Solo (Aka the Cretan Lover) (v5) (23 page)

He put one foot on the rail and simply dropped from sight, down into the gangway. There were several screams, a sudden uproar, but he landed safely, the gangway door banged and he was gone.

And then there was only laughter and thunderous applause, everyone joining in, even the orchestra, at what must surely have been the most unorthodox departure from the stage by a major artist ever witnessed in the long history of the Royal Albert Hall.

The Arena corridor was deserted, but at any moment people would be pouring out into the corridors at every level of the building, making for the bars during the interval. The third exit door along took him out on to the stairs leading to the rear entrance.

Harry Baker was talking to two uniformed policemen in the foyer below. Mikali recognized him instantly, turned and went back up the stairs.

Could it be that he was wrong? That Morgan had done the sensible thing after all? He hurried along the Arena corridor, still deserted, and made for the exit leading to the stage-doorkeeper's office and the artists' entrance.

When he reached it, he peered round cautiously and saw two uniformed policemen standing inside out of the rain, something he had never known before in all his experience of the Albert Hall.

It was enough. That sixth sense that had kept him alive for so long now, scenting danger like some jungle animal, told him he was in deep trouble.

He turned and started to hurry back along the Arena corridor, a strange, elegant, lonely figure in white tie and black tailcoat and a moment later, Andre Previn and a whole host of people in evening dress came round the curve up ahead and bore down on him.

In a second he was surrounded by excited admirers. Previn said, 'What were you trying to do back there? Break your neck? That was a unique way to leave the stage - even for the last night of the Proms.'

'Just trying to add to the tradition in my own small way,' Mikali said.

'Well, they're all waiting for you in the Prince Consort Room. The Duchess of Kent, the Greek Ambassador, the Prime Minister. Not done to keep them waiting.' Previn laughed. 'This is England, you know.'

He took Mikali by the elbow and propelled him firmly along the corridor.

The stairway leading up to the Prince Consort Room was jammed with people and Katherine Riley had to use all her strength to force her way through. She finally reached the glass doors and found her way barred by a uniformed porter.

'Invitation, please, Miss.'

'I haven't got one,' she said. 'But I'm a personal friend of Mr Mikali's.'

'So are a lot of other people tonight, Miss.' He gestured down the packed staircase and a group of students started to call, 'Mikali! Mikali!'

Beyond, through the glass doors, she could see the room crowded with elegantly gowned women, the men mainly in evening dress except for Chief Superintendent Harry Baker in a dark blue suit standing with his back to the door.

She reached beyond the porter and rapped on the glass. As the porter restrained her, Baker turned. He looked at her gravely for a moment, then opened the door.

'It's all right, I'll handle it.' He took her by the arm and led her into the corner of the landing. 'It's no good, Doctor, he's finished. Nothing there for you any more.'

'I know that,' she said.

He stood there, staring down at her for a moment and then he did a surprising thing. He smoothed her hair gently with one hand and shook his head.

'Women. You're all the same. Never learn, do you?'

He opened the door, stood to one side and motioned her in.

Edward Heath, the British Prime Minister, was himself a musician of no mean ability and he shook Mikali's hand enthusiastically.

'Quite extraordinary, Mr Mikali. A night to remember.'

'Why thank you, sir.'

Mikali walked on, shepherded by Previn towards the Duchess of Kent who was as charming and knowledgeable as always.

'I don't think you've recorded Rachmaninov's Fourth together, have you?' she asked.

Previn smiled. 'No, ma'am, but I think we may say with certainty, that after John's performance tonight, that omission should be rectified in the very near future.'

Mikali left them talking and moved on, shaking dozens of hands. He paused to speak to the Greek Ambassador, not really taking in what he was saying, his eyes moving restlessly around the room, half-expecting to see Morgan's ravaged face staring out at him from the crowd.

Instead, he saw Katherine Riley over by the door standing beside Baker. He smiled wryly, so many things falling into place now, and started towards her. And then, as the crowd parted, he saw Ferguson and Jean Paul Deville standing against the wall drinking champagne.

