‘Oh!’ said Gerry. She sat down as well and gazed at the pattern on the work surface. ‘When abouts did he send that?’ she asked eventually.
‘It was probably sent at the beginning of May. Anyway that’s about the time the computer broke down. Then you got the news about Philip, and I didn’t want to bother you about it of course, not when… well, you know.’ Gerry nodded. She felt slightly distressed that the last person Philip had e-mailed was her mother and not her, but there was another anomaly.
‘But Mum, why should he mention a birthday surprise? My birthday’s not until August.’
‘Well I know that dear, but mine is in May, and you know what men are like; always mixing up birthdays and anniversaries. At least your father did,’ she added.
Gerry sat brooding for a moment while Anne watched her. Then she looked up and said ‘I’ll take it with me. There’s probably someone from work who can get it sorted out. And I’ll bring you up another computer I’ve got at home as a replacement. That one was a bit old and slow anyway.’
‘Oh that would be nice, if you can spare it. I never thought for a moment I would miss having one. Now wash your hands; dinner’s ready.’
Gerry required all her professional resources to maintain an appearance of equanimity during dinner and afterwards when they watched an episode of Midsomer Murders together. When her mother had gone up to bed she tried to switch on the computer again but the operating program would not access the hard drive. She mumbled a stream of abuse at the Dell logo and then went upstairs to bed.
She lay awake thinking about the possible contents of the e-mail and imagined Philip sitting down in front of his computer in Nigeria and composing it, never imagining for one moment that it would be the last message he would ever send. She rolled over, thumped the pillows into shape, yawned wearily and at last she fell asleep.
The next morning Gerry said farewell to her mother and set off in her black Volkswagen towards the M40. She was negotiating a sharp bend slightly faster than the speed limit when she heard a bang and saw a puff of smoke emerge from the front of the engine compartment and swirl around the windscreen. She slammed on the brakes as the road straightened up and pulled into a convenient lay-by. Then she leapt out of her car and ran until she was about fifty metres away and crouched down on the verge. After half a minute she was satisfied that there was no further danger she began to walk back towards her car. Two other cars had passed by the scene of her mishap, but the occupants had given no more than a curious stare as they drove by, but a third car pulled out of a small side road and crept to a halt twenty metres behind her car.
She walked towards the car, wondering if the driver was a possible Good Samaritan but she was suddenly suspicious; she wished that her handbag containing her gun was slung across her shoulder rather than sitting on the passenger seat. She stopped and glared at him as he climbed out of his car. He was taller than her, distinguished looking, late middle aged with cropped white hair and a thick white moustache gleaming in his suntanned face. He took a couple of paces towards her and held out his hand. ‘Jasper White,’ he called out.
‘I’m Gerry Tate,’ she replied, giving his hand a brief shake. She ran the name White through her memory and suddenly felt tense when she remembered Rashid Hamsin telling her about a Colonel White. ‘I suspect that you knew my name already. Perhaps you should tell me what you’re doing here?’
Clearly she had already rumbled him, but he kept up his act. ‘I’m here to help a lady in distress,’ he replied. He stopped by her car, leant through the driver’s doorframe and pulled the bonnet release. He opened the hood and looked inside. Gerry retrieved her bag from inside the car and then watched while he quickly reached inside with a handkerchief wrapped round his hand. He pulled out a small pyrotechnic device.
‘It’s just a little firework with a remote detonator. Doesn’t do any harm to the car apart from a bit of a scorch mark under the hood.’ He wrapped it up and put it in a pocket. ‘Needless to say the driver always thinks his car has a real problem and stops to take a look at it.’
Gerry stared at him, and then demanded ‘So explain why you’re here.’
‘What you’re really wanting to know is why I stopped you on a quiet road in the English countryside on a Sunday afternoon,’ he declared.
‘Yeah, that would be a good start.’
‘Ok, well perhaps we could sit inside my car for a minute and I’ll explain,’ he offered.
‘Yeah right,’ she scoffed. ‘I think we’ll sit inside my car and I’ll scan you for electronic devices before we talk.’
‘Ok, as you wish. You have a scanner?’ White asked.
‘Yes.’
‘You’re a suspicious character. A gun too, I imagine?’
‘Yes; a gun, a knife, a handbag and an attitude problem; armed to the fucking teeth I am.’
He looked down and saw that she had one hand inside the bag now slung over her shoulder.
‘Ok, I’ll come quietly.’ He sat himself in the front passenger seat and watched her walk round the other side. Instead of getting into the driver’s seat she opened the rear door and climbed in behind him. She thought he looked slightly nervous in the rear view mirror.
‘So explain why you stopped me then, Jasper White,’ Gerry demanded. She had rather assumed that White was an alias when Rashid named him because it seemed such a commonplace surname.
‘My company was rather disappointed at the disappearance of Rashid Hamsin from this country. We feel that he must have had some assistance.’
‘How do you know he’s not in this country still?’
‘Because he transited through the airport in Amman, Jordan.’
‘Well if you managed to find him, why don’t you ask him?’
‘We didn’t get hold of him at the time and he’s slipped out of sight.’
Gerry had not known for certain that Rashid had successfully eluded his pursuers, but she frowned to avoid a delighted grin. ‘Actually I don’t give a shit about the whereabouts of Rashid Hamsin. I’m on maternity leave. Ask your own people: they staked out his place.’
‘We’ve seen the reports and we’re not convinced that someone didn’t tip him off.’
‘So you followed me up here to tell me that. Your people send a surveillance team because you have some suspicions?’ She stared at him in the rear view mirror. ‘If that was the case I’d be having further interviews back in the office, not be put on immediate maternity leave and allowed to travel at will.’
‘There’s no surveillance team; just me.’
‘So you’ve been watching me. What did you learn?’
‘I know that you are expecting a girl, unless those pink baby clothes you were looking at were for someone else.’
She stared at him angrily in the rear view mirror. This bastard had been watching her for the last few days, and what made her even more irritated was that she had not picked up on it. ‘You’re a nasty toad, White,’ she eventually replied.
‘I’m just doing my job. C’mon! You’ve done surveillance, so it’s unreasonable to become all high-minded when it happens to you!’
‘So are you going to file a report describing my weekend away? You still haven’t said why you stopped me out here.’