‘No, I haven’t called her yet. Listen, Liz, give me half an hour and I will phone you back. But remember one thing. You were the most important person in Martin’s life.’
‘It’s kind of you to say that, Isabelle.’ She was doing her very best not to sob but her eyes filled with tears.
‘I’m not just saying it to be kind – he told me often enough.’
It was long after midnight when Isabelle called again. In the intervening time Liz had got up and made coffee, checked her diary for appointments the next day, rung Peggy and told her the news and that she’d be in Paris tomorrow, then asked her to tell DG about Martin. She went online and booked a ticket on the Eurostar, then put a few things in an overnight bag, just in case. Finally, having run out of diversions, she collapsed in an armchair in her sitting room. She sat still for several minutes, slowly composing herself. She didn’t actually want to think any more about Martin just now – it was too painful. But quite unbidden, the memory of their last meeting came back to her, and she thought of his words – Because I love you very much, Miss Liz Carlyle. And suddenly she started to cry, then cried and cried until she could cry no more.
When her tears were utterly exhausted, she got up and went to the bathroom and washed her face. As she dried it the phone rang.
It was Isabelle again. ‘I have reached Mimi and Claudette, Liz.’
‘I hope they are all right.’ She had little sense of Claudette. Early on in their relationship it had been clear that Martin didn’t want to talk about his ex in any detail, something that Liz had always been grateful for, since it meant there were no shadows hanging over them.
‘Well, Claudette was shocked, of course. I don’t know if you ever met her.’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘She likes to control things in her life, Liz, so the unexpected tends to throw her at first, then she reasserts control, if you understand.’
‘Yes,’ said Liz, but she wasn’t sure what Isabelle was getting at.
‘At first she decided there must be a funeral right away. I explained that couldn’t happen. Because of the circumstances there will have to be a post-mortem and there may be an inquiry, though it will be secret of course. Everything is being done to make sure there is no publicity – at present anyway – as we don’t want to alert Zara and his friends. And I told Claudette you should be consulted.’
‘Thank you,’ Liz said mechanically. She didn’t really feel able to cope with all this at present.
‘She didn’t like that – not because it was you, Liz; she has no axe to grind, but because she always wants to decide everything herself. But she did say she would be happy to have you attend the service.’
‘That’s big of her,’ said Liz. Then she took a deep breath and forced herself to focus. ‘I don’t think there’s much family, Isabelle. Martin’s parents are both dead and he was an only child. My real concern is what Mimi wants. It’s her wishes we should follow here.’
Liz had only met the girl once. Martin’s relations with his daughter had been strained after the divorce; living with her mother, Mimi had not surprisingly sided with her in what had been an angry parental split. But since coming to Paris to attend the Sorbonne, she had begun to see her father regularly, and relations had improved immeasurably. When Liz had met her, not in Martin’s flat but on the neutral ground of a café, conversation had been polite but strained at first.
Then Martin had excused himself to make a phone call and Liz had admired Mimi’s new pair of boots, and suddenly they had begun to talk freely about all sorts of things – clothes, films, and why they hated cigarette smoke and were glad Martin had given up, and whether Paris was rainier than London – and their conversation was so spontaneous and friendly that when Martin had come back from making his call, he felt (as he said affectionately to Liz later that evening) that he was almost surplus to requirements.
Now Isabelle said, ‘Actually, I have just come off the phone to Mimi – that’s why I am so late ringing you again. Her mother broke the news to her, and of course she is distraught. I’d given Claudette my number and Mimi must have got it from her. At first, she wanted all the details of her father’s death. To tell you the truth, I ducked that, Liz. I hope you think that was the right thing to do.’
‘Yes,’ said Liz, thinking that she didn’t know the details either. She hadn’t been listening when Isabelle was telling her what had happened. ‘She’ll learn all about it in due course,’ she said, thinking, So will I.
‘She wanted to make sure you’d been told, but she didn’t have your number. I think she was relieved to learn that I’d already been in touch. She said she hoped you would come over right away. She’ll take this very hard but I’m sure your presence here would be a great comfort.’
‘I will,’ said Liz. ‘I’ll be on the Eurostar that gets in at quarter past ten. But I don’t really know Mimi at all.’
‘I’ll send a car to meet you and take you to the flat. Right now you are the one link to her father. She said that the last time she saw Martin he told her he hoped to marry you. He told her everyone has a true love in their life but not everyone is lucky enough to find them. He said he was one of the lucky ones.’
Chapter 50
Peggy Kinsolving liked to wake early – one of the best things in life was having a job she was eager to get to. In her earlier incarnation as a librarian, there had been mornings when she could barely get out of bed, especially in the dark winter months, but ever since she’d joined MI5 there had never been any problem about getting up.
This morning, however, she was fast asleep when her alarm rang at 6.30. After Liz’s phone call telling her the dreadful news from Paris she had just sat in a chair for half an hour, everything spinning in her head. She hadn’t been able to make up her mind whether she should ring DG straightaway or wait until morning. Should she ring Geoffrey Fane? She seemed to be immobilised, as if all the stuffing had been knocked out of her.
Then suddenly she had pulled herself together. What would Liz do in my shoes? she’d thought. Well, she wouldn’t be sitting here like this. Peggy had long ago observed that the worse the situation, the more calmly Liz behaved, and she had drawn strength from Liz’s cool efficiency. Well now, she said to herself, I must do the same. So she’d grabbed the phone, dialled DG’s PA and passed on the news. ‘He’ll want to know now,’ was the advice, so Peggy had rung him. DG had asked for an update on the operation and had told her that she must be the main liaison with Manchester Police until Liz was able to take over again. She’d then rung the Duty Officer at Vauxhall Cross and given him the barest account of what had happened to pass on to Geoffrey Fane. She had decided to leave informing Andy Bokus until morning. Having done all that, she began to feel better about herself and got into bed. But it was past two o’clock and her mind was racing. She was thinking what she must do in the morning; how awful Liz must be feeling; whatever could have happened in Paris – and so it went on until she fell asleep at about five o’clock, only to be woken an hour and a half later.
When she got to Thames House, Peggy found that word had already spread about Martin Seurat’s death. A few colleagues asked her what had happened, but she didn’t know any more than they did. As more people arrived for work, they were also greeted with the news. Soon an almost palpable gloom settled over the open-plan office where Peggy had her desk. Liz was a very popular colleague, much admired by the younger officers. It was widely known that her partner was a DGSE officer whom she’d met when she was posted to Northern Ireland, and that an operation there had ended violently in the South of France. Some people knew that Martin Seurat had saved the life of Dave Armstrong, one of their colleagues, who had been kidnapped. So Seurat was something of a hero in the Counter-Terrorist branch, even though not many people had met him.