He hesitated, then walked towards them. 'Jean Paul,' he said easily.

Deville said, 'I think you know Brigadier Ferguson.'

Mikali took an elegant gold case from his inside pocket and selected a cigarette. 'Only by reputation. You take an excellent photo, Brigadier.' He offered the case. 'Greek, I'm afraid. I'm very ethnic. They may not be to your liking.'

'On the contrary.' Ferguson took one and accepted the light.

'And Colonel Morgan of the nine lives? Isn't he joining us?'

'No,' Ferguson said. 'I wouldn't exactly say he's safely tucked up in bed, but he
is
under what you might call house arrest. For the duration of this evening's events only, naturally. It seemed the sensible thing to do. He did rather want you for himself, you see.'

'House arrest, you say?' Mikali laughed out loud. 'Why, you've quite made my evening, Brigadier.'

The five-minute warning bell sounded for the start of the second half. Ferguson said, 'There's no way out, my dear chap, you do realize that? To use that old-fashioned phrase beloved of the British copper, better to come along quietly.'

'But my dear Brigadier, when have I ever done anything quietly?'

The Greek Ambassador tapped him on the shoulder. 'We'd be honoured if you would join our party in my box for the second half of the concert.'

'Delighted, Mr Ambassador,' Mikali said. 'I'll only be a few minutes.'

He turned back to Ferguson who was no longer smiling. 'Your performance tonight was something I shall long remember, but I should hate it to be your epitaph. Think about that.'

He touched Deville on the arm. The Frenchman smiled sadly. 'I told you what would happen, John. You wouldn't listen.'

'But you were wrong, old buddy.' Mikali smiled. 'You said it might be next Wednesday, but it's Saturday night.'

They went out through the door and Mikali watched them go, people flooding around him. Baker had disappeared but Katherine Riley still stood waiting against the wall, still separated from him by the weight of people.

He pushed his way through to her and stood, hands in pockets, the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. And when he smiled, the heart turned over inside her.

'Have you known long?'

'Since Hydra for certain. I found Morgan up in the hills in a bad way, or he found me.'

Mikali nodded. 'Ah, I see now. If it matters to you at all, his daughter was an accident. 1 tried to miss her. It just wasn't possible.'

'Why,
Johnny?' she said.

He leaned against the wall beside her and for a moment, there was total intimacy between them. 'I don't know. People always seemed to be dying on me. I suppose it was a natural progression from that. And the trouble is, I was so damned good at it. But you're the doctor, Doctor. You tell me.'

'You had a talent,' she said. 'Such a special gift. You showed that tonight. And in the end...'

'Words, angel,' he said. 'Nothing lasts, everything passes.' As the Greek Ambassador moved out with his party Mikali took her arm and followed. 'You know, they tell me there's several miles of corridors in this old rabbit warren and not a straight line in the place. Everything circular, one curve after another and Asa Morgan could be waiting round any one of them.'

'Hardly,' she said. 'Brigadier Ferguson had him confined for the night at his flat in Upper Grosvenor Street.'

'Well, he didn't do too good a job of it. Around twenty minutes ago I saw him standing in the exit door of the gangway just below your box and he didn't look too friendly. Mind you, I must say it added a certain edge to the final minutes of my performance.'

She grabbed his arm, pulling him to a halt. 'What are you going to do?'

'Why, join the Greek Ambassador and his party in their box for the second half. The traditional fare. Elgar's
Pomp and Circumstance,
'Fantasia on British Sea Songs' and at the end, everybody in the damned place standing up for 'Jerusalem' and singing their hearts out. The last night of the Proms, angel. How could I possibly miss that, even for Asa Morgan?'

She turned from him in horror and ran for the nearest exit door. Mikali kept on walking at the tail of the Ambassador's party, dropping back a pace or two, turning quickly into the next corridor exit they came to, standing in the shadows of the landing, waiting until their footsteps had died away.

There was a brief silence and then the orchestra started to play Elgar's 'Pomp and Circumstance' March.

He said softly, 'Right, my friend, let's see if we can find you,' and he moved out into the deserted corridor.

