‘So how was it for you anyway, darling? Or need I ask, since you’ve fixed this emergency alibi to avoid seeing him again?’
Alex sniffed. ‘A girl does not discuss these things. Suffice it to say that all morning I found myself thinking about the remark by a divorced lady, who said that having sex with her ex was like being fallen on by a large Victorian wardrobe with the key still in the lock.’
‘So, on a scale of one to ten?’
‘One and a half: he rates the extra half point because at least it didn’t last long.’
‘But you said it was the third time.’
‘These things fade in the memory. Listen, if you doubt my rating and want to check him out for yourself, he’s in the George. But be sure you take your own Durex.’
Gina looked at her, poker-faced. ‘What’s his room number?’
The two women dissolved into laughter. ‘Thanks, pal,’ said Alex, when hers had subsided. ‘You’ve cheered me up. Guy left me feeling like a bit of a tart this morning, especially when the hunk next door saw him go.’ She sipped her tomato juice. ‘But,’ she continued, ‘I didn’t want to see you just to give myself a pep-up and a veneer of honesty.’
‘Or to give me a hot tip for the George?’
‘Not even that. No, there’s something I want to ask you. Remember that cousin of yours?’
‘Which cousin? I’ve got ten of the buggers.’
‘That particular cousin: when I was splitting up with Andy and living with you, the one I. . found solace with.’
‘Solace? Is that what you called it? Young Raymond thought all his Christmas Days had come at once. God, girl, what is this? You don’t talk about your sex life much, but when you do, it all comes out. What is it? Has your disappointing experience overnight made you want to look for better? As I remember you had a pretty fine time with him too.’
‘Maybe I did,’ Alex admitted, ‘but that’s in the past. I’ve got no urge to rekindle anything there: I was wondering what he’s doing with himself these days, that’s all.’
‘I’m damned if I know. Raymond is the black sheep of the Weston family; he makes me glad that I’m a Reed, not one of them. You may have thought he was a cuddly big chap, but he’s not. He’s been in and out of trouble for the last few years. That shouldn’t surprise you either: his first bit of bother landed you in trouble with your dad, when he named you as proof that he couldn’t have been where the police said he was. The worst, though, was when he and a pal were arrested for making Ecstasy. Raymond wound up being a Crown witness, although he was up to his neck in it; the other lad got seven years. There was talk that his father, my uncle Nolan, fixed it with a friend of his in the Crown Office.
‘Last I heard of him he had wangled himself a job as a trainee fund manager somewhere, but that he gave it up after a few months. I’m not surprised: I wouldn’t let the skinny bastard anywhere near my funds, I’ll tell you. So why your sudden interest in him, if you don’t want to shag him?’
Alex looked at her friend. ‘It’s to do with these calls,’ she said. ‘I had one the night before last. After a while, the guy said, “You hurt me, Alex.” Ever since then I’ve been thinking of men I’ve hurt in my time. I keep coming back to him.’
‘How did you hurt him?’
‘I did, Gina. I had my fling with him to get back at Andy, because I felt he was turning into my jailer, laying down the law about how I should live my life, putting pressure on me to get married and have kids before I was anything like ready.’
‘Listening to you now, I have to tell you that none of that sounds like a good excuse for screwing our Raymond.’
‘You’re right. On top of all that, I was starting to realise that I didn’t want to marry him at all. His unshakeable niceness was suffocating me; somewhere inside I knew I had to get out. I suppose that Raymond was part of the process. That’s the trouble, I never felt anything for him: it was a case of “You’re cute, you’ll do.” I picked him up, and when it all became too much trouble, I threw him away again.’
‘Let’s go back to the calls. What did the voice sound like? Was it deep? Was it high-pitched?’
‘It was somewhere in the middle. It sounded as if he was speaking through a hankie. .’
‘Standard procedure for perverts, I suppose.’
‘Maybe, but it works. What I’m saying is that it could have been Raymond’s voice, but I can’t be sure.’
‘I’ll find out what I can about him, Alex. Maybe you’re right. The words “Raymond” and “you’ve hurt me” don’t sit well together in my mind, because he’s a hurter. But, if you’re right, that’s exactly what he’s doing to you. Christ, he drove you into the arms of Mr Wonderful! How hurtful is that? Leave it with me.’
Sixty
Merle Gower had mellowed in the years since her arrival in London: she had lost a considerable amount of weight, but had gained a few grey hairs, and a little tact. When Skinner had first met her he had found her blunt to the point of rudeness, but experience seemed to have taught her that it was better to withhold her opinions until she was invited to voice them. Her job had changed also: when she had replaced Skinner’s late friend Joe Doherty at the US Embassy, it had been as FBI liaison, but the growth of the perceived terrorist threat had seen her role expand and its focus change so that she reported to the President’s national security adviser, and no longer to the J. Edgar Hoover Building.
The wooden-floored Clarence was quiet when she walked in, but still she almost missed the two Scots, who were seated at a table to the right of the entrance. Her broad black face creased into a smile as she turned in response to Skinner’s soft whistle. ‘Hey there,’ she said as she joined them, ‘the Big Man himself. I thought you didn’t care for London.’
‘It’s okay,’ he replied. ‘It’s just not my city, that’s all.’ He glanced to his left. ‘Merle, this is DI Dorothy Shannon; she’s just taken over from Neil McIlhenney as our head of Special Branch.’
‘Congratulations,’ said Gower, as the two women shook hands. ‘You must be good if this guy picked you.’
‘Don’t flatter her,’ the DCC growled. ‘She might believe you. What do you want to drink?’
‘Gin and tonic.’
Skinner handed Shannon a ten-pound note. ‘I don’t pull rank very often, Dottie. Get another for yourself too.’
The American glanced around the pub as the inspector left them. ‘One thing about you, Bob,’ she murmured. ‘You always ask interesting questions.’
‘Oh, yes? That bank struck a chord, did it?’
‘What made you ask about it?’
‘Someone I’m investigating came into money. The Premier Taiwan Bank was where it wound up.’
‘Fine, but why ask me?’
Skinner’s eyes twinkled as he looked back at her. ‘Instinct.’
‘Why don’t I quite believe that?’
‘It’s your job not to. These days you Yanks don’t take anything at face value.’
‘Do I detect a note of disapproval there?’
‘You’re not making yourself popular among your allies.’
‘Like we give a shit,’ said Gower, happily, as Shannon placed two tall glasses on the table, and handed Skinner his change.
‘So, what about it?’ he asked her.
‘PTB’s a legitimate bank,’ she told him. ‘But it has a pretty discreet client list. Among them you’ll find several friends of the Central Intelligence Agency. It’s one of their favourite channels for rewarding an asset or keeping him in working capital.’
Skinner’s expression darkened.
‘Did I give you bad news?’
‘It could have been worse. It could have been Al Qaeda, or the Chinese.’ He reached into his pocket and handed her an envelope. ‘You’ll find three names in there; anything you can tell me about any of them would be appreciated.’
‘How soon?’
‘Let’s have breakfast tomorrow, Royal Horseguards Hotel.’ He pushed himself upright, leaving his pint half finished. ‘I’ve got another meeting,’ he said. ‘You two get to know each other. See you in the morning, eight thirty.’