I believe him. ‘Thanks,’ I manage to say.
‘You’re welcome.’
‘What about Joe?’
‘Too soon to say.’
‘If there’s a rabbit you’re planning to pull out of the hat at some point, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?’
‘That would depend. But there’s no rabbit, so the question doesn’t arise.’
‘You could take pity on me and lie. Tell me the situation isn’t as bad as I think it is.’
‘Do you want me to do that?’
‘It doesn’t work if I know you’re lying.’
‘No point, then. We’re stuck with reality. Sorry.’ He drains his glass. ‘Let’s go. Tempting as it is, staying here and getting drunk isn’t a good idea.’
‘What is?’
‘Holding our nerve.’
‘I’m not sure I’m any good at that, Duncan.’
‘You’re better than I expected, as a matter of fact.’
‘Is that supposed to be a compliment?’
‘Not sure.’ He gives me a mirthless grin. ‘But you can take it as one.’
Monday October 14
I wake to a comfortless reality. I’m in a small, thin-curtained room at the Consort Hotel, Kennington. My back aches slightly from the lumpy mattress. I grab the remote from the bedside table and try to turn the wall-mounted TV on, but I have to open the back of the remote and thumb the batteries around before it’ll register. I get breakfast television, a couple of talking heads. I can’t actually focus on what they’re talking about. Blah, blah, blah, blah. I try to turn it off, but the remote’s playing up again. I get out of bed and fumble around the set until I find a switch. Off.
The bathroom’s tiny. The plastic curtain clings to me as I stand under the shower. The water won’t stay at one temperature or even a fixed pressure. I feel miserable, oppressed by uncertainty.
The breakfast room is in the basement. I can’t face the fry-up the waitress offers. I munch my way through some cornflakes and soggy toast. I swallow coffee that’s stood too long in a stained Pyrex jug. It’s wet outside. I can see a wedge of charcoal sky and slashes of rain against the window.
There’s no sign of Forrester, so I knock on the door of his room as I go back to mine. No answer. Don’t go out alone. That’s what he said last night. And I said I had nowhere to go. Which was true. It still is. Christ almighty, what a mess.
I brush my teeth and look at myself long and hard in the bathroom mirror. There are bags under my eyes. My skin’s grey. I don’t have any volumizer for my hair. This isn’t how I want to be. Already, I don’t look like me.
I go to the window. It’s still raining. The traffic moves slowly past. I live in London. But I don’t feel as if I live in the city I’m looking out at.
Then I spot Forrester, heading along the pavement towards the hotel. He’s carrying a plastic carrier-bag, filled with newspapers. He doesn’t look up. He doesn’t draw any attention to himself. You’d walk past him a hundred times over and never remember. He looks old and drab and … defeated.
Appearances can be deceptive, I tell myself. I’d better hope that’s true.
I wait, expecting him to knock on my door. But several minutes pass and there’s no knock.
I lose patience and go to his room. I sense him studying me through the spy-hole before he opens up.
The newspapers are strewn across the bed. He’s been leafing through them.
‘Looking for something?’ I ask.
‘Mention of a double murder in Cornwall,’ he replies.
‘Anything?’
‘Not a word. Rather as I expected. Hexter’s closed this down. That’s to our advantage. His too, obviously. But it means we stay anonymous.’
‘Why is it to his advantage?’
‘It keeps Joe out of the public eye. It shuts Liz up. It gives him complete control. As he sees it.’
‘I guess he’s not worried about us.’
‘He thinks we’re powerless.’
‘Well, we are, aren’t we?’
Forrester gives me half a smile that makes my heart jump. ‘I’ve heard from Norrback.’
‘He still has the tape?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘And he’s willing to give it to you?’
Forrester nods. ‘Yes. I explained the tape is the only hope we have of defeating Hexter. And I got the impression Tahvo wants to see Hexter brought to justice. He’s never had the nerve to try and do that himself, which is understandable enough when you consider what happened to Curtis and Bourdil. But now … he’s old, pushing eighty, with little to lose, and we’re … in extremis. The time has come.’
