‘If we let them,’ said Alice.
The three of them stood shivering under the bare branches of the pear tree, thinking about the man inside the house.
Was he really a murderer?
‘No,’ said Megan. ‘I refuse to believe any of this.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Alice, for once showing some sympathy for her younger sister. ‘It’s dreadful to think about, but our father did kill someone. Two people. And that’s not counting Craig all those years ago.’
Toby’s brain was racing through the possibilities. He didn’t want to believe Bill had killed anyone. Nor did he want to believe that Bill had shot at him. But Alice was right: it did make sense.
‘He told me that he believed you had killed Sam,’ Toby said. ‘To protect him. You’re saying he never thought that.’
‘Of course he didn’t,’ said Alice. ‘He knew who had killed Sam. The whole time. He knew.’
‘Did you tell him you suspected him?’
‘No. He and I have this tacit thing going on. He doesn’t ask questions about me, and I don’t ask questions about him. The lawyer’s happy with that. It’s just you and Megan who are screwing everything up.’
‘Sorry,’ said Toby.
No apology came from Megan. She was frowning.
‘So what do we do now?’ said Toby.
‘We stay quiet,’ said Alice.
‘And let the police arrest you again?’
Alice shrugged. ‘It’s my choice. All I want you to do is to respect that.’
Toby looked up as a flight of geese flew low over the house, and veered left over the marsh towards the Wash, honking.
Then he faced his wife.
‘I’ll respect your choice as far as your own freedom is concerned. But if Bill really did kill people, the police need to know. He needs to be brought to justice.’
‘Toby!’ Alice glared at her husband. Then her gaze softened. ‘OK. This is difficult for all of us, you too, Megan. I hate the idea that my father killed anybody. He was wrong. But you heard him, and you heard Sam Bowen. The only reason we are alive today is because of what he did on the Alexander Hamilton all those years ago. And everything he did after that was a result of that day. He made some bad decisions, but they were difficult decisions. He was trying to stop humanity from destroying itself.’
‘I agree he did what he did from the best of motives,’ Toby said. ‘At least as far as speaking to the Russians is concerned. But he shouldn’t have killed an innocent man like Sam Bowen. Or Lars. Or tried to kill me. I’m sorry, Alice: we have got to speak to the police about this, or MI5 or someone.’
‘He’s my father, Toby. I won’t do it.’
Toby swallowed. ‘Then I will.’
‘Shouldn’t we talk to Dad first?’ said Megan.
‘No,’ said Toby. ‘That will just warn him we are on to him.’ He took a deep breath. ‘And he might become dangerous when he’s cornered, right, Alice?’
Alice nodded, reluctantly.
Toby’s phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, but he did see it was a US international code. He answered.
‘Toby? This is Glenn Robinson.’
‘Oh, hello, Admiral,’ Toby said, with a meaningful glance at Alice. He wanted her to know to whom he was speaking. Alice shot him a look: don’t you dare tell him about my father.
‘I’d like to have a little chat with you, and with your wife and her sisters,’ the admiral said. ‘Informal. I’ve got something I want to share with you.’
‘OK,’ said Toby. ‘When do you want to meet?’
‘Is this afternoon OK?’
‘All right. I’ll try to round up the girls. Where?’
‘There’s a pub called The Pheasant in Thurstead. Do you know it?’
‘I know the village.’ Thurstead was a few miles inland from Barnholt.
‘Good. Say three-thirty?’
‘OK. We’ll be there.’
‘And, Toby? Please don’t let Bill know you are coming to see me.’
Toby hung up.
‘What was all that about?’ said Alice
Toby explained.
‘Are you coming?’ he asked the sisters.
‘I will,’ said Megan.
‘You won’t say I think Dad killed Sam Bowen, will you, Toby?’ said Alice.
‘I might,’ said Toby.
Alice shook her head. Fury burned in her eyes. ‘I can’t believe you would do that.’
‘Toby?’ said Megan.
‘Yes?’
‘I know Alice is pretty certain about Dad’s guilt, but I’m not. Let’s just leave it a day or so, eh? Listen to what the admiral has to say. See what turns up. Think about it some more.’
Toby knew that if Bill really had murdered the young historian, he couldn’t let him get away with it. He also knew that if he defied his wife on this, his marriage would be over. The Guth family would be destroyed. He knew Alice, she would never forgive him. And although the logical conclusion was that if Alice was willing to lie to protect her murdering father Toby was better off without her, Toby couldn’t accept that. Part of him admired her loyalty and her bravery. Just as part of him admired Bill.
But she was wrong, and so was her father.
Megan offered a fudge. An excuse to delay a difficult decision.
In theory Toby believed that difficult decisions were best taken sooner rather than later.
He looked at his wife. The anger in her eyes pointed directly at him, hurt. He loved her. Could he really take a decision to lose her that quickly?
‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll just listen. So will you come?’
‘I will,’ said Alice. ‘And you had better keep your mouth shut.’
FIFTY-TWO
The Pheasant was a large white-painted pub at the far end of Thurstead’s small high street. The village was a cluster of farms, a few houses, a shop, the church and the pub, most of which straggled along a single road in a shallow valley.
The pub was clearly very old, but it had been tarted up in a disconcerting melange of fashionable grey paint and modern fonts. Mid-afternoon in November it was almost empty: a lone walker with his map sat at one table in front of the fire, and at another in the corner sat the admiral, drinking a Coke.
‘Sorry we’re late,’ said Toby, shaking his hand. ‘It took me a while to round everyone up.’
By ‘everyone’ he had meant Brooke, who had taken some persuading to leave the hotel and her husband in Hunstanton and drive over to Thurstead in their hired car. But Alice had eventually coaxed her.
‘I thought there were four of you?’ the admiral said to Alice.
‘Maya’s not here,’ Alice replied. ‘She had to go back to work. She’s a flight attendant.’
‘She’s in New York,’ Megan said. ‘But you’ve got the rest of us.’
Toby fetched drinks: white wine for Megan, tomato juice for Brooke and Alice and a half pint of bitter for him. When he returned to the table, the admiral was conducting a stilted conversation with Alice about how pretty Norfolk was. But as soon as Toby set the drinks down, the admiral got down to business.
‘Thanks for coming, and for not telling your father.’ Alice had told Bill they were driving to Hunstanton to see Brooke and Justin. Not a bad little lie since it plausibly explained why Bill was left out of it. There was even a chance that Bill had believed it.
‘I shouldn’t be here,’ the admiral went on. ‘I’m speaking to you informally, as a private citizen. And mostly as your father’s friend.’
‘OK,’ said Alice.
‘You know I was the executive officer on the Alexander Hamilton’s last patrol, and you may know that after that I spent many years in naval intelligence, which is how I have contacts with the British security services. I may have retired, but I still take very seriously my obligation to keep what happened on that last patrol secret.’