelled there in his car, both Goren and Sienna wearing blindfolds (an experience he would be just as glad never to repeat), then waited whilst Doyle checked maps and collected the equipment he thought he would need. He was frighteningly quick and efficient, but Goren was having to repress the urge to tell him to hurry. It was dropping dark quickly, and they had already lost far too much time.
He kept telling himself that Eames was okay. She had to be okay. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
“It’ll be extra for your friend.”
“I’m sorry?” Doyle’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
“Your friend.” Doyle’s smile was unpleasant. “What Davenport has on me is enough to cover his life, but it’ll be extra if you want me to try to rescue her. I mean, difficult situation, bullets flying around - a man needs a bit of extra incentive to take risks in a situation like that.”
He stared at the man, open-mouthed. Before he could say anything, Sienna jumped in quickly. “How much?”
“Forty thousand.”
Goren felt his face go white. He simply didn’t have that sort of money - he could borrow it, given time, but he didn’t have it right now.
“Done, but I can’t raise that much at once, not from here - I’ll need to sell some shares. Twenty-five thousand now, the remainder afterwards.” Sienna’s voice was shaky, and Goren knew why. They had talked about using that money to put towards a larger apartment, maybe even a house for them both. That would have to be shelved now, and they’d probably have to consider selling his apartment to raise the rest; Sienna rented hers.
Doyle looked annoyed, but agreed after it became obvious to him that Sienna wasn’t simply stalling. He stood over her as she arranged to transfer the money to an account he provided details of.
“Doyle, MI5 said that Eames had a companion with her - not Drew,” Sienna explained. “We don’t know who it is.”
“Oh, do you want me to try and rescue them too? Fucking guardian angel, I’m being tonight,” Doyle commented.
“I don’t know. I don’t know who it is… but yes, I do.” Sienna swallowed hard.
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll do what I can. And that’ll be another ten thousand.”
Once the transfer was arranged, he motioned them both to the back of the storehouse, where a small black motorboat sat under a tarpaulin.
There was a small jetty at the back. They helped him uncover the boat and drag it out onto the water.
“Right, now. Remember. You do what I say, and when we get there, leave everything to me.” At Goren’s expression, he continued. “When I get near that warehouse, I’m going to kill anyone who gets in the way. You’re a copper, and you can’t do that. So you leave it to me, just do what I say, and you’ll have your friends back, all safe and sound.”
He started the engine, and the boat moved smoothly and slightly off, a dark shape on the water. It had no lights, but Doyle had his own navigation system and night-vision goggles. They crouched in the back, hiding under a dark blanket to keep from being seen. Goren tried to keep focussed, not easy when Sienna’s face was so white and drawn. He longed to embrace her, but knew he couldn’t allow himself to do so, lest he lose his self-control… He gave her a reassuring smile, and she smiled wanly back, and muttered quietly, “Bobby, I’m so, so sorry. I got you and Alex into this…”
“Sienna.” He made his voice as reassuring as possible. “Sienna, it’s not your fault. You’ve done everything you can.”
“No, Bobby. No, I haven’t. I could have tried harder to contact Drew, but I was willing to go along with Langford. Now, for all we know-“
“Don’t think that. Don’t let yourself think that. Stay focussed, Sienna.”
“I love you so much.”
He frowned slightly, then, seeing her face, let his mask slip a little. “I love you too, Sienna, but we can’t think about that now.”
In front of them, Doyle turned round and admonished them, “No talking, now. We’re almost there.”
They could see the great grey shape of the warehouse looming up ahead on the banks of the river. There were no apparent signs of life. Doyle cut the engine, and pulled the boat in close to the shore. He gestured fiercely at them to be silent. The boat drifted a little further… then, suddenly, he leapt from it.
They heard the thud of his boots landing on the deck of another boat, then a sudden, horrible soft sound and some gurgling. There was a faint splash, as if Doyle had lowered something heavy into the water. He motioned that they could stand up.
