LONDON ALERT (14 page)

Holt opened the bottle
of champagne none too expertly and just about managed to pour it into the glasses
before it spewed all over the place.

‘I can,’ said Consuela,
‘see I shall have to give you some lessons. How are you with cocktails?’

‘Not too good either,
I’m afraid. To be honest, I do not get much practice. In fact, have hardly ever
made one – at least, not a proper one.’

‘One of these days,
let’s have a cocktail session. Sometimes getting the cocktails right can make
all the difference to a party or reception, even with close friends. By
selecting the right combination of cocktails, one can draw people out. Even the
shyest.’

‘Cocktails are, I suppose,
more of an American thing. You say cocktails are good for drawing even shy
people out, but isn’t that what you’re doing here with me with the champagne? A
somewhat unusual role for a trophy wife. I mean, with you having such a great
life with your
H
over there.’

‘I am only doing this
as a one-off for some excitement – horrible word. I was getting bored, despite
all the receptions, jetting off in one of H’s private jets to exotic places,
and dinners with movers and shakers. I wanted to do something independently,
even if it meant slumming it.’

‘I wouldn’t call this
slumming.’

‘I would.’

‘Really?’

‘I’m partly joking. I can,
and have, taken the rough with the smooth.’

Holt did not want to be
too inquisitive when he should be the one under examination. He therefore
purposely avoided following up on her remarks and said nothing. There was
always the possibility that all this honesty was to make him drop his guard.

‘You must,’ continued
Consuela without any prompting, ‘be wondering why the Owl took me on. You see, I
studied psychology at Harvard but never used it professionally, as I was soon
to marry an unbelievably rich man.’

‘I see,’ replied Holt,
not exactly sure of what he could see but feeling he had to say something
without being too nosy.

‘Anyway, my involvement
with the Owl was a tap-on-the-shoulder type of thing, where someone
H
knew asked whether I would care for an
adventure assessing candidates for some people I did not need to know about that
might greatly benefit the country, indeed the world.’

‘I’m surprised you’re
telling me all this,’ replied Holt, trying not to let his own guard down.

‘I have nothing to
hide. To tell the truth, I did not even receive much training for this, other
than how to defend myself in the event of unwanted attention – so watch out!’

‘I’ll try and be
careful,’ said Holt, thinking that he too had been given similar training,
though not to fend off someone with amorous intentions.

‘Anyway, I have been
told I am to have ten days to assess you and that I must take you to certain functions,
receptions, garden parties, and so on. I have a schedule. We’re going to be
pretty busy, so we won’t be spending all day here looking at each other, thank heaven.’

Holt did not like her
stressing how glad she was they would not be spending too much time alone
together but had to admit that she would have turned him off had she been too
forward. She had provided him with an opening, which he decided to follow up.

‘You might be taking a
bigger risk than you realize. What does
H
think about all this? Does he even know what you are doing?’

‘He’s cool about it. He
said he had taken a lot of risks in his time to get where he is now, and that
if I thought it was worthwhile and would get my desire to do something special for
my country and the world out of my system, it was okay with him. He had three
wives, not to mention numerous dalliances, before me, so is not too possessive.
I suppose at his age the jealous looks of the young studs we come across when
in public are satisfaction enough.’

‘I think I understand,’
said Holt, realizing that he could not safely pursue that line of questioning.

‘All I know,’ continued
Consuela, ‘is that the Owl is a very important or rich person or high official
in the CIA or something like that, and that he might even be present at one of
these events and talk with us without either of us realizing it.’

‘It’s going to be a bit
creepy wondering every time we meet someone whether it is him.’

 ‘Yes, it will be for
sure.’

‘Could the Owl be more
than one person?’

‘In a way, he already
is. I have had phone calls purporting to be from the Owl, with the voice sounding
different each time. Once it was a woman’s voice; once it was even a child’s
voice. I presume people in his organization speak in his name.’

In his undercover briefing,
Inspector Holmes had told Holt they would keep him at arm’s length until they
had confidence in him. In the present case, the arm – namely Consuela – did not
know the body to which it was connected. Also, the situation was quite the
opposite of what he and Sir Charles had envisaged in that he would be moving
around quite openly.

‘In addition to that,’
continued Consuela, ‘my role is to get to know you. I might as well tell you,
the Owl said nothing about you other than that you were male. He said that
would make it easier for me to judge for myself.’

‘Really?’

‘Within limits, we can proceed
gradually. No need to rush things. You will inevitably at some point open up
and reveal yourself, like a clam caught unawares. I am an excellent judge of
character, thanks in part to my background in psychology. After all, that is
why they decided to use me. Of course, my ability to socialise played a part.’

‘I hope you don’t find
anything bad.’

