| |
Both of their places were probably under surveillance, so either was out of the question. Which meant another Travelodge, this one in King’s Cross. On their way, they bought a New Statesman, a Spectator, a selection of broadsheets, and some snacks. They showered, spent the morning in bed, sent out for a Chinese at lunchtime, then drank tea and read their newspapers during the afternoon. At seven they bathed again and dressed to go out. Mordred put the TV on while Phyllis stared into her mirror and applied her make-up.
“I don’t know how you can watch Goldfinger,” she said absently. “I got bored with it after the fifth time.”
“There’s nothing else on. And it’s a classic.”
“What about Line of Duty? That’s good.”
“True, but it doesn’t start till nine.”
Her mobile rang. Annabel. She put it on speakerphone.
“We’re in London,” Phyllis said. “We’d have rung to let you know, but Alec said it’d be best to wait for you to contact us.”
“Alec,” Annabel replied as if it was a sigh. “Still, he’s probably right: walls have ears. How was Interpol?”
“Not terribly useful. We got away by a hair’s breadth. How are things at your end?”
“Oddly normal. I thought we’d have been bollocked and possibly sacked by now, but not a whisper.”
“How does Ruby Parker seem?”
“It would be nice if John was here to read her micro-expressions, because as far as I can tell, she’s behaving completely normally. Which means they must be biding their time before informing her. We’re all just awaiting the inevitable. Alec, me, Tariq, even Edna and Ian – walking on eggshells.”
“Unless it’s not inevitable. John’s got a theory.”
“Pray tell,” Annabel said drily.
“It’s not Grey.”
“What isn’t?”
“Who we’re dealing with,” Phyllis replied.
“How the hell does he figure that out? Is he there? Put him on.”
“Hi, Annabel,” Mordred said.
“I assume you’ve got it on speakerphone. You heard my question?”
“Yep.”
“Are you mad? Think about what they know about you and about all of us. Think about the fact that Tariq caught them spying on us. Think about the fact that they’ve known our every step since day one, and finally, think about the fact that they got in direct touch with Ruby Parker just after our little rooftop fiasco. Then explain to me why you think it can’t be Grey.”
“Well, to - ”
“On second thoughts, don’t. Walls have ears, I’ve just said that. You’d better be right, though. How confident are you?”
“There are still a few loose ends I need to account for.”
“On a scale of one to ten?”
“Seven.”
She sighed. “When might you know for sure?”
“Sometime tomorrow, I hope.”
“It must be some completely out-of-this-world theory to account for everything I’ve just mentioned.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t necessarily a compliment. You’ll get one of those if and when you’re proved right. What are you doing now?”
“Getting ready to go out. Strictly business. We’re not going clubbing.”
“How very encouraging to hear. Let me know as soon as you refute or confirm. I don’t normally suffer from anxiety, but I’m suffering now. The exact minute you find out.”
“So we’re allowed to ring you? And what if we need help?”
“Obviously. But only at this number.”
She hung up. Phyllis sat down on the bed, plumping her hair. She wore the full skirted blue dress and fake fur overcoat she’d had on last night, and she looked ready for another fake night at the opera.
“I think we ought to be careful going to see Farquarson,” she said. “Since we’re on the run, so to speak, it’s likely they’ll have tried to cover a number of bases. Farquarson would be one of them. They may even have got him on board.”
“He’s nothing to gain from helping a mole, and he’s too well connected for a mole to fool him for long. He probably knows the current head of Grey. Chances are he’d mention the whole thing to him over dinner.”
“I think you’re discounting the possibility that he may have been paid. And before you say he’s not that sort of guy, no one is. Until they are. Remember, pensioners can be very hard-up. Especially when they have club memberships to maintain.”
“Possible, but we have to take some risks.”
“I’m not saying don’t. I’m saying, let’s keep the danger to a minimum.”
“How?”
“Instead of going to meet him at his club, we maybe need to follow him on his way out. Make sure no one else is tailing him.”
“If you’re right,” he said, “somebody will be. Then what do we do?”
“Hit them, obviously. We’ve got the element of surprise, and we can call Alec and Annabel in. Possibly Edna and Ian too, although I’m not persuaded it’s wholly ethical to get the juniors involved.”
“I’ve a better idea. I’m going to ring him.”
“At his club?”
“Why not?”
She thought about it and shrugged. “Can’t hurt, I suppose. Anything’s probably preferable to getting shot. He won’t believe it’s you, though. He’ll probably want to speak to you face-to-face. Anyone can imitate someone else, and as an ex-head of Grey, he’s a man worth getting to.”
“I’ll put you on the line.”
“The same applies.”
“Yes, but it’ll reduce the uncertainty. You wouldn’t get two fabulous imitators on the phone in one call.”
“Depends what the stakes are. Besides, sometimes people on the phone don’t sound like they do in real life. Or they do, but the person on the other end just doesn’t hear them right.”
“That may be - ”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, let’s just do it, all right? We’ve got to do something, and this looks like the safest option. If he does want to see us, well, we were going to go and see him anyway. And at least when we go over there, we won’t be cold calling.”
He picked his phone up. Fully charged. Phyllis put the TV on mute and found the number on her phone. “Put it on speakerphone,” she said.
“Good evening. Bulletin Club. How may I help?” said a young male voice on the other end of the line.
“Good evening, my name is John Mordred,” he said affecting an upper-class English accent. “I’d like to get an urgent message to one of your members, Sir Ranulph Farquarson. I’d be very grateful if you could ask him to call me back on this number at his earliest convenience. Mordred, John. M-O-R-D-R-E-D. We were supposed to be meeting for drinks this evening at about eleven, but something’s just come up in the House, and I’m obliged to be there.”
