“They didn’t say,” she offered, too nonchalantly.
Reeve looked at her. “You’ve had more than one?”
She shrugged. “A couple.”
“How many?”
“I think this was the third.”
“In how long?”
She shrugged again. There was a smudge of flour on her nose, and some wisps in her hair, making her look older. “Five or six days. There’s no one on the other end, no noise at all. Maybe it’s British Telecom testing the line or something. That happens sometimes.”
“Yes, it does.”
But not more than once in a very blue moon, he thought.
They’d been in bed for a silent hour and were lying side by side staring at the ceiling when he asked, “What about those callers?”
“The phone calls?” She turned her head towards him.
“No, you said some customers had turned up.”
“Oh, yes, just asking about courses.”
“Two of them?”
“Yes, one one day, one the next. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. It’s just we don’t often get people turning up like that.”
“Well, I gave them the brochure and they went away quite happy.”
“Did they come in the house?”
She sat up. “Only as far as the hall. It’s all right, Gordon, I can look after myself.”
“What were they like? Describe them.”
“I’m not sure I can. I hardly paid them any attention.” She leaned over him, her hand on his chest. She was feeling his heart rate. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. But he swung his legs out of bed and started to get dressed. “I don’t feel tired; I’ll go down to the kitchen.” He stopped at the door. “Anybody else come while I was away?”
“No.”
“Think about it.”
She thought about it. “A man came to read the meter. And the freezer lorry turned up.”
“What freezer lorry?”
“Frozen foods.” She sounded irritated. If he kept pushing, the end result would be an argument. “I usually buy chips and ice cream from him.”
“Was it the regular driver?”
She slumped back on the bed. “No, he was new. Gordon, what the hell is this about?”
“Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”
“What happened in the States?”
He came back and sat on the edge of the bed. “I think Jim was murdered.”
She sat up again. “What?”
“I think he was getting too deep into something, some story he was working on. Maybe they’d tried scaring him off and it hadn’t worked. I know Jim, he’s like me-try that tactic and he’d just be more curious than ever, and more stubborn. So then they had to kill him.”
“Who?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to find out.”
“And?”
“And, because I’ve been doing just what Jim was doing, maybe they’re targeting me. The thing is, I didn’t think they’d come here. Not so soon.”
“Two potential clients, a meter-reader, and a man with a van full of spuds and sprouts.”
“That’s four callers more than we usually get. Four callers while I was out of the country.” He got to his feet again.
“Is that it?” Joan asked. “Aren’t you going to tell me the rest?”
He started towards her, just able to make out her shape in the shadows of the curtained room-curtained despite the blackness outside and the isolation of the house. “I don’t want to make you a target.”
Then he padded downstairs as quietly as he could. He looked around, turning on lights, not touching anything, then stood in the living room thinking things over. He walked over to the TV and switched it on, using the remote to flick channels.
“Usual rubbish,” he said, yawning noisily for the benefit of anyone listening. He knew how sophisticated surveillance equipment had become. He’d heard of devices that could read computer screens from a distance of yards, without there being any physical connector linking them to the computer. He probably hadn’t heard half of it. The technology changed so quickly it was damn near impossible to keep up. He did his best, so he could pass what he knew on to his weekend soldiers. The trainee bodyguards in particular liked to know about that stuff.
He first checked that there were no watcher devices in the house. These were not so easy to hide: after all, if they were going to view a subject, they couldn’t be tucked away under a chair or a sofa. They also took a lot longer to fit. Someone would have had to access the house while Joan was out or asleep. He didn’t find anything. Next he put his jacket on and went outside, circling the house at a good radius. He spotted no one, certainly no vehicles. In the garage, he slid beneath both Land Rovers and found them clean-well, not clean, but lacking bugs. Before going back indoors he unscrewed the front panel from the burglar alarm. The screws were hard to shift, and showed no signs of recent tampering-no missing paint or fresh-looking scratches. The alarm itself was functioning.
Joan had said she’d let the new clients in as far as the hall. And he would guess she’d probably let the van driver in as far as the kitchen. He took a lot of time over both areas, feeling beneath carpets and behind curtains, taking the cookbooks off the bookshelf in the kitchen.
He found the first bug in the hall.
It was attached to the inside of the telephone.
He went into the kitchen and switched on the radio, placing it close to the phone extension. Then he unscrewed the apparatus and found another bug identical to the first one. Both had the letters USA stamped into their thin metal casing. He wiped sweat from his face, and went through to the living room. Despite an hour-long search, he found nothing, which didn’t mean the room was clean. He knew he could save a lot of effort by getting hold of a locating device, but he didn’t have the time. And at least now he knew-knew his family wasn’t safe, knew his home wasn’t secure.
Knew they had to get out.
He sat on the chair beside the dressing table in their bedroom. A morning ray of sun had found a chink in the curtains and was hitting Joan’s face, moving from her eyes to her forehead as she twisted in her sleep. Like a laser sight, Reeve thought, like an assassin taking aim. He felt tired but electric; he’d spent half the night writing. He had the sheets of printer paper with him on the chair. Joan rolled over, her arm flopping down on the space where he should have been. She used the arm to push herself up, blinking a few times. Then she rolled onto her back and craned her neck.
“Morning,” she said.
“Morning,” he answered, coming towards her.
“How long have you been up?” She was blinking her eyes again in an attempt to read the sheet of paper Reeve was holding in front of her.
“Hours,” he said with a lightness he did not feel.
DON’T SAY A WORD. JUST READ. NOD WHEN YOU’RE READY. REMEMBER: SAY NOTHING.
His look told her he was serious. She nodded, sitting up farther in bed, pushing the hair out of her eyes. He turned to the next sheet.
THE HOUSE IS BUGGED: WE CAN’T SAY ANYTHING IN SAFETY. WE’VE GOT TO PRETEND THIS IS JUST ANOTHER DAY. NOD WHEN YOU’RE READY.
She took a moment to nod. When she did so, she was staring into his eyes.
“So are you going to lie there all day?” he chided, turning the page.
“Why not?” she said. She looked frightened.
YOU’VE GOT TO GO STAY WITH YOUR SISTER. TAKE ALLAN. BUT DON’T TELL HIM. JUST PACK SOME THINGS INTO THE CAR AND GO. PRETEND YOU’RE TAKING HIM TO SCHOOL AS USUAL.
“Come on, get up and I’ll make the breakfast.”
“I’ll take a shower.”
“Okay.”
WE CAN’T SAY WHERE YOU’RE GOING. WE CAN’T LET ANYONE KNOW. THIS IS JUST AN ORDINARY MORNING.
Joan nodded her head.
“Will toast do you?” he asked.
I DON’T THINK WE’RE BEING WATCHED, JUST LISTENED TO.