Page 40 of The Nameless Ones
And Spiridon’s smile faded.
Chapter XXXVI
Angel arrived at London Heathrow on a late-afternoon flight. He retrieved his bag without incident, although the airport remained baffling to him. It seemed to have been designed as a means of actively discouraging people from traveling. Had he been forced to change terminals for a connecting flight, he might have wept.
As he exited the baggage hall, a man appeared by his side: Paul Canton, one of the FBI legats attached to the US embassy in London.
‘Welcome back,’ said Canton.
‘I don’t remember booking a driver,’ said Angel. ‘And if I had, it wouldn’t have been you.’
Angel kept walking, following the signs for the Heathrow Express. Canton fell easily into step beside him, given that he had at least six inches on Angel and was a couple of decades younger. Canton had crossed paths with Angel, Louis, and Parker during their previous visit to London, one that had ended – perhaps inevitably, given those involved – in bloodshed. Canton had proven helpful, and probably saved them some time behind bars, but that didn’t mean Angel ever wanted to see him again. Like Louis, Angel was of the opinion that far too many US government employees had developed an interest in their affairs. Pretty soon, someone would be offering to strike a souvenir silver dollar with their faces on it.
‘I’ve been instructed to facilitate you,’ said Canton. ‘You have no idea how hard it was to say those words, by the way.’
‘If it’s any consolation, they were just as difficult to hear. Can you find me a gun?’
‘No.’
‘How about getting me my health back?’
‘Can’t do that either.’
‘Then what good are you to me?’
‘None at all, I hope.’ He handed Angel a card. ‘Just in case. The number has changed, by the way. I’m moving up in the world.’
‘It’s nice to see virtue rewarded,’ said Angel. ‘Your mother must be very proud.’
He didn’t look at the card before dropping it in his pocket. A crowd of people waited impatiently before the elevators for the Heathrow Express. Angel resented standing in line for anything. He associated it with prison. He glanced at his watch. Given the time, and the hordes in the terminal building, the Express was likely to be busy, and he’d be arriving in central London just in time for rush hour.
‘You have a car, right?’ he said.
‘A black one,’ said Canton. ‘It’s very clean.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Just that I don’t want to get it dirty.’
Canton looked pointedly at Angel’s suitcase, which had certainly seen better days but was too old to remember them. Angel followed the direction of Canton’s gaze, and reluctantly conceded the point.
‘Maybe we ought to just tie it to the roof,’ he said.
‘No, we can put it in the trunk. I have some plastic sheeting.’
‘What about me, do I have to go in the trunk, too?’
‘I guess you can ride up front.’
‘Will I have to talk to you?’
‘Only if you’re bored.’
‘Then lead the way. I figure my taxes are probably funding the car anyway.’
‘Not your taxes,’ said Canton. ‘You don’t pay any.’
‘Even better,’ said Angel. ‘And I hope you have candy.’