‘Give me the pen, quick,’ said Lynch. He repeated the jet’s registration number to himself, then quickly scribbled it down on the corner of the map when Marie handed him the pen. ‘I can find out where they’re going,’ he explained.
‘The same guy who told you they were in Wales?’ Lynch nodded. ‘Then what?’
Lynch smiled at her eagerness. ‘That depends where he’s gone, love.’
‘I’d put my money on London,’ said Marie.
‘Yeah? Why?’
‘It’s a British-registered jet, and it was heading east. Could be Europe, though, I suppose.’
‘How do you know it’s British?’
‘The first letter of the registration was G, right? All British registered planes start with a G.’
‘How do you know that?’
She patted him on the thigh. ‘I went out with a pilot for a while,’ she said. ‘Let’s go use the phone. I want to call the office and say that I’ll be off for another couple of days.’
‘You’re staying, then?’ asked Lynch, tearing off the piece of map on which he’d written the number.
‘Oh yes, Dermott. I’m sticking to you like shit to a cow’s tail.’
‘Nice analogy,’ said Lynch. He put the car in gear and drove to the short-stay car park. After they’d parked, Lynch tucked his gun under the front seat.
They found a bank of call booths in the departures terminal. Lynch went through his pockets and pulled out a handful of change. He dialled McDonough’s work number. A woman answered and at first she was reluctant to get McDonough, but Lynch told her that his car had been involved in an accident. He pushed two pound coins into the slot as he waited. When McDonough came to the phone, he was clearly worried. ‘Who is this?’ he asked.
‘Easy, Luke,’ said Lynch. ‘It’s me. Dermott.’
McDonough’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘What the fuck are you doing calling me here?’ he said.
‘I need a favour,’ said Lynch.
‘You said it was a one-off,’ said McDonough.
‘It was,’ said Lynch. ‘And I wouldn’t have called you if this wasn’t important. Jets file flight plans, right?’
‘Look, maybe I’m not making myself clear. You said. .’
‘Shut the fuck up!’ Lynch hissed. ‘I need one favour, that’s all. Now get a pen and write this down.’
McDonough went quiet and Lynch could practically hear the man thinking. McDonough knew who Lynch was, and what he was capable of. ‘Okay,’ McDonough said eventually. ‘Okay, but just this once.’
‘Thanks,’ said Lynch. ‘I appreciate it, I really do.’ There was no point in rubbing the man’s nose in it. Lynch read out the number from the torn map corner.
‘It’s a jet, you say?’
‘Yeah. Some sort of executive jet. I need to know who it belongs to as well. Can you do that?’
McDonough went silent for a few seconds. ‘Yeah. I can do that.’ His voice was cold and flat, almost robotic.
‘Luke, I’m sorry I snapped at you,’ said Lynch as kindly as possible. Lynch needed the air traffic controller to do what he wanted, and if that meant smoothing his feathers then Lynch was prepared to do it. If he’d been in the same room as McDonough and he’d had a gun in his hand, then his approach might well have been different. ‘Do this for me and I won’t ask anything else of you, I promise. I swear on my mother’s life.’ Lynch’s mother had died of a massive stroke five years earlier and was buried next to his father in a cemetery outside Castlewellan, but he felt no shame at invoking her name.
‘I’ll do it,’ said McDonough, less bitterly this time.
‘How long do you think it’ll take?’
‘A couple of telephone calls,’ said McDonough. ‘Give me your number and I’ll call you back.’
‘I’ll call you,’ said Lynch. ‘Half an hour, okay’
‘Okay.’ The line went dead and Lynch replaced the receiver. Marie was still talking on her phone. She waved animatedly at Lynch and he went to stand behind her.
Marie replaced the receiver. ‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ she said.
‘What’s curiouser and curiouser?’
‘I rang the estate agents, the one whose name was on the school sign. Told them that my boss was interested in the property. The girl there said it had been bought by a Bristol company who are planning to turn it into a conference centre. They’re taking over in two months.’
‘So who’s in now?’
‘She wouldn’t tell me. I even played the overworked secretary, told her my boss was giving me a hard time, but she still said she couldn’t say. Said it was confidential. To be honest, I don’t think she knows.’
‘There’s something strange going on, that’s for sure.’
‘What about your guy?’
‘Half an hour. I’ll get back to him.’
They went to the cafeteria. Lynch ordered two coffees and they chose a quiet table. ‘What are you going to do, Dermott?’ asked Marie as she stirred her coffee.
‘In what way?’
‘The police are after you, the organisation seems to want you dead, you’ve no visible means of support.’
‘Sure, but it’s not all going my way.’ He grinned but could see that she was serious. ‘What do you want me to say, Marie?’
‘I was just wondering what your plan is?’
Lynch put his head in his hands and watched her with amused eyes. ‘I’m in deep shit, I know I’m in deep shit, but dwelling on it isn’t going to make it go away. I could run, but the world’s smaller than it used to be. There aren’t many places I could do a Lord Lucan, and, as you say, I’m not exactly flush with funds. So in terms of planning ahead, I’m not. In the words of Doris Day, que sera, sera. If you’re asking me what my short-term aim is, it’s to see Cramer dead and buried, and maybe dance on his grave.’
Marie nodded sympathetically. ‘You’re sure?’
‘What do you mean?’
She shrugged and put her spoon down on her saucer. ‘Getting Cramer isn’t going to be easy. I just want to be sure that you’re going to go through with it.’