«Our bags, you mean,» said Alison.
«Yes. That note didn’t make sense, and the clerk at the desk said they got here just before we did. But they were picked up at Palisados over two hours ago.»
«I see. And a geological survey would drive people to those extremes? That’s hard to swallow, Alex.»
«Not if you think about it. Why are surveys made? What’s generally the purpose? Isn’t it usually because someone—some people—expect to build something?»
«Not one like ours, no. It’s too spread out over too great an area. I’d say it’s patently, obviously academic. Anything else would—» Alison stopped as her eyes met McAuliff’s. «Good Lord! If it was anything else, it’s unbelievable!»
«Perhaps there are those who do believe it. If they did, what do you think they’d do?» Alex signaled the waiter by holding up two fingers for refills. Alison Booth’s lips were parted in astonishment.
«Millions and millions and millions,» she said quietly. «My God, they’d buy up everything in sight!»
«Only if they were convinced they were right.»
Alison forced him to look at her. When, at first, he refused, and glanced over at the waiter, who was dawdling, she put her hand on top of his and made him pay attention. «They are right, aren’t they, Alex?»
«I wouldn’t have any proof of it. My contract’s with the University of London, with countersigned approvals from the Society and the Jamaican ministry. What they do with the results is their business.» It was pointless to issue a flat denial. He was a professional surveyor, not a clairvoyant.
«I don’t believe you. You’ve been primed.»
«Not primed. Told to be on guard, that’s all.»
«Those … deadly little instruments aren’t given to people who’ve only been told to be on guard.»
«That’s what I thought. But you know something? You and I are wrong, Alison. Scanners are in common use these days. Nothing out of the ordinary. Especially if you’re working outside home territory. Not a very nice comment on the state of trust, is it?»
The waiter brought their drinks. He was humming and moving rhythmically to the beat of his own tune. Alison continued to stare at McAuliff. He wasn’t sure, but he began to think she believed him. When the waiter left, she leaned forward, anxious to speak.
«And what are you supposed to do now? You found those awful things. What are you going to do about them?»
«Nothing. Report them to the Ministry in the morning, that’s all.»
«You mean you’re not going to take them out and step on them or something? You’re just going to leave them there?»
It was not a pleasant prospect, thought Alex, but Hammond had been clear: If a bug was found, let it remain intact and use it. It could be invaluable. Before eliminating any such device, he was to report it and await instructions. A fish store named Tallon’s, near Victoria Park.
«They’re paying me … paying us. I suppose they’ll want to quietly investigate. What difference does it make? I don’t have any secrets.»
«And you won’t have,» Alison said softly but pointedly, removing her hand from his.
McAuliff suddenly realized the preposterousness of his position. It was at once ridiculous and sublime, funny and not funny at all.
«May I change my mind and call someone now?» he asked.
Alison slowly—very slowly—began to smile her lovely smile. «No. I was being unfair… And I do believe you. You’re the most maddeningly unconcerned man I’ve ever known. You are either supremely innocent or superbly ulterior. I can’t accept the latter; you were far too nervous upstairs.» She put her hand back on top of his free one. With his other, he finished the second drink.
«May I ask why you weren’t? Nervous.»
«Yes. It’s time I told you. I owe you that… I shan’t be returning to England, Alex. Not for many years, if ever. I can’t. I spent several months cooperating with Interpol. I’ve had experience with those horrid little buggers. That’s what we called them. Buggers.»
McAuliff felt the stinging pain in his stomach again. It was fear, and more than fear. Hammond had said British Intelligence doubted she would return to England. Julian Warfield suggested that she might be of value for abstract reasons having nothing to do with her contributions to the survey.
He was not sure how—or why—but Alison was being used.
Just as he was being used.
«How did that happen?» he asked with appropriate astonishment.
Alison touched on the highlights of her involvement. The marriage was sour before the first anniversary. Succinctly put, Alison Booth came to the conclusion very early that her husband had pursued and married her for reasons having more to do with her professional travels than for anything else.
«… it was as though he had been ordered to take me, use me, absorb me…»
The strain came soon after they were married: Booth was inordinately interested in her prospects. And, from seemingly nowhere, survey offers came out of the blue, from little-known but well-paying firms, for operations remarkably exotic.
«… among them, of course, Zaire, Turkey, Corsica. He joined me each time. For days, weeks at a time …»
The first confrontation with David Booth came about in Corsica. The survey was a coastal-offshore expedition in the Capo Senetose area. David arrived during the middle stages for his usual two- to three-week stay, and during this period a series of strange telephone calls and unexplained conferences took place, which seemed to disturb him beyond his limited abilities to cope. Men flew into Ajaccia in small, fast planes; others came by sea in trawlers and small oceangoing craft. David would disappear for hours, then for days at a time. Alison’s fieldwork was such that she returned nightly to the team’s seacoast hotel; her husband could not conceal his behavior, nor the fact that his presence in Corsica was not an act of devotion to her.
She forced the issue, enumerating the undeniable, and brutally labeling David’s explanations what they were: amateurish lies. He had broken down, wept, pleaded, and told his wife the truth.
In order to maintain a lifestyle David Booth was incapable of earning in the marketplace, he had moved into international narcotics. He was primarily a courier. His partnership in a small importing-exporting business was ideal for the work. The firm had no real identity; indeed, it was rather nondescript, catering—as befitted the owners—to a social rather than a commercial clientele, dealing in art objects on the decorating level. He was able to travel extensively without raising official eyebrows. His introduction to the work of the contrabandists was banaclass="underline" gambling debts compounded by an excess of alcohol and embarrassing female alliances. On the one hand, he had no choice; on the other, he was well paid and had no moral compunctions.
But Alison did. The ideological surveys were legitimate, testimonials to David’s employers’ abilities to ferret out unsuspecting collaborators. David was given the names of survey teams in selected Mediterranean sites and told to contact them, offering the services of his very respected wife, adding further that he would confidentially contribute to her salary if she was hired. A rich, devoted husband only interested in keeping an active wife happy. The offers were invariably accepted. And, by finding her «situations,» his travels were given a twofold legitimacy. His courier activities had grown beyond the dilettante horizons of his business.