‘To get at Ron.’ He stared at his department head. ‘Well?’
Rhonda’s furious glance. She was back on the job. ‘You and Zuiden hate each other — hate each other so much you need each other. So your judgement might be…’
‘Come off it.’
‘He doesn’t understand you. You don’t understand him. And it bothers you both. Because you secretly admire each other. We used to call you Cain and Disable.’
‘Spare me the arabesques. What’s your point?’
She moved a protective hand to the younger woman’s thigh. As far as Cain could see the loving was one-way. ‘You’re full of theories without substantiation. What if he just wanted to sink the salami?’
‘I’ve given my opinion. The deadshit’s porked your girl… killed a sailor on this ship. Now what do I do about it?’
She stroked Hunt’s hair, thinking. ‘Be in Room C3 in half an hour. The meeting with Vanqua. Don’t volunteer any information unless I prompt you. Clear?’
‘Pellucid. But factor this in. The thing in Chartres. Rehana had drawn a “Z” on the sheet in her blood. I thought it might have meant Zia. It could have meant Zuiden — could have meant he’d sabotaged the operation. What if he did the job on Rehana before I got there?’
‘Ray, I know you want to help. But we’re all upset just now. The best thing you can do is leave the thinking to me and just — stay out of it. That’s an order.’
‘Shit.’ He upended his drink and left.
He walked through the sinews of the boat, cursing her and loving her too. Her attempt to be kind had made him feel old and useless.
Pat’s comment echoed in his head. ‘It’s over, Ray. You’re yesterday’s hero now.’
Room C3 was barely large enough for the small bolted-down table and six chairs. Vanqua sat at the table’s end alone, nodded as Cain came in. ‘The exceptional Mr Cain. Please sit.’
Cain sat on a chair at the side, determined to say nothing as instructed.
‘So.’ His sad face and speculative stare. ‘I still have no word of Murchison. What do you know?’
Murchison? What was this? They were back to Chartres discussing Murchison? ‘No idea. He wasn’t there when it happened. It was a cleaning job and fast ship-out. No time for head checks.’
‘Mm.’
Rhonda entered, sat opposite Vanqua, turned to Cain. ‘Tell him what happened.’
Vanqua listened to his account, said, ‘Yes, yes. I’ve been informed.’
‘And…?’ Rhonda snapped.
‘I thought this meeting was a brief on Murchison.’
‘Fuck Murchison.’
Their conflict made the air vibrate.
Vanqua gazed at the lagged pipes above and stroked the muscles of his neck. Cain knew five ways to kill him by attacking that neck. The body was so vulnerable when you knew. ‘Jan tells me Mr Cain has been indulging his sexual tastes.’
Cain lurched forward. ‘What?’
Rhonda put a hand on his arm.
‘I suppose you’re aware what training her cost us? Millions.’
‘Let’s get back to the exploits of Zuiden,’ Rhonda said.
Vanqua made inconsequential sounds and waved his hands. ‘He’s been under great pressure, which has now been removed and… his natural… exuberance has emerged.’
‘Exuberance? What are you? A fucking epistemological realist? Cut the crap.’
‘We’re talking about a Grade Three.’ The surgeon pursed his lips. ‘He’s purpose-designed — just like Cain. Just as Cain is extraordinary, so is Jan. But in a different way — a destroyer.’
‘One you can’t control?’
Vanqua tutted. ‘No, no.’
‘So he had your leave to do it?’
Cain tensed at the remark. She may not have bought his theory, but was trying it for size.
Vanqua’s melancholy look became long-suffering. ‘No, of course not.’ He made placating movements. ‘He selected the woman he wanted but killed the man instinctively. I know that was painful for you and I deeply regret it occurred.’
‘You think I’m a dope?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Not everyone who carries a long knife’s a cook. Explain the seating arrangements at lunch.’
‘I was trying to give an impression of unity. The whole thing’s been… unfortunate.’
‘You bet your bippy. This base is now as compromised as the Japanese Constitution.’
‘I know. I know.’ He bowed his head like a penitent.
‘And the navy’s going to gut you until you can see your mouth through your ring.’
He looked down, frowning.
‘What happens to Zuiden?’ Her lips were a line.
‘Yes.’ He rubbed his eyes with his fingers.
‘I suggest you decommission him.’
Vanqua recleared his throat. ‘Normally one would. But I’m afraid he’s too valuable for that.’
Cain wanted to thump the man. Why didn’t Rhonda tell him to get knotted? Then he had the notion that she was playing a role and that what was actually happening here he’d probably never know. He recalled one of the less questionable Hadiths: part of being a good Muslim is leaving alone that which does not concern you.
Vanqua was staring at the centre of the table. ‘I’ll have him transferred on the first flight out tomorrow. He’ll be on special assignment in Bosnia. I’ve spoken to him severely of course.’ He checked his watch and stood up. ‘I now have to face the commander of this ship. You can imagine how that will be.’ He paused at the door. ‘Once again, my sincere apology.’
He left.
Cain stared at the closing door, swung back to Rhonda. ‘Hell, why didn’t you tell him where to shove it?’
‘Yes, that would have been fun.’ She smiled, now surprisingly at ease. ‘But I need him to wallow in his biography just a tadlet more.’
‘He must have told Zuiden to do it. Did you see the body language?’
‘It certainly walks and quacks like the proverbial broad-billed waterfowl.’ Her speculative look. ‘But why target the inamorata?’
‘Because the bugger’s out to get you.’
‘By attacking Karen? Strategically pointless. And with the sailor dead, he’s compromised himself.’
‘The killing was a mistake.’
‘Agreed. But there’s more to this.’
‘Whatever the motive, he’s your enemy. And that makes him mine.’
She sang, ‘The enemy of one, the enemy of all is,’ then chuckled. ‘Did you know that the dragoons’ chorus from Patience was, shall we say, borrowed from Auber’s “Laughing Song”?’
‘Ronnie, for God’s sake…’
‘Yes, dear?’
‘Is this a serious matter or not?’
‘It is for the desiccated Dane. For us it’s merely a ripple in the current of bliss.’
‘Shit, Ron. He fucked your ice maiden and I almost got creamed.’
She smiled. ‘At my age, misfortune never causes surprise. You’ve helped, dear. Truly you have. Mille grazie.’
He shrugged. ‘How’s Hunt?’
‘Composed. If she has a heart, I haven’t located it. My obsession with glacial women I don’t wish to discuss.’ She frowned, paused.
‘What is it?’
‘Vanqua. When he does that hang-dog thing he… reminds me of…’
‘What?’
‘Nothing. It’s mad.’ She clapped her hands like a maiden aunt confronted with a tray of chocolates. ‘Now — enough of head-office intrigue. It’s your time to bugger off.’ She began to sing again. ‘Farewell, my own. Light of my life, farewell,’ then grinned at his expression. ‘From Pinafore of course — and the only octet in the whole of G and S.’
‘Is this relevant?’
‘Certainly, dear heart. We may need our Savoyard secrets for verification later. There’s method in my madness. Nicht wahr? Now,’ she continued brightly, ‘here’s your chance to swap your double life for a single one. Pat tells me you want to direct commercials.’