Ugley Business Read online

  “I’m thinking early stuff,” I said. “Pre-death.”

  “Which death?”

  “Well, the proper one, obviously. The first time was only for, like, a minute or two.”

  “Series three?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  It wasn’t long before I found myself curled against him under the sleeping bag, and then I was snuggled under his good arm, and then my head was on his shoulder, and then Buffy was kissing Angel and I was falling asleep, curled up with Luke, feeling safe.

  My phone woke me again, but this time it was my Nokia, and I didn’t recognise the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Sophie?” A deep, dark, familiar voice. “Docherty. Where are you?”

  “Erm. Home.” I blinked at Luke, who was playing sleepily with my hair. “What—how did you get this number?”

  “Luke. I need you to come over to Angel’s. We have a problem.”

  “What sort of problem?”

  “You’ll see. Is Luke with you?”

  “Erm, no,” I said guiltily. “But I can call him…?”

  There was a very slight pause, and I could hear a smile in Docherty’s voice when he replied, “Sure. See you in ten.”

  Ten was optimistic. It’d take us that long to get there, and that was without getting dressed and making ourselves look presentable.

  “Docherty.” I yawned. “He says they have a problem. Wants us to go straight over.”

  “What’s the time?”

  I looked at my watch. “Three fifteen.” No. It was light. I looked at my phone. “Nearly ten. In the morning.”

  Luke looked surprised. “How many episodes did we watch?”

  “Half a dozen. Ish.” I stretched, feeling stiff, and stood up. “Coffee.”

  We inhaled a couple of pints each and left the house. Luke’s flat is above a roofer’s yard and they all stopped to watch him limping down the steps without his crutches, which he said were stupid and he wasn’t going to use them. Men.

  A bare twenty minutes after Docherty called me, we were outside Angel’s church, being scanned by the gargoyle.

  “Mary, mother of God,” Docherty opened the door, “what happened to you?”

  “Had a little run in with Janulevic,” I said.

  “Almost had a run into Janulevic,” Luke qualified. “Sophie killed his car.”

  “But not him?”

  “Nowhere to be seen,” I said. “Well, maybe he was, but we were all unconscious at the time.”

  “We all?” Angel appeared behind Docherty, looking pale and fragile. She was of the same mould as Luke: somehow adversity seems to make them even more beautiful. If I was crying or hurt or ill, I just looked white and stupid. “Who else was with you?”

  “Harvey.”

  “Harvey from yesterday?” Angel looked like she might cry. “Is he all right?”

  “I think so. Actually if you’ll give me a minute, I’ll go and call the hospital—”

  “Hospital?”

  Docherty gave me a warning look. “I think you should come and look at these first,” he said, beckoning me over to the coffee table where a manilla envelope was lying with some glossy photos peeping out.

  Uh-oh.

  I leafed through them. They were pictures from Sunday night—the camera flash I thought I’d seen. Pictures of me and Angel watching Pretty Woman, pictures of us making enchiladas in the kitchen, all covered in tomatoes and vege-mince, pictures of us sitting in our pyjamas, talking. Pictures of us sleeping.

  “Jesus,” I said, and glanced up at Luke, who was looking over my shoulder. “I told you I saw someone.”

  “And he saw you, too.” Luke peered at the top shot, of me curled up in my sleeping bag. “That’s a close zoom from the bedroom window. These guys aren’t messing around.”

  “Well, he knows about cars, he knows about cameras, and he’s not a bad shot,” I said. “Boy, this is going to be fun.”

  We left a trembling Angel with Docherty, and I suspected his comforting might be slightly more than a pat on the back. I called the hospital and they said Harvey was awake and asking after me and Luke, so I said we’d go to see him as soon as we’d been in to the office to make our report.

  “What’s with the ‘we’?” Luke said.

  “You’re not coming?”

  “Not unless I have to.”

  “You’re a miserable bugger,” I said, last night’s kind thoughts about him evaporating.

