He awoke to the sound of a purring telephone. He hadn’t been asleep long, and felt light-headed, disoriented. He reached for the receiver and picked it up.
‘Hello?’ he said.
There was a silence on the other end, a crackling of wires, and perhaps, in the background, someone’s fluttering breath.
‘Hello?’ he said again. Still nothing. Then a short laugh.
‘You’ve been a very bad boy, Martin.’
Hepton felt his fingers tighten around the receiver.
‘Hello, Harry,’ he said. The light-headedness left him. He was wide awake now. ‘How was Leeds?’
There was that laugh again, laughter lacking humour but filled instead with cruelty. ‘Leeds was a clever idea, Martin. I couldn’t think why you’d be going there. Then I realised you’d found my little device.’
‘How did you track me down?’ Not that he was really interested, but he needed time to think.
‘I spoke to your employer. He told me how depressed you’d been when your girlfriend moved to London. I thought it was worth a try.’
Hepton’s mind was working now. There was no point mentioning to her that he knew about Villiers. It would be a cheap point to score, like throwing an ace onto a low card. No, he’d keep his ace for the moment. But he needed to knock her off balance. She was sounding a little too confident, and this, married to her thoughts of revenge — he could hear how bitter she was about Leeds — made her doubly dangerous.
‘You should have killed me back at the nursing home,’ he said. ‘Don’t think you’re going to get a second chance.’
‘What are you going to do? Run for it?’
‘No, I’m going to wait right here.’ For Paul, he was thinking. ‘And when I see you, I’m going to kill you.’
The laughter this time had a hysterical edge to it. Good: his words were having their effect.
‘That’s fine, Martin,’ she said at last. ‘I’ll see you soon then. I’m calling from just outside your building.’
And with that the telephone went dead. Hepton paused, put the receiver down and got to work.
19
Three short knocks followed by one long.
‘Come in, Parfit.’
Parfit entered Johnnie Gilchrist’s office. Gilchrist was pouring himself a drink.
‘Want one?’ he asked.
‘Why not?’ said Parfit. ‘I’ll have a small brandy, thanks.’
Gilchrist poured half an inch of Martell into a crystal glass and handed it to Parfit.
‘Cheers,’ he said. They chinked glasses.
Gilchrist took a mouthful of his own whisky, then smiled, shaking his head.
‘I have to hand it to you, Parfit. Getting hold of a private jet like that. I won’t ask what favour the owner owed you.’ He paused, inviting Parfit to tell him anyway, but Parfit merely savoured his drink. ‘How is the patient?’
‘He’s fine,’ said Parfit. ‘I don’t think he was overly pleased about being brought in from the airport in a crate, but he’ll get over it.’
Gilchrist smiled again, then sat down, gesturing for Parfit to do the same.
‘How was the City of Trees?’
Parfit looked quizzical.
‘That’s what they call Sacramento,’ Gilchrist explained, pleased that Parfit hadn’t known. ‘Home of the Pony Express.’
‘More relevant, it’s also the home of McClellan Air Force Base, which is where they landed Dreyfuss once they’d decided he shouldn’t stick around Edwards. To answer your question, the City of Trees was... interesting.’
‘So your gambit paid off?’
‘What gambit, Johnnie?’
Gilchrist rubbed a finger around the rim of his glass. ‘Leaving your man there so damned long on his own. You wanted to see what they’d try to get out of him, didn’t you?’
‘That’s your interpretation. I was hoping for... a reaction.’
‘I take it you got one?’
‘Oh yes. You know a man called Frank Stewart?’
‘The Frank Stewart? National Security Agency?’
‘Yes, that’s the one.’
‘What about him?’
‘He was there.’
‘Good God. I wonder why?’
‘I got the feeling it wasn’t so much to do with Dreyfuss as it was to do with General Ben Esterhazy.’
‘So Esterhazy was there too?’
‘Yes, you were right about that. What’s more, he was looking fairly rattled.’
‘Oh? Any particular reason?’
‘Several, I shouldn’t wonder.’ Parfit finished his drink and took the empty glass back to the drinks cabinet. He left it there and walked to the window, from where he watched the remnants of another demo as they chanted something incoherent, their fingers pointing towards where he was standing. He gave them a wave, which seemed to anger them further. ‘Esterhazy’s up to no good, Johnnie. I can’t say yet quite what, but I’m getting closer.’ He returned to his seat.
‘Don’t tell me about it, Parfit. It would only make me an accessory. Just tell me what you need.’
‘Two things. Two names, to be precise. One is Cameron Devereux. He was a member of the ground control crew on Argos. I’d like to talk to him, face to face if possible.’
‘And the other?’
‘Is someone called Martin Hepton. He works on one of our own tracking stations back in England, somewhere in Lincolnshire.’
Gilchrist considered this. ‘Must be Binbrook then. What of it?’
‘Dreyfuss knows him vaguely, and wants to ask him about something.’
‘Martin Hepton, you say?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘I had a message from George Villiers in London. He phoned while I was asleep.’ Gilchrist picked up some sheets of paper from the tray on the corner of his desk, finding the one he needed. ‘Yes, here it is. It seems Hepton paid Villiers a visit, wanted to know how to reach Major Dreyfuss.’
Parfit sat back in his chair. ‘Now that is interesting.’
‘More than mere coincidence, you think?’
‘So Hepton’s in London?’
‘It would seem so. Right, I’ll get on to this Devereux character. Shouldn’t take long.’
Parfit was already standing, ready to leave. ‘Thanks, Johnnie.’
‘Parfit?’
‘Yes?’
‘How big is this thing? Should I be starting to make noises in the direction of our masters?’
‘I’d leave it for now,’ said Parfit confidently. ‘It might all blow over.’
Not that he believed it would. He just didn’t want more people than absolutely necessary knowing he was on to something. It was all down to trust in the end, and Parfit didn’t trust anyone. Not even Johnnie Gilchrist, not entirely.
20
Dreyfuss had been given a room containing a foldaway bed and not much else.
‘Not so different from the crate,’ he had commented on arrival. Not that he had minded the crate too much. He didn’t want anyone knowing he was in Washington with the climate the way it was right now.
Parfit explained that most of the embassy staff were sleeping on the premises these days, so beds and furnishings were scarce. However, he did return a couple of hours later with a portable television, a radio and some books.
‘If anyone asks where they came from,’ he said, ‘say they were here when you arrived.’
Dreyfuss nodded at this. He didn’t want to know where these items had come from, and he didn’t care where they had come from; he was just glad that he had them now, and not someone else. His room, such as it was, must have been a storeroom. At least he could think of no other use for a space measuring twelve feet by ten and tucked away in the furthest, highest corner of the building. There wasn’t even a window, but there was a small skylight, desperately in need of a clean.