Never Apologise, Never Explain - James Craig [104]
‘And that’s how you came across Gori?’
‘Yes. Gori is former Chilean Special Forces, from the thirteenth Commando Group, known as the Scorpions. His uncle is also the founder of LAHC. After the Scorpions, Matias became,’ she raised her fingers in the air to indicate quotation marks, ‘a “diplomat”. But he has very close ties to the mercenaries, some of whom he served with in the army.’
She glanced at Carlyle, who signalled for her to go on. ‘He has even gone out on missions with them. One of these missions, to a town called Ishaqi, north of Baghdad, ended up with the massacre of more than fifty men, women and children. According to witness reports, Matias Gori killed as many as a dozen of them himself. When we found out that he was working in London, we tried to get him arrested so that he could be tried either here or in Iraq or maybe at the War Crimes Tribunal at The Hague.’
Carlyle took a sip of his espresso. ‘And?’
Hartson looked angry. ‘Our lawyers say we need more evidence. That is why we tried to confront him directly.’
Oh, oh, Carlyle thought, the Women’s Institute takes on Rambo. Excellent idea. ‘When was this?’
‘Earlier this month there was a demonstration. We marched to the Embassy and lodged a petition with the Ambassador, asking for Gori to be handed over to the police for questioning.’
‘And what did the Ambassador say?’
‘We’re still waiting for a reply.’
‘And now two of you are dead.’
She looked at him blankly.
Shit, Carlyle thought, too late to sugar-coat the pill now. ‘Agatha and Sandra were both murdered; didn’t you know?’
The tears were already welling up in her eyes as she absorbed this shocking news. Carlyle made no attempt to comfort her, but gave her time to compose herself before he began running through a quick summary of the relevant events.
By the time he had finished, Hartson had largely regained her calm. ‘I’ve been away for a while,’ she explained. ‘I only got back to London yesterday.’
That may well have saved your life, Carlyle reflected.
‘Do you think,’ her voice quivered a little, ‘that Gori killed them?’
‘Maybe.’ Carlyle said. ‘I think so.’
Monica looked at him carefully. ‘Can you prove it?’
He smiled grimly. ‘That’s not the question.’
‘Oh,’ she said shakily. ‘What is?’
‘The question is – will I have to?’
‘I’m not sure I understand.’
‘Good.’
‘Will he come after me?’
Yes. ‘Maybe.’
She ran her hands through her hair and shivered. ‘Will I be safe?’
Maybe. ‘Yes.’
‘Will you protect me?’
Don’t promise what you can’t deliver, he told himself. ‘I will stop him.’
‘What should I do?’
‘Is there somewhere you can stay for a little while?’ he asked. ‘Out of the way, preferably somewhere outside of London.’
She thought about it for a moment. ‘I’ve got some friends up in Glasgow.’
‘Good, then this is what we’ll do.’ Carlyle programmed her mobile number into his private phone then took down the details of the people she would be staying with. ‘I will call you once a day. If goes to voicemail, I’ll leave a message.’
They walked back to the lifts in silence. Downstairs, by the front desk, Carlyle shook her hand again. ‘Thank you for coming.’
Monica Hartson gave him a wan smile. ‘I’m not sure whether I feel better for our conversation, or worse.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘This is nearly over. Gori is a marked man. It will be done in a couple of days. Getting out of town is just an additional precaution.’
‘I hope so.’
‘One thing I was wondering, though . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘Why put yourself through all of this? Why go after someone like Gori?’
Hartson looked at him for a moment, as if deciding whether to tell him the whole story. ‘I was there,’ she said finally. ‘I saw what he did.’
‘What?’
‘We arrived in Ishaqi