‘Where’s Seagull?’
‘In the other cabin. She hasn’t come around yet. Dr. Richardson is with her.’
‘Richardson?’
Mervyn Richardson was the company physician, an eminent private specialist who was World News consultant in London.
‘He flew out with the Lear. He says you’ll be fine, by the way.’
‘What about Jennifer?’
‘All right too, probably.’
‘Thank God for that.’
Cox hesitated.
‘Chief. We have to talk about Jennifer. I’ve been in touch with Ryder. He’s in London. He wants to know immediately what you found out about her in St. Tropez.’
‘Nothing conclusive,’ I said. ‘She was scared when she saw the photographs. She said they were part of her past life and she wouldn’t reopen it.’
‘Do you think she was lying?’
‘I’m still of two minds,’ I said. ‘On the one hand it’s pretty damning. But I’m still nagged by the idea that if she’s a professional, and I was an assignment, why didn’t she go back to Moscow or at least farther out of reach than St. Tropez? And if it was the Russians who tried to kill me with the fire, why kill her too? They could have tranquilized me and let her escape while the fire was starting.’
Cox shrugged. ‘Assuming it was the Soviets, maybe she was being punished,’ he said. ‘Maybe she was supposed to go back to Moscow and ran off to St. Tropez with Yves instead. Maybe they just decided it was safer to have her dead too.’
‘Cox,’ I said, ‘your tone tells me you know more about Jennifer than I do. Has Ryder found something?’
‘No. But he thinks he’s close. Chief, you’d better prepare yourself. Ryder’s people are convinced her background story isn’t right. Ryder’s as good as told us to stand by for bad news.’ Cox managed a little smile. ‘As though we didn’t have enough already.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like they’re going to test Starburst in Europe during the NATO exercises. In about three weeks.’
‘What! They’re insane.’
‘So a lot of people are saying. But the President has put the screws on NATO. A big political blackmail number. Agree to the missile test or we start pulling U.S. troops out of Europe. I’ve done you a full briefing document. But I don’t have to tell you the bottom line. The situation—your situation—is coming to a head. Whatever’s supposed to happen is going to happen soon. There are other signs too.’
I smiled. ‘Have pity on a poor invalid,’ I said. ‘Break it gently.’
‘It’s not good however it’s broken,’ Cox said seriously. ‘In some ways it’s worse than the announcement of the test firing. It’s about the scandal.’
‘You mean it’s broken?’ I said. ‘Why the hell didn’t you say that in the first place?’
‘No. It hasn’t broken. But someone’s warming up the house, as the comedians say. Take a look at this.’
Cox reached down to the floor of the cabin and handed me an Italian newspaper. It was the previous night’s Messagere and when I saw the headline, I almost dropped the paper. Two thirds of the front page was taken up with the announcement of the Starburst test, but it was the right-hand headline that Cox was pointing to.
‘IL SCANDALO INGLESE,’ it read. ‘L’AMORE E LA KGB.’
As I read it, I realized that the story had nothing to do with me, or the party or Starburst. It concerned a former British ambassador to Moscow who had had an affair with a woman interpreter. The story was more than ten years old. The man had confessed at the time and resigned immediately; now it had all been dragged up again quite gratuitously.
Cox watched me scan it.
‘It has to be deliberate,’ I said. ‘There’s no other reason for bringing the story out now. Poor bastard’s been quietly running a boat-repair firm in Poole for the past ten years, eking out his pension and trying to persuade his loyal wife that it was just a mad moment of passion.’
‘Oh sure. It’s deliberate, all right,’ Cox said. ‘And the papers had a field day. I’ve had the press digest on the E Net. Story is fronted in a dozen countries. It’s unbelievable. Cartoons. Sanctimonious shit about ‘How can the Russians be so vile?’ and acres of ‘How could he be so stupid?’ editorials. Catty quotes from the wife of the next ambassador saying what a tart the interpreter looked. And friend Wint’s already done the rounds of his editors. No prizes for guessing his line: ‘If you can sell extra papers with ten-year-old rubbish like this, think what you can do with an exclusive with top people leaping in and out of sleeping bags for charity and Russian agents killing heiresses during drug and sex orgies to protect their mole.’
