“All right then,” said the man who’d looked bored. He got up. “I’m going to go get a bit of tea. George?”
The detective in shirtsleeves shook his head.
“And you?”
“I’d take coffee,” said Dean.
As soon as his partner was out of the room, the detective asked Dean if he had any other detail he might want to add.
“Not at all.”
“You really do want to cooperate, chap.”
“I don’t know what I’m to cooperate about.”
“Don’t you, though?”
Dean stared at him; the policeman stared back. When the door opened, Dean looked up. Instead of the other detective, it was Chief Inspector Lang — the man who had been involved in the murder investigation.
The man in shirtsleeves jumped up. “Chief Inspector.”
Lang grunted and sat down. He had an overcoat on — and still smelled of cigarettes.
“What happened?” asked Lang.
Dean repeated the story.
“And the friend that you just happened to meet went to the station with you?” said Dean.
“We both wanted to go on the London Eye.”
“That’s across the street and down the block away,” said Lang.
“I didn’t know that at the time.”
“Come now. Who do you work for?” he asked. “The CIA, yes? Or are you FBI?”
Charlie gave an exaggerated sigh and looked toward the other detective. “You should call the number on the card I gave you. We make gauges for home boilers. You probably have one yourself.”
“Have you seen the inside of our prisons?” asked the man.
“Are you threatening me?”
“Come on now,” said Lang. “No need for any of this. Are you CIA or not?”
“Do I look like I’m CIA?”
“You do realize this is a murder investigation?”
“I didn’t murder anyone.”
“You came close,” said the other detective.
Lang frowned. He shook his head at the man. “Why don’t you take a break?”
“Maybe I will.” He got up and went out.
“I would appreciate your cooperation,” Lang told Dean.
“I am cooperating.”
Lang drummed his fingers on the table. “We have an MI5 agent on his way over,” said the chief inspector, rising. “We’ll leave it to him.”
Dean leaned back against the chair after the detective left. He was the one who should be yawning. He hadn’t slept now for nearly two days.
Was the reference to MI5 a bluff?
There seemed too much disgust in the policeman’s voice for that. And besides, guessing that they were spies wasn’t exactly going out on a limb.
“Lang, let’s make a deal,” Dean said aloud. “Let’s talk.”
“No, Charlie, no,” said Rockman from the Art Room.
“Come on. Let’s talk before your spymasters get here,” said Dean.
The door opened a moment later. Lang practically sprinted into the room with the other two inspectors trailing along.
“MI5 is not our master,” said Lang.
“Before we talk,” Dean said, “my partner comes in.”
“We can’t do that,” said one of the other detectives.
“Sure you can.”
“What if we did do that?” said Lang. “Then what?”
“We’ll decide when I see him. You have nothing to lose, right?” added Dean. “As soon as MI5 comes I leave anyway.”
Lang frowned.
“Look, I know the police were embarrassed because four of them couldn’t beat up an over-the-hill Yankee tourist,” he added, “but you have a murder case you’re trying to solve, and holding me isn’t going to help you do that.”
“Bring the other American in,” Lang told the others.
In the Art Room, Rockman leaned against his computer screen, practically yelping to Rubens.
“Dean wants to cut a deal with them,” he said. “I tried to stop him.”
“Yes. I heard,” said Rubens. “As usual, Mr. Dean is a step ahead of us in assessing the situation. He’s made the proper decision here. Don’t interfere.”
Rockman shook his head reluctantly, but Rubens saw what Dean was doing — trying to draw information out of the policeman, who would no longer be available, much less cooperate, once MI5 arrived.
Which would be any moment now.
Rubens reached to his belt for the remote control device for the communications system.
“Charles, this is Rubens. Can you talk?”
“Uh,” replied Dean, more coughing than talking.
“That’s fine. You’ve made the right decision, but be careful.”
Dean snorted.
“Yes, I realize I’m stating the obvious,” Rubens continued. “Nonetheless, they could hold you in connection with the murder, or simply charge you with assault. I daresay you would find either inconvenient, as would I.”
“Well, howdy-hey,” said Karr as he walked into the room. Dean was sitting there, arms folded across his chest. And here was bad news — Lang, the chief inspector from the park murder case, was sitting at the table with the other two policemen. “So what’s going on?”
“Charlie is going to blow your covers,” said Rockman in his ear. Karr thought it would have been nice for the runner to have told him this in a place where his reaction wouldn’t be as conspicuous, like the interrogation room he’d just been sitting in all alone.
“They know we’re spooks,” said Dean.
“I do feel pretty spooky.” Karr sat down, trying to work out what to say.
“I know you both work for the CIA,” said Lang.
“Come on. Do I look like I work for the CIA?” said Karr. “I can chew gum and walk at the same time, right?”
“They’re sending somebody over from MI5 to talk to us,” said Dean.
“I get these confused,” said Karr, still trying to psyche out what Dean was up to. “MI5 is internal intelligence and MI6 external? Or is that backward?”
One of the younger detectives told him that MI5 was “tasked with internal security in the British Isles.” He summarized their duties, sounding more than a little as if he had memorized a recruiting video.
“Sounds pretty good,” said Karr. “Can we join?”
“I believe it is open only to British subjects,” said the man.
“We really don’t have time for fun and games,” said Lang. “Who do you work for?”
“Let’s just say the American government and leave it at that,” said Dean.
“Why were you there?” asked Lang.
Karr looked at Dean, unsure exactly how the older man intended to play it.
“Question for you first,” said Dean. “How’d you know to go there?”
“It was an anticrime task force,” said the detective in shirtsleeves.
Karr laughed. Dean played it cool — very cool, thought Karr, watching. He stared at Lang, letting him know it
