Unholy Ghost (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-five

The Comedian put a beer on the table beside Jimmy's chair then sat down opposite him and poured a beer for himself.

‘I'm sorry you could not be told what was happening but I had to use the men that were available and none of them speaks English. It was all something of a rush.'

‘What was planned for me?'

‘There is a young boy in your bed at your hotel, a young immigrant boy. An illegal of course. There are a couple of reporters and a photographer. The police have been primed and I expect someone has been told to be ready.'

Jimmy poured his beer and took a drink.

‘Well, it's not as drastic as I was expecting.'

‘No, not perhaps what you were expecting but effective. You would have been a paedophile, a man who travels abroad seeking out the young and vulnerable to serve his perverted sexual desires. The boy, of course, would have been beaten as well as sexually assaulted. He would have earned his money, I assure you.'

‘I think I'd have preferred a bullet.'

‘The outcome would have been a serious criminal charge which would have been splashed over the media and the job would have been done. No one, no one at all, would want to listen to anything you might say. When the visitors at your hotel realise you will not return they will leave and I will arrange for your things to be collected and find you somewhere to stay until you leave Munich.'

‘I'm leaving Munich, am I?'

‘Oh yes, Mr Costello. Keeping you out of trouble is taking up too much of my time. I think you will have to go back to Rome.'

‘Who told you?'

‘That you were at the club?'

‘Yes. Was it Heppert or the people at the club? Who?'

‘I was told and now you are safe. How I came by that information is no concern of yours.'

‘Like hell it's not. I trust you about as much as I trust the people I met at the club. How do I know you're not in with them on this?'

‘Even if that were the case it would still be no concern of yours. You invited yourself into all this, Mr Costello. You have no idea of what you are doing or what is going on, yet you still blunder …'

‘Those bastards kill people, two to my certain knowledge and they tried damned hard to kill Professor McBride. Is that the company you keep? Is that the way Danish Intelligence works?'

‘More to the point, how do you work, Mr Costello? I have to say I find your methods opaque. I cannot see what it is you are trying to do. You are here with Ms Heppert. Why? She is pursuing her own ends in this matter and I assure you she is not at all interested in helping you. You interview Greta Mann. Again why? Given that she is involved in two murders she is hardly likely to prove co-operative when questioned, especially by a foreigner with absolutely no authority. You barge into a gambling club where you know you will not be welcome and put yourself in danger. Again why? What is it you hope to achieve?'

He was right of course. He was ex-Detective James Cornelius Costello, not James bloody Bond. He wasn't one of those blokes in books who crash into stuff like this, kill the baddies, and save the world.

‘I want to save the world.'

For the first time ever Jimmy saw exasperation in his face. The Comedian had finally run out of patience. Jimmy also had run out. What of he wasn't sure. This bloke might be the only friend Jimmy had at the moment so he decided to give him what he wanted.

‘I came here to kill as many of the bastards as I could.'

This time the look on the face was surprise but it soon faded.

‘Please, don't joke, I am not in the mood.'

‘I'm not joking, that's as far as my plans went.'

The Comedian paused to think about it.

‘Explain.'

‘There's not much to explain. They tried to kill McBride, that was before I got told what any of this was about. With her in hospital I didn't know what I was supposed to do so I decided to do what I could, which was kill some of the bastards who'd blown off McBride's arm and as near as dammit killed her.'

The Comedian sat with a puzzled look on his face.

‘You're serious, aren't you? This is not a joke or some story, you actually meant to come here and kill someone.'

Jimmy nodded. It was only when someone else said it out loud that you saw how bloody stupid it all was. When it was inside his own head he could pretend that it made some sort of sense. Out loud you had to see it for what it was, fantasy.

‘It was a stupid idea but there was nothing else. Without McBride I'm just crashing about, filling in time, trying to play the good guy. I don't expect you to understand but after what she's done for me …'

‘But I do understand. She has saved you more than once. One of those occasions was in Copenhagen and it was I that she saved you from. After that incident I undertook considerable research on both you and Professor McBride, so I do understand. What I don't understand is exactly who it is you were thinking of killing. The club manager, perhaps? The lady who spoke to you? Who exactly?'

‘I hadn't got that far.'

‘You hadn't got anywhere at all, it seems to me.'

And Jimmy had to admit that he was about right.

‘So where am I in all this?'

‘That depends on what you know. What has Nadine Heppert told you?'

‘That it's a war, World War Three, but without the guns or rockets.'

And Jimmy told him what Heppert had said. The Comedian listened quietly.

‘And Professor McBride? What do you think her interest is in all this?'

Again he listened while Jimmy told him about the Nazi loot story and the claimant stashed away. When he had finished the Commander gave a small sigh.