16

Harry Baker was talking to a uniformed inspector in the foyer of the rear entrance when Katherine Riley found him. She was obviously considerably distressed and he caught hold of her by the arms.

'Here, what is it?'

'Asa,' she said. 'He's here - somewhere in the building. Mikali knows. He saw him in the Hall just before the interval.'

'God Almighty!' Baker said. 'Where's Mikali now?'

'He joined the Greek Ambassador's party for the second half.'

'He pushed her down into a seat. 'Right, you stay there.'

He had the briefest of conversations with the inspector, then disappeared up the stairs on the run.

Ferguson and Deville were back in the rear seat of the Brigadier's limousine in the car park when a police sergeant appeared from the command-post van and called him out. After a while, Ferguson got back into the car.

'Trouble?' Deville asked.

'You could say that. It seems Asa Morgan's loose somewhere in the building.'

'So, this house arrest you spoke of was obviously not enough to hold him, but then you counted on that, I think?'

Ferguson said, 'The Cretan Lover and John Mikali. All going to come out. Bound to. And what would he get? Not a rope, but life imprisonment, this being the enlightened and liberal age it is. Can you imagine what that would do to a man like him?'

'So, you prefer Morgan to play the hangman for you?'

'Asa always has done rather well as a public executioner. In any case, Mikali alive is of no direct use to us. You are and his untimely going would simplify your own position enormously.'

'Very neat,' Deville said. 'Except for one rather important point you appear to have overlooked.'

'And what would that be?'

'Why, that it's just as likely to be your Colonel Morgan who ends up on his back with a bullet between the eyes in there.'

Harry Baker came down the stairs to the rear entrance foyer. As Katherine stood up, he said, 'No sign of him in the Greek Ambassador's box. I've checked.'

He turned to the inspector and started to talk to him in a low, urgent voice. For the moment, Katherine Riley was forgotten and she went upstairs quietly, starting to run when she had turned the corner and was out of sight.

She paused on the landing below the Prince Consort Room where the reception had been held, not knowing what to do or where to go next.

Faintly, from the direction of the Hall she could hear the stirring strains of Elgar's
Pomp and Circumstance
and then, quite suddenly, and to her total astonishment, she heard the sound of a piano accompaniment drifting down from above.

There was nowhere to go this time, Mikali knew that. No way out. The last barricade and standing there in the shadows, listening to
Pomp and Circumstance
echoing from the Hall, he remembered Kasfa, the smell of burning, the four
fellagha
drifting towards him as he lay there, propped against the well, holding on hard to life, refusing to let go. They'd been waiting a long time for him. A long time.

He said softly, 'Let's make it easy for you.'

He went up the dark staircase on his right. He opened the door at the top cautiously and looked into the Prince Consort Room. It was empty, of course, as he had expected, the only occupant his other self reflected in the long mirror at the far end. That darkly elegant creature that had haunted him for so long.

'Okay, old buddy,' he called. 'The last time, so let's get it right.'

There was a concert grand in the corner by the window, a Schiedmayer. As he walked across to it, he took out the gold case, selected one of the Greek cigarettes and lit it. Then he opened the lid of the Schiedmayer and sat down. He took out the Ceska and laid it ready at the end of the keyboard.

'All right, Morgan,' he said softly. 'Where are you?' and he started to play
Pomp and Circumstance
with great verve, following the distant strains of the orchestra in the hall.

When the footsteps sounded on the stairs it was not Morgan who appeared, but Katherine Riley. She leaned in the doorway to catch her breath, then came forward.

'This is crazy. What are you doing?'

'Trying a little Elgar. I'd forgotten what fun he is.'

He was playing quite brilliantly now and very loudly, leaning over the piano, the cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

The sound drifted down the stairwell, along those curving corridors so that Asa Morgan, waiting in the shadows by the Green Room passageway, turned at once and started up the stairs, his hand on the butt of the Walther in the right-hand pocket of his trenchcoat.

And the sound reached even Baker, standing with the inspector in the rear entrance foyer. He turned and went up the stairs on the run, the inspector and two constables on his heels.

