He came awake with someone kissing him on an ear.
“Wake up, my darling,” Jennifer said. She helped him sit up and get into some clothes. By the time he had dressed he was feeling fairly normal again. “It’s time for dinner,” she said, then walked him downstairs and onto the terrace, where a table had been set again.
Alex was already seated, eating caviar with a spoon and washing it down with iced vodka. “Sit down, Roger, sit down,” he said jovially.
Roger dug into the caviar and blinis, the first food he had eaten all day.
“You did quite well today,” Alex said.
“Did I? How?”
“You made them believe you. Either you told them the truth, or MI-6 trained you very well to withstand interrogation.”
Roger shook his head. “No.”
“No, what?”
“No, they didn’t train me for that. I never attended their training school.”
“I’m sorry I disappeared today,” Alex said, “but your interrogation required that more than one officer question you. Fortunately for you, both of us came to the same conclusion: that you were truthful.”
“I don’t remember much of what they asked me,” Roger said.
“That is the effect of the drugs you were given. A subject can be interrogated, then forget, and, if he is interrogated again, his answers can be compared to the transcript of his earlier session. Good, no?”
“If you say so.” Half a roast chicken was set before him, and he tore into it with his fingers, washing it down with wine.
He did not begin to feel full until he ate ice cream for dessert.
“You are tired,” Alex said. “You should go to bed now. You and I will meet in the morning, then you will be returned to England.”
Roger said good night, then left the table with Jennifer in tow. She got him into bed, serviced him orally, then tucked him in.
The following morning, after a hearty breakfast, he sat down with Alex in the library.
“Should I wish to contact you,” Alex said, “I will call you on this telephone” — he handed Roger an iPhone — “and ask if this is the laundry. You will say, ‘Wrong number’ and hang up. Then you will receive a text telling you the time and place of our meeting. You will take a taxi halfway there, walk for a few blocks, go in and out of buildings by different doors, then take another taxi to within a block of the meeting place, then walk the rest of the way, taking great care that you are not followed. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Roger said. Then he was asked to repeat everything he was told.
“One hundred and twenty-five thousand pounds has been placed in a numbered bank account in the Cayman Islands.” He pushed a slip of paper across the table. “Memorize this account number now, and the telephone number of the bank.”
Roger memorized the numbers and Alex took back the slip of paper and gave him a black credit card with his name on it and the name and branch of his London bank. “You may use this card to pay for purchases or to retrieve money from cash machines anywhere in the world. Twenty-five thousand pounds will be deposited in it on the first day of every month for as long as our relationship lasts. On the second of every January, another one hundred thousand pounds will be deposited, in addition to your regular monthly payments.”
“Thank you,” Roger said, pocketing the card.
“You will be expected to follow completely every order you are given. Do not ask what will happen if you fail.”
Roger nodded.
“Jennifer will move in with you, and you will both move to a better flat. An agent will show you several when you return. Jennifer has her name and number. When you choose a place, Jennifer will pay the monthly rent, so if you are asked how you can afford it you can reply that you have a rich girlfriend. If you, at some point, wish to marry, you may do so. You may travel freely, as long as it does not conflict with your assignments. Jennifer will act as your secretary, pay your monthly bills, make your travel arrangements, et cetera. I hope you two will continue to enjoy each other’s company.” Finally, he gave Roger a zippered case containing a semiautomatic 9mm pistol, a silencer, and a box of ammunition. “The pistol may be used multiple times in succession leaving a different ballistic imprint each time, so that no connection can be made with another usage, a little trick we learned from our CIA opponents.”
Alex escorted them both to the front door, where a driver was putting their luggage into a car. They were driven to an airport and, in a hangar, put aboard an airplane — this one a Citation X, of American manufacture.
They landed at Biggin Hill and were driven to Roger’s flat in London. The place had been thoroughly cleaned, he noted.
42
They had breakfast the following morning, then Jennifer said, “We have an appointment at ten o’clock to look at a flat.”
“All right,” Roger said. He had not yet returned to the full realization that he was a free man in his own home. It was best to just follow her instructions.
They arrived at the address, in Eaton Place, and were met by an estate agent, then took the elevator to the top floor. The apartment was large, occupying the entire floor. There was a large drawing room, a separate dining room, a library with a toilet concealed behind bookcases, an office, two en suite bedrooms, and a garage in the basement with two spaces, with an entrance on the street behind.
“Can we afford this?” he asked Jennifer.
“I can afford it,” she replied. “Remember, I’m a wealthy woman.”
Jennifer signed a lease on the spot, and she wrote a check. “Come,” she said, “we must begin packing your things and arrange for removals.”
Late in the afternoon of the following day, they occupied the new place, and while Roger unpacked and placed his things in his new dressing room, Jennifer went shopping. The day after that, things she had bought began to arrive: furniture, pictures, sculptures — all of it from antique shops. Within a few days, the place looked as if they had always lived there.
On Saturday morning, Roger’s iPhone rang for the first time. “Hello?”
“Is this the laundry?” a female voice asked.
“I’m sorry, you have the wrong number,” Roger replied, and she hung up. Shortly, the phone made a chiming noise, and he checked the text messages. The single message gave an address in Hampstead.
“I’ve had a call,” Roger said to Jennifer, who was unpacking kitchen utensils.
“You must go armed,” she replied.
Roger consulted his London A to Z Guide, then planned his route. He caught a cab in the street, took it as far as Trafalgar Square, then walked several blocks, bought a Daily Telegraph, and got another cab. He got out a block short of his destination and walked to a spot on Hampstead Heath, taking care that he was not followed to his destination: an empty park bench. He sat down and opened his paper. Ten minutes passed before a man sat down at the other end of the bench. He didn’t look at the man.
“Good morning,” said a voice that he recognized as Alex’s.
Roger said nothing, but nodded.
“Look up and slightly to your left,” Alex said. Roger did so. “You see the little street, with row houses?”
“Yes.”
“Simon Garr, your old acquaintance from Dartmouth, lives at number 3. He will leave the house in about twenty minutes for a lunch date elsewhere. You will wait for him on the bench across the street, near the house. When you see him, you will confront him as he looks for a cab and shoot him twice in the head. Do you understand these instructions?”
Roger turned and looked at him.