Code Red Lipstick (4 page)

A woman walked in first. She wore a black trouser suit and a red Liberty scarf, delicately knotted at her neck. She looked like someone's grandmother with her short, white, curly hair and matronly figure – until she gazed at Jessica. Her blue eyes were glacial. A man with close-cropped grey hair and glasses followed her into the room. He wasn't one of her chaperones. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he fished out a sheaf of papers from a brown file and avoided eye contact. Jessica noticed he wasn't as well-groomed as the woman. He had a coffee stain on his shirt and bitten fingernails, like hers.

“Sit down,” he said curtly.

“I'd prefer to stand, thanks. I need you to—”

The woman raised her hand to silence Jessica without looking up. She slid into a chair next to the man and pulled her own file out of a briefcase. She read through the documents, torturously slowly, licking her forefinger as she turned the pages. Why couldn't they both get a move on? She needed them to start looking for Dad straight away. She didn't have time to waste.

The man glanced up, fiercely. This time Jessica sank into a chair.

“My name is Nathan Hall and this is Margaret Becker.”

“You're both MI6 agents.” She hoped she sounded confident. “And you're probably not using your real names. But that doesn't matter. I just need you to help find my dad.”

Nathan stared back, expressionless. This was a classic MI6 interview technique. Never fall for the enemy's tricks by confirming their information, but did he think
she
was the enemy?

“Thank you for joining us,” Margaret said pleasantly. “We are from MI6 and we didn't feel the need to use false names with you, Jessica. We're all friends here. I'm sorry if Clifford startled you at your house just now. His social skills sometimes leave a lot to be desired.”

Nathan glared at her as if she'd somehow gone off script and given away more information than she was supposed to. Jessica glanced at the pair. So this was how it was going to be. Good cop, bad cop. But why were they using interrogation techniques on her?

“Let's cut to the chase,” Nathan said. “Where's your dad?”

“I don't know exactly. He didn't say.”

“So you've spoken to him today?”

Jessica had the distinct impression she wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know. Nathan pushed his glasses up his nose again and waited, fingers drumming impatiently on the table.

“He rang about forty-five minutes ago and said Code Red. I dialled a number he gave me.”

Nathan flinched slightly.

“So that was
you
on the phone. Why did he want me to call you? Do you know Dad? Have you any idea where he is?”

“We're asking the questions, not you,” Nathan said curtly. “Now, let me get this straight. You followed your dad's instructions but didn't think to ask why he needed your help?”

“He was cut off before I could ask him.”

“You see, neither of us believe that. We think he gave you more instructions.”

“If he had, I swear I'd tell you.”

“Not if he'd trained you to keep quiet, and he has trained you well, hasn't he, Jessica?” Nathan leafed through her file. “You're becoming quite the little spy: planting listening devices in a suite in The Ritz and pretending to be ill so you could gain entry to a house in Knightsbridge. What were you up to there, I wonder?”

Jessica reddened. She'd been helping her dad out when he felt too ill to work alone. She'd planted a bugging device to help catch the vice president of a pharmaceutical company who was suspected of industrial espionage. She felt sure MI6 had found this out already.

“Not so keen to tell us now, are you?” Nathan said. “So you can see why we have a few problems trusting someone who's been trained to do exactly as her daddy says. What has he told you to do now? Tough it out with us and wait for him to get in touch with another code word? Then you'll go to him in a few weeks' time, right?”

“If I knew for certain where he was in Paris, I'd go to him right now.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

“So he did tell you where he is.” Nathan banged his fist on the table.

“No. I saw his bank account. He'd paid for a Eurostar ticket and checked in at the Hôtel Relais Saint-Jacques. I'm pretty sure he's looking for a missing scientist called Sam Bishop.”

Nathan and Margaret exchanged glances.

Jessica shifted in her seat. Was it her imagination or was the room really hot? The radiators must be on full blast. She'd kill for a glass of water but they weren't offering.

“What's going on? I just want you to start looking for my dad. He's in danger.”

A sinister look crept across Nathan's face. “Your dad's a traitor and a murderer.”

“No way! That's ridiculous.” Her voice sounded weird and a long way away.

“We wish we were mistaken. It would make things a lot easier.” He jerked his head at Margaret. “Show her.”

Good cop slid a bank statement towards her. “Perhaps you can explain why five hundred thousand pounds was transferred into your father's bank account on Saturday afternoon from the British Virgin Islands?” She pointed to the transaction with a soft-pink-lacquered nail.

Jessica rubbed her forehead. Her dad couldn't possibly have earned that much. He didn't earn a fraction of that amount on jobs.

“No. I can't explain that exactly. Except, I think—”

“But
we
can explain,” Nathan interrupted. “Your dad was paid by this man, via an offshore bank account, to locate and deliver Sam Bishop.”

He pushed a grainy black and white photo towards her. It showed a dark-haired man who was wearing a pale-coloured suit and sunglasses. She tried not to show any reaction as Nathan studied her. It was the photo she'd seen in one of the MI6 files, lying on the floor in her dad's bunker.

“Vectra is one of MI6's most wanted men – a terrorist with links across the Middle East, Algeria and Libya,” Nathan said. “He has a fanatical interest in adapting scientific developments for use in chemical and biological warfare.”

Jessica shoved the photo back across the table. “My dad wouldn't have anything to do with a terrorist. You're crazy to think that he would. He was hired by Sam's mum. I saw the file on Dad's computer.”

