Jenny regained consciousness some thirty minutes later, giving a big yawn which made the airport nurse smile and Steven feel like a million dollars. ‘Daddy what are you doing here?’ she asked followed by a sleepy, ‘Where am I?’
‘You’ve been having rather a long snooze, nutkin,’ said Steven. ‘and you’re in Edinburgh Airport although we’re not going anywhere. What do you remember, pussy cat?’
‘A man… there was a bad man… he came to the house and hurt Uncle Richard… we were frightened… and… and then… nothing. I can’t remember anything, Daddy.’
‘He tried to steal you away, nutkin but we wouldn’t let him. He’s gone now and he’s never coming back,’ said Steven giving her a big hug.
Steven was overjoyed that Khan appeared to have kept Jenny sedated the whole time. Working alone, he must have seen that as the easy option. From Jenny’s point of view, there was no terror for her to remember except of course, the trauma of the break-in at the house in Glenvane. But even there, she’d been sedated through the doctoring of the warm milk. She wouldn’t even remember being taken from the house. This was better than he could ever have hoped for. With any luck, the scars should be minimal.
‘Gosh, I’m thirsty,’ said Jenny.
‘And hungry too, I bet,’ said the nurse. ‘And I think we can fix both.’
THIRTY TWO
Steven took a call from Macmillan. Arrangements had been made for an unmarked vehicle to pick up Khan’s body and take it to the city mortuary for the night. It would then be taken to East Fortune Aerodrome, a small airfield outside Edinburgh in East Lothian, used mainly for recreational flying but occasionally by the military for flights they would rather remain unobserved, where it would be picked up for return to London and disposal as befitting an enemy of the state.
‘Are we going home in Tarty, Daddy?’ asked Jenny hopefully. The name had been given to Steven’s Porsche Boxster after a comment Sue had made when she’d first laid eyes on it — ‘A bit tarty isn’t it?’ The children had overheard and the name had stuck.
‘No, she’s back in London, nutkin. I flew up this morning. I’ve hired a car from the airport people for us to go home in.’
‘Pity, I like Tarty.’
‘Me too,’ said Steven, thinking it was so good to see his daughter behaving as if nothing had ever happened. ‘I’ll bring her up soon and we’ll zip around in her. Promise.’
With all three children upstairs in bed, Sue, Richard, Tally and Steven sat in front of the fire quietly acknowledging the departure of almost unbearable anxiety from their lives. It had been such an emotional time for all of them that adrenaline was now in very short supply and no one felt inclined to do anything other than sit and enjoy the warmth — both physical and mental, not to mention the malt whisky that Richard had opened.
‘I’m so glad Tally thought to come up and join us, Steven,’ said Sue. ‘She put us right about a few things.’
Richard nodded his agreement but Steven looked at her questioningly.
‘I think it fair to say that Richard and I were pretty angry with you and your job and the fact that it had brought us so much gut-wrenching worry — a classic case of needing something or someone to blame in times of crisis but Tally pointed out something that made us think again. You do a very special job and you’re good at it. We have no right to remain detached from that and you have the right to expect support from the people around you not whingeing and blame. As some politician said recently, “we’re all in this together” only, in our case, it’s true.’
‘Thank you,’ murmured Steven. ‘Believe me, I was only too aware of what you must be thinking… Thank you so much.’ He gave Tally a special look of affection before closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of the chair. The hell of the past twenty four hours was finally over.
Steven and Tally left early next morning, driving to Glasgow Airport where Steven returned the car to the hire company before arranging flights as soon as possible for himself to London and for Tally to East Midlands Airport. He’d hoped that she might return with him to London but it was not to be: she had to get back on duty at the hospital where her colleagues had been covering for her.
‘Call you later,’ said Steven as his flight was called first.
Tally gave him a hug and said, ‘Whoever said, parting was such sweet sorrow was talking rubbish. It isn’t.’
Steven went to his flat in Marlborough Court to change before going in to the Home Office where he found John Macmillan discussing with Jean where they should have the final meeting with the computer experts who’d reported that they had deciphered as much as they could. Both turned as Steven entered Jean’s office and welcomed him back with sympathy and concern over what had happened
‘It must have been an absolute nightmare for all of you,’ said Jean. ‘How is Jenny?’
Steven assured her that she was fine and how she’d missed most of the trauma by being kept under sedation.’
‘A blessing,’ said Jean.
‘I was just discussing with Jean where we should have the meeting,’ said Macmillan.
‘I’ve just seen that seminar room twelve is free all afternoon,’ offered Jean.
‘Book it,’ said Macmillan. ‘And get hold of Scott Jamieson; he should be there. I’ve already asked Lukas Neubauer to come in now that we have the disk and Jean and I have lodged a formal request for the release of the memory card. Let’s try for three o’clock.’
‘Very well, Sir John, I’ll let everyone know.’
Macmillan ushered Steven through into his office where he sat him down and asked, ‘So, how are you? The last couple of days must have been pretty awful.’
‘A fair summation,’ agreed Steven, ‘but it’s over now. We were all very lucky and… yes thank you sir, I really am all right.’
Macmillan smiled ‘Good, because there’s something I have to ask you.’
Steven noted the change in demeanour that had come over Macmillan: he was no longer smiling. ‘What would that be?’
‘Khan’s death. Who killed him?’
Steven thought for a moment before saying, ‘What you’re really asking is did I kill him. Did I execute Ranjit Khan because he killed my friend? The answer is no, I did not and I have no further comment to make on the subject of his death.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Macmillan. The suggestion of a smile had returned.
Steven declined Macmillan’s offer of lunch, not for any reason other than the fact he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. He bought sandwiches and shared them with the ducks in the park as he wondered with more than a little trepidation what the rest of the day would bring. His determination to see justice done for his friend had led him deeper and deeper into an investigation that had put him at loggerheads with what felt like half the governments of the western world and put his own daughter’s life in mortal danger. The question he now had to wrestle with was… had it been worth it? Had it been an unswerving search for truth and justice or just a single-minded display of obstinacy on his part?
‘A toughie,’ Steven murmured as he threw the last of the crusts to the ducks and got up to go.
‘Change of plan,’ announced Macmillan when Steven returned to the Home Office, ‘the meeting is cancelled.’
Steven’s puzzlement showed. Jean Roberts was no help; she just diverted her eyes when he looked at her.
‘I had a private debriefing with our computer experts and I’ve been able to make sense of their findings. I’ve thanked them and informed them that their services are no longer required. I’ve also reminded them that they are subject to the Official Secrets Act and, in their own interests, I am removing them from our retained consultants list. I’ve also suggested that it might be wise to omit their association with Sci-Med from their CVs.’