There was a hoarseness in his throat, a dryness. What upset Shrinks most was that Lawson seemed not to have been jolted by his outburst. No grandiose threats of ‘never working with us again, chummy’ had been made; no conciliatory waffle about ‘Let’s sit down, get this off our chests and look for what’s best.’ Nothing. Lawson looked through him as if he did not exist, and as if his tirade had gone unheard.
He looked to the others for support, but they wouldn’t meet his eyes. Then Luke Davies took Katie Jennings’ hand and spun her. Shrinks saw that, and thought Luke Davies didn’t care a fig what he saw.
Luke held the hand firm. He said, ‘Can you think of anything useful you can do right now?’
‘Can’t.’
‘Can you think of somewhere, other than here, you’d rather be?’
‘Anywhere.’
‘It’s where we’re going.’
‘Why?’
‘It has the failure smell about it. A bad smell.’
She said, ‘I know about smells. It’s what constables experience. The old biddy hasn’t been seen for a month, and nobody’s thought to report it until there’s the stink, and we break the door down and go in first. Rats may have beaten us to it, and the maggots are hatching. That sort of smell.’
‘Come on.’ He tugged at her arm.
For a moment her heels stuck, dug in. ‘Is that a good enough reason?’
He hesitated, then blurted. ‘Absenting myself from failure is a part of it. Another part is being away from here and with you.’
He saw her eyes open wide, and then there was a mocking grin. He liked that mouth, no makeup, and the myriad little veins in her lips. She didn’t answer, but let him lead. He ran his other hand through the shock of bloody ginger hair that stood him out in any crowd. He wasn’t good with girls, women, never had been … The American in Sarajevo, Frederika, had been something of a convenience to him and he to her. There were girls, women, in VBX and there might be a meal after a film, but nothing had stuck. He took his mobile out of his pocket and held it up so that Adrian or Dennis or Shrinks would see it, stepped out and she didn’t pull back.
They walked on a forest track, and a tractor’s wheels had gouged it.
They headed for ‘anywhere’ and had no idea of where the track would lead. Far in front of them they heard the harsh whine of a chain-saw. She hadn’t spoken, but her fingers were in his.
The sun came through low, dropped, the birds had quietened, and their footfall was silent on the carpet of the forest floor. He saw the lines of trees, birch and pine, and sometimes they were bright lit by the sun shafts and sometimes they were dark and held secrets. It was where that woman had been. He remembered the painting in the kitchen, the photograph of her and her whitened hair, the child in her arms. Almost, Luke Davies would have been frightened to be among the trees — beyond sight and reach — on his own. He was not alone, had Katie Jennings with him. She hadn’t spoken, but she had that smile, not the grin, and a sort of recklessness went with the smile.
‘Tell me.’
‘I’m thinking beyond my station. I’m thinking of Lawson.’
‘He’s a bastard. He’s a—’
‘Let me bloody finish. Now, I’ve never been into your place. Nearest I’ve been is when we were all on the pavement outside. But I’m seeing him going in through the front door, and everybody who works there is looking at him and they know about his failure. I promise you, Luke, I’m not vindictive, but the thought of it is making me laugh. How’s he going to cope with that?’
‘Every piece of advice given him has been ignored. Now it’s gone belly-up.’
‘I suppose he’ll try and bluster it out.’
‘Not with me beside him,’ Davies said. ‘I’m not going down with him.’
She frowned and the smile was gone, and the laughter. She said, ‘Nothing’s for ever, Luke, is it?’
He read her. ‘You can move on. It’s not a ball and chain. You pack the bag, go to the station and leave.’
‘Yes.’
‘And maybe you finish up somewhere you hadn’t planned on. It’s what happens … and you can’t feel bad … and “somewhere” you meet someone else.’
Her hand tightened on his.
They walked on.
Neither his mobile nor hers rang.
They were near to a railway track.
Luke Davies sensed death, with him and around him as close as the darkening trees, but she had his hand. The sun slipped, shadows lengthened.
‘Should we turn back?’ he asked.
‘I wouldn’t have thought so.’
There was a knock and the door opened before she had time to respond.
She looked up. She tried to remember when last the director general had called in on Christopher Lawson’s office in Non-Proliferation — might have been a couple of months back, might have been three.
‘Hello, Director.’
‘Lucy, isn’t it? Yes, hello.’
‘I don’t have to tell you, Director, I’m sure, that Mr Lawson is away and—’
‘You don’t, no.’
So why had he come to her outer office? Her desk was placed as a strategic barrier and it blocked the entrance to the inner office. A visitor in search of Christopher Lawson could not slip by covertly and bounce her man. She was his gatekeeper and had been for more than twenty years.
‘How can I help, Director?’
He wandered across to the window. Her man, Mr Lawson, might be detested the length, breadth and on every floor of VBX, but he possessed impressive clout. The inner and outer offices allocated him, and her, and the open-plan where juniors worked, had a fine view out on to the river and across it to Millbank. He was at the window and his eye traversed the river, then came to rest on the edifices of Parliament. He turned and faced her. ‘I spoke to him this morning.’
‘Did you, Director?’
‘Talked to him on a secure line.’
‘Well, you’re ahead of me, Director, as I haven’t talked with him since he left — five days now. Wouldn’t expect to. Would you like a coffee?’
‘I would, thank you.’
She was up from her desk, and slipped to the electric kettle behind her. She’d use Mr Lawson’s personal mug, the one with the spaniels on it. It wouldn’t be out of order for the director general.
‘You see, he didn’t say very much.’
‘Did he not?’
‘I expected something more … Some detail. Crisp is what I had, crisp, brisk answers.’
She spooned Nescafé into the mug, and took the milk from the small fridge.
‘I offered him the cavalry. You understand? He was out on the banks of the Bug, a forest behind him and Belarus in front. With him is that tiny little team of increments. I asked when he thought it might happen, a collection by his targets of what he believes is being brought to the river. He said, quote, “Within the next several hours is my estimate”. So I asked if he wanted the cavalry.’
The kettle boiled. She poured water on to the coffee grains. She held up the milk carton and he nodded. She stirred vigorously. The director general had the reputation of coming unannounced to offices, then wandering the floor space, rambling and musing, not wanting interruption. She believed it was a habit he employed to clear chaff from his mind. She passed the mug, and he ducked his head with old-world courtesy in thanks.
‘Where was I? Yes … I offered him the cavalry. You see, we go back a long way. When he was young he had an American as his mentor, and when my turn came as a rookie, Christopher was my mentor. He taught me a mass of detail, also the value of a good nose and its use in sniffing, the value of instinct. I learned to trust him and his instincts. Excellent coffee …’