‘I didn’t want that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Just.’
Shannon’s memory had served her welclass="underline" she found Stannington Drive without the need for the map. They drove slowly down the leafy street until they saw Glebe Cottage, on their left. ‘What was your cover story when you called her?’ Skinner asked.
‘I told her that you’re from the Imperial War Museum and that you’re doing a book on the real Falklands; I’m your research assistant. We’re looking into what soldiers really thought of the war as it was being fought.’
‘She bought that?’
‘Hook, line and the other thing; I can be very persuasive, sir.’
‘That’s your way of saying you’re a bloody good liar, isn’t it?’
She smiled. ‘If you want to put it that way, who am I to argue?’ She parked in front of the house.
When Esther Craig opened the door, Skinner found himself stifling a gasp. The woman was an inch or so taller than her brother and was more slightly built, but facially she could have been his twin. ‘Hello,’ she greeted them breezily. ‘You’ll be the people from the museum, will you? Mr Skinner, is it, and Ms Shannon? Come on in.’ The visitors followed her through the living room of the cottage and into a sunlit conservatory. ‘Have you driven all that way up this morning?’ she asked them.
‘It’s not that far, Mrs Craig,’ Skinner replied, as he settled into the soft cushions of a bamboo-framed couch.
‘This is really fascinating,’ the woman said; her accent was also very similar to that of her brother, in his less formal moments. ‘I’ve looked out some of my dad’s letters. I think you’ll be interested in them.’
The big Scot looked at her. ‘We have an apology to make to you, I’m afraid,’ he told her. ‘My colleague spun you an out-and-out lie in arranging this meeting. However, she did it with the best possible motive: she didn’t want you worrying unduly.’ He took out his warrant card and held it up for Esther Craig to see. ‘We’re police officers, and we’re investigating your brother, Moses.’
‘Investigating him?’ she gasped, as her open face creased into a frown. ‘Moses? Is he in trouble?’
‘As of this moment, no.’
‘Then what’s this about, Mr Skinner?’
‘Call me Bob, Esther. How much do you know about his professional life?’
‘You mean what he does for a living?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not a great deal, because he never talked about it much. He’s a policeman, like you, but he works under cover a lot. The boys, my sons, think he’s a civil servant: so does my husband, for that matter.’
‘He joined the army when he was young, didn’t he?’
‘Straight from school. After he took his A levels, he went to Sandhurst.’
‘That would be about, what, twenty years ago?’
She thought for a second. ‘Yes, that’d be right. He’s two years older than me.’
‘What age was he when your father was killed?’
‘He’d have been fourteen. After that it was only ever going to be the army for him: Queen and country and all that. Our dad got a posthumous Military Cross, with a citation, and a letter to my mum from Her Majesty, thanking us all “for Major Archer’s sacrifice”, as she put it. That made sure that Moses was a real monarchist. . not that my dad wasn’t, mind. God, was he ever? I remember him telling us that he wouldn’t fire a shot for a politician, only for the sovereign. He believed that without the King for everybody to rally round, we’d have lost the Second World War, and we’d all be speaking German now. He never gave Churchill much credit, only King George and his generals.’
‘So Moses followed him into the army.’
Esther nodded. ‘Yes; but, sir, Bob, what’s all this about?’
‘I’ll get to that, I promise, in due course. Were you surprised when he left?’
‘Yes. Yes, I was. I thought he loved it; I thought that everything was going well for him. He was a first lieutenant, a company commander in Two Para just like our dad, as he’d always wanted to be, and then, what, ten years ago now, he just up and left.’
‘Did he tell you why?’
‘He said that he was disillusioned.’
‘By what?’
‘By the rules, he said. He said that it was the rules that had got our dad killed and that he wasn’t having any more of them. So he told me that he was taking a job with the police in London, and that he’d be working on special things, infiltrating gangs and the like.’
‘Did that worry you?’
‘No. If I’d been about to worry about anyone it would have been the people he infiltrated. Moses is a lovely man, Bob, but after Dad was killed something changed in him. He’s only a little chap, but he’s as hard as nails.’
‘Have you ever visited him in London?’
‘No: he said he didn’t want that. We see him when he comes back here. . and the little sod’s overdue us a visit.’
‘What about your mother? Does she ever visit him?’
‘No, her neither; he’s been to see her in America a couple of times, though.’
‘America?’
‘Yes, my mum’s remarried, to an American called Titus Armstead. He and Mum got married about twelve years ago, and she moved to America. Titus is retired now, and they live in Delaware; it’s a lovely place, very quiet.’
‘Mmm. So how did you keep in touch with Moses?’
‘By letter. At first he had a post-office box number, but after a few years he bought his houseboat and I could write to him there.’
‘Have you ever been there?’
‘No, but he showed me pictures after he bought it. It looks lovely.’
Skinner gazed at her, knowing that the moment when he would change her life was drawing near. ‘This job of his,’ he asked, ‘did you ever question it?’
‘No, why should I? It’s what he told me, and I always believe him.’
‘He never left the army, Esther.’
She stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean what I say. He did go under cover, that much was true, but not in the way he told you. He was in the SAS for a while, in Ireland, and then he went into Military Intelligence, into its most secret and sensitive branch. When I think about it, I reckon that’s what he meant when he talked to you about the rules. He went into a different world, one in which a new identity was created for him, to protect you and your family from the possibility of anyone ever trying to get at him through you. Moses Archer ceased to exist, and Adam Arrow was born.’
‘Adam Arrow?’ she whispered, incredulous.
‘Yes. That’s the name I knew him by.’ He chose his tense deliberately and watched her as it registered.
‘Knew,’ she repeated quietly, lining her fingers together in her lap.
‘Yes, I’m afraid so. I’m very sorry to have to tell you that he was killed on an operation a little while back.’
Esther Archer sank back into her chair and buried her face in her hands. Shannon started to rise, to comfort her, but Skinner motioned to her, staying her. ‘I’m very sorry,’ he repeated.
She wiped her tears, almost defiantly. ‘Thank you, Bob,’ she replied quietly and with dignity. ‘You know, if he had to die, I’m glad it was in the same service as our dad, and for the same cause. Now can I ask you a few things?’
‘Of course.’
‘Why am I hearing this from you, from a policeman, rather than from a fellow soldier?’
‘I was his friend, and that’s the most important reason. In the aftermath of his death some things have emerged about the operation that killed him and I’m looking into them. One of them is the continued existence of Moses Archer; that wasn’t supposed to happen, and I need to know who else knew about him, and knew where he was.’
‘Nobody outside the family; only Mum and me, and Elton and the boys, and Titus, I suppose.’
‘You’re sure of that?’
‘Nobody’s heard of it from me, I can promise you that.’
‘Good. It’s best there’s no link; just as Moses’ records were erased, none were ever created about Adam Arrow.’
‘Is anyone telling Mum?’