‘How?’
Harding snatched a frowning glance across the car. ‘How?’
Norris sighed impatiently. ‘You’ve got to understand something about me, Paul. I don’t believe in God. I don’t believe in coincidences. I don’t believe in accidents. I don’t believe there are good people, only bad people. I work on the principle – so you’ll work on that principle too – that everyone’s guilty until I – me, no one else – decide otherwise. And it takes a lot for me to decide otherwise. You got all that neatly memorized, so there won’t be any misunderstandings between us?’
Two positive indications that he was going to remain part of the investigation, realized Harding, relieved. ‘I got it.’
‘So. How?’
‘Single nail.’
‘Wall or tread of the tyre?’
‘Tread.’
‘Just the nail? No base to keep it upright in the path of the car?’
‘Just the nail.’
‘You’ve kept it, of course, as evidence? Haven’t had the wheel fixed?’
Harding swallowed with fresh relief. ‘All kept.’
‘Good. Very good. What about the school? Anything wrong there?’
Harding hesitated, knowing there was no way of avoiding the answer but wishing he could. ‘Vetted the place myself, before the kid was enrolled. Quite a few embassies use it so the principal and the governors are as careful as hell, knowing what there is to lose. They’re shitting themselves over what’s happened.’
Norris winced at the profanity. ‘So they should. Who made the mistake with the duplicate call?’
Survival time, thought Harding: sorry, Harry. ‘Becker says he didn’t but he was on security dispatch duty. Boles says it was Harry he spoke to from the car.’
‘You checked Becker’s background?’
‘I’ve gone through everything we’ve got locally, at the embassy. He’s been here for two years. There’s never been any trouble.’
‘He drink?’
‘No more than anyone else.’
There was the impatient sigh again. ‘So he drinks?’
‘Yes.’
‘Gamble?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Local friends?’
‘None that I know.’
‘The ambassador’s been told I want to see him immediately?’
‘He’s waiting.’
‘I want you to sit in on that. As soon as it’s over, I want you to check Becker again but better than you already have. I want everything Washington’s got on him, for starters. Take as many people as you want, from those I brought in. I want to know if he’s in debt or has got a drink problem or is involved with a local woman – or man if he’s gay. I want to know anything that could have compromised Becker: exposed him to blackmail. Any problem with that?’
‘None at all,’ lied Harding, glad they would soon be at the embassy. It was difficult to conceive the problems he was going to have with this dead-faced, rigor-mortised sonofabitch. It was chilling just being close to. Determined not to be caught between a rock and a hard place, Harding said: ‘The CIA station here – Lance Rampling’s the resident-in-charge – are pissed off not being included in the meeting with the ambassador.’
‘Langley’s been told who’s running the show. Rampling should have been messaged by now, making it clear they’re subsidiary. I’ll see him after the ambassador: straighten him out.’
‘He asked for a meeting.’
Dismissive of any CIA distraction, Norris said: ‘What about the kid herself?’
‘Awkward little brat. Knows she’s the daughter of an ambassador and doesn’t let anyone forget it. Makes a lot of people’s lives a misery…’ Anticipating the question seconds before Norris asked it, Harding added hurriedly: ‘But definitely not enough to make anyone snatch her: do her any real harm. She just needs her ass slapped.’
‘Is she wilful enough to have run away: staged the whole business?’
‘That was my first thought. Like I said, I didn’t wait to hit the button, but I expected her to show up with some fancy story. But she wouldn’t have stayed away this long.’
Norris remained silent for several minutes. ‘So what’s the local situation?’
‘We’ve been given total Belgian cooperation, guaranteed at Justice Minister level. The police commissioner, Andre Poncellet, is personally involving himself. And they’ve called in Europol, which is-’
‘I know what Europol is,’ snapped the other man. ‘We advised, when they were set up. Same rules as with the local force. We’ll take everything they’ve got to offer but I don’t want them getting in the way of our investigating.’ He shifted in his seat for the first time. ‘That means maintaining the closest, day-to-day contact: officially we accept they’re in charge, running the operation. You know how big a force Europol are committing?’
‘No. I haven’t got any names, either. Just know they’re coming in tonight. I’ve scheduled a leaders’ conference at the embassy tomorrow. Included Poncellet.’
‘Good deal,’ said the thin man. ‘Anything else that needs saying?’
‘Not that I can think of.’ At last they reached the Boulevard du Regent. Harding gestured ahead and said: ‘There’s the embassy.’
‘We’ve filled in the journey very well,’ said Norris. ‘Got to know each other. That’s good.’
Paul Harding couldn’t remember a man who’d made him feel so unsettled, ever in his career. And that included three proven killers, one with a. 375 magnum in his hand. Ever conscious of retirement just three years away, he said: ‘It has been good. I’ve enjoyed it.’
Liar, thought Norris.
James McBride was waiting in his study, jacket off, tie loosened around an unbuttoned collar. Hillary sat some way away, the customary distance re-established, in contrast perfectly composed, perfectly dressed, every hair starchily in place. The ambassador already had a large Jack Daniel’s on the desk in front of him and gestured them towards the open cabinet while the introductions were made. Harding was already going towards it before he realized Norris had refused and thought, fuck it! With no alternative he carried on, desperately seeking a soda. Then again he thought fuck it, defiant this time, and took at least three fingers of Jack Daniel’s, too. It looked even larger from the amount of ice he added. It had been one hell of a drive. The following days were going to be hell as well. Maybe worse.
‘I heard through State that you’re the Bureau’s chief negotiator,’ said McBride. ‘That’s good. That’s how it’s got to be.’ His hand was visibly shaking when he lifted the whisky glass.
‘Everyone with me is an expert in his field,’ assured Norris. He sat primly and very upright, his concentration absolute on the politically appointed diplomat with more back-door clout than anyone in the new administration.
‘We want our daughter back, Mr Norris,’ said Hillary. There was a note of impatience in her voice.
‘I’ll get her back for you, ma’am. All I need is the contact.’ There was no doubt in the man’s voice.
The head-on ego clash was deafening, thought Harding.
‘I’ve made arrangements with my bank about money. I’ve guessed at three million,’ said McBride.
‘They were in touch before I left Pennsylvania Avenue. The Director dealt with it himself. The numbers are already being computer logged. And it’ll be marked before coming here in the diplomatic bag.’
‘Will three million be enough?’ demanded the woman.
‘It’s enough to negotiate with.’
‘What else can we do?’ asked McBride.
‘Let me talk a few things through with you,’ said Norris.
McBride appeared to become aware of the hand tremor and put the glass down on his desk. ‘Anything. What?’
