“Is that him?” Milton asked.
“Yes,” she said. “That’s Geggel.”
Winchester
26
There had been no time to get a team to Winchester in time to pick up Beck as he left the station, and so Pope was left with no choice but to risk a single-handed tail. He hoped that Beck’s suspicions would have been allayed by the time that he had been travelling without—Pope had to assume—having seen anything that might have given him cause for concern.
Beck had stepped into a taxi and Pope had taken the next in line, telling the driver to follow after thirty seconds had passed.
The village of Kings Worthy was two miles northeast of the city. Beck’s taxi stopped and the cabin light came on; Pope saw Beck and the driver settling up. He told his driver to continue on until they were around the corner from the house that Beck had stopped outside. He handed over a twenty and then walked back again.
Church Lane was opposite St Mary’s Church and was full of expensive-looking properties. Beck’s taxi was pulling away as Pope turned the corner. The old man was wheeling his suitcase along a drive, the wheels crunching against the gravel. The house was accessed by way of a set of white wrought-iron gates that were, in turn, reached by the drive. The perimeter of the property was enclosed by a stone wall with a wooden fence atop it. Pope walked by the closed gates and glanced quickly down the drive to the house, taking in as much detail as he could. The building was constructed of whitened brick elevations with shuttered windows visible on two sides. It had a tiled roof with a single-storey slate-roofed extension to the side. Nothing unusual. A normal property, similar to the others around it. There was a plant pot sitting next to the gate pillar; there was nothing incongruous about it, but it was the kind of item that could be moved to signal danger.
Pope couldn’t see the door, but, as he paused by the gate, he heard it open and close. He had no way of knowing how many other people were inside the house with Beck. He would have liked the luxury of more time to assess the property, but his orders were clear. He had to move quickly.
He took out his phone and called the Group. He was connected to the night desk and then patched through to Tanner. He reported the situation, that PAPERCLIP was inside the property and that it would be impossible to continue the surveillance were the target to move on. Pope asked for his orders. He was told to hold his position. Backup was on the way.
Southwold
27
Milton and Ross made their way back to the road. Ross took out her phone and reported the news of the discovery. The story had just taken an unexpected turn, and, even as she spoke to Shah, Milton knew that they were nowhere near the boundaries of how far it would expand and what it would eventually encompass. That an ex-spy had been murdered had already alerted the police, the intelligence community, and various Firm agencies including Group Fifteen. The fact that the spy’s former handler had also been shot to death, just a short drive from the town in which the spy had been killed, meant that they were dealing with something much more serious. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Aleksandrov and Geggel had met in Southwold and, soon afterwards, both men had been killed. A double murder was certain; the hunt would now focus on finding the perpetrator—or perpetrators—and discovering their motive.
They clambered up the loose bank and returned to the lay-by. The officer who had driven them was waiting for them.
“Find anything?”
“He’s down there,” Milton said. “Down in the marsh.”
Ross finished her call and slipped the phone into her pocket.
“What’s happening?” Milton asked her.
“They’re sending a team here now.” She nodded to the officer. “Close the road. Both directions.”
The man went to the boot of the car and took out warning signs and flashing beacons. He set off back down the road and started to arrange them.
Ross breathed out. “This is a fucking mess,” she muttered.
Milton gestured back down to the marsh. “How well did you know Geggel?”
“Hardly at all. He was an old-timer. Retired a year ago. I was given some of the agents off his book.”
“Including Aleksandrov?”
She nodded. “Including him.”
“So why did Aleksandrov reach out to Geggel and not you?”
“I don’t know,” she said tersely. Milton regretted the question; he wasn’t surprised that she was so agitated. Why would one of the agents that she was running ignore her and contact her predecessor? It was far from a ringing endorsement.
“I met him a few times,” she said after a pause. “We didn’t get on. He was old fashioned. I think he thought I was too young. And possibly too female.”
Milton’s phone buzzed. He took it out of his pocket and saw that it was from Global Logistics. He turned away from Ross, took the call and put the phone to his ear. “Yes?” he said.
“This is Tanner.”
“Hello, Tanner.”
“Report, please.”
“We’ve found the handler.”
“Leave it to the police and get back here. We’re flying out.”
“Why?”
“I’ll brief you when we’re in the air. The helicopter is waiting. Same place.”
He put the phone away and turned back. Ross was waiting for him.
“You okay?” she asked him.
“I need to get back to the town.”
Local officers relieved Milton and Ross from their makeshift cordon to establish something more enforceable, and the two of them were driven back into town.
Milton leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Could you take me to the Common?”
“Yes, sir,” the driver said.
“Where are you going?” Ross asked.
“That call,” Milton said. “I have to leave.”
“Why?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Smith?”
The driver brought the car to a stop and Milton stepped out. Ross opened her door and got out, too. There was blood in her cheeks and her eyes flashed angrily.
“Come on, Smith,” she complained. “What’s going on?”
Tanner was standing by the helicopter. He saw Milton and gave him a nod of acknowledgement. Tanner twirled his finger in the air, the signal that the pilot could start the engine. He stepped over the raised sill of the chopper’s door so that he could get inside.
Ross grabbed Milton’s arm. He let her, stopped, and turned back. The pilot of the helicopter chose that moment to start the engine and the rotors slowly began to spin.
“Don’t ignore me,” she yelled over the growing roar of the turbines. “We’re on the same side. What the fuck is going on?”
“I’m sorry, Jessie. It’s classified.”
“Where are you going?”
Milton put out his hand. “I really can’t say. But it was nice to meet you.”
She left him hanging. “Fuck you, then.” She spun on her heel and started to walk toward the church.
Milton turned away from her and ducked his head as he passed through the backwash. He clambered aboard and pulled the door shut behind him.
Tanner was strapping himself into one of the seats. “Everything okay?” he called out.
“Fine,” Milton said. He pulled on the headphones and arranged the microphone so that it was over his throat. “I don’t think MI6 likes being kept in the dark.”