‘You have a file on him?’
‘Are you serious?’ said Mowbray. ‘A multi-millionaire businessman with political ambitions? We’ve got a small novel.’
‘Well, you seem to have thought of everything,’ said Crowe.
‘How are things with you?’
‘I’ve been in touch with a few names on the group database and they’ve given me the information I need to make final plans. It’s looking good.’
‘Excellent.’
‘I don’t suppose you caught Newsnight?’ asked Crowe.
‘I was in a taxi,’ Mowbray reminded him. ‘Why?’
‘The government have given in to demands that old military vaccine stocks should be destroyed. The troops will be given all new stuff.’
‘Only right,’ smiled Mowbray.
NINE
Steven called Jane Sebring from home and asked if he could come and see her on the following day.
‘You’ve seen Martin Hendry?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he tell you anything?’
‘He couldn’t; he was dead.’
‘Oh my God. How? What happened?’
‘It looked like suicide,’ said Steven, thinking that this really wasn’t a lie. It did. The Scottish police, as far as he knew, had not yet stated that they were treating Hendry’s death as murder so he couldn’t openly suggest otherwise. He had an ulterior motive in that he had no wish to scare Jane Sebring into silence by telling her that another person had been murdered over something her husband had been involved in.’
‘So you are no further forward in finding out who killed George or why?’ said Jane.
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Then I don’t understand why you want to see me again,’ said Jane.
‘I just thought if we talked for a while you might remember something that you hadn’t thought of as being important before,’ said Steven.
‘You’re driving up from London?’
‘Yes.’
‘Come for lunch.’
Steven thanked her and agreed to be there by one o’clock. As he put down the phone, he found that he was very much looking forward to seeing Jane Sebring again.
The woman whom Steven remembered dressed in black and behaving with such poise and dignity at her husband’s funeral opened the door wearing jeans, sandals and a halter neck blouse. Her long fair hair was hanging loose and she pushed it away from her face as she said, ‘The bloody cat’s just been sick on the floor. Come on in; I’ll be with you in a moment. Help yourself to a drink.’
Steven was left alone in the room they had all been in after Sebring’s funeral. It seemed much bigger now that it was empty of mourners and smelt of leather and furniture polish rather than the heady mix of perfume and flowers. There was a tray sitting on a walnut dresser with a number of drinks bottles on it so he poured himself a gin and tonic. He considered shouting through to ask if his hostess would like something but, as he couldn’t hear any nearby sounds, he decided that she was probably out of earshot. He sipped his drink and looked out at the garden where he had walked and talked with Sebring’s mother.
‘Sorry about that,’ said Jane as she returned. ‘It’s dry food for Moggie from now on. He can turn up his nose all he wants to but that’s what he’s getting. Nice to see you again.’
‘You too,’ said Steven, shaking hands with her.
‘I thought we might eat outside,’ said Jane. ‘It would be a shame to waste a day like this. What d’you think?’
‘Sounds good,’ said Steven.
‘You can either wait here or give me a hand in the kitchen. What would you prefer?’
‘I’ll help but I warn you, I know nothing about cooking,’ said Steven. He followed Jane through the house to a bright, modern kitchen with open patio doors leading out into the back garden.
‘We’re having lasagne and salad,’ said Jane. ‘You can do the dressing.’
‘I wouldn’t know where to begin,’ said Steven.
‘You’ll find a small bowl in that cupboard above the sink,’ said Jane with a wave of her hand, clearly used to taking charge. ‘You’ll find balsamic vinegar and virgin olive oil among these bottles on the island.’
‘Now what?’ asked Steven after finding them.
‘Two tablespoons of each into the bowl and mix thoroughly. When you’re happy with it, drizzle it over the salad.’ She pushed a large bowl of salad towards him. ‘That’s all there is to it. Easy huh?’
‘Absolutely,’ agreed Steven, feeling absurdly pleased to have mastered a new skill.
‘If you take it outside, I’ll bring out the lasagne,’ said Jane, putting on oven gloves and bending down to open the over door of the Aga.
‘Yes ma’am,’ said Steven, taking the bowl outside and putting it down in the middle of the round wooden table sitting on the patio.
‘We’ll need knives and forks,’ Jane called to him from inside. ‘Third drawer from the end on your left as you come in.’ She made another vague gesture with her arm. Steven collected the cutlery and returned to set the table.’
‘Well done,’ said Jane with a smile as she arrived carrying the lasagne.
‘Why, thank you,’ said Steven slightly tongue in cheek.
‘Oh dear, you think I’m bossy, don’t you?’ said Jane.
‘Yes,’ replied Steven matter of factly.
‘Sorry,’ said Jane with a grin.
‘I’m not complaining,’ smiled Steven back.
‘I’m a teacher,’ said Jane. ‘I tend to treat everyone like class 4b.’
‘What do you teach?’
‘English. This salad dressing is perfect by the way,’ said Jane, picking up a piece of lettuce with her fingers and popping it in her mouth. ‘You’re a natural.’
Steven laughed out loud and pointed out that he had only mixed a plus b as directed.
‘That’s probably enough to get your own TV show these days,’ said Jane. ‘How come you never learned to cook?’
‘Old fashioned family,’ said Steven. ‘Mum did all the cooking. I tried when I was at university but it always turned out a complete disaster so I tended to live on bacon and egg and beans and toast then I joined the army — so once again someone else did the cooking.’
‘You were an army doctor?’
‘Sort of.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Field medicine.’
‘Ah,’ said Jane. ‘You were an operational medic and you’ve no intention of telling me any more about your daring exploits. Right?’
‘You could say.’
‘Why is it the men I meet always have secrets to keep?’ asked Jane.
‘Maybe all men have secrets,’ said Steven.
‘You know what I mean,’ said Jane. ‘Real secrets, government secrets, military secrets.’
‘I can see it must have been difficult having a husband with a secret past,’ said Steven.
‘I don’t know that difficult is the right word,’ said Jane. ‘But it was certainly something that was always there between us. I’d see his mood change and not know why but it was because he was thinking about something that I couldn’t ask about, or if I did, something he couldn’t tell me.’
‘Maybe he should have,’ said Steven.
‘You clearly didn’t know George,’ said Jane.
‘No I didn’t,’ said Steven. ‘Tell me about him.’
‘George was an everything-by-the-book sort of a man. Rules and regulations were the cornerstones of his life,’ said Jane. ‘A more honest, dependable, loyal, dutiful employee never walked this earth. If George’s superiors said something was secret then George would carry that secret with him to the grave.’ Jane winced at her own mention of the word grave as if she’d suddenly realised that that was exactly where George was.