“And the girl?”
“Oh for Christ’s sake. The reason she’s detained is a security problem. If she’s leaking she’s got problems from time to time when it happens. Not much worse than having rather bad nightmares. She’s still pretty. Nice tits and legs. She’ll get by most of the time.”
“What about their parents, wives, husbands? They’re affected too. Seeing somebody you love have nightmares while they’re awake. Shivering, sobbing, vomiting. And none of them have any idea why it’s happening or what caused it. They’re seen as mentally sick people. And they are. You made them so.”
Symons shrugged and sighed. “We don’t see eye to eye. It’s impossible to explain to a layman.”
“It isn’t. You’ve explained. But explaining doesn’t make it less outrageous.”
“Can we do a deal? I’ll do my best to unlock the suicide programme.”
“Will you make a full confession and sign it?”
Symons’s amazement was obviously genuine. “A confession? There’s nothing to confess, Boyd. I did my duty as required of me.”
Boyd nodded. “I’m going out for about half an hour. I’m going to have to tie you up and gag you. Do you want to be sitting or lying?”
“I don’t give a damn which way you do it.”
22
Cartwright took a plane to Newcastle and hired a car at the airport. The A1 was heavy with trucks and cars, and he hated driving at night. At Alnwick he missed the turn-off to the 1340 and it took him another hour to find the hotel at Beadnell. It was small and friendly and when he had booked in he asked for Boyd’s room number.
He knocked on the door of Room 17 and tried the handle. The door wasn’t locked and Boyd was asleep on the bed. Fully dressed except for his shoes and jacket. Cartwright closed the door quietly and looked around the room. Both the ceiling light and the bedside lamp were still on so Cartwright guessed that Boyd had only slept after it was dark. He could see no bag, no belongings of any kind, and Boyd’s face looked as though he hadn’t shaved for at least one day. And then the telephone rang. Boyd stirred and sighed, and opening his eyes he pulled himself up to lean against the pillows. As he reached for the phone he saw Cartwright.
“Answer it, James. There’s no hurry.”
Boyd put the receiver to his ear. His speech was slow and hesitant.
“Yes … hi, kid. Thanks for ringing … I can’t hear you … I’m OK … nothing special, I just wanted to hear your voice … that’s probably because I was asleep … yes … yes … well get the rental company to fix it, that’s what we pay ’em for … how’s the painting going … good … sounds great … no, nothing special … not before the weekend at the earliest … just have a bath and a meal and then maybe I’ll take a walk … it’s small but nice. You’d like it … say I’d better go, someone’s knocking on the door … I love you too … sometime tomorrow … bye, sweetie.”
Boyd swung his legs to the floor as he replaced the receiver. It was several seconds before he looked back at Cartwright.
“Why don’t you sit down?”
Cartwright lifted the straight-backed chair and moved it so that he could sit facing Boyd.
“What is it, James, why did you want me so urgently?”
Boyd sighed. “You won’t believe it. I’m not sure I believe it myself.” He turned to look at Cartwright. “Maybe it’s better I don’t tell you. Maybe I should just deal with it myself.”
Cartwright knew from experience that Boyd wasn’t the kind who needed to dramatize his feelings or his operations. He said nothing as he looked at Boyd’s face. It was pale and drawn, the nostrils pinched, and a small muscle was spasming under his left eye.
Boyd sighed again, a deep sigh. “There are two CIA men. They’ve been living in a house a few miles from here. They’ve been in this country for nearly two years. They’ve got forged Canadian passports and they’re not on the US Embassy list or any other list. They were sent over here to take the heat off the CIA from the Senate investigations into the Kennedy assassinations. John F and Bobby.” He paused as his eyes watched Cartwright’s face. “They’re psychologists or psychiatrists. I don’t know which. They hypnotize people for the CIA to use.” Boyd shook his head. “They’re out of some science-fiction scenario, Ken. It’s incredible.”
Cartwright noticed the use of his Christian name. Boyd seldom called him anything but Cartwright, or maybe “sir” if they were in front of other people.
“Don’t worry, James. We can just ship them quietly back to the States, or wherever Langley would like them to go. I can phone Washington tonight. We don’t need to pressure them.”
Boyd shook his head. “We do. They’ve been cooperating with Carter’s group … doing the same sort of things over here.”
“What sort of things?”
“That soldier. The one who has nightmares. They hypnotized him, and Carter’s people used him to kill people. At least seven, maybe more. And there’s a girl.” He shook his head again, in disbelief at what he was going to say. “She killed the two IRA men, O’Hara and Rafferty. They hypnotized her and told her to do it. She doesn’t know she’s done it. Neither does the soldier know what he’s done.”
There was a long pause and then Cartwright said, “I have to say it, James … are you sure about all this?”
“Quite sure.”
“Can you prove it?”
Boyd shrugged. “Some of it.”
“Enough to convince a court?”
“I doubt it. Maybe if I had top-class medical help. I just don’t know.”
“Are they still at the house?”
“No.”
“Where are they?”
Boyd looked away, towards the darkness of the window. “I’ve got one of them stashed away. The other one is still at the house.”
“What do you mean—stashed away?”
“I collared him to make him talk.
