“You’ve got first-class instincts, Charlie,” he said drily, “but you can’t stop Simone from seeing this guy unless you can give her a better reason than you don’t really like him.”
“I know,” I said. “But there’s something about this whole situation that makes me uneasy I just can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Well, until you can, you’re just going to have to go along for the ride. I’ll hurry Madeleine along with the background on Lucas at this end and we’ll see what pops up, but don’t hold your breath.”
“Neagley seemed to have managed to find out a fair amount,” I said, ruffled.
“I know, but what she’d got was public record. Yes, Lucas was SAS and by all accounts he had a bit of a hair trigger, but we need more than that. Trying to get information out of the Ministry of Defence is a nightmare, and they get especially awkward when it’s someone who’s been in the Regiment. Just stay sharp and you’ll be OK.”
I ended the call with a sense of nagging foreboding. The army hadn’t been quite so reticent when it came to leaking the story of my own downfall, so why were they being so difficult about spilling the beans on Greg Lucas when he’d been out for close to twenty-five years?
Mind you, even I had to admit that my case was different. The army brass hadn’t wanted me to get through the selection process to begin with. There’d been dismay in some quarters when I and two other girls had stayed the course and made it into training.
A woman wasn’t physically up to the job; a woman would compromise an operation if she was killed, wounded, or captured; a woman wasn’t psychologically equipped to kill, up close and personal. I heard every argument in the book-and quite a few that weren’t.
And I suppose, back then, they were right. When four of my fellow trainees decided to prove, in a drunken outburst of testosterone, that women really were the weaker sex, I hadn’t been able to dig deep enough into my own psyche to find the vital killer instinct.
That had come much later.
Keeping Ella amused was one of the trickiest parts of the journey north. She was bright and inquisitive, which meant you had to be on your toes all the time. She seemed to cotton on straightaway if you made an automatic response to any of her constant questions, and after half an hour in her company I was mentally exhausted.
I wondered how on earth Simone coped with her, day after day, but then remembered that up until Simone’s lottery win Ella had normally spent working hours in day care. That gave me another topic of conversation, at least, and over the next twenty minutes or so I learned all about Ella’s favorite teacher and the names of her best friends and that finger painting and making Plasticine animals was what she enjoyed doing most.
I even resorted to a game of I Spy, which would have been easier if Ella didn’t have a fairly fluid idea of coming up with objects that actually began with the letter she’d originally chosen. Plus we were passing through great tracts of wooded countryside, which somewhat restricted the options.
At one point we passed a huge billboard carrying the information that the New Hampshire Sweepstake lottery prize was now up to $365 million. I saw Simone’s head turn to look and caught the merest suggestion of a smile on her face.
She and Lucas talked in the front seats as we drove, their voices too quiet for me to be able to easily follow the conversation without craning forwards, at which point Ella, realizing she was being ignored by all the adults, became even more vocal. Eventually, I abandoned all my efforts at eavesdropping and gave her my full attention, which she liked much better.
After about an hour and a half, Lucas suggested a rest stop at the New Hampshire border, at which point I could cheerfully have kissed him. That changed with the sudden fear that I was going to be the one who was expected to take Ella to the toilet. Fortunately, it was Ella herself who insisted that she wanted her mummy to take her.
I went with them, as a matter of course. In front of Ella Simone didn’t say much other than to tell me that she was genuinely enjoying Lucas’s company. I bit back the comment that it was in his interests to make sure she did and just nodded. By the look on Simone’s face, it was not a satisfactory response.
We were halfway back across the snow-strewn parking area when my mobile rang. I stopped in order to dig it out of my inside pocket, watching while Simone and Ella carried on back towards the Range Rover. It was too cold for them to linger, even if they’d wanted to.
“Charlie? It’s Frances Neagley. You wanted to talk with me?”
“Yeah, thanks for getting back to me.” I said. I paused, partly to let the two of them get farther ahead of me, so they were out of earshot, and partly because I wasn’t sure where to launch in. “So, you’ve dispensed with your bodyguard?”
She was quiet for a moment and I could almost imagine her looking round, as though to check the man from Armstrong’s was still with her. “I haven’t,” she said.
“Oh.” My turn to pause. “But you spoke to Greg Lucas about your partner? He rang you, right? Before he made contact with Simone?”
“He’s made contact?” she said and her voice came out both tense and baffled. “When?”
“Yesterday.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Simone open the rear door of the Range Rover and lift Ella onto her booster cushion on the backseat. “He showed up at the hotel.” I tried to remember the exact wording. Had Lucas actually said he’d spoken to Neagley? I scanned my memory. Maybe not, but he’d certainly given that impression.
Simone had finished buckling Ella into her seat now and I started walking towards the car. She had already climbed into the passenger seat as I did so, and I saw the brake lights flare as Lucas shifted the transmission out of park.
“Lucas said that when O’Halloran didn’t get back in touch with him after their meeting he’d tried to call him,” I said quickly, breaking into a jog. “I assumed you thought he was on the level or you wouldn’t have passed on the details.”
“Charlie, I didn’t pass on anything,” Neagley said, sounding anguished now. “I haven’t spoken to the guy. Not a word. I don’t know how he found your client, but it wasn’t through me.”
Suddenly, the Range Rover swung out of its parking space. I abandoned the call, slamming the phone shut as I slipped and slithered across the icy surface that separated me from my principals. I didn’t even have the breath to curse. I could only watch as the big car picked up speed away from me between the rows of other vehicles. I made a mental note of the plate, the call I was going to have to make to the police already formulating in my head.
At the end of the row, the Range Rover’s brake lights came on and I put on a burst of speed in the vain hope I might still catch them, skidding on the icy ground. A moment later, they had pulled away again and for a second it looked like Lucas was heading straight for the exit. Then he swung round in a big lazy semicircle and headed back down the next row, towards me. I cut through the line of cars and practically threw myself in front of him. As it was, he had to hit the brakes hard enough for Simone’s head to snap forwards in the passenger seat. She looked startled, with the first beginnings of annoyance on her features.
My gaze swapped across to Greg Lucas but the way the light reflected on the glass meant I couldn’t see his features clearly.
I waited a beat, then walked down the side of the car and snatched the rear door open, scrambling in through the gap. By the time Simone and Lucas looked round, I’d already half-launched myself between the front seats, fist clenched ready to strike at the man’s throat. I knew I could take out his voice box with my left hand and yank the gear lever back into neutral with my right before he had a chance to pick up enough speed for the resulting accident to do us any damage. He would make very little noise as he died, and Ella-seated directly behind him- wouldn’t see enough to traumatize her too badly. Simone I’d worry about later.