Going Grey (66 page)

Mike understood the
Mrs Gobshite
tag now. "Do you need one? I think you'd be better off with an employment attorney to sue KW-Halbauer for nearly getting you killed. I found a tracking device on your car."

Dru's touch-me-if-you-dare expression flickered for a split second. She'd obviously grasped how close she'd come to an unceremonious end.

"You think he was working for my boss, then."

"Would there be a business rival involved?"

"I don't think so."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be. I'm strict about need-to-know, and not even the people I work for needed to know some of this."

"Then your boss used you as a gun dog to flush out the game for someone else," Mike said. "What a stand-up guy."

"Isn't he just."

"Does he know exactly what Ian is?"

"If he does, he certainly didn't tell me." Dru stopped and looked genuinely awkward for a moment, as if she'd detached from her own predicament to stare at something even worse. "If I'd known that boy was an experiment, I wouldn't have gotten involved. I thought this was just industrial espionage."

Maybe she was indicating that she'd negotiate. The fact that it was a classified project was almost nothing compared to the effect it would have on the company, and Weaver would seize the first scapegoat he could find: Dru. Mike could see that dawning on her.

You've finally realised you can't go back to the office again, haven't you?

"We've tracked you, Dru. From the time you called Rob on an illegally obtained number to the time you checked in at the Byway." Mike tried not to sound hostile. Dru kept glancing at Rob as if she was expecting him to step forward and give her a slap like they were running a good-cop-bad-cop routine. "Has Rob summed this up for you? We're completely legal. You and your company aren't. If you want to make a fight of this, fine. My family has the resources to make Shaun Weaver regret the day he started it. But I'd rather resolve this in a way that lets Ian have a normal life without the media turning it into a circus. Do we understand each other?"

Dru looked resigned. "He's quite a kid. And I don't just mean his skills."

"Exactly. He's a boy. Not a commodity. I don't care how many people could be saved by whatever treatments that kind of biotech might make possible – it won't save
him
. So I need your complete cooperation. Think of Clare. What would you want for her? You don't owe Weaver a damn thing, but you do owe her."

Dru's expression hardened. Maybe Rob hadn't mentioned just how much information they had.

"I bet you're going to offer to help," she said. "And I bet you have a price."

Dad had taught Mike that there were always deals to be done, and the best ones locked people in by giving them what they needed most and couldn't afford to lose. The more mutually beneficial, the more binding the agreement would be. Livvie always told him he was too soft for his own good. This wasn't soft. It was prudent and a lot less trouble than violence. Mike wasn't his great
-grandfather.

"You help me kill the rumour for good," Mike said. "You say what I tell you to say, and then you forget you ever saw Ian.  All your money worries are solved just by doing the moral thing. If you don't do it, you fall with Weaver."

"Do you even know what money worries are? I'm a single mom with a mortgage, an asthmatic daughter who'll be going to college, and an ex who doesn't keep up his payments."

Maybe Mike hadn't made himself clear, or perhaps she didn't really grasp the kind of resources he had at his disposal.

"You can have a secure job, your mortgage paid off, and a good education and medical care for Clare," he said. "Or you can walk out of here now, ring the police, tell them your side of it, and see what they believe. If Ian won't morph, though, all you'll have is a guy with some odd genes and weird skin cells."

Everyone went quiet. Rob made an annoyed rumble in his throat and went to switch on the kettle. "Tea," he said. "Won the war, that did. Anyone take sugar?"

Dru was now staring into an empty mug. She was either looking for the catch or unable to take in what relative financial freedom meant.

"And how are you going to explain why I'm here in the first place?" she asked.

Mike didn't like the ease with which his lies emerged. "Oh, you were trying to set up a discreet meeting with my father away from DC that so you could ask him for more names from Ringer to pursue leads. Weaver wouldn't like you troubling senators, so you didn't tell him."

"That simple, huh?"

"Yes. That simple."

"Do I get to see Ian again?"

"Why?"

"To thank him."

"We'll see." Mike didn't have an agreement from her yet. He took out his phone and keyed in the Byway's number, ready to press the call key. "It's not safe for you to go back to the hotel. I'll go pick up your things if you call and let them know I'm stopping by later. You can stay here."

"That's the only contact number my family's got," Dru said.

"You might as well switch on your on cell, then." Rob put three cups of tea on the table. Mike couldn't tell if he approved of the deal or not. "It's not as if nobody knows where you are now, is it?"

"I'll pick up the hotel bill," Mike said. Dru opened her mouth, presumably to protest, but he held up his hand. "I'll make the call and you verify it, okay?"

It solved the problem of making the hotel staff suspicious, but it also put Dru firmly on his payroll if anyone checked the records. He wasn't sure if she'd realised that or not.

"Okay," she said.

Mike waited for the Byway to answer. "Hi. I'm calling on behalf of Mrs Lloyd, room thirty-two. Someone's going to collect her belongings and settle her bill later this evening. She needs to check out sooner than expected. I'm going to put you through to her now."

Mike held out the phone. Dru waited a couple of beats, then relented and took it, avoiding his eyes. She made apologetic noises of agreement to the receptionist, explaining that her plans had changed. Then she rang off and handed the phone back to him.

"My daughter used to tell me I was KWA's
kapo
," she said, as if she despised herself for giving in. "Selling out the other camp inmates for crumbs and a few more days of life."

