My phone rings at 3.30 a.m. and I awake, bleary but immediately filled with dread. I pick up. ‘Sophie! Are you all right?’
‘I’m peachy! I just wanted you to know, we’ve found David Fenton.’
‘You’ve been working on it through the night?’
‘With my contact – yes.’
I’d never doubted Sophie’s willingness to help, but I had underestimated her eagerness to get the job done so swiftly. She explains that a dozen people had been added to the relevant watch list during the date range I’d specified. There’d been an even male/female split, leaving us with six possibilities. Two had been in Central London and one in a small village in North Wales. Those were discarded. Sophie had investigated the remaining three. One, it turned out, was far too old to be Fenton and another didn’t match the physical description given to us by Ekaterina.
‘So who are we left with?’ I ask.
‘His name is now Thomas Maughan.’
‘How certain are you?’
‘I found recent photos of Maughan. They match with the ones we have of Fenton in his relative youth. He’s our man. No doubt.’
‘And where is he now? What’s he doing?’
I hear Sophie laugh. ‘You’re going to love this . . .’
*
I manage to get some more sleep, but my alarm goes off in the early hours and I groggily rise from my bed like Frankenstein’s monster stumbling from the slab in his creator’s laboratory. Thirty minutes later, I’m showered, shaved and changed into a suit and tie. And within the hour, I’ve downed two cups of rather good Jamaica Blue Mountain and ordered a taxi.
My phone rings. I pick up and hear Frank’s voice. ‘Something very strange is going on. No one wants to kill you.’
‘Yeah,’ I reply. ‘Trying hard not to take offence at that. What’s so strange about no one wanting me dead?’
‘I’ve just spent a lot of money for intel from the kind of men whose pints you really don’t want to spill. They confirmed that Sandy Paige hired someone to do you in.’
‘We already knew that!’
‘But here’s the thing. The contract was cancelled.’
‘Maybe it used the wrong pronoun on Twitter.’
‘What?’
‘It was my hilarious cancel-culture joke. Sorry. OK, why was the contract revoked?’
‘Nobody knows. But word is, the rescindment came from Paige himself.’
I should be delighted by this turn of events, but it simply strikes me as odd. ‘Thanks for letting me know, Frank. By the way, Sophie came up with the goods. David Fenton is now Thomas Maughan.’
‘Have you told Ekaterina?’
‘I left her a message explaining I wanted to meet Fenton before I give her any information about his new life.’
Frank pauses. ‘Why’s that?’
‘Because there’s something not quite right about all of this, and for once I want to be one step ahead.’
‘You be careful.’
‘Hey, what could possibly go wrong?’
‘I get stomach cramps every time you say that.’
My taxi arrives and I tell Frank I have to dash.
I’m en route to Guildford train station when the cabbie says, ‘You’re up early for a Sunday. You off anywhere special?’
‘Yes . . .’ I tell him the truth. ‘I’m going to church.’