‘For an supposedly intelligent man, Mr Costello, you are remarkably susceptible to fairy tales. Ms Heppert's was less imaginative than your Professor's but they were both no more than stories. But putting fairy stories to one side what have you actually found out for yourself? What do
you
think this is all about?'

‘I think there probably is an island, Heppert had to have a bit of truth to set the lie going because she had to come up with something quickly. If there is an island then I think it's Danish because you're involved. If it's owned by a company that processes a lot of fish it might very well have a deep-water harbour so factory ships can unload. If the island exists then it's become important for some reason and, as it can't be because of fish processing, it must be because of its location and the fact that it has a deep-water harbour. Fish and Denmark could mean Greenland and that could mean something to do with the Arctic. That's about as far as I've got.'

The Comedian sat back and raised his glass.

‘Congratulations, Mr Costello.'

‘I'm right?'

‘That there is an island and that it's Danish, yes.' Jimmy felt surprised but also pleased. ‘Now that you know you are correct does anything else suggest itself to you?'

One thing did.

‘Is it oil, stuff like that? Heppert said this was all about energy, getting control of the energy. A deep-water harbour means big boats which could be supertankers and tankers mean oil.' He waited for a response but none came. Jimmy mentally laid out his pieces. He was missing something. A Danish island to bring out oil or something else just as valuable that was still in the ground, and enough of whatever it was for people to kill each other over it. That was the question that niggled, why the killing? Why not do it like they always did, with money? Why not grease the right palms, slip enough money to whoever could … Then the pieces locked together. Because they couldn't, there were no palms to grease on this one. No one was even supposed to be gearing up to get the stuff out of the ground never mind getting ready to build a place where they could load it ready for transport. ‘They're going to get the oil that's in the Arctic, aren't they? And they're fighting over control of the way it's going to come out.'

A look of mock surprise came to the Comedian's face.

‘But surely you know that mineral exploration is forbidden by international agreement in the Arctic regions?'

‘A lot of things are forbidden by international agreements but they still happen. If there's oil or gas or any other bloody thing that governments and businesses want under that ice they'll be looking. I would say they've been looking for a very long time and now they know what's there and they're all argy-bargying each other to get control of how it comes out when the international agreement goes pop. This island must be ear-marked as the best place for something like a pipeline terminal to get the stuff onto tankers. The Americans want it, so do the Russians, and if you're sitting in, maybe Europe wants it as well. Old Ma Colmar must have got wind of what was going on and bought up the processing company. She must have used Young Hitler and others to buy the shares and either sit on them for her or hand them over. She was a whore and a blackmailer and a double-crosser. Her sort never change and they never give up. She was at it to the bloody end. Ma Colmar was a tough old bitch and crafty with it so everybody waits. No one's in a hurry, the oil won't flow for a few years. But when she finally croaks the starter's flag drops. Unfortunately before anyone gets past the post the sisters in Paris start looking for an heir and things get sticky. That's where me and McBride come in and all the rest you know.'

‘Very good, but this person Young Hitler is?'

‘My little joke. It's the bloke in the wheelchair. Your Group B crowd found out he had a block of shares and went after them.'

‘But he died some years after Mme Colmar's death. Why wait?'

‘No idea. They had to find out he'd got them and when they did maybe he got bloody-minded, maybe he was still obeying orders – sit on them until you are told otherwise. I don't know, but one way or another they decided they could deal with the daughter more easily than her dad so they had him run over. The daughter started selling off his books and anything else that would give her cash to spend on all the things she'd missed out on so they probably got the shares without too much difficulty. Getting Ma Colmar's wouldn't have been so simple. They had to wait to see if an heir turned up. When one didn't I guess everyone interested began to hunt around for someone to fill the vacancy.'

‘Hmm. You've got quite far, haven't you? I can see why Professor McBride uses you. Maybe I should have left you to go back to your hotel, then you would not be a problem.'

‘Am I a problem?'

‘Yes, I'm afraid you are.'

‘A bullet in the head problem not a little boy in the bed problem?'

‘Yes, I think so. Before tonight you were simply a nuisance, it was only a matter of getting rid of you and making anything you might say of no value. Now you may be thought of as a threat.'

‘Like McBride?'

‘Professor McBride was a very serious threat, she has powerful connections and could do considerable harm.'

‘And the journalist? Was he such a threat, did they have to kill him? Couldn't they have shut him up?'

‘He found out about the shares from the daughter. She is a very silly woman which is why it was decided to deal with her and remove the father. The journalist had the key, the shares gave him the location, he would have followed things up and come to the same conclusion you did and there could have been considerable and damaging publicity. No one wanted any publicity.'

‘No, I can see how that would be a problem rather than a nuisance.'

They both sat for a moment, each with their own thinking to do.

