Inside Enemy (24 page)

‘Can you slow down? It’s difficult, I can’t—’

He held up his free hand. ‘Quiet.’ He waited for her panting to subside. ‘We’ll go more slowly but no noise.’

He led her to the crest of the ridge just inside the wood, where he turned and looked back. She could see through the trees that the ground below the wood fell away into fields and hedges before
rising to another wooded ridge. She couldn’t see the track they’d taken last night after he’d dragged her out of the car. It had been level walking until the brambles.

He made her sit on a damp darkened stump. Her watch said ten past three. He took her mobile phone from the pocket of his jeans and fitted the SIM card, which was in his shirt pocket.

‘I want you to ring your husband. Tell him you’re all right, that I want to speak to him and that he’s to listen to what I say. Then you give the phone to me. Don’t say
or do anything else. D’you understand?’

She nodded.

He stared at her. ‘Sarah, I hope you also understand that I mean you no ill-will. Under other circumstances we might have enjoyed a pleasant social relationship, perhaps even a friendship
as you’re the wife of my old friend. Instead, it’s my duty to ensure that the principles of justice, violated many years ago by an issue that does not concern you, are reasserted. Just
do what I say, help bring Charles and me together, and you will come to no harm, I promise.’ His grey eyes were almost tender.

‘And what about Charles? Will he be all right, too?’ In the clear air her voice sounded sharp.

‘That’s up to him.’

‘Why? What do you want from him?’

He handed her the phone. ‘Ring now. Remember what I said.’

She dialled in full in order to give herself time to think but when Charles answered immediately she couldn’t at first bring herself to speak. He said ‘Hello’ twice before she
said, ‘It’s me.’

‘Where are you?’

Peter was standing next to her, one hand gripping her wrist and the other poised to grab the phone.

‘I’m – I’m all right.’

‘But where? Where are you?’

‘Just wanted you to know that I’m all right.’

He said something else but she didn’t catch it because Peter took the phone from her. It was uncomfortable, sitting with both hands held up, but when she made to stand he pushed her back
down.

‘Charles, this is Peter Tew. You’ve just heard from Sarah that she’s okay. It’s my intention that she should remain so until you and I meet, when she will be
freed.’ He paused, listening. ‘I’ll tell you where and when in a moment. Have you got pen and paper?’ He paused again. ‘We can discuss all that when we meet ... it
must be obvious to you, if you think about it ... let’s just say there are unresolved issues ... no, just you ... because you’re the only one left and it’s the only way I could
find you in a hurry. I don’t have much time. Me personally, that is. I’m dying. Cancer. Are you ready now?’ He let go of Sarah’s wrist and took a piece of paper from his
pocket. ‘I’ll give you the grid reference.’ He read it twice. ‘There’s only one way of approach, along the lane. Leave your car where the tarmac ends and the unmade
bit begins, where it turns down to the right. Park near the gate but don’t block it. Then walk up the track and across the fields to the barn. Alone. You’ll be watched all the way. If
there’s anyone with you you’ll never see Sarah alive. Do you understand me, Charles? ... Eight. On the dot.’ He ended the call and let go of her while he removed the SIM card.
‘Sorry, Sarah, but I had to say that, to make sure there’s no funny business. You’ll be all right, I’m sure. He won’t want anything to happen to you.’

He took another phone from his pocket. ‘Eight o’clock,’ he said into it, and put it back. He took hold of her wrist again and pulled her to her feet. ‘We’re going
home now, back to the bunker. A little primitive, these wartime bunkers, but well hidden. It won’t be for long. You’ll be out in time to meet him.’

Charles put down his phone. He was at the desk in the study at Jeremy Wheeler’s house in Battle. There was only one chair and Jeremy leant ostentatiously against the
windowsill, arms folded, his gaze fixed on a hunting print. Charles looked again at Jeremy’s laptop.

Sarah’s call had cut Jeremy off in mid-sentence. ‘As I was saying, I don’t accept it’s my fault,’ he resumed. ‘Firstly, I had no way of knowing that Toast was
Tew. Secondly, I had no way of knowing that he could use my computer as a Trojan horse. Thirdly, it’s not my fault if government systems are so poorly designed that once someone gets on the
inside track they can get everywhere. It’s clearly something the ISC—’

‘You should have returned the computer when you resigned.’ Charles spoke while staring at the screen, which was showing the daily briefing for the ISC.

‘No-one asked me.’

‘And you should never have used it for non-official business.’