This time, I did manage a smile. ‘Cox!’ I said. ‘I do wish you could put a slightly better construction on the evening than that.’
Cox grinned back, obviously relieved that I hadn’t been uprooted by his news.
‘So we have to get a move on,’ I said. ‘How long is Seagull going to be unconscious.’
‘I don’t know,’ Cox said. ‘I’ll get Richardson.’
As Cox opened the partition, I caught a brief glimpse of Seagull. She was lying with her head sunk deeply into the small pillow. She looked very peaceful, even though her eyes were dark under the tan and there were exhaustion lines crinkling her face. No, she didn’t look like a tart, I thought. But it would make no difference. ‘Beautiful Soviet agent seduces news agency executive while she acts as conduit for his treason.’ That was story enough.
Then Dr. Richardson stepped into the cabin and closed the partition door. We had already completed our takeoff. There was no turbulence and Richardson stood with the same air of relaxed calm as he did in his consulting rooms in quiet chambers just off Fleet Street.
I had always liked him. When I’d first been treated by him as a young correspondent, I’d been impressed by my first taste of rich man’s doctoring and realized that it was different in much more than the sumptuous appointments of his surgery. It was a matter of attitude. Richardson dealt with high achievers and he accepted that achievement, like aging, had a price in physical deterioration. He never moralized, or told his patients to stop overworking; he simply assessed the deterioration, prescribed a treatment, then laid out the requirements for a complete cure and the specific consequences of ignoring his advice. The value judgments were left to you. He lived, as far as I could judge, a very quiet life and his main interest was rare books and he enjoyed his occasional sudden—and lucrative— excursions into the strange situations that came with the World News consultancy. It was typical of him that he expressed no particular surprise that the chief executive of World News should have been hit by a tranquilizer dart.
‘It was a substance called Androloxine,’ he said as he sat down beside the berth. ‘Developed for tranquilizing giraffes, I understand. You’re lucky, really. There’s a stronger version for use on elephants.’
When I asked him about Jennifer, he ignored my insistence that I had to talk to her immediately. ‘She’ll be fine. I’ve done all the necessary tests. But she’ll be out longer than you were. A matter of body weight and female chemistry. It’s now nine o’clock. We shall be in London by noon or soon after. By then, she should be awake and beginning to be coherent. But I wouldn’t expect you to be able to have any serious conversation with her before tonight.’
I have never argued with Richardson. He knew that I would ignore his advice if I had to, but I knew that his judgments were rarely faulty.
When Richardson had gone back into the other cabin, I took out the briefing document Cox had prepared on Starburst. As usual it was succinct and thorough and though he always used a casual, racy style, I also knew it would be accurate both in detail and in tone.
‘First announcement of the European test of Starburst made in Washington (State and Defense simultaneously),’ it read.
Starburst will be fired during NATO summer exercise ‘Mighty Shield’ to demonstrate its readiness for a battlefield role in Europe. (WN trailed Reuters,
AP by six minutes.) Firing confirmed by NATO military planning council in Brussels. (AP one-minute lead over WN.) Missile will be fired from Britain, but Defense ducked questions on details. Big fight broke out immediately over exact kind of test firing. To stop fight blowing up further, Defense called second press conference. Spokesman said it would be fired in a ‘simulated invasion situation.’ In other words, it’ll be presumed that Soviet tanks have rolled over the Iron Curtain borderline and are on West German soil. Starburst will be targeted to land on exercise battlefield in West Germany, as part of counterattack.
Background
New York Times, Washpost say U.S. blackmailed Euro allies into agreeing to test because Sellinger Corporation backed by several other elements in defense lobby, acting through Haxler and Inman, put screws on President. They threatened to set Senate/Congress motion rolling accusing President of going soft and reneging on campaign promise to ‘‘make America strong again’’; also of going back on pledges not to let Europe go on sheltering under U.S. nuclear umbrella for free; sliding out of their share of worldwide defense commitments etc.; resolution would also have accused President of letting U.S. arms programs drag.