'Please, John, if I ever meant anything to you at all.'

'Oh, but you did, angel,' Mikali smiled. 'Remember that morning in Cambridge on the Backs at the side of the river? That was a set-up because I needed to meet you to make sure Lieselott wasn't a threat to me.'

'I know that now.'

'Not that it matters. The truth is you were the only woman I ever knew I ever really care about. Any chance you could explain that to me?'

And then Asa Morgan moved out of the shadows and filled the doorway.

Mikali stopped playing. 'You took your damned time about it, didn't you?'

In the distance, the orchestra was into the Fantasia on British Sea Songs.

Morgan said, 'I'm here now, that's all that matters.'

'The field of battle is a land of standing corpses.' Mikali smiled. 'A Chinese military strategist named Wu Ch'i said that rather a long time ago. I'd say it sums you and me up perfectly, Morgan. At the end of the day, there isn't really too much to choose between us.'

His hand swept up, holding the Ceska. Katherine Riley screamed, running between them, arms outstretched.

'No, John!'

As Mikali, hesitating, started to get up, Morgan dropped to one knee and fired the Walther twice, both bullets striking Mikali in the heart, lifting him back over the piano stool, killing him instantly.

And then, somehow, Baker was there and the three policemen. Morgan stayed by the door holding the Walther against his thigh. Katherine Riley waited, hands at her sides as Baker crouched over Mikali.

'He could have shot you, Asa,' she said dully. 'Only I got in the way. He hesitated because I got in the way.'

Baker stood up and turned, holding the Ceska. 'No, love, you've got it wrong. He wasn't about to shoot anybody, not with this gun. It's empty. See for yourself. He'd removed the magazine.'

The inspector was at the house phone on the wall behind the bar, speaking in a low voice. 'Link me with the command vehicle. Brigadier Ferguson.'

Katherine Riley went forward and knelt down beside Mikali. His white shirt front was stained with blood, but his face was quite unmarked, eyes closed and he was smiling slightly.

She brushed the hair away from his forehead, then very carefully removed the white carnation from his lapel. The carnation he had thrown to her in the Loggia box. The carnation she had kissed and tossed back to him.

She turned and walked out, brushing past Morgan without a word.

'Kate?' he said and made to go after her.

Baker caught him by the arm. 'Let her go, Asa. Just give me the gun.'

Morgan handed him the Walther and Baker unloaded it. 'Feel any better now? Has it brought Megan back?'

Morgan went and stood over Mikali's body. 'Why did he do it?'

'Well, at a guess, Asa, old son, I'd say it goes something like this. You're good, but he knew he was better and he couldn't afford that, not this time. He had nowhere else to go.'

'Damn him to hell!' Morgan said.

'It's a point of view. By the way, Asa, have you read the
Daily Telegraph
today? Got a list of the latest Army promotions. You've made it at last. Brigadier. Now you can even tell Ferguson to go to hell if you want to.'

But Morgan was no longer listening. He turned and ran out into the corridor. It was deserted except for Katherine Riley disappearing round the curve of the far end.

'Kate?' he cried and as he started to run, the audience in the hall broke into a storm of applause at the end of the 'Sea Songs' Fantasia.

When he reached the top of the stairs leading down to the main foyer, there was no sign of her. He went down them two at a time and straight out through the glass doors. Behind him, orchestra and chorus and the entire audience broke into the glorious strains of 'Jerusalem.'

It was raining hard, the road jammed with traffic. As he went down the steps, Ferguson came to meet him, holding an umbrella over his head.

'Congratulations, Asa.'

'What you wanted, wasn't it? I knew that from the beginning. We both did. Just the same old bloody game, like always.'

'Neatly put.'

Morgan gazed around him widly. 'Where is she?'

'Over there.' Ferguson nodded across the road. 'I'd hurry, if I were you, Asa.

But Morgan, darting between the traffic through heavy rain, was too late for as he reached the other side, she had already moved past the Albert Memorial and disappeared into the darkness of the park.