“Stay here.” He murmured and pointed at Sienna. “Do you know how to drive a boat?”
She nodded. “Then you both stay here and keep an eye on the boats. Anyone comes near you who you even think might not be me or Davenport or - what’s your partner’s name? Eames? You shoot the bastards. You’ve got the silencers on your guns, and don’t be shy to use them, now, or we could all be dead. So you do what I tell you.”
He smiled at them, a white flash of teeth in the darkness, then leapt ashore, scrambled up the bank, and ran. In the dull twilight, his dark clothes easily blended in with the surroundings; soon, he was almost indistinguishable.
They waited and waited, for what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes; they had lost all trace of time. Suddenly, they heard footsteps, heavy footsteps that didn’t sound as though they could belong to either Eames, Doyle, or Davenport.
Goren raised his arm, taking aim at the running figure. He was just about to pull the trigger when Sienna hissed fiercely “Bobby, no!”
“What!”
”It’s Amp!”
He glanced again at the running figure, and realised with a shock that it was indeed Duncan Ampirelli. His clothes were torn and his hair was wild, and he had a large gash on his thigh which was dripping blood over his sodden jeans. Jesus, I could have shot him.
Ampirelli reached them, his breath coming in shuddery gulps. He didn’t so much jump into the boat as fall into it, and he lay there for a few seconds, catching his breath, then forced himself to speak. Pointing at the warehouse, he gulped wildly, then heaved out the words: “You’ve… you’ve got to go… go help…”
“What’s happening?” Goren questioned him urgently.
He drew a deep breath. “They’ve got them trapped at the top… that man… rescued me… said he needed you to back him up…”
Goren and Sienna exchanged glances.
“It has to be me, Sienna,” he said firmly. She nodded in complete agreement. “We’ll be here, Bobby. Get back here as fast as you can.”
He smiled, fixed her face in his head, then holstered his gun for safekeeping, and jumped out of the boat, clawed his way up the bank, and drew it again on reaching the top.
He took a deep breath, and set off into the unknown.
***
Interlude 8: What Happened At Glastonbury: Body Marks
I blushed furiously, and hoped it was concealed by the heat of the sauna. What had gotten into me?
More like what hasn’t gotten into you.
I pulled a face. True, I was probably overthinking this. It was simple. The catastrophic consequences of my break-up with John, both physical and mental, had pretty much killed any desire I might have felt during the long, painful process of recovery. Now, I was physically healed for the first time in months, and, finally, somewhere I felt safe. Naturally, my sex drive was starting to return. I was naked, in a room with a naked man, and my subconscious wasn’t sophisticated enough to realise that said naked man was gay.
I wondered whether I should be more embarrassed. Then again, of all my friends, Drew was surely the most likely to understand the concept of appreciating the naked male form, regardless of the circumstances…
Nice attractive naked “male form” too, always wondered if Drew was a natural blond… SIENNA!
“Those are pretty,” Drew remarked, startling me slightly.
“Hmm?”
“Your freckles.” He swung his legs down from the top bench, sitting upright and bending at the waist slightly, gesturing at my shoulders. “They’re pretty.”
“Thanks,” I replied, a little uncertain of what to say to that. “I used to hate them when I was a kid.”
“I hear you. I used to wonder if I’d ever fill out. Kind of never happened, but I’m not complaining…” Drew’s voice trailed away, then came back, harder and sharper than before. “Who did that to you?”
The sudden change in tone made me jerk my head to the side, to meet his gaze. He was peering intently at my left shoulder, and I had a sudden strong urge to cover it with my hand. Christ, Drew had sharp eyes for spotting what people would rather keep hidden.
“It’s nothing, okay? It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. Someone bit you, didn’t they?”
I grunted in agreement, though only because I could hardly deny the pattern of faint white scars on my shoulder. Another year and they would have faded for good; the only reason it was possible to see them was because they cut across some of the freckles and stood out, white against dark brown.