NYT says President sent special envoys to Bonn, Paris, London, etc. saying that unless Starburst could be tested, U.S. would start pulling out any U.S. troops in Europe that host countries refused to pay for, causing widespread panic in various European treasuries. Times says Britain agreed to be the base for firing the missile because President threatened blow whistle (with chapter and verse) on British backsliding on defense commitments—pulling rug out from under PM’s supposed strong defense posture.
DPA, Frankfurter Allgemeiner say Bonn agreed after horse-trading in which U.S. agreed to reduce extent of land maneuvers during Mighty Shield if West Germans accepted the test firing. (German farmers been saying NATO maneuvers will ruin harvests; highway department saying tanks on roads during summer will wreck Autobahn system, screw up tourist season, etc.) Anti-nuclear protests
News of Euro test sparked biggest anti-nuclear protests seen in Europe for a decade. Two hundred thousand people out in Trafalgar Square last night; same kind of numbers in Rome, Bonn, Paris. Firing seems to have provided catalyst to really cement the new Movement for Nuclear Disarmament (MND) as successor to CND. Demonstrations very impressive, especially in London. Headlines all stress ‘dignified, peaceful protest,’ but fringe crazies also starting to get active. Animals—Antinuclear Militants—have announced formation of a London chapter.
I glanced up from the document. The Animals had so far been active only in West Germany and France. They specialized in colorful and aggressive street theater. In Frankfurt they had arranged a simulated nuclear explosion using colored smoke and had sent crowds panicking through the city center in the rush hour. They didn’t like the quiet, dignified approach of MND and they tried whenever possible to provoke the police into clashing with demonstrators to give the impression of an authoritarian attempt to put down the antinuclear movement.
‘Next big fight is going to be over the firing site,’ Cox’s note continued.
Already there have been small demonstrations outside various U.S. air bases in Suffolk and Cambridge but no one will say where the Starburst will be fired from. Also some panic about missile getting hijacked by terrorists or going amok over the Channel.
I talked to Ryder about this. He says there’s no danger. According to Ryder, one Starburst will be flown over from the States the day before the test to a base where there are no nuclear weapons (so no protesters). It’ll be fired from inside the base, over well-programmed course, with air space totally cleared, at low altitude and low speed. Missile will be tracked all the way and will come down on top of a cardboard tank or some such in the middle of a plain in West Germany. If it should go astray, it’ll be destroyed immediately from the ground, and it’ll be tracked by aircraft the whole way as well. Ryder says if it does come down, without a warhead it will do a lot less damage than a small plane crash.
Sellingers don’t want that kind of detail published because it will give impression that test will be pretty Mickey Mouse, not really simulating battle conditions, so we may well get some press hysteria building up… also MND antinuclear protesters roaming around looking for somewhere to protest.
As I was on the last page, Cox came back into the cabin. I’d just reached the section on the details of the test and I said: ‘Cox, we have to make sure World News gets the balance right on this test. We mustn’t go along with any Sellinger Corporation hype suggesting that the test will be like the real thing.’
Cox didn’t answer immediately and I saw that his worried look had returned.
‘We have other problems, Chief,’ he said.
‘What’s wrong now?’
‘I’m afraid it’s Seagull,’ Cox said quietly. ‘I’ve just had a message from Ryder. There’s no doubt she’s a phony. She was never at the London College of Art. The diploma she used to get her first freelance assignments, the dates and details of her art school career, and the details she gave as a reference for the flat in Hampstead are fakes. They relate to someone else—a woman who’s now in India. Ryder says there’s no doubt she’s taken on someone else’s identity.’
12
When we landed at Stelstead, my only concern was to hide Seagull. I was determined to have the truth about Ryder’s photographs before I went to the World News building, or made any other moves, but I ran into a snag I hadn’t anticipated: Dr. Richardson didn’t want to let me take her out of his care.