  “I don’t like the guy.”

  No kidding, I thought, and put the car in gear.

  Maria was scrolling through files on the computer when we walked in. She looked up, blinked, and got to her feet. “This should be good,” she said, following us into Karen’s office.

  Karen was talking on the phone—a lot of yeses, mm-hmms, frowns and a final, “Well, find out. Bye.” She looked up. “I take it you didn’t find Janulevic? I was waiting for a call yesterday.”

  “We had more urgent things to do,” I said. “Like make sure Harvey wasn’t bleeding internally.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Princess Alexandra. He’s going to be okay.”

  “What happened?”

  We told her about the shoot-out and the car chase, and I felt really, really cool. This was spy film stuff. I was on my way. Look out, Bond.

  Only, Bond doesn’t limp quite so much.

  Karen sighed when we’d finished. “You don’t know where he went?”

  “Or even if it was really him,” Luke said. “We don’t have a description. Really, he could have any number of people working for him.”

  “We haven’t heard of anyone else. But then, how would we? Everyone he’s come into contact with has disappeared.”

  I read the description of Dmitri Janulevic. Average height, average build. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Age unknown—maybe thirties or forties.

  “Well, that narrows it down,” I said.

  “Who did you see yesterday?”

  I shrugged. “I had my head down. I couldn’t see.”

  “Luke?”

  He shook his head. “I was unconscious at the time.”

  “No excuse,” Maria chided.

  “He was wearing a blue shirt,” I volunteered, and got three deadpan looks for it. “And he knows cars. And he has a good camera.” I told her about the pictures and sent a text to Docherty’s number, asking him to scan and e-mail them to the office.

  “Do you have anything else on this Xe La?” Karen asked, and we shook our heads.

  “I’ve been Googling all day,” Maria said. “Ancient shrines, encyclopaedias, the lot. Not a damn thing.”

  “Keep trying,” Karen said. “I have a contact at the British Museum, I’ll see if I can get to him. Agent Four, find out what you can from our American friend. The CIA don’t always share everything. Three…”

  Luke looked hopeful.

  “Go home. Rest.”

  He scowled, and Maria punched his arm. “Fun, huh? Want to help me Google?”

  “Oh, joy.”

  I followed them out. Maria sat down at the computer and Luke went over to the bookshelf.

  “On second thoughts, I’m going to go and see our Russian friend. See if he has anything else for us.”

  “Have fun,” I said. “I’m going to see Harvey.”

  I found him in a private room, surrounded by adoring nurses and little girls with plaster casts. Everyone loves Harvey. Even lying there with a brace around his neck and a needle in his hand, he looked heroic. Maybe the bandages made him more heroic.

  He smiled when he saw me. “The girl herself,” he said. “I was just telling Nurse Robson—”

  A plump nurse beamed. “I said, call me Glenda.”

  “I was telling Glenda here about your driving skills.”

  “Oh God.”

  “There’s a rumour there was an old battered Land Rover outside yesterday…”

  “That would be Ted.”

  “Ted is your car?” I nodded. I thi
nk it’s normal to name a car. Harvey shook his head. “And it still works?”

  “Yep. It’d take more than a Scoobie to bring him down.”

  “A what?” Harvey asked, but he didn’t look really interested. I let it drop. “Could we have a bit of time alone?” he asked the nurses, who trailed away, looking disconsolate. The little girls went too, promising to come back and see their Uncle Harvey later.

  “Do you have like a magnet or something?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Something only females feel? ‘Cos none of the men I’ve met trust you.”

  “That’s because of the chick magnet the CIA implanted in me. Sophie. What the hell happened yesterday? The last thing I remember is seeing Janulevic stopped in the road—”

  “You saw him?”

  “Wasn’t that his car?”

  “Yes, but he wasn’t in it when I came to.”

  “You were knocked out too?”