‘Well, you can stay here tonight, there are two bedrooms. You will be safe here and tomorrow we can decide what is to be done with you. Now, if you will forgive me I must retire, it has been a long day and in its own way quite difficult. I'm sure you too must be tired. There's plenty more beer in the fridge if you want it. Goodnight.'

Jimmy watched the Comedian stand up and leave the room. He picked up his beer and looked at it, then put it down. He wasn't in the mood. He was tired and he was ready to go to bed but first he had to think about the Comedian. Whose side was he on? He also had to think about Heppert. And there were other things as well.

He pulled out his phone and made a call.

McBride was improving, if she continued to improve she could be out of intensive care in a few more days. There would still be further surgery but the worst looked like it was over. Soon she might even be able to have visitors. Jimmy put the phone away and went to find a bottle of beer. He felt like one now. It was good news and he needed some good news. It was like the Comedian said, it had been a long and difficult day. And he couldn't see tomorrow getting any easier.

Jimmy sat and thought. He went over what he knew, or what he thought he knew. He thought about Heppert and the Comedian and Flabby & Co. Flabby was definitely one of the bad guys, or was he? He only had the Comedian's word that there was some sort of set-up in his hotel. Was Heppert's story a fairy tale? Again it was only what the Comedian said. McBride's story he discounted, she never told him the truth but she was definitely one of the good guys. So, what did he really know? He got up and fetched himself a couple more beers and tried again. But nothing happened so he gave up and thought about tomorrow and the days that would come after that, the future. He thought about when there was no future, when you closed your eyes for the last time, or someone closed them for you – what then? The same old question. Was it finally the end or was it another beginning? And which did he hope for? It was a tough call.

Chapter Thirty-six

Somebody was gently shaking his shoulder. Then he was awake. The Comedian was looking down at him.

‘There was a perfectly good bed in the bedroom. Why did you choose to sleep in the chair?'

Jimmy struggled to sit up. He felt awful. He was stiff and his mouth was dry and he felt as if he hadn't changed his clothes since his sixteenth birthday. Suddenly he was taken by a fit of coughing. The Comedian stood back and waited until the paroxysm had spent itself.

‘Are you well? You do not look so well.'

‘No, I'm not well, I'm old and tired and bloody fed up. Can I make myself a cup of tea in this place or do we have to send down?'

‘I have coffee ready and warm croissants but I can send for tea if you wish.'

‘No, coffee will do.'

The Comedian went to a sideboard where a jug of coffee and something under a white napkin was on a tray. He brought the tray across and put the plate on the table in front of Jimmy. He picked up the glass and empty beer bottles from the table and floor, put them onto the tray, took them away then came back and sat down. He poured them coffee and took a croissant from the plate. Jimmy took his cup and sipped at it. It wasn't much but it helped.

‘I should imagine that your hotel room is now free from problems. Would you like to freshen up here or go straight back to your hotel?'

‘I'll go straight back. I need a day in bed as much as anything, but I need to let Nadine know what's going on. I told her that if I wasn't back by midnight …'

‘I wouldn't worry about Ms Heppert. She sent out for company yesterday evening, that doesn't sound like someone who was overly worried about you, does it? I think you can be back by the time she is up and taking an interest. I'm afraid I have no car to take you to your hotel, my men are occupied elsewhere. I can order a taxi for you.'

‘No, don't bother. I'll sort myself out.'

‘As you wish. Do you want a croissant?' Jimmy shook his head. ‘Then I will take another.'

Jimmy drank some more coffee then stood up. His legs, especially his knees, registered a formal complaint but then reluctantly got going. He walked about a bit before coming back to the Comedian.

‘What will happen now? Will they come after me again?'

‘How should I know?'

‘Because you're mixed up with them somehow. You knew about me being at the club, you knew about the hotel. You …'

‘All right, Mr Costello. I am mixed up with them as you put it. In situations like this one cannot be too choosy about one's allies.'

‘So, will they come after me?'

‘Yes.'

‘And you? What about you? Where do I stand with you in all this?'

‘You are a problem only to them. To me you are still a nuisance. If you can get yourself out of Munich and back to Rome and leave this business alone you are of no concern to me.'

‘I'll see what I can do. Thanks for the use of the chair and the coffee.'

The Comedian dismissed the thanks with a wave of his croissant and Jimmy walked to the door and left.

Outside the hotel it was the beginning of a pleasant day. The sun was already well on its way into a clear blue sky. He decided to walk for a while to blow away the feeling of being a pile of dirty laundry left in the basket too long. He didn't think about anything, he didn't want to think about anything. He wanted a shower and then to get some real sleep. He walked for a few minutes then began to look for a free taxi. He spotted one, flagged it down, and asked for his hotel. He picked up his key at reception and went up to his room.