We touched down late, just before one o’clock, and as usual his prediction was accurate. She started to come around as we were circling the field, and though she was still very shaky, she managed to walk to the lounge of the Executive Air Charter building on Richardson’s arm. We exchanged only a few strained words and I could see Richardson was deliberately putting himself between us to ward off any confrontation.
She could have been acting. I no longer felt I knew anything about her. For all I knew she might be fully alert and feigning drowsiness as she planned her next move. I had the feeling I was walking beside a blow-up doll with the shape and features of someone I had once cared about.
In the lounge, I led Richardson aside and told him I planned to take her to Cox’s flat. He glanced over to where she was sitting, fumbling with a cup of coffee.
‘Professionally, I’m not sure I can allow that. She’s still very unsteady.’
‘I have to talk to her,’ I said. ‘I’m going to sit with her for the rest of the day and the rest of the night if necessary.’
‘I’m sure you have good reasons, John,’ Richardson said quietly, ‘but I’m not a clockwork toy doctor World News has bought. You can’t just bring me in to patch someone up and then turn me around and send me tick-tocking off over the horizon. She’s had a very heavy dose of animal tranquilizer. It hit her very hard; she’s a long way behind you in recovery.’
‘Mervyn, are you certain?’
Richardson looked at me coolly. ‘You mean is she faking?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s possible. However, there’s nothing in our consultancy agreement which precludes a second opinion. Shall I recommend someone, or would you rather choose for yourself?’
‘I’m sorry. I had to ask. I wasn’t really questioning your professional judgment.’
‘It sounded remarkably like it.’
Richardson took my arm and led me farther away from Seagull.
‘John, I’ve been your physician for very many years, and your air of masterly calm, which I know impresses the World News staff, does not necessarily impress me. At this moment, you are a very agitated and very angry man. And your self-control is not without limit. We both know that.’
‘For God’s sake, I’m not going to hang her on a meathook.’
‘Perhaps not,’ Richardson said. ‘But there are other forms of violence. Browbeating someone in her present condition, for example, could have very serious and lasti
ng effects.’
‘Mervyn, I give you my word—my personal undertaking—that I will not harm her. I won’t question her until she can take it.’
‘And if she doesn’t give you the answers you want?’
‘Then I’ll hand her over to the authorities. You have my word.’
Richardson nodded. ‘Where will you be?’
‘I’d prefer not to say.’
‘And I’d prefer to know.’
I gave him the address of Cox’s flat in Bayswater. ‘Give it a couple of hours,’ he said. ‘Just leave her. Let her doze; she’ll keep coming around and nodding off again. You did the same in Genoa, I’ll go and get her settled in the car.’
After that I was determined to waste no more time, but when Cox came into the lounge, he wanted another delay. The bodyguards he had ordered from Mills Security, the firm we used in London, had not turned up. He had phoned and they were on their way, but I was adamant. Stelstead had been a good choice of airport—close to London but with no airport stringer bureau of the kind that would have noted my arrival routinely at Heathrow. It did handle a steady flow of executive charter traffic, though, and I could easily meet someone I knew; also I was afraid Seagull might have a relapse and Richardson would try to change his mind.
Cox had arranged for my own driver, Herbert Walker, a man I trusted, to meet us in a rented car and he’d chosen an inconspicuous brown Volvo from the fleet of a firm we used for overflow transport. Its anonymity was spoiled a bit by being parked next to Richardson’s ancient black Daimler which needed only a white ribbon to be ready for a 1950s society wedding; but we got away quickly without, as far as I could tell, being spotted by anyone.
No one said much. Seagull dozed off almost immediately but I was reluctant to talk to Cox, who had taken the front passenger’s seat, in case she could overhear.
Instead, I glanced at the afternoon paper I had picked up at the airport. The Moscow ambassador scandal had moved into the inside pages but the front was full of military news. The Warsaw Pact had brought its own autumn maneuvers forward to coincide with the NATO summer exercises, and the two sides were preparing to play children’s games of dare on a massive and terrifying scale across the demarcation line between East and West.
Shadowplay Page 12
