‘He called me from Algiers. Dean was a smart guy. He told me that he’d worked his way into the CIA office there, impersonating one of the local staff. Then when he got to London we used an old drop box. As I said, we go back a long way, me and Dean. Now listen, you can be placed at your office for much of the morning, but that doesn’t get you off the hook entirely; it doesn’t cover the whole time you were away.’
‘Why should I need to cover the whole time? I didn’t shoot anyone!’ Gerry insisted, ‘and anyway what’s my motive for killing Furness?’
‘Maybe because Neil Samms told you that he killed Philip.’
‘He’s a bloody creep.’
‘Don’t you underestimate him; he might seem like an idiot with that stupid grin and that ponytail, but he’s dangerous. He’s trained, same as you are.’
Gerry drained her glass and stared into the bottom of it. ‘Furness was going to tell me what he knew about this Gilgamesh operation. You don’t suppose there might be something left in my flat about it?’
‘No, whoever shot him would have cleared it out. The only thing I can tell you for certain is that me and Dean took your friend Rashid Hamsin over the border from Saudi Arabia to Kuwait back in February. He was to meet up with a guy called Hakim Mansour who was a close associate of Qusay Hussein.’
‘Mansour’s the guy I escorted from Kuwait to Frankfurt and back. He met with Hugh Fielding and your guy Robert Bruckner,’ said Gerry. ‘That’s where I first met Dean.’
‘So let’s say that you have a problem with this… situation with Dean. I’ll give you an alibi. Say I called you on your cell phone and I arranged to meet you off the subway and we’ve been together the whole time. How does that sound?’
‘That sounds ok, I suppose,’ Gerry nodded.
‘Look we should go back to your place now, otherwise it’ll seem suspicious. No doubt they’ll have some questions for us.’
It was nearly eight o’clock by the time the police car took Gerry and Jasper White back to her flat. They had spent a long afternoon writing statements and being interviewed several times over. Neither Gerry nor White had accepted the offer of a lawyer which had made the inspector in charge even more suspicious. After a couple of hours a sergeant had entered the interview room and handed a sheet of paper to the inspector who was asking Gerry to relate her movements for the fourth time. He had read through the paper then stared at her, comparing her appearance to a picture on the sheet. ‘Ok. My jurisdiction has been superseded by Special Branch. Apparently they deal with you people, and I’m told to release you.’
He had stood up abruptly and left the room and shortly afterwards she and Jasper White had been driven back to her flat. She packed an overnight bag, collected her computer and accepted a leaflet from the police officer in charge. This explained the process by which her flat would be off limits until she was notified that its status as a crime scene for the purpose of preserving or gathering evidence was ended. Then it recommended a choice of cleaning companies who were experienced in the removal of the evidence of violent bloody death. She accepted it with a brief nod and followed Jasper to his car.
He drove her to a local hotel; small in size but still high in price in this expensive part of London. Jasper carried her suitcase to her room. ‘Now you get some sleep and I’ll call you about ten o’clock… ok?’
Ok, thanks Jasper.’ He smiled at her and left the room.
She spent the next hour on her computer filing an incident report with the night duty officer to be passed on to Richard Cornwall first thing in the morning and then finally fell asleep, exhausted at 10pm.
Gerry slept badly, waking up frequently and turning over the events of the previous days in her mind. She was woken again by the dawn chorus, fairly loud in this semi-rural suburb. She found some earplugs that she had taken off her last British Airways flight, stuffed them in her ears, and then the next thing she heard was her telephone rousing her from a deep sleep at 9.05am.
‘Hullo,’ she mumbled after pulling out her earplugs.
‘Tate, this is Cornwall. We want you in the office now. Where the hell are you?’
‘I’m in the Raleigh hotel in Richmond.’
‘Well get in as soon as you can then.’ He ended the call. A moment later the phone rang again.
‘Yes?’
‘Stay where you are. Vince Parker will come and pick you up, and don’t even think about doing a runner!’
‘Why should I think…?’ she began to reply but already he had broken off the call. Puzzled and anxious, Gerry resumed getting ready. She had of course anticipated being called in to describe what had happened in her flat but this abrupt summons was disconcerting. Why would they think she might run away? Where to?
Thirty minute later she was peering out through the hotel’s revolving glass door as Vincent Parker drove up in a Porsche. She trotted down the steps opened the passenger door and climbed in.
‘Nice car. Didn’t know we had Porsches in the car pool,’ she remarked.
‘Er, it’s my own actually,’ he replied.
‘Well would you believe it? Are the men in the service secretly on much higher pay scales than women?’ Gerry asked.
‘Sorry; parents died; left me a fair amount; are you sitting comfortably?’ Without waiting for a reply he pulled out and set off towards the office.
‘I’ve been directed not to talk to you about the incident,’ he said, ‘but I think you should get your thoughts in order.’
‘Well thanks for the gratuitous advice!’ she said. They drove in silence for a couple of minutes and then Gerry said ‘Sorry, that was out of order.’
‘That’s ok. Crap thing to happen to anyone.’
Gerry found that for the first time since she had joined the service she had forgotten to bring her ID card. Vince waited while she reported to the security desk and picked up a temporary ID and then he told her they had to report to the blue conference room.
‘We’ll take the lift; it’s on the fourth floor,’ he declared walking to the main elevator bank.
‘I know. I do work here actually,’ Gerry replied acerbically. She marched to the lift and then had to give way to him because her temporary ID would not let her operate the call button.
‘Are you ready to enter the lions’ den?’ he asked as he knocked on the blue door. There was a clunk as the lock released.
Inside she found Richard Cornwall and his boss, Operations Director Donald Jarvis sitting at a small conference. In the corner of the room she saw Sir Hugh Fielding staring up at her. ‘The court of inquiry has assembled,’ she thought to herself.
‘Sit down please, Tate.’ Jarvis ordered.
The door closed and she was alone amongst them.
‘Now just tell us what happened, starting from when you left the office last week.’
They listened to her without interruption as Gerry described her journey to her mother’s home. She described meeting Jasper White on the drive back to London. She reported her meeting with Dean Furness at the café. She told them that she had left the office yesterday and then been with White until arriving back at her flat to find the police had taken it over. She finished her story at the point she had received Cornwall’s telephone call at 9am that morning. The three men exchanged glances and then Richard Cornwall spoke.
‘We have subsequently heard from the Americans. They say that one of their people Neil Samms warned you that Mr Furness, a renegade American agent was responsible for Philip Barrett’s death. Samms suggests that you shot Furness but he calls into question any plea that it was in self-defence.’
‘What plea?’ Gerry broke in angrily. ‘Why should I have to plead anything? Especially in front of this bloody kangaroo court!’