Jigsaw (The Frank Pagan Novels) by Campbell Armstrong

Author:Campbell Armstrong [Armstrong, Campbell]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781504007092
Publisher: Open Road Media Mystery & Thriller
Published: 2015-02-17T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

LONDON

THE BRITISH HOME SECRETARY, ARTHUR WESKER, DID NOT LIKE THE American Ambassador. This hostility was rooted in the relationship between Britain and the United States; while the former had shrunk in worldly significance, Wesker thought the latter imagined itself a strutting global policeman, the planet’s bully-boy. The Home Secretary, a man with a Lancashire accent and horn-rimmed glasses, tried to suppress an assortment of resentments. His working-class background, the way he pronounced his vowels, the fact he felt drab in contrast to the well-dressed William Caan – these matters grieved him.

George Nimmo, who sat facing the two men at a table in the Home Secretary’s club – an oak-panelled room festooned with artless oil paintings of former members who’d achieved some kind of fame, notoriety, or total obscurity – seemed totally at ease with the Ambassador, a fact Wesker ascribed rather grudgingly to Nimmo’s expensive education. George would be comfortable around men of power, of course. It was a class thing.

The Home Secretary scratched his head and flakes of dandruff showered the shoulders of his jacket. His suit was creased, another source of rancour, because Caan was fastidious in appearance, looking as if he were freshly shaved and showered. The American’s thick silver hair had been blow-dried. He wore a gold wrist watch, which the Home Secretary considered brassy.

Caan had an easy kind of charm, though. You had to give him that. He spoke very gently, and without any visible evidence of annoyance. ‘It’s my understanding,’ he said, ‘that your police had questions to ask of Al Quarterman.’

The Home Secretary, passing the leaden buck, looked at Nimmo. Nimmo said, ‘As part of the ongoing investigation into the explosion – yes.’

‘And this ongoing investigation is a licence for your man Pagan to kick down the door of Bryce Harcourt’s apartment and rummage among the dead man’s effects?’

Nimmo had known nothing of doors being kicked down. The information rattled him. He said, ‘Pagan is sometimes a little crude, I’m afraid.’

Caan smiled. ‘I am not criticizing you personally, Mr Nimmo. George, isn’t it? Do you mind? Call me William. God knows, cops can be overenthusiastic at times, George. Zealous. They have a difficult job to do. Our own policemen sometimes act with too much fervour. It’s a common fact, undeniable. I’m thinking of certain events that were videotaped in Los Angeles not so long ago. These things happen in the heat of the moment. And you can’t always oversee the behaviour of those under you.’ Caan adjusted his shirt cuffs, and more gold glinted.

The Home Secretary looked at George Nimmo. First-name terms already, George and William. Wesker felt as if he were the non-member here, when in fact George and William were his guests at his club. ‘I think the Ambassador is being very agreeable, George.’

‘And why not? Allies shouldn’t squabble,’ Caan remarked amiably. He looked at George Nimmo. ‘I simply wonder why it was necessary to question Quarterman. Al had already gone to see your man Pagan to say that he thought Harcourt was killed in the miserable Tube business.

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