And Mrs Demelzer’s name was top of the list.
‘Is there somewhere you could go for a few days?’ he asked her. ‘A friend, perhaps?’
She was no fool. She gave him a knowing look. ‘Why? Is my life in danger? Something to do with Helen’s death?’
‘I don’t know. It could be.’ He explained about Helen’s flat and how whoever had searched the place now knew her address and what she looked like.
‘Really?’ She seemed incredulous. ‘But why would they come looking for me? It was only a greetings card.’
‘It was enough,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what they were looking for, but they found the card and made the connection with your address book and the back of the photo.’
‘But what could I tell them? I don’t know anything about Helen’s work. It is about her work, I suppose?’
‘I think so. She may have got involved in something dangerous. I’m trying to find out what it was.’
Mrs Demelzer stood up, the tea forgotten. Her manner was suddenly brisk and decisive. ‘I’d better go and pack a bag, hadn’t I? If you can take me to my sister’s house — she lives about ten miles away — I’ll be safe enough there. Even if they ask anyone around here, they won’t be able to tell them anything.’ She started towards the stairs, then stopped and turned to Palmer with a strange expression. ‘What are you going to do?’
Palmer took a deep breath. ‘Find them,’ he said honestly. ‘Find the people responsible. Who did it, and why. After that,’ He shrugged enigmatically. ‘We’ll see.’
It seemed to be enough. Mrs Demelzer nodded and patted him on the arm with great tenderness. ‘I’m glad. I’m sure you’ll do what you think best.’ She smiled with enormous sadness and went to pack.
22
‘You’ve been up to something — I can tell.’ Riley walked into Palmer’s office the following morning and found him at the window, staring into the street. ‘I rang you several times last night. Your mobile was off.’ Her voice was deliberately accusing; he’d left her out of the fun.
‘I needed my beauty sleep. I had an early night.’
‘Palmer.’ Riley stared at him, eyes like flint. ‘You’ve never needed an early night in your life. Where were you?’
He told her about his visit to Helen’s flat, the destruction he’d found and the connection between the card, the photo and the address book.
‘What did you do?’
‘I moved her out of harm’s way. She’s safe for now.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have helped you. I thought we were working together on this.’
‘We are. But it was easier to go to the flat by myself. If we’d walked into a police surveillance unit, you’d have been compromised as well. Alone, I had a halfway believable reason for being there.’
‘Maybe,’ she conceded grudgingly. ‘But next time, let me in on it.’
He nodded and toed the carpet. ‘Okay, boss. Sorry, boss.’
‘Apology accepted.’ Riley smiled, relieved to see he hadn’t lost his sense of humour. Being absorbed in his work was one thing; Palmer without humour was worrying.
‘But we do this my way,’ he insisted, leaving her no room for argument. ‘Our only line of connection is from Helen through the publishers in Sokhumi, through you to Richard Varley. It’s there, but a bit ragged. I want to take a look at him first. And Al-Bashir. If there’s something brewing between them, we need to figure out what it is before we go blundering in.’ He looked sombre. ‘Especially if there’s a connection with the Russian security services.’
‘Is that really likely?’
‘Anything’s possible. If it’s big business, the FSB would take an interest. It could be you’ve walked into a straightforward propaganda exercise and Varley is being used without his knowledge to recruit contributors for that purpose. Helen’s death could have been a mistake, or even be unconnected. We need to find out more.’
‘I can help with that,’ Riley volunteered. ‘Varley fancies his chances. I can ask him for another meeting. I’m sure he’ll agree. I haven’t actually said yes to the assignment yet, so it won’t seem unreasonable to want to talk it over.’
Palmer looked doubtful. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’
‘Can you think of a better one?’
‘No.’
Before he could think up an argument, Riley took out her mobile and dialled the number on Varley’s business card. When he answered, she said, ‘I’m in. But I need to talk over a couple of things. Any chance we can meet?’
‘Of course!’ Varley sounded almost relieved. ‘Great to hear from you. Sure, we can talk. How about lunch today?’ He named a restaurant in Curzon Street.
‘I’ll see you there.’ She hung up and looked triumphantly at Palmer. ‘See? Easy.’
The restaurant was busy when Riley arrived. Richard Varley was sitting at a discreet corner table at the back, sipping from a glass of water. He looked solid, respectable and at ease, the sophisticated businessman enjoying a lunch break. As Riley followed the head waiter between the other tables, she was aware that the man she had come to see was watching her, and was himself the subject of discreet attention from one or two female diners.
He stood as she approached, and held out a hand. His touch was warm, like before, and lingered just long enough without being overly familiar.
‘Riley. Good to see you. May I offer you a drink?’
Riley asked for a gin and tonic and sat down. The head waiter took her order, then waited.
Varley ordered a filet steak and salad and looked innocently across at her. ‘I usually know what I want, so why waste time?’
Riley kept her eyes on the menu, ignoring the coded statement — if that’s what it was. If he was trying to come on to her, he wouldn’t be the first, and he clearly felt confident enough, as he had demonstrated at their first meeting. She chose salmon and handed the menu back to the waiter.
‘I don’t get enough time to relax,’ Varley said regretfully, and sipped his water. He gestured around at the restaurant. ‘This is a rare luxury for me, taking time out like this. Thank you for giving me the opportunity.’
‘My pleasure,’ said Riley. ‘But why so busy?’
‘Well, our business is all about current events in a changing world. Like yours. Old news is no news. We have a crowded programme of features and specials, and there are lots of eager shareholders to satisfy, as well as a list of high-level subscribers waiting for their next copy.’
‘Shareholders in Georgia?’
Varley didn’t miss a beat. He waved a vague hand. ‘Hardly any, actually. As I told you before, it’s just a base — and it’s cheap. We get the printing done at various facilities across Europe, wherever the price and production quality seems best. It keeps down the overheads and avoids local business taxes. It’s a struggle sometimes, but we manage. Do you work with anyone?’
The question was so smoothly delivered, it almost threw her. She wondered if there was a reason for it other than to divert her away from asking about the company. She was grateful when her drink arrived. ‘Nobody special,’ she replied. ‘If I need help, I recruit it when I need to — like you.’ She took a sip. ‘It keeps down the overheads.’
‘Touche.’ He dipped his head in acknowledgement. ‘Tell me about yourself. Any family?’
‘No. I’m what’s referred to as a singleton — although I loathe the word. I think it implies a lack of free choice.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘And are you — single, I mean?’
‘At the moment, yes.’
‘By choice?’
The question was reasonable, but Riley wondered if it was genuine. Or did he already know all there was to know about her background? That prompted thoughts about John Mitcheson, and she shook her head. Now wasn’t the time. Instead, she focussed on the present, remembering that corporations could find out about prospective employees at the push of a button. Christ, Palmer, she thought wildly, you’re making me paranoid. The man’s only being pleasant. She wondered where Palmer was and what he was doing. He’d said something about going back to Pantile House for another look round, but Palmer had a habit of not always doing what he’d talked about.