| |
Edna, Ian and Alec sat on Mordred’s sofa watching Avengers Assemble, each with what looked like a burger on a plate. They looked up briefly to greet him. Alec wolf-whistled at Phyllis, said, “Look at you!”, then Edna said, “Oh, I love this bit”, and they went back to eating and watching the film.
“Where’s Annabel?” Phyllis asked.
“Kitchen,” Alec said. “And before you start, I didn’t lock her in there. She likes to cook on burglaries, everyone knows that.” He turned to Mordred. “And before you start accusing us of pinching your stuff, Ian went to the shops.”
“It’s a burglary,” Mordred replied drily. “Why would I think you were stealing?”
Alec rolled his eyes. “It was in a good cause, and we did agree we’d wait till you got back to start drinking. Pass me a beer, Ian, there’s a good man.”
“Speckled Hen?” Ian asked. “Or Hobgoblin?”
“What’s the difference?” Alec said.
Annabel came out of the kitchen with a veggie burger on a plate. She gave it to Mordred as if he’d ordered it when the shop was just about to close, then talked to Phyllis. The two women drifted to the far side of the room for what was clearly a top-secret conference to which he wasn’t invited. On the near side, the only other occupants watched Marvel superheroes. Mordred stood alone and ate his burger. He was already full of gnocchi, but it seemed only polite. Times like this, he wished he had a dog.
“I might go to bed,” he announced when he’d finished eating.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to face him. Alec put the TV on mute. “Excuse me?” he said, as if it was Mordred’s fault they were all here, and given how much he’d inconvenienced everyone, the least he could do was stand in complete solitude without complaining.
“I mean, now everyone’s satisfied I’m innocent,” Mordred added.
“We need to decide what to do next,” Annabel said. “Nobody’s going to bed yet.”
“Presumably, any decision is Ruby Parker’s department,” he replied.
Annabel shrugged. “I’ve been in contact with her. As long as she’s satisfied you’re innocent – which she now is – she’s happy for matters to take their course. She has no personal investment in the Frances Holland case. The way MI7 works, Grey has precedence over Red, orders are orders, and Red’s been ordered by Grey to stand down. It’s virtually a syllogism with one conclusion: all our hard work over the past few weeks has been wasted.”
“Hey, that’s intelligence,” Alec said. “And police work. In fact any kind of investigation that isn’t a this time it’s personal cliché. John’s innocent, that’s all that matters.”
“What do you think, John?” Phyllis asked.
He smiled. “I think you and I should pretend to toe the line, but maybe take a bit of ‘leave’ with immediate effect to go and see Annabel’s place in Capri.”
“It would be a very good time to put in for time off,” Annabel replied. “Old investigation killed, no new one on the immediate horizon, you might get a few days. And of course, the weekend’s coming up.”
“And under cover of taking leave,” Mordred went on, “I think we should continue the Holland investigation.”
Alec sighed. “John Mordred: this time it’s personal.”
“Has it occurred to you that Grey is trying to frame me?” Mordred replied. “Before you answer, consider the following. They can’t know I’m communicating secrets to Dao-ming Chou, obviously, but I don’t see what grounds they can even have for suspicion. When Ruby Parker first informed me I was going for a radicalisation interview, she said it was – quote – a ‘thinly disguised attack on her department’, and actually nothing to do with me. Then you, Alec, said Grey is always looking to take over the whole of MI7. Now you’ve burgled my flat and reassured yourselves I’m a nice guy, you’re all happy. You’ve lost the wood in the trees, if you ask me. If I’m framed, you might be next.”
“Hang on, John,” Annabel said. “I was the one who just stopped you going to bed. Going to bed’s essentially giving in.”
“Apologies,” Mordred said.
“So you and Phyllis are going to continue the Holland investigation?” Alec asked. “How does Phyllis feel about that?”
“She’s right behind it,” Phyllis said.
“And what are the rest of us going to be doing?” Alec went on.