It wasn't a big room and most of it was taken up by the double bed. On the bed on her back, naked except for a pair of black, patent leather high-heeled shoes, with her long legs splayed wide apart, was Nadine Heppert. She was looking at him, but she didn't see him. He knew this because of the bullet hole in the right side of her forehead.

Jimmy stood for a moment trying to take it in. Nadine Heppert was on his bed. She had been shot in the head. What did it mean? What should he do? What the fuck was going on?

He sat down heavily in the one small armchair and looked at the body. There was blood around the wound and it had run down the side of her face. There was none that he could see on the pillow and none on her body below the face. She had been shot while clothed and undressed before she was put there. He looked around, he couldn't see any of her clothes. It wasn't an easy thing to do, undress a dead body, and people tend to notice if you carry a naked, dead woman from one place to another. Even a fully clothed body isn't exactly inconspicuous, especially if you have to get it through a small hotel lobby and up in an elevator.

Jimmy stood up and went into the bathroom. Her clothes were bundled into a pile beside the toilet and there were smears of blood on the floor. Someone had wiped the blood-stained clothes across the floor before piling them where they were.

He went back into the bedroom and sat down again. Now he knew what had happened. She had arrived alive, come up to the room, been shot, stripped, and dumped on the bed. The blood had run onto her clothes and then they had been wiped over the floor in the bathroom to make it look like a hasty attempt at cleaning up. But if he was being set up for the killing there would have to be a gun. He began to look and then stopped.

‘For Christ's sake, think straight. Call the bloody coppers.'

The sound of his own voice in the room finally gave him the shove his mind needed. He picked up the room phone and called reception and gave them his name and room number.

‘Call the police, quickly. There's been an accident, an accident with a gun. Yes, it's a serious accident, as serious as it can get. After you've called the police you can call an ambulance but it won't do any good. I'll wait here in the room until the police arrive. When they come bring them straight up and let them in.'

He put the phone down and went back and sat in the chair. There was nothing he could do until the police came so he waited.

It had to be the Comedian. The Comedian had picked him up and told him yet another fairy tale which, like the others, he had believed and all the while he was being set up. Why? Where did it get him? 

Jimmy's brain circled the problem while he waited. He had got exactly nowhere when the door opened. A man came in and looked at him then at the bed. Another man came in and stood by the door and outside Jimmy caught a glimpse of the receptionist.

It was going to be another long, difficult day.

The man who had come in first said something to him in German.

‘Sorry, no German, only English.'

The man turned to his colleague who shrugged.

Marvellous, thought Jimmy, now I find a couple who speak no English.

The man came into the room and looked at Nadine, then had a quick look round the room. He went into the bathroom and came out again. Then he made a simple gesture with his hand. Jimmy knew what it meant, come with us. He stood up and walked to the door and went out followed by the two men. One closed the door and said something to the receptionist who left them. The man who had come in and had a look around took out his phone and made a call then they all stood and waited. It took about five minutes for the sirens to arrive during which time they stood where they were and said nothing. Once somebody came out of a room and walked to them. It was a businessman leaving his room to begin his day. He said something but was sent back to his room. When the sirens stopped the man who'd phoned said something to his partner. He gave Jimmy the sign again so Jimmy walked with him to the elevator. The partner stayed by the room door. They went down into the lobby where the police were arriving to turn the place into a scene of crime. Outside there was an unmarked car. The man with Jimmy called to a uniformed officer who was standing by the doors of the hotel. The officer joined them then took hold of Jimmy's arm. It wasn't much, just enough to let him know that the officer was there. Jimmy and the uniform got into the back of the unmarked car, the detective got into the driver's seat and called in on the police radio. When he'd finished his call the car pulled away and the uniform let go of Jimmy's arm.

Jimmy let his head go back onto the seat. He was dirty, dog-tired, and had a headache. There was a naked, dead woman in his room and he had no idea how much trouble he was in or what he was going to do or say.

He let his head turn sideways and watched the traffic and the buildings passing by. The day was bright, a nice spring day and he was going to spend all or most of it in a police interview room if not a cell. The only idea he had in his head was that life could be very shitty sometimes, no, correct that, life could be very shitty most of the time. But the truth was you probably ended up with what you deserved. Not in the little things like money or success, but how you saw yourself, the kind of person you knew you were.

He let his mind run on, he was too weary to stop it. They were pointless thoughts but he didn't care, he let them run.

That's why so many people top themselves, I suppose, but it doesn't put anything right or make anything better or even change anything, it just stops it going on for one person. Who knows? Maybe it doesn't even do that.

And there his mind decided to stop so he looked at the passing scenery until the car pulled into a police station and he got out. Uniform gently attached himself to Jimmy's arm again and he was taken inside.

Now, he knew, his day would really begin.