Stephen Leather - Tango One

Hathaway smiled without warmth.

"You didn't think twice before putting that bullet in my leg, did you?"

"I thought about killing you."

"I bet you did. Have you any idea how that bullet changed my life?"

"Got you a better job, didn't it?"

"I loved being in Customs, Den. Loved working undercover. I was bloody good at it."

Donovan flashed Hathaway a sarcastic smile.

"Clearly you weren't. If you'd been any good, I wouldn't have made you."

"Someone grassed me. One of your informers."

Donovan shook his head.

"You gave yourself away. I forget now what it was, but it was down to you. Some story you told. Some anecdote. You told it wrong. Told it like you'd memorised it. Like it was a script."

"Bullshit!"

"Why would I lie? To hurt you?" Donovan chuckled.

"We're beyond that, aren't we?"

"It was the job I'd always wanted. I was one of the good guys, fast track. Then you shot me and I'm in hospital for three months. And three months after that I'm sitting at a desk in human resources being told that there is no place for me in the leaner, meaner Customs and Excise. Thank you for your loyal service and good night."

"You got a pension, right? Disability?"

"Peanuts. Wife didn't like the idea of my being thrown on the scrap heap at twenty-four, so she went off in search of pastures new."

"Women, huh?" said Donovan sarcastically.

"What can you do with them?"

"You changed my life, Den. You didn't give me a choice, didn't consider the ramifications, you just went ahead and did it. Now I'm going to do the same to you."

"You're going to try to put me behind bars, is that it? You want me in prison?"

"I want your money."

Donovan's jaw dropped.

"All of it," added Hathaway.

"What do you mean, all of it?"

"All the money that you got back from Sharkey. I want it. And I want it now."

"You're out of your mind."

"I know everything, Donovan. I know about the plane, I know about the heroin. I know about Macfadyen and Jordan. I know about the airfield.

To use the vernacular, you are fucked. You have one way out. Only one. You give me the money. Do that and I'll let you go ahead with the Turkish deal."

Donovan shook his head in confusion.

"I know, bit of a shock to the system." Hathaway looked at his watch again.

"I reckon they'll still be loading the plane, don't you? Another hour before it gets into the air. There's probably no way you could reach them now. Even if you wanted to."

Donovan cursed. He turned to walk away, then stopped. He opened his mouth to speak but he was too confused to say anything. He closed his mouth and stared at Hathaway. He wanted to lash out, to kick the man to the ground and to keep kicking until he was unconscious. Or worse.

Hathaway smiled as if he could read Donovan's mind.

"Face it, Donovan, I've got you by the short and cur lies But look on the bright side: whatever you make from the Turkish deal you get to keep, so it's not as if I'm leaving you penniless."

Donovan shook his head.

"Why would I give you the money?"

"Because if you don't, you're going to prison. Possibly for the rest of your life. Eight thousand kilos of heroin, Donovan. Conspiracy to import. They'll throw away the key. Plus there's the Mexican deal.

The Beetles. Mexico is next door to the States, and Rodriguez has been shoving cocaine over the border like there's no tomorrow. I link you to Rodriguez and the DEA will want a piece of you."

"You've got fuck all. You've got fuck all and you know it."

"Excuse me, but I know where the plane is going to land. I know what's on the plane. I know where the plane is coming from. And I know who's paying for the consignment. Does it seem like I'm missing anything there?"

"Knowing is one thing, proving is another."

"I have proof," said Hathaway confidently.

Donovan paced up and down the bridge, shaking his head.

"Fine, you've got proof, but you've overplayed your hand. All I have to do is to walk away. I walk away from the deal and you've got nothing."

Hathaway smiled.

"Conspiracy doesn't depend on you taking delivery, Donovan. You put the deal together. That I can prove."

"Bollocks."

"I have people undercover. Close to you."

"Now I know you're lying."

"Your infallible sense of smell? You can always spot an undercover cop or Cussie? You always took pride in that particular skill, didn't you?

Well, I got people in under your radar, Donovan. Up close and personal."

Donovan stopped pacing and stared at Hathaway. Could he be telling the truth? Is that how he knew about the plane? But who? Who was the traitor? Who had betrayed him? Jordan and Macfadyen? Had they been turned when the Mexican deal went belly up? It had always struck Donovan as suspicious that Customs hadn't let the consignment run. Now he knew why. Jordan and Macfadyen had done a deal. Their freedom in exchange for Donovan's. They'd helped set him up.

"I know who it is," he said confidently.

Hathaway shook his head.

"No you don't," he said.

"I guarantee you don't."

"We'll see."

"The thing is, Donovan, you can't afford to be wrong, can you? You're wrong on this and you lose everything. You lose your money and you lose your freedom."

"I'll risk it." He turned to go.

"It isn't Ricky Jordan. And it isn't Charlie Macfadyen," said Hathaway quietly.

Donovan stopped.

"If it was them, you'd hardly tell me, would you?"

"Agreed, but I'm telling you it's not them. You have my word."

Donovan laughed out loud.

"Your word? Your fucking word? Now it's coming down to you crossing your heart like a bloody Cub Scout. Why should I believe a word you tell me?"

Hathaway patted the laptop computer case.

"Because I have proof."

Donovan stared at the computer case.

"What sort of proof?"

Hathaway looked at his watch again.

"We're going to have to start the ball rolling, Donovan. That plane is getting closer."

"What do you want?"

"I told you what I wanted. You got sixty million dollars from Sharkey.

I want it."

"I don't have sixty million. I owed ten million."

"To Rodriguez?"

Donovan nodded.

"Fifty million, then."

"I had to pay for the recovery of the money, plus there was the cash that Sharkey spent."

"Why don't you just tell me how much is left? And don't bother lying, because I can find out."

"Forty-five mill," said Donovan.

"That's what I want, then. Forty-five million dollars. That's the price of your freedom. The price of your life."

"So I give you forty-five million and you tell me who the undercover agent is?"

"Agents. Plural."

"And how do I give you the money? Used notes?"

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, Donovan." Hathaway tapped the case again.

"We do it online. Same way Sharkey took the money off you. Same way you got it back off Sharkey."

Donovan shook his head.

"Do I look like I was born yesterday? I transfer forty-five million to you, then you show me sheets of blank paper. Where does that leave me?"

"That's not how we'll do it. You transfer five million. I show you proof. You transfer more money. I show you more proof. At any point you can stop. But believe me, Donovan, you won't want to stop. The proof I'm offering is unequivocal."

"And what then? You give me the names, you give me the proof. What then?"

"I walk away."

"And the agents?"

Hathaway took a deep breath as if steadying himself for what he was to say next.

"You do what you have to do, Donovan."

"You know what that will be," said Donovan coldly. It wasn't a question.

"It's a game, Donovan. That's what you taught me. It's a game and there are winners and there are losers. I'm doing what I have to do to be a winner."