To their surprise, they found Tanya gone and a message on their cellphones. "Very sorry, they need me at work – one of the regular instructors for the evening class has called in sick. Jack will pick you up once he gets through the traffic. Sorry!"
If they'd known in advance, Goren thought, they could have taken the Tube… oh well. Handily, the street where Towells Construction was based had several coffee bars, one of which, amazingly, didn't look like a chain but an actual small business. They wandered across to it on the grounds that the coffee scent smelt better than the rest, and ordered, deciding by mutual unspoken consent that people-watching was much more fun when done with caffeine to hand.
They settled themselves in a window. Eames took a sip of her iced latte and smiled at him. "Bobby, can I ask a favour?"
"Sure."
"Let's not discuss anything relating to work for at least the next ten minutes. My head needs a rest. I'm really looking forward to having the next few days off." They would have to return to New York soon, but Eames had agreed with Deakins before they left that they could stay in London for a couple of days after they concluded their work there, unless there was a work-related reason for them to hurry back. (As she'd half-expected, Deakins had been in favour of her and Bobby having a short rest and a change of scene. He was, she felt, as concerned as she herself was about the weary state Bobby had been in for weeks now.)
"That gets my vote," he replied. They slurped in companionable silence for a few seconds. He tried to think of something non-work related to say. "So, what do you plan to do for the next few days?"
"Apart from call Deakins and wrap this up? I don't know. So much to do, but there's no way you can see London in only a few days. I wouldn't mind seeing the soccer match on Saturday, Tanya said we could probably get tickets." She sipped thoughtfully. "I might even take her up on her offer, go train with her at the police academy here for a couple of hours. It would be interesting to see how they do things over here."
"You and she seem to be getting on really well. You were talking for ages downstairs." Oops, he thought. He'd obviously said the wrong thing. Eames winced, and put down her cup. "Okay, Bobby? I was going to wait to say this, but maybe now is as good a time as any."
"What is it?"
Eames explained briefly to him what Tanya had told her about the events immediately following Sienna's move to London. They looked at each other for a couple of seconds, then he sighed and stared out of the window, shaking his head.
"Bobby?"
"Yeah?"
She sighed frustratedly. "Nothing, I guess… I just wanted you to know, I'm here. If you want company tomorrow – heck, I'll even go to the British Library with you if you like."
"How did you know I was planning to go there?"
She gave him a duh look and raised an eyebrow. "How long have we been partners now?"
"Over four years," he replied, surprising himself. Had it really been that long? Had it really been that short? It felt like Alex Eames had been part of his life for longer. He suddenly felt he should let her know that.
"Eames…" He looked up and smiled, and she smiled back. He ducked his head shyly. "Just wanted to say… this will sound dumb… but I really am glad Deakins assigned me to work with you. I couldn't have a better partner." He tried to make light of it. "I hope I haven't pissed you off too much over the past four years."
For the briefest second, an odd look crossed her face, almost guilty, then she smiled back and, just briefly, reached out and covered his large hand with her small one. "I feel the same way, Bobby. Wouldn't swap the past four years for anything."
They didn't need to say anything else, and continued to sip their drinks and people-watch in contentment, until five minutes later a silver car pulled up outside with a screech and Jack at the wheel, waving with one hand and trying to park with the other. They swallowed the dregs of their coffees, and left.
As they arrived back at the house, Bobby looked closely for signs of Sienna. Her shoes were gone. Jack wandered across to the table and found a note. He read it aloud. "Message from SiSi: Gone to gym, back later, Drew on roof sulking about being suspended from duty again."
He shrugged. "Can't say that surprises me. Mind you, I'm permanently amazed he hasn't got himself kicked out for good, the number of stunts he pulls. He was even worse when we were younger – he and I used to have flats in the same building, lived next door to each other for years. Still kicking myself that I didn't figure out what he did until three years after I first met him."
"What exactly is it he does?" Goren asked. If McAllister had known Davenport for that long, he thought, he might perhaps know more about him.
Jack paused very, very briefly before answering. Goren had a sudden sense that the man was making a very quick decision, an impression furthered by the deliberateness of his reply.
