‘Look, I really don’t—’
‘Know what I’m talking about. Change the record, love.’
She took a deep breath. She would say nothing. She thought – she hoped – that she’d have said nothing even if she believed that it might help secure her release. But these people weren’t going to release her. Not if they believed she was an undercover officer. Not now she’d seen this man’s face. She could feel herself on the verge of breaking down, but she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing that.
‘I don’t know who you think I am,’ she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. ‘But you’ve got the wrong woman. I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.’
The man smiled and shook his head. ‘You’ve got bottle, I’ll give you that, darling. But you’ll talk in the end. You’d be surprised how persuasive we can be when we put our minds to it.’
As he spoke, she silently eased her chair back a few inches, giving herself room to move her legs. Then, suddenly, she thrust the chair back further and kicked out with both feet at the edge of the table, driving it back into the man’s groin. Immediately, she was on her feet, trying to force her way past him to the door.
It almost worked. Her aim had been perfect. The man doubled forwards in pain, momentarily losing his grip on the gun. She’d been unsure if there was anyone else standing behind him in the darkness, but there were only the two of them in the room. She was past him and already reaching for the door when he grabbed her wrist, pulling her savagely back round towards him.
‘Stop it, you stupid bitch.’ He grabbed her throat and forced her back hard against the wall. She was reaching for his face, trying desperately to claw at his eyes.
Behind them, she heard the sound of the door opening, and she knew that any chance she might have had was gone.
‘OK, Josh. That’s enough. I think we’ve seen what we needed to see.’
The man – Josh – loosened his grip, and she stared, baffled, at the figure standing in the doorway.
‘Not bad, sis. You did good.’
‘What the fuck, Hugh?’
Salter. Hugh fucking Salter. Grinning at the terror on her face and Josh’s testicular agonies. Not that she was wasting any sympathy on Josh, whoever the hell he might turn out to be. From the look on Josh’s face, the feeling was largely mutual.
‘Thought you’d got us sussed at first, sis. Thought you’d rumbled it was just a training exercise.’
‘I had. But your friend Josh there was just too convincing as a macho sexist bastard.’
‘Ah, well,’ Salter said. ‘He’s bloody good is our Josh. Mind you, he’ll need to keep his balls on ice for a few days. That’s quite a kick you’ve got there.’
Josh was still glaring at her. ‘Just fuck right off,’ he said. She assumed, perhaps over-charitably, that the words were aimed at Salter.
‘Bit of risk goes with the territory, mate,’ Salter said, still beaming. ‘Especially when you tangle with Marie Donovan, undercover officer.’
It was the closest Salter would ever come to acknowledging her success. But it was close enough for her.
‘What’s this all about, Hugh?’ she said.
‘Training exercise, like I say. Which you came through with flying colours. Sorry if Josh went a bit over the top, but we had to get to the point where you’d start to think it might be real. Up to that point – well, it was useful, because at least it showed us you could stay in character . . .’
‘Even at the crack of dawn after two days of just being myself?’
‘Quite so. And you did it well, but there was no real pressure. Not till Josh managed to get you questioning whether it might be real after all. Then we saw what you were made of. Josh in particular, I think.’
‘Christ, you don’t do things by halves, do you?’
‘Can’t afford to, sis. Look, this is what it’s going to be like. I mean, not like this – let’s hope not, anyway. But having to keep up the act even if you’re being challenged, even if you’re scared out of your wits. Having to improvise when things don’t go to plan. Having to remember which lies you’ve told and to whom.’
‘Jesus, Hugh, anyone suggested you get a job in sales?’
‘They like people who tell the truth, do they? But you’ll be all right, sis. If you can get through this lot, you’ll cope with anything the job can throw at you.’
‘I hope you’re right, Hugh. Because it doesn’t feel that way just at the moment.’
‘You did good, girl,’ Salter said again.
‘Well, thank you, Hugh.’ She turned and nodded to Josh. ‘And thank you, too, I suppose. You make a very convincing total bastard.’
She moved towards the door, wanting now just to be out of there, to be heading home. To be sleeping. The adrenaline had melted away, and she felt as exhausted as she had back at the airport. As she pulled open the door, she paused to look back at Salter.
‘In fact, you both do,’ she said. ‘You both make very convincing total bastards.’
Liam waved the bottle in her direction. ‘Want any more?’
‘No. You finish it. I’ve had enough.’ She drained the last dregs of the red wine, and climbed slowly to her feet. ‘I’m knackered,’ she said. ‘Think I’ll turn in.’
He poured the last of the wine into his own glass. ‘What time you off in the morning?’
‘Not too early. About eight, probably.’
‘We can have breakfast together before you go, then.’
‘If you’re up.’ She immediately regretted the response, which sounded more sarcastic than she’d intended.
‘I’ll be up,’ he said. ‘Want to see you before you go. One last time.’
‘It’s not forever, Liam. A month. Then I’m back.’
‘For a weekend. Then you’re off again. And so on. Maybe forever.’
She bit back her exasperation. ‘We’ve been through this, Liam. Dozens of times. It’s what I want to do. It’s a new challenge. It’s terrific experience.’
‘I know. I know it’s what you want. I’m not trying to stop you. I don’t have to like it, though.’
‘No, well, you’ve made it very clear that you don’t.’
‘You’ve said yourself, Marie. It’s risky. We’re having to live apart. You can’t expect me to like that. Or pretend to like it.’
She nodded. ‘OK. It’s not going to be easy. But we’ll get through it. They won’t let me stay out in the field for too long. No one does. A year. Eighteen months, max.’
‘Almost there already, then,’ he said. The tone was ironic, but he was smiling now at least.
‘Come to bed,’ she said. ‘It’s our last night. We ought to make it worthwhile.’
‘OK,’ he said. ‘Five minutes. I’ll just finish the wine.’
‘Don’t drink too much. I don’t want you incapable,’ she half-joked. ‘How are you feeling now, anyway?’
He shrugged. ‘Not so bad. Tired. Aching a bit. But I’ve been feeling better lately. Not so difficult walking.’
She looked at him, wondering what was going on in his mind. Whether he was really feeling better or just trying to make the best of things. Since he’d received the diagnosis, he’d become harder to read, more withdrawn. When she tried to talk about it, he just shrugged it off. There was nothing to say, he insisted. Maybe it would be all right, maybe it wouldn’t. All he could do was take each day as it came.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘But you don’t want me falling asleep on you.’