I think I see where you re coming from, Holley told her. But what exactly are you saying?
You pointed out that you never had much time for relationships in your line of work, because although you were here today, you were very possibly gone tomorrow, and you meant permanently.
Which is true.
What would you say if I said I d like you to take me to bed?
I d say no.
But why? She looked genuinely bewildered.
I know how you feel about me. It s been obvious from the moment we met. In case you hadn t noticed, I m a woman. We know about these things.
He took her empty glass from her hand and refilled it. Would you just listen to me? In the old days, I ran guns out of Algiers to the Mafia, so I was familiar with the part of Sicilian folklore that speaks of the thunderbolt that strikes a man when he meets the special woman, the only woman.
She stopped drinking, just stared at him. What are you trying to say?
That I always thought it was nonsense until I saw the most desirable and endearing woman I d ever set eyes on limping around that dance floor at the Pierre.
So why won t you take me to bed?
Well, God help anyone who tries to do you harm, but regarding anything else… Sara, I fear I m carrying too much baggage. And as you may have noticed, I m too old for you.
Her expression was unreadable, though there was a touch of triumph there. Oh, you poor old boy. She emptied her glass and dropped it into the champagne bucket. You can take me home now.
She was smiling as they went down in the lift, smiled at the doorman when he got the Mercedes for them, was still smiling when they turned into Highfield Court, and Holley, leaving his engine running, went round and opened the door for her.
What a gentleman, she said.
It s an older-guy thing, he told her.
I ll leave you till tomorrow. You ll want to spend some quality time with your granddad. I ll pick you up for Thursday around noon.
As he moved away, she said, Aren t you forgetting something? He turned, and she stepped in close, reached up and kissed him on the mouth, held the moment, then smiled. Not bad. Not bad at all for a poor old boy. She turned and went in.
Sadie was hovering in the hall. Did you have a good evening?
It was very interesting.
I saw you kissing him. You haven t been doing anything silly, have you?
Well, I offered, but he turned me down. Sara laughed. Would you like to know why? Because he loves me too much. She shook her head and spoke as if to herself. I m really going to have to do something about you, Daniel.
You don t think it would be more sensible to let him go? Sadie asked.
What a waste of a good man that would be. They re in short supply, or hadn t you noticed?
Sadie was annoyed. Why has everything got to be such a joke to you?
Because sometimes life is a joke, like Afghanistan was a joke. If I hadn t been able to see that, two tours in that hellhole would have driven me insane. The wildness, the pain that erupted on Sara s face was frightening.
Sadie was immediately contrite. I m sorry, darling.
Aren t we all. When s Granddad due?
Sometime after midnight. They ll send him home with a chauffeur, they always do. I m going to wait up for him. What about you?
I d better go to bed. New York was a long time ago, and Tucson is just a distant memory.
You must be exhausted. A holiday is what you need.
No chance. After all, I ve only just started with this new outfit. I ve got to find my way. I ve got tomorrow off anyway. Sara was yawning now. Night bless, Sadie, I m going to get my head down.
Holley was enjoying a glass of the Dom Perignon as a nightcap when Roper called him on his Codex. Harry s been in touch. I understand you took Sara down to the Dark Man tonight and there was an incident.
An accident of sorts. I was driving the Alfa, and when we were leaving I suddenly lost all braking power. We could have gone in the river, but fortunately a bollard got in the way.
Sara s all right, is she?
We both are. Harry s sorting it. Loaned me a Merc.
Well, he s had the night crew down from that garage he owns, and it wasn t any accident. A main tube feeding the hydraulic system was deliberately severed. As it s steel mesh covered, it would have needed a special cutter to do it, used by someone who knew his business.
That doesn t fit the profile of some ordinary vandal, Holley said.
Daniel, Harry Salter is still revered in certain circles, because he was once one of the most powerful guvnors in the London underworld. Vandals and hoodlums and the like would never try to pull something at his own pub. It would be like committing suicide.
You re saying we were targeted?
That s about the size of it.
Sara and I were there for about an hour and a half. It wasn t particularly busy, well-behaved people having a night out, enjoying themselves. Did any of Harry s folk have anything to report?
Come to think of it, Dora did mention something unusual.
Such as?
Some French guy asked for a Pernod.
And did she give him one?
Apparently, she had a bottle on the bar shelf that had been standing there forever and never opened, and he did it for her. She said he was very charming, gray-haired, with those steel-rimmed round spectacles, and he wore a black trench coat.
And she d never seen him before?
Never. Do you think it s important?
It s certainly unusual, especially considering the coincidence that Sara and I were visiting.
True, Roper said. And the third unusual fact, Watson, as Sherlock would have said, concerns the Alfa Romeo that almost went into the Thames.
So it could be we were followed with evil intent by an unknown Frenchman seeking an opportunity to do us harm. No hint of Islam there?
Dora said he spoke English like Maurice Chevalier and looked like Jean Gabin in one of those old gangster movies you know, the ones where he s just out of jail to do one last job, looks permanently tired, and you know it s all going to end badly.
Well, that s something, Holley said.
A starting point. We ve known for some time now that the French Secret Service operates undercover in London. Get on to your friends at DGSE headquarters in Paris and see if they can help.
They ll deny being here.
Then phone one of the guys who isn t supposed to be here, such as Claude Duval, and see what he has to say. I ll go to bed now. I m bushed.
It was quiet in the computer room at Holland Park, the multiplicity of screens from around the world somehow enclosing Roper as he sat there thinking about the conversation he d just had.
Sergeant Doyle came in with a mug of tea and a bacon sandwich.
There you go, Major. I ll be having a lie-down in the duty room. I won t say take it easy, because you never do.
I love you, too, Tony.
He lit a cigarette and made a phone call. A voice echoed round the room in French. Duval here. Who in the hell is that? It s one o clock in the morning.
Roper answered in English. Roper. Just turn your back on whichever delectable lady is sharing your bed, Claude, and listen to me.
So what is it now, Giles? Duval said in English.
I m sure it s no news to you that we ve taken on new blood at Holland Park.
You mean, of course, the magnificent Captain Sara Gideon? Duval was much more alert now. Is there a problem?
Roper recounted the episode at the Dark Man in detail. What do you think?
That Sherlock Holmes would be proud of you, and I agree: The Pernod-drinking Frenchman is too much of a coincidence. The good Dora s description is remarkable. She should have been a film critic. I used to love those black-and-white gangster movies with people like Jean Gabin. I ll bear what she said in mind.
I d be grateful.
Needless to say, he was not one of ours.