"Pretty much what he's told you, I guess. His job title is Liaison Officer, but really… he's a fixer. Drew always knows somebody who knows somebody. He has contacts in pretty much every organisation involved in tackling serious and organised crime, and the main reason he's still got his job is that he can get the information no-one else can. Among other things, his department is famous for catching a lot of corrupt officers in various organisations. Anyway, that's why he and I sometimes work together. We're useful to each other; sometimes my contacts find information for him, sometimes he manages to get the inside scoop for me. Plus, he introduced me to Tanya. I suppose I owe him for that, only don't tell him I said that, he's insufferable enough as it is."
A realisation was hovering annoyingly on the edge of Goren's thoughts. Several thoughts formed, one after the other…
Davenport always knows someone, someone who can be used to get the information he's after, and he's quite happy to use people ruthlessly to do so, look at Duncan Ampirelli.
Davenport works in tackling people and drug trafficking, the same as Sienna.
Davenport catches people who are corrupt. Four years ago, he was assigned to a surveillance operation with a CIA agent who turned out to be in league with an Eastern European mafia boss, which is where he met me… and Sienna.
Suddenly, Eames' voice intruded on his thoughts. "Regular James Bond, isn't he?" she remarked dryly.
He grinned, but the thought was gone. It would come back to him.
"If James Bond was skinny, ugly, and gay," Jack replied with a snort.
A disembodied voice from upstairs replied: "I resent that. I'm not skinny."
Jack yelled back in reply: "How long are you planning to sulk on the roof for?"
"Until Michael gets back from Holland."
"Fair enough". He turned, stretched up and reached down the tessen from the cupboard Tanya had put it on top of. "This wants locking away." He caught Eames' look of surprise, and remarked: "I'm not actually short. I just look it because I spend a lot of time stood next to Tanya."
"I know the feeling."
He regarded them both with a slightly hungry expression. "Listen, I don't mean to pry, but I haven't been working for myself for the past couple of days, and Drew isn't paying me – usually he gives me a tip-off in return for my help, but not so far. I work freelance. Any chance either of you could give me something to work with here? We need the money." He caught their glances around the house, and correctly decoded the meaning.
"Ah, Drew didn't tell you… well, he wouldn't. My family's money paid for this; my father's Laird McAllister, back home in Scotland. I moved here once I realised I had bugger-all in the way of farming ability. This-" he gestured at the house "-represents my share of my inheritance. From here on in, Tanya and I pay our own way through life." He grinned suddenly, a more devil-may-care expression than Goren had seen on his face before, oddly reminiscent of Davenport's own smile. Goren had the sudden strong impression that the four of them – Jack, Tanya, Davenport and Sienna – must have been nearly inseparable for some time now.
She has a life over here, now, he thought sadly. Glancing across at the wall of photographs, his eye was caught by a slightly faded image, nearly at eye level. It showed Sienna plus her three friends in what looked like a field somewhere, around midday. The sun was shining and all four were clutching bottles of beer; Tanya and Davenport were standing side by side with Sienna sitting on their shoulders, with Jack stood in front of Tanya, her free arm draped over his shoulder. They were all clad in shorts and t-shirt and covered in mud, grinning madly. The caption below read: "The not-so-fantastic four, Glastonbury 2004 PS I'm taking the photo – Amp!"
"So, anything at all you can think of? I have a nursery to furnish," Jack's voice sounded behind him, interrupting his train of thought.
Hmm, anything we can tell him? Casting around for something useful that wouldn't land them in trouble for endangering the stadium's security, Goren suddenly remembered Upton's words about his last conversation with his son. "This is off the record." Jack nodded eagerly.
"There's the possibility that Towells are cutting corners with their suppliers for the stadium build. Before he died, Ranjit Elahi asked a friend to look into it… the friend's name is Edward Cattley. Perhaps you can track him down – is that any use?"
Jack looked slightly disappointed, obviously hoping for something more interesting than a business fraud story, but nodded. "I don't generally touch sports or business reporting, my field is more politics." He brightened. "Mind you, there's a huge amount of public money going into this. "Giant Corporation Wastes Taxpayer's Money"… aye, mix in the football angle and I might be able to sell that one."
"You know, right now you're giving a good demonstration of the old saying about why journalism is like sausage manufacturing," Eames commented, unable to resist.
Jack grinned back. "If the end product tastes good, who cares about the manufacturing process? Thanks for the tip, it's better than Drew's managed so far. I'll get onto that tomorrow."
"Jack, can I ask a favour?" Eames remarked.
"Sure."
"Do you mind if I take a quick bath whilst I'm here?" It had been a long, sticky day.
