James Craig - Then We Die

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he began, after quickly checking with his notes, ‘this is my first official engagement as Israel’s new Ambassador to London. And it gives me great pleasure to be unveiling this memorial to Julius Jubelitski, who was a great Jewish freedom-fighter.’ He nodded to the aide, who knelt down and whisked away the towel to reveal a small round plaque fixed on a granite plinth. The legend, in white text on a blue background, read: In memory of Julius Jubelitski, victim of fascists in this park during WWII. RIP .

There was a small ripple of applause, and a couple of photographers stepped forward to take pictures.

After a few minutes, the Ambassador’s aide started to escort him back towards his car.

‘Sir!’

The Ambassador stopped at the open door.

Ignoring the aide’s scowl, Carlyle approached, hand extended. ‘Inspector John Carlyle, Metropolitan Police.’

‘Ah, yes.’ The Ambassador reluctantly gave the hand a weak shake. ‘I believe that I’ve heard of you,’ he said, lowering himself to slide into the limousine.

‘I had some dealings with your predecessor,’ Carlyle smiled, holding firmly on to the car door.

‘Yes, you did,’ the Ambassador agreed wearily.

‘I was just wondering, what happened to her?’

‘After a life devoted to public service, Ms Waxman resigned in order to take up a very lucrative job with a technology company in Tel Aviv. It will make her very rich.’

‘Lucky her,’ Carlyle said.

‘Luck has nothing to do with it, Inspector. I have known Hilary for many years. She is a very talented and hard working woman.’

‘That’s one way of looking at it.’

‘That is the way most people look at it.’ The Ambassador looked up at Carlyle and added: ‘I will let her know that you were asking after her.’

‘You keep in regular touch?’

‘Of course. You will not be surprised to hear that Hilary is keeping a close eye on the police investigation into the horrendous murders of our citizens in Peel Street. Like me, she is disappointed and frustrated by the complete and utter lack of progress you are making in finding the killers.’

‘Not my case,’ Carlyle shrugged, releasing his hold on the door and stepping away from the car. Keeping his thoughts to himself, the Ambassador pulled the door closed and signalled to his driver that he was ready to go.

Stepping into Il Buffone, Roche was disappointed to see that her AC Milan poster was no longer displayed on the wall.

‘What happened, Marcello?’ she asked, pointing to the empty space.

‘Kids,’ Marcello sighed. ‘They graffiti all over it. Write disgusting things. Nasty pictures. In the end, I had to take it down.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Roche told him. ‘I’ll get another one.’

‘Maybe we should go for a different team this time,’ Carlyle said.

Each of them brooded on that for a few moments, but no one could come up with a decent suggestion. Leaving the matter in abeyance, Marcello headed behind the counter to fetch their drinks.

Carlyle joined Roche at the small table by the window.

‘They’ve asked me to go back to Leyton,’ she announced.

‘Asked you or told you?’ Carlyle enquired, sitting down.

‘I dunno.’

‘I thought that the Commander had sorted it out that you would stay at Charing Cross.’

‘She did,’ Roche agreed, ‘but Leyton’s got some kind of staffing problem and they’re pressing to have me back.’

Carlyle looked at her carefully. ‘What do you want to do?’

Staring out of the window, she shrugged.

He thought about it for a minute. ‘I want you to stay.’

She looked at him and smiled. ‘Okay.’

‘It’s not always as. . dramatic as this, but it’s never dull.’ He paused, letting Marcello place their drinks on the table. ‘And I think we get on okay.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I think we do.’

‘Good,’ he smiled, ‘that’s settled, then. I’ll have another word with Simpson.’

For several minutes they sat together in companionable silence, enjoying their coffee. Finally, Carlyle asked, ‘How about Ronan? Do you think you’ll be able to deal with that okay?’

She gave him a melancholy smile. ‘I was so mad with David for what he did — playing away — that for the first few days I actually felt that he deserved to get whacked. Since then, my sense of perspective has returned.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

‘The whole thing is very sad, but I’ll get over it.’

Which is more than you can say for Ronan himself , Carlyle thought, stifling a giggle.

‘The funeral was last week.’

‘Sorry,’ he said, pulling himself together. ‘I didn’t realize.’

‘Don’t worry about it. You’ve had a lot on your plate. The funny thing was, I was there with David’s mum and she was the one consoling me. I don’t think she knew about the sister-in-law.’

‘Was the sister-in-law there?’ Carlyle asked, prurience getting the better of him.

‘She was,’ Roche grinned, ‘but I kept my distance. She looked pretty upset about the whole thing.’

Marcello appeared from behind the counter. ‘Hey, you two, it’s time for me to close up. Haven’t you got any work to do?’

‘Yes, unfortunately.’ Getting to his feet, Carlyle dug a fiver out of his pocket and slapped it down by the tin. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘I’ll be here, as always.’

‘Good to know,’ Carlyle said sincerely, as he ushered Roche out of the door and back towards the police station.

Feeling on less than top form, Carlyle was not best pleased to get home and find Helen also in a foul mood. After listening to her banging around angrily in the kitchen for several minutes, he couldn’t take any more.

‘Bad day at the office?’ he asked.

‘Totally shit,’ she confirmed, racking a selection of dirty plates into the dishwasher.

He waited for her to explain, but she declined to elaborate. ‘Anything in particular?’ he asked finally.

‘Four of our medical staff were arrested today,’ she said, slamming shut the dishwasher door. ‘A doctor and three nurses. They had been working in Gaza and took some time off in Tel Aviv. We got a call this morning to say that they had been arrested by the Israeli police. . two bloody days ago.’

Knowing where this was going, Carlyle felt his heart sink.

‘ Then ,’ she continued, ‘we got a call from some snotty little bureaucrat in the Israeli Foreign Ministry, informing us that what he called “the so-called medical aid charity” Avalon had seventy-two hours to close down all of its operations in Gaza or our people will be charged with espionage offences carrying a jail term of up to twenty-five years’ imprisonment each.’ She kicked a cupboard door in frustration. ‘It’s just such total fucking crap!’

He slung a comforting arm round her shoulder and pulled her close even as she tried to wriggle free. ‘Can you do it?’

‘Do what?’

‘Close everything down in three days.’

This time he let her push him away. ‘What are you suggesting?’ she demanded, eyes blazing. ‘That we should just give in?’

Carlyle shrugged. ‘Don’t fight battles you can’t win.’

She gave him a firm punch on the chest. ‘That’s not advice I remember you yourself ever sticking to.’

‘And look what happened.’ Carlyle flung his arms wide in frustration. ‘People got killed. The Israelis basically got what they wanted. It was all a bit messy, and they had a few casualities of their own, but they don’t really care about that. They sit there, doing their American TV interviews, smugly refusing to confirm or deny ever doing anything to anyone. Meanwhile, I saw two kids in the piazza today walking around wearing Don ’ t mess with the Mossad T-shirts, like those guys are some kind of rock stars. The whole thing might be totally fucked up, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Trying to fight against it will just drive you mad.’