Authors: Terry Hayes
bush on the cliff as he fell, but the wounds were too regular for that. He had been doing it to himself in the library. It’s not uncommon among drug abusers – he was self-harming.’
Ben was silent. ‘Poor guy,’ he said finally. ‘All the money in the world, and he’s alone, sitting with a knife …’ His voice was swallowed by the sadness of it.
‘He grabbed a pair of binoculars, and Ingrid led him down the lawn,’ I said. ‘Desperate to see what
had happened to Cameron, he stood on a railing. Ingrid probably offered to hold his waist.
‘Everything turned out perfectly. Ingrid gave him a tiny push, he was flying through the air and a
billion dollars was knocking on their door.’
I shrugged. That was it – finished. Ben looked at me.
‘Ever seen one as good as this?’ he asked. ‘Even if the Turkish cops thought it was murder, there
was nothing to connect Ingrid to Cameron.’
‘Nothing at all,’ I replied. ‘How could she even be a suspect? There was no past relationship, no present involvement, no motive.’
Ben just shook his head. ‘Brilliant.’
‘Sure was,’ I said. ‘Both the murders – this one and the one in Manhattan.’
Ben had found a file he was interested in and opened it up: it showed the passport photo of Ingrid,
and he stared at her beautiful face.
‘If you’re right about the rejection, I guess Ingrid must have really loved Cameron – to have been
thrown aside in favour of some guy, to take her back and then to kill for her. Not once, but, as you say, twice.’
I had never thought about it like that. ‘Yeah, I guess that’s true,’ I said. ‘A strange sort of love, though.’
Of course, I should have remembered what Ingrid had said when I interviewed her – about not understanding the half of it. It was arrogance on my part, I suppose – I was so certain that I had unravelled the whole crime.
Bradley was too. ‘How unlucky were they?’ he said. ‘They had committed what was near enough to
the perfect murders, and they would have got away with it too – except the highest level of the United States intelligence community and one of its investigators became focused on this town.’
‘Bad luck for them, maybe – not for us,’ I said. ‘Without Ingrid and Cameron I wouldn’t have had
the perfect cover – we would never have got as close as we have. God help them, but they were an important part of what could have been a great victory.’
‘It’s over?’ he asked in surprise, looking at the clock. Four minutes to go. ‘You don’t think he’s gonna call?’
I shook my head. ‘I didn’t tell you, but McKinley had his own estimate of when we could expect to
hear. I was the outrider – he was an hour earlier.’
‘What happens now?’ he asked quietly.
‘Get on the phone,’ I said. ‘Book the first plane home. If you leave at dawn, you can probably get
back before they close the airports.
‘Then do what I suggested – take Marcie and head straight for the beach house. Together, you’ll have a chance.’
‘Better with three,’ he replied. ‘Come with us.’
I smiled but shook my head. ‘No, I’ll go to Paris.’
‘Paris?’ he said, shocked. ‘Cities are going to be the worst places.’
‘Yeah, but I was happy there … I had a lot of dreams … If it gets really bad, I’d like to be close to that.’
He looked at me for a long moment, sad, I think, but it was hard to tell. Then he started to ask me
how long it would take for the virus to burn out and other—
I held my hand up, signalling him to be quiet. I thought I had heard something outside in the hall.
We both stood frozen, listening. Then we heard it together – footsteps.
I grabbed the Beretta off the night stand and glided silently to the peephole. Ben drew his pistol and trained it on the point where the door would open.
I looked through the spyhole and saw the shadow of a man on the wall. He was coming closer.
Chapter Twenty-four
THE MAN STEPPED into view – it was the bellhop. Unaware he was being watched, he pushed an envelope under the door.
I waited until he had left before I put the pistol down and picked it up. Watched by Ben – heart racing, my thoughts veering between hope and ruthless restraint – I opened the flap and pulled out a single sheet of paper.
I read it, felt the wall of anxiety collapse, and shook my head in wonder.
‘What is it?’ said Ben.