“Covering for us two,” Mordred told him. “Stop news of our real activities reaching Ruby Parker. As far as a lot of people connected with the Holland case are probably still concerned, Red’s their first port of call for new information. Grey will gradually work to change that, but the transition may not be complete for a few days. Meanwhile, anything that comes in, you pass it straight to Phyllis or me, and if possible delay it getting to Ruby Parker or Grey.”
“That would probably be Tariq’s department,” Annabel said.
“Interpol should be about to report back regarding Durand,” Mordred went on. “It’s crucial that we’re in on that, and that we get to pick over whatever they’ve discovered before Grey gets a look in.”
“If you go to see Interpol,” Edna said, “how are you going to stop Grey finding out? They’re going to know, then they’re going to tell Ruby Parker.”
“After which, you’ll be in deep shit,” Alec added. “I’m not saying I won’t help. I’m just saying let’s go into this with our eyes open. An unauthorised meeting with Interpol’s going to be pretty tough to explain anyway, especially so when you’re meant to be in Capri. And it would also mean Tariq ends up in trouble.”
“Alec’s right,” Annabel said.
“So we’ve got to find some way of making it look like the there’s been a breach of security and I’m the sole culprit,” Mordred said.
Phyllis sighed. “Maybe we should cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“The likelihood is I’ll be found out anyway,” Mordred went on. “True, I’m not prepared to stand round waiting for Grey to drop the axe, but frankly, I’d rather not take you down with me. I should do this on my own. Forget Capri. I’ll put in for leave to go and see my parents.”
“The Holland case is mine,” Phyllis said. “No way are you doing this on your own.”
“I’ll talk to Tariq,” Annabel said. “He could say you ordered him to send you any information from Interpol direct. That would put a bit of a firewall round him. He’d be gullible rather than dishonest.”
“I think you’re forgetting something,” Ian said. “If Grey wants rid of Mr Mordred and they find out he’s gone to Interpol, then bang goes their little we’ll leave him alone if you keep him out of it agreement. They won’t complain to Ruby Parker, they’ll just come after him with a gun.”
“In many ways, I’d prefer that,” Mordred said.
They looked at each other. Suddenly, it seemed that everything worth saying had been said.
“John’s made a decision,” Alec said. “I propose we support him, but keep in touch, keep the whole thing under review. I also propose we call this meeting to an end. We’ve made a decision of sorts. We need to sleep on it.”
Mordred saw everyone out like it was a dinner party that had gone on too long. Phyllis waited till everyone had gone and kissed him hard on the lips. “Go and see Ruby Parker first thing when you get in tomorrow,” she said, “and ask for leave for both of us. Tell her you need a rest. Tell her you feel conscience-bound to absent yourself for a spell, to give Grey free rein for their investigation. Tell her about Capri. Tell her you’re hoping to surprise me by proposing a preliminary visit. Tell her you’ve cleared it with Annabel. Tell her you’ll be back in good time for any second interview. Make her feel very, very guilty for doubting you. Find me as soon as you’re done.”
After they’d left, Mordred went to bed, but couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t entirely surprised. When your mind raced, you became exhausted, but its racing had an independent impetus. It wouldn’t apply the brakes while it was busy pressing the accelerator, no matter how much you might need it to.
The last time he’d been in this position, it was because some insight had lain just out of sight of his consciousness. He had the feeling it was the same now.
Why had they run the Lord Mayor down today? Who were ‘they’, anyway? Grey?
There’d been plenty of time to ponder all this at the police station, and he’d used it pretty fully, but hadn’t emerged any the wiser. Since then, things had moved on so fast, he’d lost interest. Probably impossible to answer right now. Something would happen, soon maybe, and he’d know. But it hadn’t happened yet. That wasn’t what was troubling him.
He got up, just like last time, and made himself a coffee. He wandered through the flat looking for things that might jog his memory, set a train of thought going. He switched the TV on and watched the news on mute. That sometimes did it. He yawned repeatedly. 4am. His mind kept galloping.
Then it hit him. He went into his bedroom and opened his wardrobe door. He got down on his knees, pushed the bottoms of the shirts and jackets out of the way, and groped beneath the linen pile of old sweatshirts.
And there it was. His precious collection of Private Eye back-issues.