‘What’s the plan?’
‘He’s flying over from Helsinki tomorrow. His flight gets in at one thirty. He’ll take the Heathrow Express to Paddington and walk down into Hyde Park. We’ll meet him there and take delivery.’
‘Then what?’
‘I persuade Colin to help us find someone who can translate the tape. Then we take it to the top. Over Hexter’s head.’
‘Thirty years ago, you were afraid you wouldn’t be believed. That the tape would be dismissed as a fake.’
‘We’ll have to make sure it isn’t, won’t we? Voice recognition technology has moved on a lot in those thirty years. If we can prove it’s Hexter’s voice, triggering the hit on Slavsky, he won’t be able to talk his way out of it.’
‘Well, tomorrow afternoon can’t come soon enough for me.’
‘I know. Until then, we have to be patient.’
‘Will we stay here tonight?’
‘No. We’re moving on. But don’t get your hopes up. We won’t be going up market.’
Forrester turns out to be wrong on that last point. The Europa Hotel, Shepherd’s Bush Road, is actually a step up from the Consort in comfort and cleanliness, even if it isn’t any more expensive.
Forrester seems content to stay in his room and see out the day. When I tell him I’m going to have to go for a walk or I’ll lose my mind, he tells me I must be careful. Keep my head down. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t get involved in anything. Better still, don’t go.
But I do go. Down to Hammersmith, where I mingle with the rush hour crowds near the Tube station and try to imagine feeling a normal part of London life again. I buy a few essential cosmetics in Boots that I hope will cheer me up a bit, then I go into a big, busy pub and nurse one large gin and tonic while pretending to read the Evening Standard. I watch three women of about my age laughing and gossiping at a nearby table. That could be me, Kathy and Sarah on a girls’ night out. But it’s not. I’m not part of any group. No one speaks to me. No one gives me a second glance. I’m invisible. I feel like … nothing.
I go back to the Europa and knock on Forrester’s door.
He actually looks relieved to see me. I ask him if he was worried I wouldn’t come back.
‘Where else would you go?’ he asks, as if genuinely curious to know. Then, suddenly anxious, he adds, ‘You haven’t phoned anyone, have you?’
‘No. I haven’t.’ I sink into the only chair. Forrester sits on the edge of the bed. ‘Has anything happened?’ I ask, unsure whether I really want to know the answer.
‘I’ve spoken to Liz.’ He says it casually, as if speaking to the woman he presumably once loved and maybe still does isn’t so very significant.
‘What did she say?’
‘She’s home, with Hazel and Karen looking after her. And she’s heard from Joe as well as the solicitor Lam found for him. The police have dropped all charges, as we anticipated, and Joe’s agreed to participate, voluntarily, supposedly, in a government-sponsored AI research project that’s so hush-hush he can’t tell her or Karen anything about it. He hasn’t even said where he is at the moment, though you and I can guess. She’s fretting about him, of course, but she can contact him on his phone and he sounds OK, she says. In a few days, he’ll be able to tell her more. That goes for Karen too. Naturally, the solicitor recommends they do nothing to d
eter him from cooperating fully, “in his own best interests”.’ Forrester sighs. ‘They have to go along with it to keep Joe out of trouble. They have no choice.’
‘Where do they think you are?’
‘Lying low somewhere. I told Liz I had to avoid the police because of some problems in my past, which was more or less what she’d assumed anyway. She knows I’ll be in touch as and when it’s safe.’
‘And what about me?’
‘I didn’t tell Liz you were with me. The less she knows about our activities the better. As far as Conrad Vogler and your luckless colleague are concerned, they’ve heard nothing except that Vogler and Mrs Vogler have gone missing. The murders are being kept quiet. At least for now. What Hexter’s planning on that front I’m not sure.’
‘And what are we planning?’
‘To meet Tahvo tomorrow afternoon, take charge of the tape, get it translated and see where we go from there.’
‘You make it sound simple.’
‘Perhaps it will be.’
‘But perhaps not.’
