44
Charlie Spicer jammed his foot on the accelerator.
He was driving fast, and talking even faster. “Yes, I have them. They’re with me. Yes, we have the memory stick.”
There was a long silence, evidently while Shute Barrington spoke.
“Yes. Yes, I’ll tell them.”
In the backseat of the black BMW, Will, Andrew, and Gaia were watching Spicer’s face in the rearview mirror. They saw him throw down his phone. “Barrington wants to tell you well done.”
“Well done?” Will said. “That’s it?”
“For now. Of course, there’ll be a lot more he’ll want to say when you’re safely back in London.”
Through the windshield, Will could see the lights of Interlaken. Spicer was taking them straight to the airport. It would be best, he’d said, if they left Switzerland immediately, before official questions could be asked.
After picking up Andrew, and then Will and Gaia, Spicer had called an ambulance. Then he’d phoned the Swiss secret service, and left a brief message—including a request to look out for Gustav Pritt, who seemed to have fled the Nest on foot. There would be plenty of time for detailed discussions with other security agencies later, Spicer had said.
While Spicer had talked, Andrew had told Will and Gaia about the Frisbee. He hadn’t been able to keep his voice from shaking.
“It’s all right,” Gaia had said. “Elke’s alive. And you stopped her. Andrew, you did it.”
Will had touched the memory stick, which was safe around his neck. He’d smiled grimly—but it had still been a smile.
Spicer hurled the BMW around a corner. Will gripped the back of his seat. “I have some questions. First, why was MI6 holding Wickett? And Barrington said he’d get Webb arrested. What happened? Why weren’t there field officers at the Nest?”
Spicer glanced into the rearview mirror. He looked uncomfortable. “Will, I’m afraid Barrington will have to explain.”
Gaia glanced at Will. “Why can’t you tell us?”
A sixty-degree, right-hand bend. Brakes screeched.
“Wickett’s dead,” Gaia said. “Webb’s dead. We saw them killed. And we risked our lives to get those plans. And you can’t even tell us why MI6 had Wickett?”
“I really am sorry. But Barrington will have to explain.”
“What about the police?” Will asked. “If MI6 wouldn’t arrest Webb, why didn’t the police? Why weren’t they at the Nest? Barrington said he’d handle it!”
A pause. “Will, I am sorry. But I’ll have to refer that—”
“To Barrington,” Gaia finished, shaking her head. “Right. So when’s he going to talk to us?”
“When we get back to London. Once he’s sorted a few things out.”
“What things?” Andrew asked.
Spicer was silent.
Will flopped back against the seat.
“Look,” Spicer said. “You did an excellent job. Better than anyone could have possibly expected. Barrington will tell you what he can, when he can. I’ve found out things today—” He stopped. “The real story is bigger than Project FIREball. But Barrington is the one who has to tell you. It’s not up to me.”