When she got back to her bedroom she felt suddenly very tired. She could hardly keep her eyes open and her fear seemed to have floated away on waves of fatigue. These men seem awfully crass, she thought hazily, more like overgrown boys than mature citizens. Was this really what the world of finance was like? Jasminder had thought bankers were all educated at public schools, wore hand-made suits and belonged to gentlemen’s clubs on Pall Mall. These men tonight could have been supplied by central casting for a film about spivs.
She sighed and got into bed, thinking what she would wear the next day. She vaguely heard Laurenz come into his room and was aware that he looked in through the connecting door, but before she could say anything, she’d fallen asleep.
40
It was raining by the time Liz arrived at Peggy Kinsolving’s flat. She had decided to risk going there without giving Tim advance warning, but when no one answered the bell it looked as if her gamble hadn’t paid off. She was standing on the doorstep, more to shelter from the rain than in any hope that he was in, when a thin voice came through the intercom.
‘Hello?’ It was Tim’s voice, sounding uncertain.
‘Hi, Tim, it’s Liz Carlyle, Peggy’s colleague.’ They had only met in the flesh a handful of times.
‘Oh, hi. Peggy’s not here. There’re not letting her come home till tomorrow.’
‘Actually, it’s you I’ve come to see.’
‘Me?’ He sounded alarmed. ‘What about? They said Peggy was fine when I rang a few minutes ago.’
‘I’ll explain if you buzz me in.’
There was a pause. ‘The thing is, I was about to go out. I’m running late, in fact.’
‘It won’t take long. But do let me in, please. I’m getting soaked standing out here.’
After a moment, the buzzer sounded and Liz opened the door. She went up two flights and found Tim standing in the doorway to the flat. He was barefoot, in jeans and a tee-shirt, and looked as if he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. It certainly didn’t look as though he was going out but he didn’t seem eager to let her into the flat either. ‘What’s this about?’ he asked, his voice both anxious and defensive.
‘I had a couple of questions I wanted to ask you,’ said Liz.
‘About the attack? I only got there after they had driven off.’
‘No, it’s not about the attack. May I come in?’
Tim hesitated. ‘Is this official?’
‘It can be if you want it to be,’ said Liz firmly. ‘I’d rather keep it an informal chat, but it’s up to you.’
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘You’d better come in.’
The living room was surprisingly tidy, but then Liz remembered Peggy saying that nowadays Tim spent most of his time online in his study. Liz could see through the open door of the little kitchen that there were dirty dishes and a frying pan stacked in the sink, and there was a faint aroma of fried onions.
‘Why don’t we sit down?’ she said, and before he could object sat herself in the armchair. Tim slowly took a place at the far end of the sofa.
‘Would you like some tea?’ he asked. ‘Or coffee maybe?’
‘No, thanks.’ She didn’t want to delay things any further. The more time Tim had to think, the more likely he would be to obfuscate or even tell outright lies. ‘Peggy said you’re spending a lot of time online these days. I gather you’ve got very interested in civil rights issues, especially as they affect the online world. Is that right?’
‘Yes. There’s nothing wrong with that. Or are you suggesting there is?’
Liz sensed he was stoking himself up for a fight that wasn’t going to happen – she’d debate the pros and cons of it on another occasion. She said, ‘I’m not suggesting anything; I’m here to ask questions.’
‘I don’t have to answer them,’ he replied aggressively.
‘No. Though if you don’t cooperate now, I’ll be forced to call in Special Branch and we’ll reconvene in an interview room at a police station. As I said before, it’s up to you.’
‘You’re not charging me with anything, are you?’ Concern now outweighed defiance, which Liz took as a good sign.
‘I’m not, at present, but I don’t know what the police will do if you refuse to answer questions.’ This was pure bluff, since she had nothing against him at all and was merely trying to gather some information. But it worked – Tim’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘I’m not refusing,’ he protested. ‘You haven’t asked me anything yet.’
‘Well,’ said Liz. ‘I believe you’ve recently been given an iPhone by someone you met online.’
‘No, I met her in the real world. She was at a talk I went to – Peggy was there too.’
‘Jasminder Kapoor’s talk at King’s College?’ When he nodded again, Liz said, ‘Tell me more about this woman. What’s she called?’
‘Marina.’
‘Marina what?’
‘Just Marina. She’s never told me her last name.’ He seemed worried that Liz would doubt this, for he said again, ‘It’s true, I swear: I don’t know her last name.’
‘I believe you,’ said Liz calmly. ‘But tell me about your exchanges with her. Were they by email?’
‘At first. She asked me to set up a new email account; she said my existing one wouldn’t be safe.’
‘Safe from whom?’
He looked at Liz and for the first time smiled a little. ‘You lot, of course.’
‘You mean, the intelligence services.’
‘Yes. Marina said they would probably be checking my normal email account, because of my membership of some online groups.’
‘Really?’ This sounded paranoid even by Snowdenista standards. Unless Marina was asking Tim to do something illegal for her. ‘So you opened a new account.’
‘Yes.’
‘What did she want to talk to you about?’
‘At first it was just about the issues we were discussing in the group. Frankly, I couldn’t see why she was being so furtive. People have a right to think about these things.’ A hint of defiance had resurfaced, but just as quickly subsided again. ‘I thought she was a bit paranoid if that was the whole purpose of the new account. I’ve never tried to hide my views, and none of them have been illegal. I’m not a terrorist and I don’t support what terrorists do.’
‘All right, but you said “at first” you thought that’s all she wanted. What else was there?’
He stared at Liz for a moment as if she’d just sprung a trap, which in a sense she had. Finally he said, ‘She started asking me questions – about Peggy.’
‘What kind of questions?’
‘About her job.’
‘Had you told her where Peggy worked?’
He was looking more and more like a rabbit caught in a pair of very bright headlights. He said jerkily, ‘Not in… not in so many words. I might have told her that my girlfriend… well, hinted at it. But that’s all.’ He paused, then said quietly, ‘I’m sorry.’
You ought to be, thought Liz, picturing the exchanges. Tim probably wanted to impress his mysterious new friend; he would have suggested an inside knowledge of intelligence, supplied courtesy of his partner. She said, ‘What exactly did Marina want to know about Peggy?’
‘What her job was. Did she work in a special section? Was she out and about, or was she a desk person? That sort of thing.’
‘And?’
‘And what?’ he asked, sounding mystified.
‘What did you tell her?’ Liz asked, readying herself for the worst. She just hoped Peggy hadn’t trusted him with anything important.