‘I’m a fool,’ I replied. ‘There was never going to be any message that Echelon could hear. Cumali
didn’t need to go to the phone box – the man is already here.’
‘In Bodrum? How do you know?’
I indicated the letter. ‘She wants to pick me up at eleven in the morning – she’s invited me to go on a picnic with her supposed son.’
‘No, you’re wrong,’ Ben responded. ‘What can happen if the boy’s there?’
I laughed. ‘He won’t be,’ I said. ‘She’ll make an excuse. Why else would she suddenly invite me to a picnic? She can’t stand me. No, her brother ’s here, Ben. Tomorrow, I’m going to meet him.’
Bradley’s doubts died under the weight of my certainty, and I saw the look on his face – I could tell he was dreading the role he would now have to play. To be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to mine
either.
I unbolted the door for him. ‘Call Whisperer fast. Just tell him: Buddy, we’re live.’
Chapter Twenty-five
I HAD COME to turkey as a pathfinder and ended up as a lure. Consequently, I had made no effort to put my affairs in order before I left and now I found I had to do it fast.
As soon as Bradley had left to call Whisperer, I sat down at the small desk, pulled out a piece of
paper and, late as it was, started to write my will. In normal circumstances – with just a government pension, the annuity from Grace and a small collection of paintings – I wouldn’t have bothered.
But things had become more complicated. When Ben and Marcie had blown my cover and forced
me to leave Paris, one of the few things I had thrown into my bag were the two letters from the New
York lawyer about the deaths of both Bill and Grace.
The elderly lawyer ’s name was Finbar Hanrahan, the son of penniless Irish immigrants, a man of
such integrity that he threatened single-handedly to give lawyers a good name. He had been Bill’s lawyer since before he had married Grace, and I had met him many times over the years.
With the two letters in hand and back in New York, I had made an appointment to see him. So it was,
late one afternoon, that he rose from behind the desk in his spectacular office and greeted me warmly.
He led me to a sofa in the corner from which there was a view all the way up Central Park and introduced me to the other two men in attendance, one of whom I recognized as a former secretary of
commerce. Finbar said that they were lawyers but neither of them was associated with his firm.
‘They have read certain documents and I have asked them to be here as impartial observers. Their
job is to ensure that everything I do is by the book and cannot be misconstrued or questioned later. I want to be scrupulous about this.’
It seemed strange, but I let it ride – I figured Finbar knew what he was doing. ‘You said in your letter there was a small matter of Bill’s estate that had to be finalized,’ I said. ‘Is that what we’re dealing with?’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but there’s an important issue we have to resolve first.’ He looked at the two wise men, and they nodded. Let’s do it, they seemed to be saying.
‘You may not know this,’ Finbar said, ‘but Bill cared about you very much. More than that, he believed that in some way you were special – he thought you were destined to do something very important.’
I grinned. ‘Yeah, one of Grace’s friends told me that. Obviously, he’d become unhinged.’
Finbar smiled. ‘Not unhinged, no – although he did become increasingly concerned about you.
Especially after you left Harvard and went to live in Europe. Frankly, he didn’t believe you were involved in the art business at all.’
The news didn’t surprise me – Bill had been not only intelligent but also highly intuitive. I didn’t reply – I just looked at the elderly lawyer, poker-faced.
‘Bill had no idea how you earned money,’ he continued, ‘and was worried that you had become involved in a business that was either illegal or, at least, immoral.’
He waited for a reply, but I nodded and made no comment.
‘He said that on several occasions when he tried to talk to you about it, you were not what he called
“forthcoming”.’
Again, I just nodded.
‘So, this is my question, Scott: what exactly do you do?’
‘Nothing right now,’ I replied. ‘I’m back in New York to see if I can find something that might grab my interest.’ I didn’t think it was a good idea to tell him I was looking for cover, running from my past.
‘Yes, but before that?’
‘I worked for the government,’ I said after a pause.
