The conversation fell silent while they both thought.
Placidia moved in her seat, putting her hand through her hair. ‘So Myles. This is a historical question, and you’re a historian, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Do you think we might have become a proper couple at university?’
Myles squinted, trying to understand where Placidia was coming from. ‘Historically, Placidia, I wanted that,’ he said, trying to be honest while he hid his emotions at the same time. ‘As I remember, it was you who didn’t. You never had time for me. Your campaigns to change the world were always too important.’
‘Sorry.’
Myles shrugged, pretending it no longer mattered to him. But he still needed to say more. ‘You know, when I read about you leaving Oxford I wrote you letters, but you never replied.’
Placidia shook her head blankly. ‘I never received them.’
Myles raised his eyebrows, surprised. Part of him wanted to tell her what he’d written. To replay his emotions, now he was finally with her. But he couldn’t. ‘If you had received them,’ he asked, ‘would you have behaved any differently?’
She paused before pulling a face which said she probably would have ignored the letters anyway. ‘I was an arrogant young girl in those days, Myles. We only recognise our flaws after they’ve done their damage.’
‘Sometimes our flaws keep doing damage.’
‘Sometimes,’ she accepted, pausing again. ‘Did you really send me letters?’
Myles didn’t need to answer her question — his face had answered already. Yes, of course he’d sent them.
Placidia looked mournful. For the first time in their meeting, Myles felt truly sorry for her. Had her entire life turned on a failure to receive his messages? Perhaps — many other people’s lives turn on less. But someone as gifted as Placidia? Someone with all the wonderful opportunities she had? Could she really have been that vulnerable?
Placidia moved her legs in a gesture which was half flirtatious, half hopeless.
Myles wanted to hold her. But he still couldn’t forgive her for what she was doing now. ‘Placidia: was it you who planted files on the Special Forces raid onto my laptop?’
Myles looked straight at Placidia, who stared back in return. They gazed at each other for a long time, both refusing to surrender.
Then she broke off the competition and turned to her desk. Pulling open a drawer, she removed an old scrap of paper, which she carefully unfolded and passed to Myles. Myles read the handwritten words. It was his handwriting.
He remembered that piece of paper. He couldn’t really argue with it. She read it out, just to make her point understood. ‘“Doing the right thing can sometimes be wrong”.’
‘Yes, Myles, those files passed through this computer,’ she admitted. ‘We had help from a computer guy in Las Vegas. It was wrong, but it was done for very good reasons.’ She could see Myles was sceptical. ‘You don’t believe me?’
‘No, Placidia, I do not,’ answered Myles, his heart still pumping too fast for him to behave normally. ‘Those files caused me to be arrested, questioned, shot at in court…’
‘I didn’t send the hitman.’
Myles stopped. He checked her face. She seemed to believe what she was saying.
‘So who did send him?’
‘My husband, Juma. I didn’t want you to…’
‘To die? To be killed?’ Myles offered.
‘No. I tried everything,’ she pleaded. ‘I tried as hard as I could to persuade Juma not to send that man. But Juma sent him anyway.’
Myles understood. ‘So marrying a powerful psychopath doesn’t always allow you to do good, then?’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ she accepted. ‘Not always, no.’ She changed her tone, from defensive to apologetic. ‘I’m glad you managed to escape, Myles.’
‘I’ve been on the run ever since. Almost a week now.’
‘Myles, you do understand: if I hadn’t uploaded those files onto your computer, you’d be in even greater danger. Probably dead.’
Myles looked at her squarely. ‘Explain.’
Placidia shook her head. ‘If I did that, it would cost more lives.’
Myles squinted sceptically at her. ‘So you’re saying, you can’t tell me who wants to kill me because it’ll cost lives.’
‘Yes.’
‘My life or the lives of others?’ asked Myles.
‘Both.’
‘How many others?’
Placidia shrugged. ‘I can’t say.’
‘Can’t say or won’t say?’ asked Myles, frustrated.
‘Both… Look Myles,’ she said, trying to level with him, ‘there are just some things it’s best not to know. This is one of them.’
Myles shook his head — he wasn’t letting it go. ‘Tell me: who wants me dead?’
‘OK. My husband wants you dead,’ Placidia admitted.
‘Why?’
‘Because it’ll make him look strong to his men. Because we knew each other at university… Because he’s mad, I suppose,’ she shrugged again. ‘There might be other reasons, too.’
‘Thank you. Why couldn’t you tell me that before?’
‘Myles, there are more important things than this.’ She was pleading now, desperate to be believed.
‘More important than someone trying to kill me?’
‘Yes,’ she said. She was nodding, and her face seemed very sincere. ‘Don’t you see? The whole of civilisation really is at stake here.’
‘From Juma?’
Placidia refused to answer directly. ‘All I can say, Myles, is that this is the most idealist cause I’ve ever worked for.’
Fifty-One
Myles realised Placidia was serious. ‘OK, Placidia,’ he said. ‘So what’s the most important thing, then?’
Placidia invited Myles to come towards the desk, while she turned on one of the computers. Slowly the machine made noises to indicate it was booting up.
‘This is just a normal PC,’ she said. ‘We got the software from the man in Las Vegas. It’s all quite easy, really.’ She clicked the mouse over to an unnamed folder, which opened. Inside she clicked on a file marked ‘Senate Dump’. ‘This programme…’ Her words trailed off as she concentrated on the keyboard. A box appeared on the screen with the options ‘Start’ or ‘Cancel’. Placidia moved the mouse over to ‘Start’ and clicked.
She paused to check the programme was working, then seemed satisfied that it was. ‘Done,’ she announced. ‘I’ve just started a programme which puts images of naked children onto the personal computers of fifty-five US Senators.’
Myles was aghast.
Placidia offered to explain. ‘It’s not all the Senators. Just those who voted against the recent immigration bill — the ones who made it harder for Africans to settle in the United States. In a few days I’ll let the media know and they’ll investigate.’
‘But nobody’s going to believe half the US Senate is into…’ Myles could barely bring himself to say it, ‘…into that.’
‘You think? They believed the files about the Navy Seal operation on your computer.’
‘But that was just me,’ said Myles. ‘Not a bunch of highly respected Senators.’
Placidia shook her head. ‘Myles, Congress is decadent. Everyone knows it.’
She could see Myles was still in shock.
‘You don’t understand how bad it’s got, do you?’ said Placidia. ‘Like ancient Rome, America started as a republic and a democracy. But they’ve been bought. Senators spend their time sucking up to people with money who can fund their campaigns. Like Rome, the system has become corrupted.’