The Watchman by Adrian Magson Page B

and there’s not a thing I can do to stop it.’ He blinked. ‘Officially, at least.’

Fifteen
    T he place got busier with the noon crowd, so we walked, taking the quieter streets. It would have been easier to be somewhere inside, but Vale confessed to being a spook of the old school and liked being in the open.
    By the time he got through explaining the background, we’d reached the edge of Central Park and I had a fair measure of what it involved. It was the same with military commanders sending out men into the field: some were good to go, others less so. But there were times when you had to use what you had … or stand back and watch events unfold. For Vale, this was one of those times. He had no direct responsibility or right of veto over the officer involved, but he wanted to give her a little background ‘assist’.
    Which was where I came in.
    â€˜Why me?’ I said, as we crossed a wide expanse of grass.
    â€˜You have the right skills.’
    â€˜But you don’t know me.’
    â€˜True. But I know men like you. I’ve been working with them all my life.’ He stopped. ‘Why did you help Nate? You didn’t have to.’
    I wasn’t sure how to answer that one.
    â€˜I walked into it. I couldn’t back away.’
    â€˜Balls. I know your type: you never leave a hotel room in a hot zone without checking the corridors first; you never go to bed without having an escape route and you always have access to a spare set of documents, cash or credit to get you out of a jam. Same with walking in the street; you check and double-check. You’ve been doing it ever since I first spotted you. It’s standard operational procedure. In Bogotá you saw what was happening and still you went out and did what you deemed necessary.’
    I shrugged. He seemed to have all the answers.
    â€˜You saw a situation,’ he continued, ‘and took decisive action. You weighed up your chances and made it happen.’ He grunted. ‘Years ago, I’d like to think I would have done the same. But I know I wouldn’t – not every time. It’s why I’m still around.’
    â€˜You think I’ve got a death wish?’
    â€˜God, no. Suicide jockeys are no good to me; I need a survivor.’ He resumed walking. ‘You might have a host of inner demons for all I know, but I doubt suicide is one of them. You’re too motivated. What happened – did you lose someone?’
    I didn’t want to answer that. But Vale was perceptive. A light was gleaming in his eyes; he’d seen something in my face.
    â€˜I’m right. Who was it – a loved one? A colleague?’
    He could ask all day; I wasn’t going to tell him.
    â€˜A principal, then. Somebody you were charged with protecting.’ He pursed his lips and leaned across the table. ‘My advice? Get it out; talk about it. If you don’t, it’ll eat you up from inside. I’ve seen it happen.’
    â€˜Speaking from experience?’ It was rude, but he was pushing too hard. Some things are simply not up for discussion.
    It was his turn to shrug. ‘Very well. Let’s leave it.’
    â€˜Why are you,’ I asked, to change the conversation, ‘so against this operation?’
    â€˜Simple. Moresby – the man running it. He’s going blindly into this without questioning exactly why the other side is so keen to make the contact. It can’t be for money – they’re getting plenty of that elsewhere.’
    â€˜But?’
    â€˜They’re up to something and I wish I knew what it was.’
    â€˜All right,’ I said eventually. He still hadn’t told me precisely where this was happening, but I was intrigued. I knew there would come a point where he would be unable to say more, where the information would become too sensitive unless I was all the way in. For now, though, it was enough.
    â€˜You’re