Mike knew that he had her now. To make sure, he'd ask Ian to show her the letter that Maggie Dunlop had left him to explain that he wasn't crazy but that he'd been lied to all his life. It would either demonstrate she was smart to abandon KWA and save herself, or appeal to whatever sense of decency she had. Mike didn't mind which prevailed.

"Actually, you haven't sold out anybody," Mike said. "Ian gets to go free. Now, do we have a deal?"

Dru didn't look at all triumphant. Maybe the thought that Weaver had used her and put her life at risk was poisoning what
should have been welcome news.

"We do," she said at last. "Because my kid comes first."

"Good," Mike said. "Because so does mine."

CHALTON FARM
1655 HOURS.

"I never knew you were such a crafty bastard." Rob sat in the cover of the small propane store at the back of the cottage, watching Mike fiddling with his phone in the dim light from its screen. "You got her to take the Brayne shilling. She'll have a hard job claiming she's not on your payroll."

Mike shrugged. His hands must have been bloody freezing. "I'm not the one who took her wallet, got her bank details, disabled her phones, and shut down the telecom in the cottage, am I?"

"What can I say? I'm a pro."

Mike did a tight little smile to himself, but there was no humour in it. "Well, she can't change her mind. On Monday she'll have a few thousand in her account that she wasn't expecting to see. Let's say it's to show goodwill. People respond better if they don't feel they've been screwed over."

"Goodwill, spelled
f,r,a,m,e,d
."

"Or proof that I keep my word. And when I find her a job in one of our companies, we'll be able to keep an permanent eye on her. She can choose whether she sees that as being compromised or winning the lottery."

Rob was relieved that there was a ruthless streak in Mike after all. He deployed it in the same way he turned from nice guy to knife-wielding bastard when threatened. Still, Dru was doing a lot better out of it than the last Nazani guy who'd pushed his luck with him.

"Good man," Rob said. "A chip off the old block."

"I don't want this scheming to become a habit."

"You realise Saint Michael's already trademarked, don't you?"

Mike managed a smile. "Twat."

"You called me a twat. You
never
say twat. You must be feeling more positive."

"Thanks for not punching me out for ruining Tom's visit."

"I know how crucial this is for you, mate. I can punch you some other time." Sometimes Rob caught glimpses of the other Mike, the one who came from a parallel universe where people did things differently. It wasn't bribery. It was more like a weary realisation that the root of most problems was a need for money, something Mike could fix as easily as other blokes changed a tyre. "Well, we can't sit here like spare pricks all night. We better move her to the house, or else we'll be spread thin covering two locations."

"What about Tom?" Mike asked. "She might blurt it all out."

"I'll hint that you're the lovely bloke who gives her money and I'm the total bastard who'll put one through the back of her head if she says one word out of place."

"I think she believes that already."

"Yeah, I blame all your Septic movies where the Royal Marine's always the psycho. Thanks. We love you too."

"You're kind of intimidatin
g when you put on your war face."

"I'll smile nicely, then. I can always lock her in the staff apartment." Rob checked the camera feeds on his phone again. "Oh, and when you pick up her stuff, check her electronics. Especially her laptop or cameras. You know. Any images we need control of."

"Thought of that."

"Your dad's going to be proud of you. When are you going to call him?"

"When this is over and deniable."

Rob went back into the cottage. Dru watched him as if she was working out where she'd shove a bread knife if she got the chance.

"I think you'll be safer in the house, love," Rob said, careful not to spoil Mike's hearts and minds job. He hoped she wasn't one of those miserable cows who objected to being called
love
or
sweetheart
. "It's easier for me to secure one location. Just two rules, though."

"Go ahead."

"My son's staying at the house. Tom. Don't mention Ian's morphing in front of him. He doesn't know about it. And keep the blinds drawn in your room. It's ballistic glass throughout, but there's no need to make things easier for that bloke out there, is it?"

Dru nodded, not exactly the picture of gratitude that she should have been for a woman who was still alive and a lot better off. Well, at least she wasn't screaming and whining. Rob admired anyone who could shut up and deal with shit. If this was her first encounter with an armed scumbag, then she was doing well.

"He's very clever, your friend," she said. "He
is
your friend, right? Not your employer."

Rob bristled, not sure if she meant brainy clever or sneaky clever.
"No, we're mates. He's got a first from Oxford."

"
I always try to understand personal dynamics. I can't guess how you met."

"Not at Oxford, but you probably
worked that out." Rob picked up her bag and coat. "Hostage rescue. Africa."

"You really are soldiers, then."

"Private contractors these days. That's what we do." Rob decided to be conciliatory. Dru wasn't really the enemy, and Mike was right; people were more cooperative if they didn't feel they'd been humiliated or fucked over. "Look, you didn't lose, so don't feel bad about it. You did a bloody solid job. We're pros, so we know another pro when we see one. You tracked us down, you didn't make many mistakes, and you didn't burst into tears when things went to rat shit. We respect that."

Dru nodded and picked up her coat. "Thanks. I'll mention that at my next job interview."

Rob and Mike covered her, close protection style, all the way to the house. She looked embarrassed.

"Is this necessary?" she asked. "He's not going to have a sniper position out there."

"Why not?" Mike said. "We've got one on the roof."

Rob couldn't tell if she believed it or not, but she di
dn't comment. Mike went in to check where everyone was and whisked her through to the living room while Rob corralled Ian and Livvie. They left Tom downstairs, playing a game and under instructions to stay put.

"I've warned her to keep her mouth shut about Ian, Mrs Mike," Rob said. "I don't know how long we're going to have to keep her here, but we'll minimize contact. Can you handle her?"