‘In answer to the first question, I got the strong impression that Cradle had contacted the Twelve himself. He probably had some kind of emergency number, and believed that if he was compromised he’d be pulled out, like an agent in the field. In answer to the second question, she’s killed him. I’ve no doubt about that whatsoever. It’s what she does.’
‘Which means—’ Richard begins.
‘Yes. We’ve got a senior MI5 officer dead, a serious amount of explaining to do, and no lead of any kind. We’re back where we were post-Kedrin, and it’s entirely my fault.’
‘I don’t accept that.’
‘I do. I rode Cradle far too hard in that phone call to the van. I never thought he’d let his people know we were onto him. What did he think they were going to do? Did he really believe he’d live happily ever after?’
‘I listened to your conversation with Cradle. We all did. And you handled him fine. The truth is, he was in serious trouble with those people from the moment we identified him, however we played it.’
Without warning, the overhead strip light cuts out, plunging them all into dimness. Lance takes a broom from the stationery cupboard behind the printer, then taps the handle sharply against the fluorescent tube, which flickers for a moment and then comes back on again. No one comments.
‘So what about MI5?’ Eve asks Richard.
‘I’ll handle them. Let them know about the south of France property and the boat and the rest of it. Say we’re not sure who was paying Cradle off, but that someone was, big-time. Explain that we questioned him, which they’ll find out sooner or later, and that he did a runner. That way, the whole thing becomes their problem. And when he turns up, which he will – dead or alive but probably dead, as you say – they’ll shut down the story in the usual way.’
‘So we carry on?’ asks Eve.
‘We carry on. I’ll get a forensics person I can trust onto that bracelet and the note. Also, I’m going to have people watching your flat round the clock until further notice, unless you and your husband would prefer to move into a safe house.’
‘Niko would literally go ballistic. Please not that.’
‘OK. For the time being not. What else have we got?’
‘I’m still on the Cradle money-trail,’ says Billy. ‘And that goes to some seriously weird places. I’m also in contact with GCHQ about the Twelve, and hoping that someone, somewhere, has let something slip. If Cradle knew that name, so do others.’
‘Lance?’
The rodent features sharpen. ‘I might go and sniff around the Hampshire Constabulary HQ in Eastleigh. Buy pints for a few coppers. Ask about borrowed bikes and uniforms.’
‘I just want to get something clear,’ Eve says, walking to the window and staring out at the traffic on Tottenham Court Road. ‘Is the purpose of this unit still to identify a professional assassin? Or are we now trying to acquire intelligence on what appears to be an international conspiracy? Because I’m beginning to sense mission-creep.’
‘First and foremost, I want our killer,’ says Richard. ‘Kedrin was killed on our turf and I need a scalp to give Moscow. Also, this woman killed Simon Mortimer, one of our own, and that I won’t have. But it’s becoming increasingly clear that if we want her, we’re going to have to acquire some understanding of the organisation she works for. And the more we see and hear of them, the more formidable a force they appear. But there’s got to be a way in. A tiny corner you can unpick. Like, for example, this woman’s interest in you.’
Lance grins horribly, and stares into space.
Eve looks at him wearily. ‘Please, whatever’s on your mind, don’t share it.’
‘You must admit, the situation’s got honey-trap written all over it.’
‘Lance, I’m sure you’re a great field agent, but you’re a seriously tragic human being.’
‘You know what they say, Eve. Old dogs. New tricks.’
‘Seriously, people,’ says Richard. ‘What’s she saying with this bracelet? What’s the message here?’
‘That she’s in control. That she can drop into my life any time she chooses. She’s saying I’ve got your measure, and compared to me you’re a loser. She’s saying I can give you all the things you want – the intimate, feminine, super-expensive things – but can’t have. It’s a woman-to-woman thing.’
‘Manipulative lady,’ murmurs Billy knowledgeably, hunching into his Megadeth hoodie.
‘That’s an understatement,’ says Eve. ‘But I’ve been watching her, too. She’s been getting more and more reckless, especially in her dealings with me. That motorcycle cop caper, for example. Somewhere along the line she’s going to go too far. And then we’ll have her.’
Lance nods at the carrier bag holding the bracelet. ‘Maybe we don’t really need to go out looking for her. Perhaps, if we just sit tight, she’ll come to us.’
Richard nods. ‘I don’t like it, but I’m afraid you’re right. That said, I think we need to acknowledge that we’ve turned a dangerous corner here. So full counter-surveillance measures, please. Remember your tradecraft. Eve and Billy, listen to Lance and be guided by him. If he tells you that a situation smells bad, you walk away.’
Eve glances at Lance. He looks sharp and alert, like a ferret about to be slipped into a rabbit-hole.
‘Meanwhile, Eve, I’ll have a word with the CO at Dever. Ask him to set up a detail to watch your flat. You probably won’t see much of them, but they’ll be there if you need them. Can we get a photofit of this V woman?’
‘It’s difficult. I got a split-second glance at someone I thought was her in Shanghai, and today she had this Lycra mask on under her helmet so that I could only see her eyes. But I could try.’
‘Excellent. We’re going to watch, and we’re going to wait, and when she comes, we’re going to be ready.’
Chapter 3
The man sits, ankles crossed, in a carved oak armchair