‘That was never made clear, I—’

He paused as Wendy passed the open door, her heels clicking on the parquet floor and her gaze resolutely straight ahead. The front door opened and closed with a bang. ‘She’s like
that all the time now.’

‘That was Sarah on the phone.’

‘Doesn’t seem to feel any guilt at all about knocking off your friend Klein whenever my back was turned.’

‘May I use your landline?’

‘Of course, if you’d let me know who he really was I might have been able to look after him, help out a bit. Then she might not have—’

‘What’s Katya’s mobile?’

‘Katya? What do you want—’

‘Just the number.’

Jeremy bristled with further questions but Charles’s tone silenced him. He gave the number.

Katya sounded harassed. ‘Jeremy, I am sorry, I cannot speak now, I am—’

‘Katya, it’s Charles Thoroughgood. Have you an answer for me?’

There was silence, then, falteringly, ‘Oh, Mr Thoroughgood, Mr Mayakovsky—’

‘Tell Mr Mayakovsky you have two hours from now. Otherwise you’re out.’ He cut her off and dialled again before Jeremy could resume. Tim Corke’s secretary said Tim was in
a meeting. Charles told her Sarah’s mobile number had been used in the last ten minutes, probably in Sussex or Kent, and asked for location. His own mobile on the desk before him showed
messages from Angela Wilson and Michael Dunton.

Jeremy moved away from the window. ‘While you’re faffing around here I suppose I’d better see what I can do about saving my marriage.’

Charles picked up his own phone. ‘But she’s just gone out.’

‘I know that. I might go and get some flowers or something.’

‘D’you want to save it? You’ve got Katya, haven’t you?’

‘Not if you have your way, by the sounds of it.’

‘I can’t kick her out. You know I can’t. It’s all bluff.’

‘Anyway, it would look bad in the constituency. Also, after all this’ – he waved his hand – ‘and with her being Russian and whatever, I’d be off the ISC,
wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t look good. An embarrassment to the government.’

‘Sounds like the whole flower shop, then.’

Jeremy snorted. ‘Don’t see why. She’s as much at fault as me. More than. Been going on a year or more, whereas Katya and I, we – you know – were still only talking
about it, really.’

He was suddenly a schoolboy, fat, crestfallen and puzzled. Katya had clearly played him along, never quite giving him what he wanted. Perhaps nobody ever had apart from Wendy, at first. There
wouldn’t be any more of that now. Charles was surprised to feel a spasm of sympathy. The past was a bond; knowing each other over decades, even though they had never been close, created a
hinterland of acceptance, if not always forgiveness. Self-important, unaware, unappealing, pompous and naïve though Jeremy was, he had no malice, was too sorry for himself to hate others, only
ever wanted to be part of it all, whatever the ‘it’ was. As had Peter Tew. And Charles himself, perhaps. But Jeremy was not vengeful.

‘What about some coffee?’ said Charles. ‘I’ve got a couple more calls to make. Then there’s something you can do to help, if you want. Leave the flowers till
you’re talking to each other again.’

The messages from Angela and Michael were essentially the same, Angela’s the more peremptory: where was he? The police were looking for him, protection was ready but they couldn’t
find him. His office didn’t know where he was. Would he please get in touch. Charles put down his phone and picked up Jeremy’s landline again, dialling DI Whitely.

‘Any news?’

‘Nothing much.” She sounded flat. ‘He was in his shop when I swung by this morning. Been trying to get a mobile team on to him but there’s quite a bit going on today, big
drugs push, and I daren’t raise it again without the super wanting to know more. I’ve been sort of half-promised a team for a couple of hours later, depending how things go. Thought I
might go up there myself, depending what you think, though it’s not an easy area to hang around in. He had a call this afternoon.’

‘Who from?’

‘Hang on, made a note of it somewhere. Couldn’t get him on live monitoring, as I think I said, but he’s on instant call-check read-out. Here we are. Incoming call, three
seconds. Not a very chatty lot, are they? From a mobile.’

He noted the number. ‘Someone needs to be on him now. How soon can you get up there?’

‘Ten minutes. But I can’t stay for ever. I’ve got to pick up from the childminder’s. Want me to check that number?’

‘I’ll get it done from here. Get up there as soon as you can and stay as long as you can. Let me know before you leave. I’ll try to find someone to take over.’

He left the number with Tim Corke’s secretary for urgent checking, then rang George Greene’s office. George was in the House and couldn’t be disturbed.

‘Milk and sugar?’ called Jeremy from the kitchen.

