It wasn’t as if he was a stranger. They had been married for six years. But for how much longer?
The doorbell rang. Company was the last thing he needed. He decided to ignore the bell. Then it went again and Carmen shouted to him to answer it. He cursed under his breath and strode across the lounge to the door. He opened it on the chain. His eyes widened in surprise. It was Philpott.
‘Afternoon, sir,’ Whitlock stammered, then unlocked the chain and opened the door. ‘Please, come in.’
‘Thank you,’ Philpott replied, following Whitlock into the lounge. He looked around the room slowly and nodded his head in approval. ‘Very nice, C.W.’
Whitlock smiled quickly. ‘Won’t you sit down, sir?’
Philpott eased himself into an armchair and took his pipe and tobacco pouch from his pocket. He held them up.
‘May I?’
‘Of course, there’s an ashtray on the table. Can I get you a drink, sir?’
‘A Scotch, if you have it.’ Philpott tamped a wad of tobacco into the bowl of his pipe, then looked up as Whitlock crossed to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room. ‘Alexander’s been rearrested. I thought you’d like to know.’
‘That’s a relief.’ Whitlock poured out two whiskies. ‘Ice, sir?’
‘No ice. It seems he was quite relieved to have been finally caught. Life on the run wasn’t much fun for him. Ah, thank you,’ Philpott said, taking the tumbler.
Whitlock sat on the sofa. ‘I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to tell me about Alexander.’
‘Actually no.’ Philpott was about to take a sip of his whisky when Carmen came in. He immediately got to his feet. ‘Nice to see you again, Mrs. Whitlock.’
Carmen shook Philpott’s hand and sat on the sofa beside Whitlock.
‘Again?’ Whitlock said suspiciously, his eyes moving between Carmen and Philpott. ‘You two know each other?’
‘I went to see Colonel Philpott after I got back from Paris,’ Carmen said.
‘What?’ Whitlock said in disbelief. ‘You know the rules…’ He trailed off when Philpott raised his hand.
‘I’m not here because of that,’ Philpott assured him. ‘It was an exceptional case as far as I’m concerned. We had a long talk. I suggested she book into the Plaza. It was obvious she needed some time to herself, away from the pressures of family and friends.’ He took a sip of whisky, then sat back in the chair. ‘We don’t want to lose you, C.W. And neither does Carmen. Only I couldn’t give her any assurances about your future at UNACO. Not without clearing it first with the Secretary-General. I’ve spent most of the morning with him. He’s agreed to let me speak to you both. Naturally what I’m going to tell you can’t be repeated outside these four walls until it becomes official. Not to anybody.’
‘I understand, sir,’ Whitlock said hesitantly.
Philpott finished his whisky but declined Carmen’s offer of a refill.
‘There’s been a lot of rumours circulating about who’s going to replace who when I retire in four years’ time. For a start, I’m not retiring in four years’ time. I’m retiring at the end of the year. Doctor’s orders. Jacques won’t be taking my place as has been generally rumoured. He’s too important to us in Zürich. He’s built up an invaluable network of contacts across Europe which could be damaged if he were replaced. Sergei will take over from me when I retire. And you will become his deputy. But he’ll only stay on as Director for a year. He wants to go back to Russia and settle there again now that Gorbachev’s given new hope to the country. The Secretary-General doesn’t want to lose him but naturally he won’t stand in his way. That means you’ll take over as Director when Sergei leaves.’
‘Me, sir?’ Whitlock stammered in disbelief. He had hoped for Rust’s job at the most, but Director? He couldn’t believe it.
‘I recommended you to the Secretary-General because I think you’re the best man for the job. And you have the respect of all the field operatives. I know you’ll do well.’
‘Does Sergei know?’
‘He seconded my recommendation. Jacques knows as well. He’s thrilled at the idea. As I’m sure you are.’
‘I am, sir,’ Whitlock said, struggling to find the words. ‘But what about Strike Force Three? Do you have a replacement in mind for me?’
‘I’ve got just the man. Fabio Paluzzi.’
Whitlock grinned. ‘He’s coming over to us?’
‘I spoke to him yesterday. He jumped at the chance. He’ll be joining us next month. I’ll put him with one of the other teams so that he can get some experience, then he’ll be transferred to Strike Force Three when you come on to the management side in November.’
Philpott looked at Carmen.
‘I hope that puts things in a clearer perspective for you, Mrs. Whitlock. Naturally you’ll want to discuss it by yourselves.’ He took two airline tickets from his pocket and placed them on the table. ‘Your flight leaves for Paris from La Guardia tomorrow afternoon. You’ll find a confirmed booking at your hotel when you get there. Two weeks. The bill comes to us. And don’t worry, Mrs. Whitlock, we won’t interrupt your holiday again by recalling C.W. You have my word on that.’
She smiled. It was obvious from her expression that she was far too emotional to speak.
‘Well, I must be on my way.’ Philpott reached for his cane and pulled himself to his feet. ‘Enjoy yourselves.’
‘Thank you, sir. For everything.’
Philpott nodded, then moved to the hall. They both accompanied him, and Whitlock opened the door.
‘Thank you, Colonel,’ Carmen said softly.
Philpott shook her hand.
‘I only hope I’ve been of some help. Oh, and, C.W., don’t forget to send a postcard.’
Whitlock smiled and closed the door behind Philpott. He turned back to Carmen. Her cheeks were streaked with tears.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked anxiously.
‘Nothing,’ she replied and kissed him lightly on the mouth. ‘Not any more.’