Jack smiled. "Help yourself. Towels in the cupboard in the bathroom. You want some wine to go with that? I'm having a glass. Toast our success."
"Oh… okay. You persuaded me."
"Great." He returned a few minutes later clutching a bottle and a tray of four glasses. Eames gratefully took one, then hurried off to the bathroom. Goren wondered whether a drink would really be such a good idea, but then, they were off duty now. He picked up a glass, guessing that the fourth one was for Davenport. Jack picked it up, along with his own, and nodded at the stairs. "Come upstairs; it's cooler up there."
Jack left the room, and he could hear footsteps going up the stairs. He paused for a few minutes, trying to recapture his earlier thoughts, but they had gone. He followed McAllister up the stairs, walking softly, then paused as he heard voices from the roof; Davenport's and McAllister's.
"You got suspended again, aye?"
"Yeah. Bloody Mulligan."
A silent pause, then Jack spoke again. His voice was soft and thoughtful. "Drew… I get why you didn't warn him in advance, but did you think what the implications of bringing Goren over here where he and Sienna were going to meet were before you did it?"
"Yes."
"You know, you could have warned him."
"You know, I was hoping that me saying "Yes" would end this conversation."
"Well, it didn't."
"Well, could it?" Davenport's voice was becoming distinctly annoyed. Listening below, Goren thought that if he himself had been interrogating Davenport, that would have been a sure sign of an area the man really didn't want to be pressed on. Interesting. Frankly, he wouldn't have expected the spy to care.
"Okay then. I was wondering if I could run a couple of ideas past you."
"Shoot."
"Do you know what Sienna once told me when she was drunk?"
"I hate guessing games."
"She told me that there was no point going back to New York and trying again with Goren because he saw her as, quote "just something nice and warm to fuck at the end of a long day"."
Unintentionally overhearing below, Goren froze, rooted to the spot.
Davenport made no reply. Jack continued, still in the same thoughtful, speculative voice. "See, the thing is, Sienna doesn't think like that. Hell, she blushes if Tanya starts telling old army stories about what she used to get up to in bars when she was on leave, let alone talking about her own sex life that way. And now I've met Goren, I actually don't think he thinks that way either."
"Jack, is there going to be a point to this any time soon?"
"I'm getting there. Drink your wine. So I asked myself; did someone give her that idea? Someone who does think that way?"
Goren missed Davenport's reply, as the realisation hit him.
Davenport catches people who are corrupt, who pass information to the people they're supposed to be trying to put behind bars.
DI John Durham was one of those people.
Davenport is who they go to when no-one else can solve the problem, because he can be relied on to get the result.
They caught John Durham because Sienna went undercover, posing as his girlfriend, except that she wasn't posing, she was his girlfriend.
How did Sienna find out about the new post in London, the one she applied for without telling me?An old conversation floated back to him. He and Sienna rowing, in those awful weeks before she had left him for good. It had been a stupid row, in which Sienna had once again implied she thought that he thought she was too immature, not up to the job: "Believe it or not, Bobby, I AM capable of finding things out for myself. I have my own contacts. People who I can trust to come up with the goods."
Suppose for just a second, Davenport had suggested to Sienna that she might like to apply for the new post in London. He couldn't be sure she'd get it… unless, perhaps, he'd suggested to his own superiors that ensuring Sienna Tovitz got the job would enable them to try a sting operation to catch DI John Durham with someone Durham had no reason to suspect.
Had Sienna known? Had she volunteered to do it?
McAllister's voice: "Did someone give her that idea? That Goren saw her just something warm to fuck at the end of the day?"
That I never cared for her? Someone who does think that way?
Davenport himself.
How long did that bastard work on her for? Goren thought with a kind of stunned anger. Of course. To get Sienna to even consider moving to London, she would have had to be persuaded that she and he had no future together. And why would Sienna, young, trusting, see-the-best-in-everyone Sienna as she had been then, suspect that Davenport, her friend, her trusted source of information, had an ulterior motive? That his advice, his support, his helpful suggestion that a new start in London might be a good idea, was aimed at getting her into a position where he could use her?