‘Just milk, please.’ He rang George’s parliamentary secretary, who said he was in her office drinking whisky with his constituency chairman. George came to the phone
laughing.

‘Charles, what can I do for you? How’s it going?’ Charles told him what he proposed. ‘Jesus Christ, going out on a limb a bit, aren’t you? Why not wait for the
police?’

‘He’ll be looking for tricks like that, he knows the territory he’s chosen and he knows the way we work. The slightest hint of company and he’ll kill her, then me. I know
Peter, he’s dedicated to whatever he does. And we can’t expect the police to mount a decent stakeout on unfamiliar ground with no notice. No-one could guarantee that. The only thing is
for me to go unaccompanied, make sure she’s released, then keep him talking.’

‘Until he shoots you. Great idea.’

‘Just wanted you to know, George, you don’t have to approve. If it all goes wrong, say you ordered the opposite and I disobeyed. Also, could you get your secretary to tell Angela
that I’ve got her message and will get back to her as soon as possible. She wants to imprison me in protection. Tell her what I’ve just told you if you like.’

‘When’s all this supposed to start?’

‘Now. When I put the phone down. No good thinking about intervention.’

There was a pause. ‘I can’t stop you, then?’

‘No. Have it in writing if you want.’

‘You’re off your head, old son. Good luck.’

Jeremy returned with two mugs. ‘No milk. Well, no proper cow’s milk, only that red-topped stuff she has with her gnat’s pee tea. Seems to have gone on strike,
domestically.’

‘There’s something you can help with.’

‘Probably gallons of real milk in Klein’s fridge. I bet she kept him well supplied.’

‘Something that might redeem you in the eyes of the ISC after the scandal of your computer misuse. If it works.’

T
he cottage smelt damp. There was no time to light a fire. Charles spread his Ordnance Survey map on the table and followed Peter Tew’s
directions. It told him more than his phone could. The grid reference was a small building – Peter had mentioned a barn – in a field about three-quarters of a mile from where he had to
leave his car. No doubt the site was selected so that Peter could watch him in and check that he was unaccompanied. The stated time – less than two hours away now – would leave no time
to insert surveillance in advance. As for where Peter was holding her, the barn was surely too obvious; more likely it was simply for the hand-over. She would be held somewhere nearby, within reach
on foot. The barn and its fields were surrounded by hundreds of acres of woodland. He had no idea why Peter had chosen Sussex, unless it was because it was near his hitman, Michael Swavey. Knowing
Peter, it would have been carefully worked out.

His phone vibrated on the table, the screen proclaiming ‘Unknown number’. At first there was silence, then a foreign male voice said in careful, heavily accented English, ‘Mr
Thoroughgood, it is a pleasure to speak with you. We believe you are seeking the location of a special computer. I am happy to tell you that it was last turned on at 15.37 your time. I shall give
the location on your English map.’ He read out a grid reference. ‘It was turned off at 15.41. We wish you luck and look forward to receiving our part of the agreement.’

Charles noted the grid reference. ‘Thank you, I hope I shall be able to deliver but I cannot promise. That’s not Mr Mayakovsky, is it?’

There was a pause and what might have been a chuckle. ‘No, Mr Thoroughgood, it is not. Goodbye.’

The grid reference was the middle of a wood across the valley from the barn, about equidistant from where Charles was to park. There were no buildings or paths marked. For once he regretted the
lack of a computer, though Google Earth would have told him less than the map. Perhaps Peter was based in the barn after all and simply went into the wood to use his computer, except that the
footpath near the barn would make it an unsafe hide.

He rang Tim Corke again. This time the secretary put him through, saying, ‘He was about to ring you anyway. He has news.’

‘Charles, where are you?

‘Sussex.’

‘The phone that made the three-second call you enquired about made it from Sussex but we didn’t have it on tap so couldn’t say precisely where from or what was said. But
there’s since been another call and now we can. Got a pen and paper?’ The grid reference was the one Charles had just received from the unknown Russian. ‘Want to know what was
said in the second call? I’m breaking all the rules, of course. Doesn’t mean much here but it might to you. There were no names. Caller says, “Just to confirm, the barn at eight.
But you need to be in position well before.” Distant: “With my gear?” Caller: “With your gear. But use it only if we’re interrupted while I’m talking to
him.” Distant: “Which one first?” Pause. Caller: “Him, then her.” Distant: “What if they get you? How do I collect?” Caller: “Collect from the
bunker. It’s here now.” Ends. Make sense?