‘There’s no sense meeting trouble halfway, Nicole. I’ve spoken to Colin as well. He says all the indications are that Joe’s in Cheltenham, under close supervision by GCHQ staff. Hexter’s expected to be there all week, apparently. According to Colin, he has a house in the Cotswolds, which was news to me but somehow not surprising. So it sounds like Hexter plans to keep a personal eye on Joe during his induction. That suggests he isn’t unduly worried about us.’
‘What does he think we’re doing?’
‘Running. With a view to hiding. It’s what I opted to do thirty years ago, after all.’
‘So, he won’t see the danger from us until it’s too late?’
‘That’s the idea. If he has a weakness, it’s arrogance. He thinks I’m too frightened to make a move against him.’
‘I hope you’re right, Duncan, I really do.’
He looks intently at me. ‘I know this isn’t easy for you, Nicole. It must be strange, being in London but not being able to do any of the things you normally do or see any of the people you normally see.’
‘It’s way beyond strange. When I came back from California …’ The words die in my throat. I really don’t want to hear myself confiding in Forrester about my disastrous affair with Kevin Scheffer, Venstrom’s chief product officer, which ended with me being frozen out and sent back to London in a sort of unspecified but universally understood banishment. I remember consoling myself with the thought that in London I might be able to restore some balance to my life and rebuild my career. Christ, if only I’d known … ‘Just tell me we won’t have to keep this up for long.’
He almost smiles. ‘We won’t have to keep this up for long.’
Do I believe him? I’m not sure. I only know that in this moment I want to believe him. More than anything.
Tuesday October 15
I get through the morning much as I got through yesterday morning. I feel marginally better than yesterday, because today there’s half a chance I’ll start to emerge from this nightmare. Today, we rendezvous with Tahvo Norrback. And get the ammunition we need to use against Hexter.
Nothing’s going to go wrong. Nothing’s going to stop us.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway.
Forrester drives to the underground car park beneath Hyde Park. Up in the open air, leaves are blowing across the paths with a metallic, rustling noise. The wind’s cool and there aren’t many people about. We head for the pony paddock on the north side of the park, near the gate where we’re expecting Norrback to arrive in the next half hour or so.
Forrester’s checked on the latest phone he’s using that Norrback’s flight has landed on time. The Heathrow Express is pretty reliable, so he should be here soon.
We stand in the shelter of some trees, giving us a good view of the gate without giving anyone a good view of us. We don’t talk much. There’s nothing to say, really. We need the tape. We need Norrback. And for both we have to wait.
And wait. And wait.
It’s too long. I can’t say exactly when the realization begins to seep into me. But I begin to think: He’s not coming.
He should be here by now.
But he isn’t.
Forrester says nothing, but I can see he’s worried. Where’s Norrback? We can stare at the gate leading to Bayswater Road as long and hard as we like and will him to appear. But he isn’t going to. I just know. I know and I don’t want to. But I know. He isn’t coming.
We can’t phone him and ask what the problem is. Forrester doesn’t need to tell me, though he does, that if Norrback’s been waylaid in some way, we can’t under any circumstances contact him without running the risk that our whereabouts will be tracked.
Of course, if Hexter has somehow got wind of our plans and had Norrback picked up, Norrback himself might have revealed where we are. It’s an outside possibility, but it only makes the wind feel colder as we stand there. And maybe that’s the reason Forrester finally says, ‘Go to the tea room at the east end of the Serpentine and wait there. I have to give Tahvo longer, but something’s obviously wrong, so it’s better we split up.’
I’m not sure about that. Not by a long way. ‘We should stick together.’
‘It’s a balance of risk, Nicole. Take these.’ He hands me the keys to the Land Rover. ‘And this.’ He slips another phone out of his pocket and slides it into my palm. ‘I’ll text you on that or join you by five o’clock. If you haven’t heard from me or if I haven’t shown up by then, take the car and go.’
‘Go where?’
‘I don’t know. But get out of London. Lie low somewhere.’
‘I’m not going without you.’
‘You have to.’
‘What’s gone wrong?’
‘I don’t know. And I’ve no way of finding out. But you shouldn’t stay here.’
