“Yes.”
“She has seen the ledgers?”
“No, but she will look.”
“You really think she is reliable?”
Field hesitated.
“She’d better be, because if she isn’t, I want her back inside.”
“She is.”
“It’s Lu she fucks, no one else?”
“She doesn’t—”
“She’s not mentioned anyone else?”
“No. She goes down to his house.”
“And does he ever come to her apartment?”
Field thought of the dressing gown she’d given him, with the short arms. He clenched his fist. “I guess sometimes, yes.”
Macleod looked at him intently. “Lu doesn’t know she was taken in?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
Macleod turned to Caprisi. “Are the handcuffs all the same make?”
The American took out the photographs again. He examined each one carefully. “Impossible to say,” he said. When he put them back down on the table, the picture of Natalya Simonov was on top.
“Are we missing something obvious?” Macleod asked. “What about Lena’s other neighbors?”
“Chen talked to them all, but he got nothing.”
Macleod turned to Field. “You’re going back to the factory this afternoon. You will travel with an armed escort. I have asked Charles Lewis to be present at three P.M.; it’s his bloody factory. I might even come myself if I can get out of this damned budget meeting.”
Field put the photographs away again. Then he folded the file and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
Thirty-two
Five minutes later Caprisi and Field were sitting alone in the canteen, drinking coffee.
“How’s Chen?” Field asked.
“He’s fine. We should go and see him this morning.”
“We were lucky.”
Caprisi didn’t answer.
“Granger must have called Lu,” Field said.
“We’ve been over that.”
Field took out his letter from the bank and pushed it across the table.
Caprisi read it. “They certainly want you.”
“This is the cabal paying money into my account to get me used to the idea, correct?”
“Correct.”
“So they tempt me with the money before they make an approach.”
“I don’t know, but I’d say they want you badly, probably because of your social connections. That’s why it’s so much dough.”
“What should I do?”
“Do nothing.”
“Shouldn’t I give it back?”
“To who?” Caprisi leaned his elbows on the table. “Field,” he said, “tell me you don’t really believe that this woman isn’t fucking her boss.”
Field looked at his partner and saw the warmth in his eyes.
“This isn’t a great moment to be losing touch with reality.”
“No. I understand that.”
“There are thousands of good-looking Russian broads in this city, so don’t do anything foolish, understand?”
“You don’t think it’s possible to free anyone from his clutches?”