  “We all were. The Subaru is totalled—” which reminded me, someone should really tell the police about that, “—and Ted was on his side. Me and Luke pulled him upright and brought you up here.”

  “Luke’s okay? I asked about him but they said he wasn’t here.”

  “They wanted to keep him in but he’s too stubborn. He’s okay.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m okay too.”

  We were quiet a bit, then Harvey said, “You really drove us up here after that crash?”

  “Not the first time. Ted makes a good bloodwagon.”

  “But you’re hurt.”

  I shrugged heroically. “What was I supposed to do? Stay there and wait for someone else to come and crash into us?”

  Harvey smiled. “You’re brave, Sophie. I admire that.”

  I blushed. I don’t get called brave very often. In fact, “I think it’s called bravado,” I told him. “I’m really an absolute coward.”

  He grinned. “So what about Janulevic? He escaped?”

  “The car was mashed, but there really wasn’t anyone in it. The only thing I can think of was that he got out and left the car there for us to go into.”

  “So he can’t have been far?”

  I frowned. “No. Dammit, we should have stayed.”

  “Hey, if we’d stayed—”

  “I know, you or Luke could have died. I didn’t know how severe his injuries were.”

  “Luke could have died?” Harvey clicked his fingers in mock-annoyance. “Damn.” At least I think it was mock. “You win some, lose some.”

  “Why don’t you like him?”

  “He’s a suspicious bastard. And he doesn’t like me.”

  “He’s just jealous.”

  “Because you like me?”

  That wasn’t what I was going to say, but it was a lot more flattering than “because you have proper secret agent back-up”.

  “Janulevic,” I said firmly. “I need to know what you know.”

  “You already do.”

  “Have you met him? Do you have file photos?”

  “One, very grainy. And we’re not even sure it’s him. He just looks…normal. Dark hair. Can’t see his eyes.”

  “Height?”

  “Can’t tell that either.”

  “So you’ve never met him?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry. Everyone who’s met him is dead. Apart from Petr.”

  “Petr who is as thick as shit.” I thumped my hand on the bed, making Harvey wince. “And no one’s ever been able to catch him?”

  “We never know where he’s going until he’s already left.”

  “No airline records? Or does he have a private plane?” Strictly speaking, he’d still need to register flight plans and go through immigration whenever he went from one country to another, but that was frighteningly easy to escape.

  “He travels by regular plane, by the time we’ve found the records…”

  “He’s already gone.” I nodded. “We could alert the airlines to tell us if he books a flight.”

  And then I had a brilliant idea.

  “Or we could make him book a flight.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Get out some sort of rumour that the Xe La is somewhere else. Or that someone who knows about it is there. Then when he books a flight, we’ll be waiting for him.”

  Harvey stared at me, and I wondered if perhaps I’d been very stupid. Then he shook his head. “You’re a bloody genius,” he said, and I preened.

  Chapter Eight

  Karen was impressed with my idea too, and decided we should hack into the Louvre database to plant the idea there. Then she added it as a news item to a couple of websites.

  “What if he doesn’t check online?” I asked.

  “He will.”

  “If he’s on the lam, he might—”

  “Newspapers?” Maria suggested.

  “Would a newspaper run a story about a Mongol artefact?”

  “They’d run a story about academics being killed,” Luke said. “Call them up and say you’re a professor of somewhere and you’ve heard the Xe La is in France somewhere.”

  I had a sudden attack of conscience. “What if he actually breaks into the Louvre?”

  “He won’t,” Karen said, “because you’ll be there to catch him at the airport.”

  I deliberately kept my eyes away from Luke. Last time I was supposed to have caught someone I ended up on a flight to Rome by mistake. “Will I get back-up?”

  “Of course,” said Karen. “Myself and Macbeth will be there.”

  Two of them. Great. “No police?”

  “No police, Sophie,” Luke said. “They don’t even know about SO17. Karen, what about Petr?”