“He’s not available at the moment, sir. He doesn’t usually arrive until after eight. However, I’ll make sure he gets your message as soon as he gets here.”
“That would be very kind. Thank you.” He hung up and turned to Phyllis. “Just a question of waiting now.”
They didn’t have sex because Phyllis had spent so long getting ready and they might be called out at any moment. They lay on the bed and watched Caravanner of the Year followed by Line of Duty then Normal For Norfolk. Halfway through the ten o’clock news, Phyllis turned to him. “I don’t think he’s going to ring.”
“He’ll ring.”
“Quote: ‘He doesn’t usually arrive until after eight. However, I’ll make sure he gets your message as soon as he gets here’. Unquote.”
“‘After eight’ could also mean ‘after ten’.”
“It could mean the day after tomorrow, for that matter. Or next year.”
“Put it this way. If he gets our message and he’s not been nobbled by Grey, he’ll ring back. It’s only polite, and he’s not known for his discourtesy. If he has been nobbled by Grey, he’ll phone because they’ll want to know where we are. Either way, he’ll phone.”
“Unless he’s trying to protect us. Maybe you should ring them back.”
“And say what?”
“How about ‘drinks are back on’?”
He laughed. “Let’s have a look at your phone and find out when the Bulletin closes. That should give us a good idea of when to start worrying.”
She flicked through her phone. “We’re already worrying. Or I am. Eleven-thirty.”
“So he’s still got an hour and a quarter.”
His phone rang. They both jumped and he almost threw it in the air in his haste to pick up. “John Mordred.”
Farquarson’s voice, midway between indignation and puzzlement. “What ‘drinks’ are you talking about, John? Surely you know we’re not supposed to meet!”
If Mordred had been asked to come up with an ideal opening gambit, a few words optimally calculated to dispel his suspicion, he couldn’t have come up with anything better than this.
“I need to talk to you as a matter of urgency,” he said.
“About?”
“Grey department.”
“It may have escaped your notice, but I’m not in charge of anything any more. What precisely were you going to say, just out of curiosity?”
“Last I heard, they wanted to shoot me through the ankle from a London rooftop. But the time before that, I’m pretty sure they wanted to push me under a train. And now I think that’s what they’ve reverted to.”
Farquarson paused. “Trying to kill you,” he said incredulously. “Right. Where are you, John?”
“I can’t say.”
“Well, I know Grey and Red have different rationales, but it’ll be a sorry day when we start trying to murder each other. How much have you had?”
“I’m not drinking. I’ve got Phyllis here with me.”
“With respect, that doesn’t necessarily prove anything. I was there at The Counting House, remember? You two were at the sauce like the world was about to end.”
“We had an appointment with the Lord Mayor.”
“Oh, of course,” Farquarson chortled. “That would explain it.”
“All I want you to do is ask whatever contacts you have left in Grey – I’m sure you can’t have broken all connections – and ask them whether there’s any truth in what I’m saying. Whether there really has been a plan laid to assassinate me.”
“But it’s ridiculous. Why don’t you simply ask Ruby Parker to find out? I don’t like loose cannons, John, and that’s what you are sometimes: a bit of an agent provocateur. I like to do things through official channels, especially when they’re as odd as this.”
“She agrees with me.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I can prove it.”
“How?”
“I’ll bring her to meet you at the Bulletin club in an hour if you promise to use your connections to investigate the question so you’ve got something to say to her.”
Farquarson laughed. “You’re telling me you think you’ll be able to drag Ruby Parker out here - ”
“Don’t forget Pierre Durand. You owe me one.”
“Oh, I wondered when you’d throw that particular chip onto the table. Listen, let’s make it interesting. You say you can get her out in an hour. I’ll give you till quarter to midnight. The place shuts at eleven-thirty, as a rule, but it stays open till twelve for members. I bet fifty pounds you can’t get Ruby Parker over here.”
“If I get her over there, you need to provide hard information. If you do, you owe me nothing. Otherwise, you have to pay me.”
“Sounds fair.”
“In that case, let’s make it two hundred.”
“Three.”
“A thousand,” Mordred said.
Farquarson guffawed. “Really? Have you actually got a thousand?”
“I’m an officer now. I was promoted last year.”
“Egad, John Mordred, an officer. What’s the world coming to?”
“In addition, I’ve never lied to you. You know that. I’m a man of my word. And finally, Phyllis is here to back me up.”
“Put her on. Phyllis, have you been listening?”
“Intently, sir,” she replied.
“Are you willing to act as a guarantor for Officer Mordred?”
“Absolutely. But I’m pretty sure I won’t have to.”
“You actually think he’ll be able to get Ruby Parker to come here? At this time of night?”
She chuckled. “I don’t think he’s got a cat in hell’s chance, but I do happen to know he’s got a spare thousand pounds, and who am I to complain if he wants to throw it away?”
“Quite. What do you think about this assassination business?”
“I know he believes it, and so does she. And it’s probably worth a thousand pounds to put their minds at rest.”
“Very well, you’re on. You’ve got precisely one hour and a quarter. I’ll tell the concierge to expect you, just in case you do pull off a miracle. Otherwise, you can hand over the money in the waiting area of Lloyds Bank, Regent Street, tomorrow morning at eleven. Don’t be late.”
He hung up. Mordred stood up and put his phone in his pocket.
“Do you really think I haven’t a cat in hell’s chance?” he asked Phyllis.
“I wouldn’t put it that strongly,” she said. “But we were hustling him. Weren’t we?”
He pulled his coat on. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”