Margaret raised an eyebrow as she flicked through the file again. “Do you really think a retired schoolteacher could rustle up five hundred thousand pounds
and
have access to an offshore bank account? Isn't it far more likely that your father took on the case for Mrs Bishop and then sold Sam when he realized how much Vectra would pay for him?”

Jessica shook her head vigorously. This was totally insane. Why wouldn't they listen?

“We intercepted a number of coded messages between Vectra and someone called Starfish, discussing Sam,” Nathan said brusquely. “We have very compelling evidence that your dad's secret codename is Starfish.”

Jessica's eyes widened. Starfish. The name from the file the intruder had uploaded on to Dad's computer. There was probably more incriminating data planted on there too.

“Do you recognize the name Starfish?” Margaret leant closer, frowning. “Have you heard your father refer to it before?”

Damnit. She had to be more careful. They were trained to interpret her tiniest of reactions. She must stay cool. “Of course not. Dad takes on lots of missing-person cases – Sam's no different.”

“Except this is very different,” Nathan persisted. “Starfish has been pretty busy, hacking into MI6 files containing the names of current agents, presumably to sell to Vectra. Their lives are now in great danger.”

Jessica didn't betray her feelings this time. She stared straight ahead.

“Dad would never, ever betray his country or MI6. He was one of you!”

“I know this is a shock,” Margaret said softly. “It's a shock for us too. We didn't want to believe this about your father either. We both used to work with him. He was a good agent – a good man – back then.”

Jessica felt tears prick her eyes and blinked them away. She was talking about him in the past tense, as if he were dead. “He still is a good man. A really good man.”

“But things can change,” Margaret said. “Don't you think your father could have been tempted by the cash? Isn't it possible he's securing your financial future when the multiple sclerosis finally leaves him unable to work?”

“Never!”

Nathan shuffled his papers. “MI6 – or rather I – warned your dad to stay away from this case, but he didn't listen. He returned to Paris on Saturday, at around the same time that Vectra flew in. He made contact with one of our agents who'd been assigned the Sam Bishop brief after we learnt of Vectra's interest.”

He pushed a colour photo towards her. Jessica recognized the beautiful redhead instantly.

“But that's Lara Hopkins, the face of Mulberry,” she blurted out.

“Your dad arranged to meet her to discuss Sam later that afternoon.”

Nathan passed her another grainy picture which had been taken from a CCTV camera at 3.02 p.m. A couple sat at a table, holding coffee cups. She instantly recognized her dad even though she could only see his profile. Lara's hair was scraped into a knot and she was wearing a light-coloured raincoat.

“Lara's a spy?” She couldn't quite believe it. She was the face of half a dozen fashion houses, including Louis Vuitton and Marc Jacobs.

“
Was
a spy,” he corrected. “One of our best. Later that night this picture was taken.”

He shoved a third photo in front of her. This time Lara lay in a crumpled heap, her red hair strewn across a green carpet.

“Ohmigod. What's happened to her?”

“She was found strangled in her hotel room,” Nathan said grimly.

Jessica pressed her fingers to her lips as her stomach churned horribly. This was probably just routine for him, but she'd never seen a dead body before. Somehow, recognizing Lara made it even worse.

“Of course, that's not what we'll tell the press,” Nathan continued. “The newspapers will report tomorrow that she was stressed about the start of Couture Week and suffered a fatal asthma attack.”

The room lurched. She gripped the table as Nathan continued. “We think Lara managed to track down Sam and made the mistake of telling your dad his location. Then he killed her before she had chance to report back to us.”

Jessica tasted bile rising in her throat. She pushed the photo away. She couldn't bear to look at it. “He didn't do it.” Her voice cracked. “Just because he met her doesn't mean he killed her.”

“True,” Nathan said. “But we've found further incriminating evidence on his computer that links your dad, Starfish, to Vectra.”

She looked from one to the other. They weren't even considering the possibility it had been planted to incriminate him.

“You need to stop protecting your father right now and cooperate with us,” Margaret said. “When has he arranged to get in touch with you again?”

Her tone was as hard as Nathan's. She'd given up playing good cop.

“You're both wrong! Dad's been set up.” Her chair toppled over as she leapt to her feet. “Someone's planted all this evidence and you're too blind to see it. Or you just don't want to see it.”

She quickly recounted what had happened that afternoon, including the attack and the MI6 files conveniently left in the bunker, waiting to be dis­covered, along with the encrypted file on the computer.

Nathan's brow furrowed. “You're sure someone was in the house? Absolutely certain?”

“Do you think I imagined being knocked out with chloroform? Or do you just think I'm a liar like my dad? In fact, don't bother answering that. I'm done here. I'll find out where Dad is myself since you're not going to help.”

She stalked to the door, but Nathan had already jumped up and blocked her exit. “You're to leave well alone and that's an order.”

She glared at him. “So you can fit him up quietly? Not likely!”

He grabbed her arm. “Your dad might let you play detective, young lady, but that's not going to happen now. Stay out of this. You're in way over your head.”

She shook him off, curling her fingers into fists. “Get your hands off me!”

“Calm down, Jessica,” Margaret said. “This isn't helping anyone. I promise you we'll re-evaluate all the evidence in light of what you've told us. You've been very helpful. But the best thing you can do is go back to school and inform us if you hear from your father again. We'll contact you if we need to speak.”

Jessica brushed past Nathan and threw open the door.

“We'll be watching your every move,” he called after her. “Don't even think about going to Paris. We have eyes and ears everywhere.”