in all aspects of his life.
‘No, nothing you can do…nothing anyone can do…bloody job! Bloody, bloody job! Good night, Simon.’
‘Would you like me to come ov…’
There was a click and a buzz as the phone on the other end of the line was disconnected. Crozier switched off the phone, took a long, thoughtful sip of his brandy, shook his head and stared out at the night. Before Jane met David she would have ripped out her own tongue before making a phone call like that, especially to him. Now they had split perhaps the Jane of old would resurface. He found himself hoping the rift was permanent.
Then he pulled out his little black book and dialed who was currently his favorite male companion.
Jane put down the phone, staggered across to the sideboard and poured another vodka, splashing in a small amount of tonic to fill the glass.
Almost instantly she was sober, or at least, less drunk than she had been. She hauled herself upright and stumbled up the stairs to the bathroom.
An icy jet of water hit her body and made her gasp, but she gripped the showerhead and directed it into her face, feeling it prickle on her closed eyelids. She stood like that for fifteen minutes, letting the spray blast away the remainder of her drunken self-pity. Finally she added some hot water to the mix and soaped her body and shampooed her hair.
By the time she was drying herself on the pale blue bath sheet she was feeling a little more human.
The clock on her bedside table told her it was nearly midnight. She picked up the phone and hit redial.
‘Crozier.’ The phone took a few rings before it was answered.
‘Simon. You’re still up. Good. It’s Jane.’
‘Oh.’ There was some whispering, and Jane realized Crozier was with someone.
‘It’s all right, before you hang up, I’m sober now. I just wanted to apologize for before. Ringing you like that. Very unprofessional.’
‘Are you okay now?’ There was an edge of sleepiness to his voice.
‘Oh Christ, did I wake you. I’m sorry.’
‘Jane,’ Crozier said patiently. ‘If you’re okay now, just go to bed. You’ll need a good night’s sleep if you’re going to tackle Carter. You’ll need your wits about you.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You’re right. And sorry again.’
She hung up the phone and pulled back the duvet, sliding her legs over the crisp cotton sheet, spreading herself across the king-sized bed, reveling in the space. There were advantages to being on her own. Minutes later she was asleep.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The lake was a still sheet of glass, broken only by the occasional stream of bubbles from the fish that swam beneath the surface. Robert Carter sat on an old wooden jetty, his legs dangling over the edge, his boots inches above the water. A fishing rod was propped on a wire stand to the left of him, to the right a bait box, its plastic tray filled with hooks, spools of line, spherical lead weights and a polythene container with hundreds of ivory- colored maggots, writhing and wriggling on a bed of sawdust. Hanging from one of the jetty’s stanchions was a keep net, mostly submerged, containing half a dozen perch swimming listlessly in circles: the day’s catch.
He sat, smoking a cigarette, watching the fluorescent orange float bobbing gently twenty yards away, waiting for a fish to strike. The day was the best summer had to offer; a clear blue sky, streaked with thin wisps of cirrus; a gentle breeze tempering the heat of the sun before it could become oppressive. High above him in the trees, jays, thrushes and blackbirds serenaded him with their summer songs and once in a while a kingfisher swooped low over the water looking for its next meal.
The Lake District of England was a beautiful natural wonderland of lake and forest. The different lakes, Ulleswater, Derwent, all had their own unique attraction, and the entire area was a magnet for tourists all through the year.
‘Hello, Rob.’
He hadn’t heard her approach. He didn’t look round. ‘Jane,’ he said. ‘You’re the last person I expected.’ He always knew someone would come for him. Knew there would be at least one more job that only he was right for. His research had given him a pretty good idea what that job would entail.
Jane moved the bait box to one side and sat down next to him. ‘Do you mind?’ She settled herself on the bank and looked out over the calm water.
‘Feel free.’ He flicked the cigarette into the lake and emptied his lungs of smoke. ‘So what brings you all the way up here?’
‘A fool’s errand, I suspect.’ There was a sigh in her voice. She had thought about what she was going to say, tried to plan little speeches, but now she was here, in this beautiful setting, and she had to admit to herself, now she was with Robert, none of her preparations seemed to matter much.
He took another cigarette from the pack and lit it.
‘You still smoke too much,’ she said, though she had a smile in her voice.
‘Sorry, did you want one?’ He offered her the pack.
She took one and leaned in so he could light it with his gold Dunhill lighter. The lighter had been a gift, from her to him. She was surprised he still carried it. ‘Thanks,’ she said, breathing smoke out through her nose. ‘You realize we’ll probably both die of cancer.’
‘Probably.’ He was surprised they had sent Jane.
‘Doesn’t it bother you?’ She sucked down the smoke and suppressed a small cough as it caught in her throat.
‘Dying, or cancer?’ His gaze was fixed on the float; he was still avoiding making eye contact. It was starting to unsettle her.
‘Either. Both.’ She had known this wasn’t going to be easy.
He shrugged. ‘Not really. So, what are you doing here?’
She took a breath and came straight to the point. ‘Simon needs your help on an investigation.’
‘Then why isn’t he asking me himself?’
‘He thinks I might have more success.’ All the practiced phrases she had rehearsed in the car were abandoned. Now she was with him she instinctively knew that only honesty would work. She owed him that much.
‘Do you think you’ll succeed?’ He turned and looked at her for the first time.
‘No, I don’t. I think it’s a bad idea, but Simon wants you in on this one, or more specifically, the Minister wants you involved. Simon’s worried that if he doesn’t give him what he wants, the Department will lose his support in Whitehall, and that could be the end of it.’
‘And that concerns me how?’
‘Come on, Rob, I know you better than that. Once upon a time the Department meant everything to you. It was your life.’
Carter took a drag of his cigarette and shook his head. ‘It was, and then when I screwed up I was dropped like a stone. I owe Crozier, or the Department, nothing.’
‘He thought that might be your reaction.’ She was surprised at the depth of his bitterness.
‘Then he was right. I’m not coming back.’ It sounded final.
She sighed. This was going exactly as she had expected. She tried a different tack. ‘Don’t you want to know
