around-fax, photocopier, shredder-but also a lot of antique wood and leather. The chair behind the desk was immense, more throne than chair, and covered in buttoned red leather. There was a matching sofa. The walls were book-lined, floor to ceiling. Some of the shelves were behind glass, and these housed the most precious- looking volumes. There were no filing cabinets, but there were files.
A lot of files.
They stood in towers which threatened to topple at any moment, slueing paper everywhere. Some of the towers were six feet high, resting in the corners of the room, giving it a musty, unventilated smell. There were more files on the sofa, and on the floor in front of it, and others beside the desk. Older files had been tidied away into big cardboard boxes-ordinary grocery boxes like you picked up in supermarkets, advertising chili beans and dishwasher powder and Planters peanuts.
“Have you never heard of computers, Mr. Allerdyce?” Reeve said, looking around him.
“I don’t trust computers. With the right equipment, you can tap into a computer from a distance. To get this lot, someone would have to get very close indeed.”
“Well, you’ve got a point. Where are the relevant files?”
“
“Why don’t you sit on the sofa, Mr. Allerdyce?”
But there was no space. Allerdyce just stared at the sofa like a pet who’d been given an impossible command. Reeve cleared off some of the files so Allerdyce could sit down. Then Reeve sat behind the desk.
“You know about my brother?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Did your people kill him?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“There’s no proof he didn’t kill himself.”
“Take it from me, he was murdered.”
“I don’t know anything about it.”
Reeve accepted this. He opened a gray folder and started separating the handwritten sheets. There were photographs there, too. “But you have your suspicions?”
“Surely.”
“CWC?”
“It’s feasible.”
“Oh, it’s feasible all right. Who’s Dulwater?”
“He works for me.”
“Why did you have me followed?”
“I wanted to know about you, Mr. Reeve.”
“Why?”
“To see what Kosigin was up against.”
“Kosigin?”
“You’re reading his file.”
Reeve picked up one of the photographs. It showed a boyish young man with steel-rimmed glasses and salt- and-pepper hair. He turned the photo towards Allerdyce, who nodded slowly.
Marie Villambard had spoken about Kosigin, how he’d set up the rigged investigation involving Preece and the others. Reeve had expected him to be older.
“What can you tell me about Kosigin?”
“It’s all there in his file.”
Reeve read it through.
“You’ve been following him,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I want him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I want him for my… collection.” Allerdyce looked around the room.
Reeve nodded. “You’re a blackmailer? That’s your hobby?”
“Not at all, I just like to collect people, people who may be useful to me.”
“I get it.” Reeve kept reading. Then he came to the other photographs. One of them showed two men on a marina, sail-boat masts sticking up behind them. One of the men was Kosigin.
The other was Jay.
“Housey-housey,” Reeve said. He got up and took the picture over to the sofa. “You know this man?”
“Kosigin has hired him to do some work. I think he’s called Jay.”
“That’s right. Jay.”
“I don’t know much more. He’s rumored at one time to have been in the SAS.” Allerdyce’s eyes seemed to focus for a moment. “You were in the SAS, too, Mr. Reeve.”
Reeve breathed in. “How do you know that?”
“Dulwater broke into your house. He found some magazines.”
“Yes, that’s the name.”
“Did your man plant any bugs?”
“No, but he found some.”
“Who do you think was bugging me?”
“I presume Kosigin.”
Reeve went back to the desk and sat down. “Is Dulwater still watching my house?”
“No, he knew it was empty. Your wife and son are elsewhere.”
Reeve sucked in breath again. “Do you know where?”
Allerdyce shook his head. “They’re of little concern to me. My concern in all this is Kosigin.”
“Well then, we’re on the same side… as far as that goes.” Reeve checked his watch. “What about you, Mr. Allerdyce?”
“What about me?”
“Do
Allerdyce shook his head slowly but firmly.
“Where’s Dulwater now?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
“You’re not?”
“No. He’s just returned from the UK. He’s probably at home asleep.”
Reeve checked his watch again. “Mr. Allerdyce, I’d like you to do something for me.”
“Surely.”
“Could you switch on your photocopier and copy this file for me?”
Allerdyce got up from the sofa and went to switch on the machine. “It takes a moment to warm up.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Reeve went out onto the landing and looked down on Mr. Blue Oyster Cult, who was wriggling his way across the hall. He stopped when he saw Reeve looking at him. Reeve smiled and started down the stairs. The man was moving with more urgency now, trying to get to the door. Reeve walked beside him for a foot or two, then swept a leg back and kicked him on the side of the head with the meat of his stockinged heel. He dragged the unconscious figure back into the room, used more tape to bind him to the heaviest-looking table, and picked up the dagger.
Outside, he pulled his boots on and went and found the drugged dog. It was lying in front of some bushes near the gates. Anyone walking past could have seen it, but then nobody walked around here. Reeve dragged it deep into the shadows and taped its legs together, then wound more tape around its mouth. It was breathing deeply throughout, almost snoring.