  “What about him?”

  “He could give Janulevic the information.”

  “You mean we should release him?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a thought. I think we’ve got everything out of him anyway.”

  Karen frowned. “Sophie, did he see where you were bringing him?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said, realising that he probably had. “It was night, anyway.”

  “We blindfolded him when we brought him in,” Maria said helpfully.

  “Take him away. Drive about ten miles and let him go. Tell him you’re going to France to check out a lead but don’t tell him what.”

  We looked at each other.

  “Now,” Karen prompted, and I stood up.

  “Alone?”

  They all smiled, and Karen said, “You’re armed, and he’s tied up. I think you’ll be all right.”

  I wasn’t so sure, but I went and got Petr, put his balaclava on backwards, and lobbed him in the back of my car. Luke stood watching.

  “You sure you don’t want a hand?”

  No. I can’t do this by myself. I’m too scared. “I’m fine,” I said. “I can handle this.”

  “Be careful,” Luke said, and watched me drive away.

  I went up towards the terminal, then turned off onto the little back lanes and drove until I was fairly sure we were in the middle of nowhere. Then I stopped, opened up the back, and had a sudden panic attack.

  “Quickly,” I called Luke, “what’s Russian for ‘I have to let you go because I’m going to Paris to check out a lead?’”

  He laughed. “Wondered when you’d get to that.” He rolled and spat out a long, complex sentence. Then he waited.

  “I can’t say that,” I sulked, and Luke laughed again. He shortened it, and I repeated it to Petr, loudly, knowing this was the worst con ever.

  Then I got back in Ted and drove away, leaving Petr on the edge of a field, several miles from anywhere. I got back to the office, and Luke shook his head at me. “Told you you needed someone with you,” he said, and I scowled.

  My phone rang and it was Angel. I went outside to answer it, glad for the excuse to escape.

  “What’s up?”

  “Cabin fever. I need to get out. I need to go shopping.”

  “I’m sure Docherty would lov
e to—”

  “Don’t you get the feeling Docherty might combust in sunlight?”

  I laughed. “Glad it’s not just me. Well, look. I could maybe meet you in town for an hour…”

  “More than that,” Angel said, “and you have to pick me up. Can’t go anywhere alone.”

  I arranged to pick her up in half an hour and we’d go to Cambridge. It’s hard to feel unsafe in Cambridge. With all the big brains around, it’s easy to feel quite plebeian, but not unsafe.

  I went back in, and Karen looked up enquiringly. “Problem?”

  “Angel. She wants to go out,” I said. “I’m picking her up in half an hour.”

  “What’s wrong with her escort?”

  “Have you ever met Docherty?”

  Karen shook her head. “He came highly recommended—”

  “Oh, he’s a great bodyguard,” Maria smiled, “but not what you might call inconspicuous. Or a great shopping partner.”

  Luke stared. “You’re going shopping?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “You went on Sunday.”

  Maria, Karen and I gave him blank looks.

  “How much can you shop? Do you have a secret trust fund or something? Where do you get all your money?”

  “The credit card fairy,” I said. “And I need a new watch. Mine’s stuck at three-fifteen.”

  Luke was still looking incredulous as I left. Men just don’t understand shopping. They don’t understand how wandering around, buying expensive and undrinkable coffee, looking at clothes you’re never going to buy and torturing your feet in pretty shoes can possibly be considered recreational. But then I don’t understand football, either.

  Docherty gave me a dark look when I picked Angel up.

  “You’re not supposed to be encouraging her,” he said.

  “I did no encouraging at all.”

  “You could have said no.”

  “And miss a shopping trip? You don’t understand women, do you, Docherty?”

  He scowled at me and I smiled happily. I don’t know why I was in such a good mood. I’d trashed my car, lost a suspect and my calf was killing me where the stitches were holding it together. But on the other hand, I’d come up with fantastic felon-bait, had impressed my boss and was going shopping. And—