‘Well, it seems like half the country does that – although I use the term “work” loosely.’ He had a
pretty wry sense of humour, old Finbar. ‘What exactly did you do for the government?’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’ve been told not to talk about it.’ I saw the two wise men exchange a glance –
they obviously didn’t believe it.
‘Told by whom?’ Finbar said, ignoring them. I felt sorry for him – it was clear he really wanted it
to work out.
‘By executive order,’ I replied quietly.
The former secretary of commerce raised his eyes – it was getting too much for him. ‘You worked
in Europe, but the White House won’t allow you to discuss it, is that right?’
‘That’s correct, Mr Secretary.’
‘There’s got to be somebody – a superior or someone – we can talk to about it, even in general terms,’ Finbar said.
‘I don’t think that’s possible,’ I replied. ‘I’ve probably gone too far already.’ And anyway, The Division – which had never officially existed – had already been buried.
Finbar sighed. ‘Bill was very clear, Scott – we can’t go forward unless I’m satisfied about your integrity and honesty. You’ll have to help us—’
‘I can’t – I’ve given my word not to speak about any of it. I signed undertakings.’ I think they were surprised at the harshness and finality of my tone.
‘Then I’m afraid …’ Sadly, the lawyer looked at the other two men for confirmation, and they nodded. ‘I’m afraid we have to terminate this meeting.’
I stood up, and the others did the same. I was disappointed that I would never know what Bill had
intended, but I didn’t know what else to do. The former secretary of commerce was putting out his hand in farewell when a thought occurred to me.
‘I have a letter of commendation which might help. It concerns an event I was involved in some years ago.’
‘An event? What sort of event? A charity run or something?’ the former secretary asked.
‘Not exactly,’ I replied. ‘Some parts of the letter would have to be blacked out, but I think you could see it.’
‘Who’s it from?’ Finbar asked eagerly.
‘From the president. It’s handwritten on White House stationery.’
The three men didn’t say anything. Finbar looked as if he’d have to bend down and pick his jaw up
off the floor. The former secretary was the first to recover, still sceptical.
‘Which president?’ he asked.
‘Your old boss,’ I said coldly. I didn’t like the guy much.
‘Anyway, call him,’ I continued. ‘I’m sure you have a number. Ask him for permission to read the
letter. Tell him it concerns a young man and a terrible event in Red Square – I’m sure he’ll remember.’
The former secretary had no response, and Finbar filled the silence. ‘We should stop here,’ he said.
‘I think we’ve stumbled into an area concerning national security—’
‘You sure have,’ I replied.
Finbar looked at the other two lawyers, addressing the former secretary. ‘Jim, if you wouldn’t mind – could you make that phone call later, just as a formality?’
He nodded.
‘In the meantime, we’re in agreement then?’ Finbar continued. ‘We’re satisfied – we can move forward?’
The two men nodded, but I could tell from the way the former secretary was looking at me that he
had been in the Cabinet meeting when the death of the Rider of the Blue had been discussed. He had
probably never thought he would come face to face with the man who killed him.
Chapter Twenty-six
FINBAR TOOK A file out of a wall safe, the other two lawyers shrugged off their jackets and from our eyrie I looked out at rain squalls sweeping down the park towards us, still with no idea what was going on.
‘As you know, when Bill died his very substantial wealth was held in a series of trusts which then
passed – in their entirety – to Grace,’ Finbar explained, opening the file.
‘There was, however, one small but special part of his life that was quarantined in a separate corporate structure. What it contained had been built up over years and, quite honestly, Grace had never shown any interest in it.
‘Before he died, Bill made arrangements, with my help, for this to pass into your hands. I think he
was worried that if Grace outlived him she would make no provision for you.’ He smiled. ‘Bill was
obviously an intelligent man – we know how that turned out, don’t we?’
I grinned back. ‘She did give me eighty grand a year.’
‘Only at my insistence,’ he shot back. ‘I told her that if she didn’t make some gesture you would probably contest the will and might well end up with a fortune.’
‘That must have turned her stomach.’