“You!”
“Of course I would.”
“You know what this is about?”
“Haven’t the foggiest. Milk and one sugar, isn’t it?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Alistair held up one finger, stuck his head back into the ops room, and called out in his well-spoken voice, “Charles, be a darling and bring us two teas. Both with milk and sugar.”
“Fuck off.”
Alistair clicked his tongue and smiled at Marsha as he closed the door. “Seems Mr. Sheridan’s not predisposed to making us a nice cuppa.” His expression changed. “What’s wrong?”
Marsha pointed a finger at him. “Someone got to Cochrane’s home before the Metropolitan Police. Systematically ripped it apart.”
“I see. And you think I commissioned a team of MI6 operatives to do the job?”
“Damn right. Superintendent Barclay thinks the same.”
“And why would you believe I’d do such a thing?”
“Your patch. Your boy. If you can find out where he is, you can warn him off.”
“Quite so. But I had no reason to search Will’s home.”
“That’s a lie.”
“It’s the opposite. There’d have been no point, because I’d never have found anything remotely interesting there. Will’s not the kind of chap who leaves clues about his life lying around. He stores everything important inside his head.” He frowned. “How badly damaged was the place?”
“Bull in a china shop bad.”
“His antiques and other stuff?”
“Ruined.”
“That’s awful.” Alistair moved to the window and stared out at nothing. “He loved his things.”
“I’m sure that’s the least of his worries right now.”
“I know, but when this is over he’ll—”
“When this is over he’ll be in prison or dead.” Marsha frowned. “You still think he might have some kind of future?”
Alistair smiled, though his expression remained unsettled. “For the last nine years he’s been working for me, I never once thought it was certain he’d have a future.”
“At least then he had somewhere to retreat to. That’s all changed.”
“It has.” Alistair turned to her. “Being Will’s controller has required me to do more than issue orders. I’ve had to wear many hats — psychologist, defense lawyer, confidant, motivator, provocateur, and guardian. I know him better than anyone, though there are still parts of his mind and character that I’ve yet to fathom. He keeps me on my toes, always going in directions I least expect. But there’s one thing I know for sure: his home and possessions were about putting down roots and trying to connect with humanity. I’d never have issued orders for his things to be touched, and now that it’s happened I’ve got no idea what it will do to him if he ever gets the chance to find out.”
Marsha kept her eyes on the controller while deep in thought. “This one of them Jedi mind tricks Bo warned me about?”
“Quite apart from the fact that I’ve got no idea what Jedi means, a mind trick would serve no purpose given the fundamental principle that Will would never have left anything compromising at his home.”
Marsha nodded. “Guess that makes sense.”
“And yet somebody did think they’d find something at Will’s home. Any further thoughts as to who?”
“Yeah, one.”
“No doubt the same one, I suspect.” Alistair was once again all charm. “Would you like me to make you a cup of tea, my dear? Unlike Sheridan, I don’t think any task is beneath me, plus it would be a pleasure.”
Marsha smiled. This guy talked like he was in a black-and-white movie, but it was kind of refreshing and made her feel nice. “No thanks.”
Alistair hesitated on his way out. “You’re doing an excellent job.”
“Bo Haupman should have told you I don’t like praise.”
“He did.”
“So why ignore his advice?”
“Because I know he’s wrong.”
“Yeah? How!”
“Because of seven things you don’t realize you do that betray the fact that you secretly enjoy praise.”
“What are they?”
“I’m not telling, Mrs. Gage.”
“Now that is a damned mind trick.”
“No. The mind flip is that I now know something about you that you don’t. You’ll wonder if others can see the same. And that leaves you with two choices — continue to perpetuate a lie, or be honest with yourself and others.” His smile was warm and his eyes held compassion. “That is the Jedi mind trick.”
Marsha laughed. “Tell you what — bring me that cup of tea when I’m done. Think I need one.”
“Of course. By the way, don’t stand for any nonsense, but do keep your powder dry.”
Sheridan entered the room two minutes after Alistair had left.
“Yeah?”
Now this was someone Marsha really wanted to slap hard, just for being Charles Sheridan. She told him about Superintendent Barclay’s call and what he’d discovered at Cochrane’s apartment. “You know anything about that?”
“None of your business.”
“Meaning you do.”
“Meaning my business is my business. It’s called logic.”
“It’s called being uncooperative.”
“Never said I was here to help.”
“Bit boring and predictable though, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“Bureaucratic, interagency infighting.”
“I ain’t bored with it. Anyway, Patrick isn’t a fed, and he’s helping you.”
“Yes, but Patrick’s as much in the dark as I am. You’re not.”
“Yeah, life sucks for all but the rich and powerful.”
Marsha tried to stop her voice from becoming audibly angry. “Discreet call to our U.K. embassy? Get our London station to deploy an Agency team to Cochrane’s place before the cops went there? Endgame: find something that might locate Cochrane so you and your crony spooks could get to him before the Bureau did? That sound about right?”
Sheridan walked right up to her and held a finger close to her chest. “Keep your nose out!”
“Don’t touch me!”
“Why not?” Sheridan’s face was inches from hers, his expression utterly threatening and hostile. “You want equality in the workplace, you got it!”
Marsha held his gaze, even though he was at least a foot taller than her. “Equality? You touch lots of men in the workplace, do you, Charlie boy?”
“Fuck you.” Sheridan stepped back. “Senator Jellicoe’s authorized me to cover all bases, and if that means checking out Cochrane’s pad before the Brits get there then so be it.”
“You had no right…”
“I had every damn right, Gage! You help us or you don’t. Doesn’t matter. But nothing’s going to get in the way of us finding Cochrane.”
“I’ll make an official complaint.”
“To who? Haupman?” He laughed. “Maybe you’d like to have a little whine to the president. Want me to get him on the phone? ’Cause I can.”
“Has the president really bought into you, Jellicoe, and Parker?”
“Not us, you fool. What we can deliver.”
“Something called Ferryman?”
“Who told you about that?”
“Alistair. Want to go threatening him as well? Good luck. Maybe he’ll make a few phone calls. I’ve heard the Brits are world class at getting rid of people they don’t like.”
Sheridan pointed at her. “Alistair knows shit about Ferryman, meaning the same is true for you.”
“You—”
“Shut up! I ain’t threatening you, so don’t go getting your panties in a twist. You just ain’t worth the hassle. But I am telling you this: you think I’m some spineless dick who’s going to let himself be talked down, then think again.”