'Uh, no. Leave things as they are. Let me know what's happened to the Organiser, will you?'
'Surely. Soon as we know something ourselves. Perhaps Stuhr stayed somewhere else overnight—I understand it frequently happens to single men. Could be whoever he's with has found ways to detain him.'
'It's not like him to be out of touch.'
'I agree, particularly when there's an operation in progress.' Mather was frowning now. 'We'll keep you informed, Liam, and in the meanwhile we'll organise some extra cover for you. I assume last night went without incident?'
'It was quiet. Anything more on the stolen Peugeot?'
'Still drawn a blank there, I'm afraid. Police can't help. You're sure our client doesn't know more than he's telling'
'I'm not sure of anything.' Mather stopped soothing the ache in his knee. Again he waited for Halloran to continue, but all that came through was atmospherics on the line. 'It might be an idea if I paid Neath a visit myself,' he suggested.
'We'll be back in London on Monday. Let's you and I meet then.'
'If you say so. Look, I'll get back to you as soon as I've got some news.'
'Fine.' He heard the click as the line was disengaged and he held his own phone close to his ear for several seconds before putting it down. Mather was thoughtful for several more moments before he lifted the receiver again.
Halloran stood by the telephone in the large open hallway, his hand still resting on the receiver. He was concerned about Dieter Stuhr's absence, well aware that it was out of character for the German to go missing during a major assignment (or even a minor one, for that matter). Maybe, as Mother had suggested, he was having problems getting into the office that morning. Less likely was that he'd been detained at some other address; the Organiser didn't run his life that way—he'd have at least let Shield know where he could he contacted no matter how impromptu the situation. Halloran ran his fingers across his as yet unshaven chin. Maybe Kline—and Neath itself—was getting to him. He was beginning to feel uneasy about everything.
There were footsteps on the staircase behind him. He turned to find Cora approaching, her descent faltering momentarily when he looked into her eyes, her hand touching the wide balustrade for balance.
'Good morning, Liam.' Her greeting was subdued, as if she were not sure how he would react towards her.
'Cora,' he responded. He moved to the foot of the stairs and waited. Neither one smiled at the other and both were conscious that this was not the usual way for lovers to say hello after a night of intimacy.
'Have you had breakfast?' she asked, the question put to break the awkwardness between them rather than out of any real interest.
'I'm on my way in,' Halloran replied. He touched her arm to atop her from walking on. She looked up at him, startled. 'Cora, why didn't you warn me about Kline?' She could not conceal the tiny flicker of alarm that showed in her eyes.
'Why didn't you tell me he had the—I suppose you'd call it “power”—to hypnotise? We took a little trip this morning, out on the lake. He made me see things there, things I never thought possible. Creatures Cora, monsters that seemed to be living in the slime beneath that water. I don't know whose imagination he dredged them from—his or mine—but they scared the hell out of me even though common sense told me they couldn't really exist. He froze me, and it's been a long time since anyone did that.'
'lie was playing games with you.' She had mowed closer and her voice was quiet, almost mournful. 'It was Felix's way of showing you how manipulative his mind is, how sometimes he can direct images into the minds of others.' Halloran shook his head. 'Thought transference—it's the same as hypnosis.'
'No. No it isn't. He can't make you do things, control your actions. He can only suggest images, make you feel something is happening.' Halloran thought back to the white room at the Magma building, remembering his first encounter with Kline, the finger prodding him in the darkness when no one was near, reaching out and touching withered skin when only he and Kline were in the room . . . 'At least it makes a kind of sense,' he said aloud, although it was more a rationale for himself.
Her laugh was brittle. 'Don't look for sense in any of this,' she said. Cora slipped from his grip and made her way towards the dining room.
A creak from the balcony above. He looked up sharply and was just in time to see the bulky shape of Monk stepping back out of sight. Halloran was sure the big man had been grinning.
'Well, I can see your appetite hasn't been spoilt by this morning's little upset.' Kline waved away the Arab who had been pouring him more coffee.
Halloran glanced up from his plate and returned his client's smile. 'It takes a lot to do that.'
'Oh yeah? For a moment there in the boat I thought you were going to puke. Couldn't figure it—there was hardly a ripple in the lake. Unless all that mist out there disorientated you that can often make you giddy, y'know, that and the drifting sensation. You had me worried.' He sipped from his cup. 'Youssef, give Miss Redmile some more coffee. She looks as if she needs it. Make it strong, leave the cream.
Cora, you've got to eat more than you do, you're going to waste away otherwise. Don't you think she looks kinda drawn, Halloran? You not sleeping well, Cora?' Halloran had to agree: she looked pale, the dark smudges under her eyes even more pronounced.
'I think that business yesterday is having some effect on me,' Cora said. 'Delayed reaction, I suppose.'
'The attempted kidnapping?' The incident sounded pleasurable to Kline. 'There was no problem, not with our hero along to protect us. Those bastards didn't stand a chance, am I right, Halloran? Not with you around. I bet they couldn't believe their eyes when they saw our car reversing away like a bat outa
. . .' He didn't complete the sentence, gulping coffee instead.
'Hopefully your own driver, Palusinski, will have learned the technique by now. That and a few others to get away from a road-block fast.' Halloran continued eating, a surprisingly good English breakfast provided by the two Jordanians. He noticed that Kline, for all his jibes at the girl, hadn't eaten much either. Monk probably made up for the pair of them in the kitchen.
'Were you an army man, Halloran?' The question from Kline was unexpected.
'Most of your outfit are ex-military, aren't they?' Kline went on. 'You ever killed anybody? Shot them dead, knifed them? You ever done anything like that?' Cora was watching him, along with her employer.
Halloran leaned back from the table. 'What makes you ask?' he said.
'Oh, curiosity. Wondered if you had the capability. Can't be an easy thing taking someone else's life away. No, got to be the hardest thing in the world to do. Or is it? Maybe it's easy once you have the know-how, the experience. Have you had the experience? Could you do it?'
'It would depend on the situation.'
'Hah! Let me give you a situation then. Suppose those creeps yesterday had managed to stop our car.
Suppose they came at me with guns-which, presumably, given the chance they would have. Would you have used your own weapon'?'
'That's why I'm here, Kline .'
'Okay. Let's change the scenario a little. Say they held a gun at Cora's head and threatened to blow it off if you made a move towards them. You got your own gun in your hand and it's pointed in their direction.
They're dragging me into their car and the guy with Cora is blocking your way. What would you do in that situation? Would you risk her life to protect me? I'd be interested to know.' He smiled at Cora. 'I'm sure she'd like to also.' Halloran looked from one to the other, Kline grinning, enjoying the moment, Cora uncertain, as though the question was more than academic.
'I'd let them take you,' he replied.
Kline's grin faded.