“Yes, someone bit me, and no, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I want to talk about it. Who hurt you, SiSi? Was it John Durham? Did that bastard do that to you?” I hadn’t seen Drew so angry since we heard that John Durham couldn’t be tried for the worst of his crimes thanks to the lack of evidence, and would serve, at best, a two-year sentence.
“Jesus, Drew, leave it!”
“I’m not going to leave it if that bastard hurt you!”
We glared at each other. “It was Bobby, okay! It was Bobby! Are you fucking happy now?”
Drew’s face could not have shown more surprise if I’d replied “It was the Tooth Fairy”.
“Goren? Goren did that to you?” He looked so puzzled it would almost have been funny, except I was too fired up to laugh.
“Yes. Yes, he did that to me. Do you want to hear all the gory details?” He started to shake his head, holding his hands up, but I was on a roll. “We were having sex, okay? We were screwing. He was nibbling my shoulder, and he got a very bad cramp in his leg, and…” I tailed away, suddenly really wishing I hadn’t brought this up.
“…and he bit you a lot harder than he intended?” Drew finished the sentence. “Ah.” He looked about as embarrassed as I’d ever seen him.
It had been monumentally embarrassing for both of us; Bobby rolling about clutching his leg and trying not to swear with pain, me trying not to scream and frantically mopping up the blood that was slowly oozing from the cuts before Bobby could see it. It had actually hurt quite a lot, but what had been worse was Bobby’s expression when he realised he’d hurt me. It had screwed up our sex life for the better part of a month, and it was only after I’d put in a huge amount of work to persuade Bobby that I genuinely wasn’t scared to have sex with him again, that we managed to work our way back to normality.
“Yes. Now you know all the gory details. Happy?”
“Not really.” He caught my expression. “I’m sorry, SiSi.”
“Yeah, you’re sorry now. You couldn’t have backed off, could you? You wanted all the gory details.”
“I’m sorry! I just thought that bastard might have done it, and…” his words tailed off.
I continued to glare.
“Okay, I’ve said I’m sorry twice. I can keep saying it, but… I’m sorry? Really?” He smiled apologetically. I reminded myself that so far this evening Drew had been stunningly nice to me, compared to his usual behaviour towards… just about anyone else he knew, really. Apart from Tanya, whom he regarded as something of a cross between mentor and older sister.
I gave a small smile. “It’s okay.”
“Good.”
I made an effort to change the subject. “So, where’s that tattoo?”
“Hmm?”
“You mentioned a while back you had a tattoo. I’ve never seen it, so…”
He chuckled. “No, you wouldn’t have. Here, hold on.” He lay down again, this time facing the other way, with his other side facing me, and his finger traced a line down to a point just inside his left hipbone, low down on his stomach. I saw what he meant; the tattoo would be covered by his clothes unless he was wearing… well, nothing at all, really.
It was pretty simple, nothing like the ornate artwork decorating Tanya’s skin. Drew’s tattoo was the number 42, written in elegant curving script. I worked out the meaning and giggled.
“What’s funny?”
“You have the meaning of life on your stomach.”
Drew chuckled too. “Top marks for the red-headed lady. Most people don’t get that. Then again, usually when anyone sees it, it’s not the sort of situation where you want to stop and explain things…”
I met his gaze across the flat expanse of his belly, and had a sudden powerful realisation that I was looking at him from the perspective that anyone in that situation would see him from. Well, if they were about to… well, my head was barely inches from Drew’s groin, and I forced myself to hold his gaze rather than what I wanted to do, which was follow that line of hair I’d noticed earlier all the way down. What the fuck had gotten into me?
Drew’s pupils, I couldn’t help noticing were huge in the dim light, so dilated his eyes seemed almost black…
“Oh, am I interrupting anything?” A giggly voice from the doorway interrupted both our thoughts.
Drew and I didn’t exactly fly apart, but we both sat upright so quickly it was amazing we didn’t fall over each other.