‘It doesn’t make sense to me,’ the first of the men said.
‘Nor me,’ the second said.
The group had been working on solving the problem that had confronted them for over ten years, and they were no nearer to perfecting the weapon. Each time they tried, all they were able to do was to generate a minor explosion, but it was nowhere near the intensity or with the directional control needed.
They had the best equipment, General Claude Smythe had ensured that, the best security, and certainly the most powerful computers, yet none of it was sufficient. What they needed was the man. Smythe was aware of that fact, he had been for many years, and now with the files, and Sue Christie firmly in his corner, and Woolston having made contact with her, he was certain that it would only be days before the man would be joining the team. He wouldn’t enjoy it, nor the country he would be taken to, and his accommodation, while adequate, would be spartan, with bars on the windows and guards at the only door to the cell. And if the man resisted, then he had people who could be very persuasive.
All Smythe had to do was to keep a watch on the woman, and the man would come. Originally it had been a concerted effort with Hutton to secure the solution from the naïve Woolston, to convert his work into a weapon and then to sell it to whoever was willing to pay, but time had moved on. Hutton was dead, so was Arbuthnot, and the field was clear for the general and his brother to reap all the rewards.
Claude Smythe had no illusions about what he and his brother were. Their lives had been ones of privilege and service to the community, and although he was a general in Her Majesty’s army and his brother was a senior politician, they had realised that Woolston had given them access to more than a draughty castle and a government pension. An academic had given them the key to infinite wealth, the chance to live like kings, and Sue Christie came as an extra benefit, if only he could convince her to join with him.
At sixty years, Claude Smythe knew that he should be acting his age, but with the woman in his bed, he had felt twenty years younger. They had first made love twelve years previously, and whereas he knew what she was, and that she slept around, he also knew that she was the ideal woman: loving, devious, and willing to do anything if it was to her benefit. Pretending to care about Ed Barrow after he had married Woolston’s widow was one instance, seducing him another.
Smythe appreciated driven personalities, and even though Sue Christie could never be trusted, she’d make an attractive addition to his lifestyle and he’d make sure she was well supported. As for Ed Barrow, the man had served his purpose. He had kept the department functional, but he had found no one with the ability to conclude Woolston’s work. A decision would need to be made in the near future, but first the files that Sue had supplied had to be checked.
He phoned Sue. ‘Tonight?’ he said.
‘Later. I’ve got to deal with Ed Barrow first.’
‘Thursday night?’
Sue Christie smiled. Two men, both reeled in hook, line, and sinker. She had always known her impact on men. It was not that she was the most beautiful woman, nor the one with the best figure. She knew her breasts were too small, her hips too large, but it was the complete package that men lusted after, and she knew how to work it. Not only did she have a general, but she also had Ed Barrow, and she’d seen Malcolm Woolston mentally undressing her in her flat the other night when he had forced his way in. She knew that with Woolston, she would have the trifecta.
Chapter 22
Helen Toogood walked into the patent office in London at 10 o’clock on a Friday morning. She registered a document in the names of Malcolm Woolston and Helen Toogood. At precisely 11 a.m. she made a phone call. ‘I’ve done what you asked. Are you sure about this?’
‘Your name is registered as well. Even if I cannot take advantage, then you can,’ Woolston said knowing that the possibility existed of government intervention in the patents’ office.’
‘Surely our research belongs to the government?’ Helen said.
‘Once my technical paper has been published, they’ll not be able to claim it. The ability to misuse it has been removed. Do you think they’ll want to admit to my torture, the fact that Ed Barrow is involved with people of ill-repute, that Harold Hutton was a bastard, and that General Claude Smythe and his brother are involved in illegal arms dealings?’
‘But you can never benefit.’
‘I’m not important, my family is. I trust you to share the rewards with them.’
‘I will. What will you do now?’
‘There are a few loose ends.’
‘Ed Barrow?’
‘I’m uncertain about him. It would upset Gwen if he died.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were alive?’
‘I wasn’t certain that I was coming back.’
‘Why did you?’
‘I knew that Bob Robertson had alerted them to me. I had to act.’
The phone call ended. Helen Toogood, the only person Woolston knew he could trust, the person he had first contacted when he had returned from the dead, had done her part.
At 8 p.m. the door swung open at Sue Christie’s flat and she walked in. ‘Malcolm, what are you doing here?’
‘You’ve sold out. I saw you with Smythe. Are you screwing him
