Free The Searcher by Christopher Morgan Jones Page A

Russians, because who else would pull a stunt like that. Yes? And then Karlo spills the beans that actually, it’s not your age-old enemy, it’s your government. So what did he find out? What gave the game away?”
    â€œProbably he had a source.”
    â€œNo shit.”
    Vekua shrugged and held his eye. That’s all I’m giving you. The car had crossed a bridge and turned onto cobbles that shone with the rain that had begun to fall. From inside her jacket she took a business card. The streets were narrow now and dark, but the sparsely set lamps gave just enough light. Colonel Elene Vekua. A colonel; he was flattered.
    â€œThis is not an easy country. Not today, certainly. If you need help you can call me.”
    â€œDo you know where my friend is?”
    â€œHe has not been arrested. I have checked. There is nothing on our computers.”
    The car slowed to a stop in a small courtyard of jumbled old buildings.
    â€œHow many hospitals are there in Tbilisi?”
    â€œNot so many. But we would know if he was there.”
    â€œI’m sure you would.” Hammer opened his door. “Why are you helping me?”
    Here was the smile at its most deliberate.
    â€œBecause I want you to find your friend and leave, as soon as you can. Understand, you are an interesting person. Myself, I am pleased you are here. Georgia is not.”

TEN
    O ne final run hard up the hill to Hampstead and then home. Wednesday was one of Mary’s nights off, and as Hammer turned the key in the lock he found himself hoping that she had decided to stay in, as she sometimes did. No. Even before he saw the oven light on and the usual note on the kitchen table he knew the house was empty.
    Good evening, the note said. Will you ever get in at a reasonable hour? I’ll be at my sister’s tonight and will see you tomorrow. Hammer sat down at the kitchen table to read it, then simply sat for a while, gazing at the last light of the day over London, not thinking, until his wet clothes grew cold and clung to him.
    When the kitchen grew dark he got up, showered, changed, ate. Sat by the unlit fire in his sitting room with a bottle of decent whiskey and tried one book after another, failing to settle on any.
    It was after midnight when the phone rang. The landline, which no one ever used; his sister, it might be. Or the police.
    â€œHello.”
    â€œIke.”
    â€œElsa. Hey.”
    â€œWere you asleep?”
    â€œNot even close. This is early. You OK?”
    â€œIke, I’m worried about him.”
    Worried how? Hammer wanted to ask. Worried because he’s on the other side of the world causing trouble, as usual, or worried because when he gets back he won’t be allowed near any trouble for a long time? It waspossible that the police had been to see her. He didn’t enjoy the thought, but for his own sake he rather hoped that they had.
    â€œWhy? What’s up?”
    â€œIt might be nothing.”
    â€œTell me.”
    â€œHe’s not answering his phone. I don’t know where he is.”
    â€œI thought you said he was in Georgia.”
    â€œHe was. He is. He was coming home yesterday, but he phoned me in the morning and told me he was staying an extra day, maybe two.”
    Oh boy, thought Hammer. This was like him.
    â€œI didn’t . . . We argued about it. He shouldn’t have been there at all, the way things are going for him. For us. I haven’t heard from him since.”
    Hammer put his book down, closed his eyes, and leaned back in the chair.
    â€œOK. It’s not even two days. And you know how he is.”
    â€œIke, he always calls. Or lets me know. Even when things aren’t good. We’ve never gone a day without speaking to each other.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œReally. He hates having things on his precious conscience.”
    Hammer shook his head and finished what was left in his glass. Elsa was not a woman who worried