‘Is Hexter on to us?’
‘Hard to see how he could be. No one knew the plan, except Tahvo and us. And he wouldn’t have betrayed us.’
‘Are you sure of that?’
There’s a flash of anger in his eyes. But he stifles it. ‘Just go to the tea room, Nicole. And wait there. Please.’
So I go. The tea-room day is winding down. I sit by the big window looking out on to the lake with my coffee, watching the ducks moving on the water. Normality surrounds me like a bubble that could be pricked at any moment. I’m not sure I can take much more of this. The inaction. The uncertainty. The foreboding.
As five o’clock nears with no message on the phone, I force myself to start thinking about driving away from here alone and where I could go and what I could do. There are no answers, only questions. I feel sick with apprehension.
And then he walks in. Thank God. He doesn’t move much beyond the door, just signals for me to leave. There’s no one with him. Norrback hasn’t come. It’s just the two of us. With no tape.
All Forrester says to me as we hurry away from the tea room is, ‘We have to go.’
‘What’s happened?’ I ask.
‘Nothing. That’s why we have to go.’
‘Where’s Norrback?’
‘We have to go, Nicole. We have no choice. Time’s up.’
‘But where can he be?’
Forrester doesn’t reply. He just strides on, head down. And I follow.
‘Tell me you know what we should do next,’ I say as he drives out of the car park on to Park Lane.
‘We have to wait on events.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means eventually Tahvo – or his brother – will explain what went wrong. Or that’ll become obvious from other developments. There’s nothing we can do now that won’t make us conspicuous. And if Hexter has intervened, conspicuous is the last thing we need to be.’
‘Can’t you ask Colin Bright?’
‘I haven’t told him about Tahvo. And anyway I can’t risk contacting him until I’ve got some idea of what’s really going on. Our plan didn’t wor
k. We have to find out why before we try anything else. And we have to find out without giving ourselves away.’
‘Meaning we just go on hiding in the Europa Hotel?’
‘For the moment, yes.’
‘Dear God.’ The words come out of my mouth as I contemplate long hours of solitude in my miserable room. ‘I’m not sure I can do that, Duncan.’
‘You have to.’
‘This is driving me crazy.’
‘Don’t let it. Stay calm. Stay focused. We can’t afford to make a single mistake.’
‘But we’ve got nothing – absolutely nothing – to use against Hexter. We’re no better off than we were three days ago.’
‘We’re still alive. And we’re still free.’
Alive and free. I try to tell myself it’s enough.
I don’t tell Forrester I’m leaving the Europa that evening. I can’t face another lecture from him on being careful. I walk up to Shepherd’s Bush Green and use a call-box – for the first time in God knows how many years – to phone Mum. It’s probably just as well she’s out. Late shift at the hospital, maybe. I leave a reassuring message. ‘No new number yet, but everything’s fine. Don’t worry. I’ll call again.’
I go into a nearby cinema and watch a movie I barely follow while my mind whirls round the dangers of the situation I’m in.
I end up wondering if Forrester’s telling me everything he can. Are there elements in all this he hasn’t mentioned – doesn’t think I need to know about? Just how badly placed are we?
I come out of the cinema into a drizzly London night. Do I walk back to the Europa and try to sleep? Do I go on trusting Forrester’s every decision? I long to act on my initiative. I long to regain some form of control over what’s happening to me. Take charge. Stand up for myself. Move forward. Somehow.
I hail a taxi and get in. ‘Where to, luv?’ the driver has to prompt me. Still I hesitate. ‘You all right?’
‘Yes. I’m fine. Take me to Piccadilly Circus.’
I walk up into Soho. The people moving around me make me feel safe. They don’t care about me. All they’re interested in is having a good time.
I reckon there’s a good chance Colin Bright’s at home this late on a Tuesday night. If not, I’ll wait for him to return. I’ll charm him into revealing as much as he knows, including what’s happened to Norrback. He’ll surely have heard something if Hexter had Norrback picked up at the airport. That’s my plan. And it’s better than nothing. By a long way.
One False Move Page 19