Sienna on the rebound would have been vulnerable. Suggestible. How helpful Davenport must have been, pointing out Durham to Sienna as a source of useful information in her new job. Whether he had actually intended that the two of them, Sienna and John Durham, would start dating each other, Goren could not be sure, but from his point of view it could hardly have been better, giving Sienna access to John Durham's house, getting him to trust her. If he asked Sienna, would she tell him that Davenport had come to her, pretending concern, telling her that – and he was so sorry to have to break the news – her new boyfriend was on the take? Of course, no-one suspects her of being involved – still, even so… perhaps she'd be willing to help out, prove that she was never involved herself in it, just find out some information for us, just go through his papers and computer and get yourself shot when things go wrong…
It was a pretty far-out idea, Goren had to admit. The sort of scheme almost no-one would think of trying. Unless your reputation for being the guy everyone goes to for results is on the line, and suddenly you need to come up with something to get the result, and you have this idea that this naïve young Interpol translator would make the perfect bait, if you can just get her to leave her boyfriend…
And all the time, even after Sienna had been shot, Davenport had never said anything. Never apologised. Kept right on, pretending to be her friend, hanging out with her and their other friends, even going on vacation with her… Cold-blooded wasn't the word.
This is all just speculation… But he believed it wasn't, and he forced himself to stay calm and look friendly, even relaxed, as he joined the other two men on the roof. If nothing else, he realised as he reached the top and took in the very controlled (but slightly anxious) expression on McAllister's face, the journalist had had similar thoughts for some time now.
"Nice up here, isn't it?" he remarked. "You… you have a nice house."
Davenport was still leaning on the balcony rail, pointedly ignoring McAllister. Goren wandered across and leaned next to him, on the opposite side to the journalist, so that Davenport was surrounded. "I meant to ask you something earlier."
"Sure." Davenport turned to him and smiled.
"Well… Sienna told me some time ago that a friend of hers over here recommended her new job to her. I know someone in my office who's interested in working with the London police… wondered if maybe you could help, maybe you knew something about that?"
Davenport did not answer immediately, and Goren could almost see his thoughts. He was too sharp to think that this was merely an innocent enquiry; he had to know that Goren had no reason to bear the person who had suggested Sienna move to London anything but ill-will.
"Honestly?" Davenport's expression was slightly pained, apologetic. "I'm afraid it was me. She and I... we stayed in touch after the Shorokogat operation. She was pretty unhappy… I mentioned the post to her, and got her the details… Sorry. I know you and she… it didn't work out."
"Uh-huh. Thanks."
"Sorry."
You should be. Goren turned away, and began to walk towards the stairs, mumbling… "Think I'll go and get changed… thanks for the wine."
"You're welcome," McAllister began to say, but stopped as Goren turned suddenly, interrupted him. "Just one other thing… was it you who suggested that she work undercover to catch John Durham?"
Davenport suddenly went very still, and Goren would have sworn that he could hear the man thinking, Oh, fuck.
"Yes, it was." The voice came from behind them and they both turned to look at McAllister.
"She told me one night… we were at home, Tanya had gone out to the shops to get more wine, we'd had a few, I asked her if she wanted to talk about it…" He shrugged. "I admit, I did think that was interesting, Drew. It is traditional not to use your friends as bait."
"That's a really shitty accusation to make." Davenport evidently believed that attack was the best form of defence.
"Yeah, but it's interesting," Goren remarked, positioning himself so that Davenport had to turn his head away from McAllister, keeping him off-balance. "I mean, it was very convenient for you… Sienna breaks up with me, gets a job over here, falls for the guy you're trying to catch… then you ask her if she wouldn't mind helping you, and of course the answer's yes, I mean, why wouldn't she trust you? You were her friend, right?"
"Wow. I'm really sounding like the bad guy here. This is an interesting story." Davenport shrugged, but his expression didn't match his words. It was one Goren had seen before, on the faces of any number of people whose little secret had just been dragged out into daylight. Interestingly, he would have sworn there was some self-disgust there, but then there usually was, and it didn't begin to excuse what Davenport had done to Sienna. To me.
Jack apparently lost patience. His voice became disgusted. "Drew, you screwed with her head to get her to leave her partner, and then you used her as bait without telling her."
"She came out of that just fine." Davenport's voice was defensive, and Goren wondered if he'd ever had this conversation with himself, trying to persuade himself that he didn't need to talk to Sienna about this, oh no, no harm had been done, not really. He watched as McAllister rounded on Davenport, who looked… betrayed. He would have sworn he could see the spy thinking We're supposed to be friends… Had that been why he had never said anything? Goren didn't care, because Davenport had just admitted that what he suspected was right.
His lover, his beautiful Sienna, had been taken from him so that someone could use her as bait.
