“Nonsense. Why bring it to a secure workplace? Why hide it inside a scarf, of all things?” Bridge had guessed that Montgomery would enjoy this small taste of power, and she was right. He was practically grinning.
“If I tried to hide it, I’d make it a better job than that,” said Voclaine. “I had this phone with me each day since the project began, but before it’s never been a problem.”
“Well, it’s a problem now. I’d like you to unlock it, so I can see what’s on it.”
Voclaine shook his head. “I’ve told you, it’s all personal. There’s nothing for you on there to need to see,” he said, directing this last to the mirror.
Montgomery noticed. “Don’t look at her, look at me. What are you being so secretive about? Are you working for someone? Is it the Russians?” Bridge could hardly believe what she was seeing. Montgomery had gone power mad within a matter of seconds, and now he was talking about the Russians? What the hell was he playing at?
Voclaine suppressed a laugh. “You’re out of your mind, James.”
But Montgomery couldn’t back down now. He thrust the iPhone under Voclaine’s nose and almost screamed, “I order you to open this phone!”
Voclaine took the phone, dropped it on the floor, and crushed it under his heel. Then he smiled and said, “Would you call that open?”
Montgomery froze, unsure how to proceed, and looked to the mirror for assurance. But Bridge was equally uncertain. On the face of it, Voclaine had just given himself up. Why destroy the phone, unless it contained incriminating secrets? Thinking back to their dinner conversation, it was possible those secrets were personal. Family stuff, photos, text chats with his ex-wife and son. But then, as Montgomery had asked, why bring it to the office at all? Voclaine had told Bridge he spoke to his family only rarely.
Voclaine was glaring defiantly, not at Montgomery, but at her — or rather, the mirror. “I will say not another word without my legal representative with me. Whoever you are behind the glass, it’s big trouble for you.”
“On, on, on the contrary, François,” Montgomery stammered, as Bridge knocked on the glass to summon him out of the room, “you’re the, the one in trouble. Oh, yes.” He exited the room, leaving Voclaine alone.
Bridge watched the Frenchman glare at the mirror, still and calm. He focused on a point just above and behind her shoulder, as if expecting a taller man to be standing here, but it seemed like his eyes were locked to hers in a test of will. He hadn’t once raised his voice or lost his cool in there. If only the same could be said for his interrogator, who now stumbled wide-eyed into the monitoring room.
“I don’t know what exactly you were looking for, Ms Short, but I’d say we’ve found it. What now?”
What now? At that moment she wanted to kick Montgomery’s arse for his tinpot Hitler act, an act that may well have cost them a vital piece of evidence. And as a result, she still couldn’t be a hundred per cent sure. Someone in tech would have to try and recover the data from Voclaine’s destroyed iPhone to get anything solid, and meanwhile Bridge would have to remain here at Guichetech to maintain her cover. But still, it was a break of sorts, and those were rare enough in this line of work.
“Leave him here for now,” she said, dialling London. “Now please step outside while I make a phone call.”
45
Montgomery drove fast that night. Twice he doubled back on himself, worried someone might be following him, before starting up the tree-lined road to the car park at the top of the hill.
“Another fine night, Comrade,” said the Russian, waiting for him as always.
He ignored the greeting. “You won’t think so in a moment.”
The Russian’s wide shoulders sagged. “You did not bring me a card.” A statement, not a question.
“I couldn’t. I think someone’s onto us. London sent a woman…”
“What?” The Russian turned on him, faster than he thought a man that size could move. “What woman?”
“She’s supposed to be an HR inspector. But it’s just a cover.”
The Russian wrapped his big hands around Montgomery’s jacket lapels and pulled him close. He recoiled from the sour stench of booze and cheap German cigarettes on the thickset man’s breath, which seemed to grow stronger every time they met. “You should have told me this before.”
“She, she only arrived last week. And I only found out she’s undercover today.”
“How? Who is she?” The Russian let go of his jacket.
Montgomery leaned back against the side of his car, in the hope it would make his head stop spinning. It didn’t. “She wasn’t specific. She’s MoD, sent to investigate a security issue. She was very concerned about everyone’s phones.” He groaned in realisation. “Oh, of course. that explains why she lied to me about where she was last weekend…”
“Lied? Did you follow her?”
“No, no. She said she’d visited a vineyard, but I know she couldn’t have, because there was a truck accident that closed the main road all day. Not something you’d easily forget. Maybe she went back to London for the weekend.”
“Why did the woman tell you she is undercover?”
“I suppose she thinks she can trust me. Perhaps I’m a better liar than you give me credit for.”
“London,” the Russian considered, then barked a cruel laugh. “Five and Six working together. Yes.”
Montgomery’s eyes widened.
