necessary, her reasoning being that if Gennady had been a spy, and involved with MI5 or the Americans, it would probably be better to feign ignorance. But Sean Ardagh’s sudden appearance had unnerved her. Had the FBI put a tail on her? Did they know about John, and their trip to the Widener Library?
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘much better,’ hoping she sounded contrite and cooperative.
‘So what possessed you to come out here?’
‘I thought there was an angle that we’d overlooked, and that Superintendent Chivers might not be interested in.’
‘And that was?’
‘I was puzzled by why Nancy Haynes had chosen such an uncomfortable hotel. Emerson complained about her choice-he could hardly climb the stairs to his room. I wondered if Nancy had had a particular reason, perhaps some family connection with Cunningham Place.’
‘Would that be relevant to her death?’
‘Probably not. That’s why it was never pursued, but it bothered me. When they took me off the case they told me to take a holiday, the further away the better, so I thought I’d come over here and try to satisfy my curiosity.’
He shook his head with a sarcastic smile. ‘When you’d been told to keep your nose out of it. So what did you discover?’
She took him through her conversations with Emerson, their visit to Nancy’s house and the trip to Provincetown to see if Janice could identify the people. ‘And then there was this.’ She opened up her laptop and showed him the group photo. ‘That looks very much like a teenage Nancy and her parents in front of Chelsea Mansions.’
He studied it carefully, then said, ‘What about this other man?’
Kathy shrugged. ‘Janice didn’t know who he was. Some family friend, I suppose. Or someone they’d met in London.’
She was glad that he kept his cool grey eyes on the picture and not on her. It was disconcerting being on the wrong side of an interrogation.
‘Can you put a date to this?’
‘Janice thought it was around the time of Nancy’s sixteenth birthday, in April 1956,’ she said, wanting to appear eager to help. ‘Her birthday was the twenty-sixth.’
Now he did look at her, hard and for a long moment, studying her face for signs of duplicity. ‘So Nancy had been to Cunningham Place when she was a girl. So what?’
Kathy pursed her lips, trying not to overdo it. It was remarkably hard to appear innocent once every muscle twitch became self-conscious. ‘I don’t know. I got my answer, I suppose, as to why she chose Chelsea Mansions.’
‘A nostalgia trip, you think?’
‘Yes.’
‘And that’s everything?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll need a full, detailed report of every minute you spent in the United States, with a verbatim account of your conversations with Emerson and Janice-particularly Janice. You were way out of your jurisdiction, Kathy, and you could have done a lot of damage. The Americans and ourselves, we have to cooperate on so many levels. We have to rely on people following the rules. You should have known that.’
‘Yes, Sean. I’m sorry. It was thoughtless.’
‘It was damn careless, that’s what it was. You thought you wouldn’t get found out.’
She nodded, head bowed in contrition.
‘I want that report when we land at Heathrow, with copies of the photos and everything. Put it on this.’ He handed her a flash drive. ‘We may have to give it to the Yanks, so try to sound as if you’ve got at least half a brain- your reasons for going, your reasons for not informing the American authorities, and especially the fact that you did it on your own, without reference to us. Be frank and open and penitent. Okay?’
‘Yes. Will you be informing Commander Sharpe?’
He hesitated. ‘No, I’ll leave that to you. Tell him if you want. Personally I’d let sleeping dogs lie.’
‘Thanks, Sean. I appreciate it.’
‘So you damn well should.’
She did as she was told, composing the report on her laptop on the seven-hour flight home, trying to make her actions seem innocuous. Most of Sunday had to be invented, with John and the Widener Library edited out. He had insisted on paying for the harbourside meal the previous evening, which was a blessing if they checked her credit card usage. Would anyone do that? She thought not, mostly reassured by Sean’s response to her explanation, but she wasn’t certain. What had she done to warrant a senior MI5 officer dropping everything and crossing the Atlantic to escort her home? Why hadn’t he just phoned her and told her to get on the next plane? Had the Americans really been that annoyed?
She handed over the memory stick when they landed. Sean had no luggage and they parted on the way to the carousels, leaving Kathy relieved that he wasn’t going to confiscate her laptop, or take her in for more questions.
It was almost midnight when she got home, her day compressed by the flight across the spin of the earth, and she was in two minds whether to ring Brock. She decided she’d better. He was still up, restless from inactivity and excited by her outline of her trip. They agreed to meet the next morning in the city for breakfast.
THIRTY-TWO
B rock spied Kathy cradling a mug of coffee at a table beneath a large poster of the female toreador Cristina Sanchez, who was poised, arms raised, to deliver the death blow with her sword. He noticed straight away that there was something different about her-Kathy, that was-though he couldn’t identify at first what it was.
‘Hello,’ he said.
She gave him a big smile, then jumped to her feet and planted a kiss on his cheek, which was quite unprecedented.
‘Goodness,’ he said. ‘What have I done to deserve that?’
She laughed. ‘Well, we’re off-duty, and it’s a lovely morning. You’re looking great. You’ve got some colour back.’
‘Yes, I am feeling almost normal again.’ A delivery truck ground past outside, pumping diesel fumes into the cafe. The sky was overcast with a threat of rain, and it didn’t seem to him like a particularly lovely morning. Her eyes were shining, her complexion subtly different. He remembered how low she had been when she left for America, but now her posture suggested optimism and energy, as if Cristina Sanchez looming over her had filled her with new life. ‘And you look as if the change has done you good too.’
‘Yes, it was what I needed, just to get out of London for a few days.’
‘So you liked Boston?’
‘Brilliant. I’d have loved to stay longer, if Sean Ardagh hadn’t stuck his ugly nose in.’
‘But it doesn’t seem to have fazed you.’
A waitress came to their table, and Brock ordered an omelette and toast, Kathy the full English breakfast.
‘Well, I hope I convinced him of my abject contrition. He demanded a full report, which I had to write on the plane coming back. I’ve got a copy for you. There’s no mention of you, of course. And I didn’t tell him about identifying Gennady Moszynski in the photos.’
‘Why didn’t you do that, I wonder?’
She hesitated. ‘I didn’t think he was being open with me, about why he was there and what his interest in the case really was. I think they’re involved somehow, perhaps with Vadim.’
‘Vadim?’
‘Yes. Suppose Vadim is secretly working for MI5 or MI6 when he goes to Russia, and suppose they know, or