‘As Lieutenant Cable said
in the movie
South
Pacific
about the French planter who had moved to the Pacific
islands after murdering a nasty piece of work back in France, something bad, as
you call it, might make you “
a useful person to have around
”
. So do not hold back. Tell
me like it is. I don’t think they are looking for a saint.’

There was a pause with
neither of them saying anything. Again, it was broken by Consuela.

‘I should warn you that
I am the easy part. After your session with me, I am told you will undergo some
form of initiation test, in which I will play no part. On submitting my report,
I will return to the US and sever what little connection I ever had with the
Owl and his organization.’

‘Didn’t you have to
take an initiation test?’

‘There was no need, as I
never sought to become a full-fledged member. I was to merely be a one-off
consultant. I know nothing about the Owl or his organization, other than that its
purpose is, I believe, benign. I am telling you all this to avoid you wasting my
time pumping me for information I do not have.’

It could all be a trick
to make him reveal all. Of course, as a mature woman of apparently great
experience, she was not innocent in the way Celia made herself out to be. She
appeared very genuine – perhaps too genuine. Funnily enough, he was not quite
sure about Celia. Sometimes he felt it was all an act.

‘Watch
television, listen to some music, do some reading while I prepare the meal. Before
I start cooking, I have to report that you are installed in your quarters, that
all is going smoothly and, most importantly, confirm I should be able to put up
with you for the next ten days or so.’

How did she make
contact with the Owl? With the internet and disposable mobile phones, there
were so many ways it could be done without GCHQ knowing. Back at Giraffe, they
were probably still scrutinising the CCTV footage for Birmingham.

He had to admire
the Owl for the way he operated at a distance, using people who could not give
anything away or reveal his identity. Even the boy on the train and having him
wear the black tie was a smart move.

Who was the Owl?
The only thing he knew for certain was that he must be someone moving in high-society,
finance, governmental, or diplomatic circles. He could even be in the service.
Still, all that might be a pretence, with Consuela being duped as much as he.

While waiting
for Consuela to submit her report and prepare the meal, he opted for the
television but in a limbo could not concentrate on the news. The
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
programme
seemed all he could stomach. Besides, its US ambience might put him in the
right frame of mind for dealing with a woman who had, it seemed, been mostly brought
up there.

At dinner, he realized
she truly merited her title of Trophy Wife, and not only for her looks, which would
make any man turn his head, but also for her cooking. The meal was simple, with
a divine ratatouille and a joint of lamb.

‘Did you know,’ remarked
Consuela on presenting it, ‘that in France, when you invite guests to your home
and want to honour them, you serve lobster or langouste followed by a joint of roast
lamb?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘
H
and I visited some French friends in Paris,
and they served lamb cooked to perfection, which then for me was nothing
special. It was only afterwards that I learnt that they had been trying to do us
proud.’

‘Of course, the
way the French and I cook lamb – almost rare – is quite different from the way most
English people do it, overcooking it and compensating by serving it up with
mint sauce. Let’s have some of that wine. It should be a good one.’

It certainly was
– a Petrus costing goodness knows how much a bottle. Even Holt knew it was one
of the greats – Peter Ustinov’s favourite, according to an article he had read.

‘Is the Owl
paying for all this?’ he asked.

‘For the food,
yes. I, or rather
H
, paid for the wine,
as I was not sure the Owl would go quite that far. Not that he seems short of
funds. It is just that he might have thought it somewhat extravagant.’

‘What’s
H
like?’

‘He’s kind. And as
I said, much older – I’m only thirty-two.’

Consuela paused
as if reflecting on her own situation.

‘I suppose one
day he will die, leaving me with the wherewithal to continue, as the lawyers say,
in the style to which I am accustomed. I must seem a money digger, but that was
not the reason I married him.’

‘What was it
then?’

‘He rescued me
from an abusive relationship.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. You would
think that with my education, my study of psychology, I would not fall into
such a trap. Actually, it was the psychology that did me in – I thought a poor jerk
needed help. But once I helped him, he would not let go.’

‘Why didn’t you
cut him loose?’

‘I did. But he
kept on stalking me. Threatened to kill me, throw acid in my face, and the like.
You know the routine.’

‘Couldn’t you
move somewhere else? Go to the police?’

‘The police
could not protect me. Besides, he had friends in the mafia with informers in
the police, and he would find me wherever I was.’

‘Why didn’t you
try what that woman did in
Sleeping
with the Enemy
, where she faked her own death to stop her husband
looking for her?’

‘Because in the
movie the fiend found her in the end, and I can identify with the fear she felt
when she went into the bathroom in the villa where she was hiding and saw the
towels were perfectly arranged in threes in just the way he had always insisted,
and then on descending to the kitchen finding everything in the cupboards had
been lined up perfectly. By that, she knew he was in the house. The man was a
control freak, and a perfectionist to boot.’

‘I saw that film.
It was really scary.’

‘I was a bit
like Princess Diana or Jacqueline Kennedy in that I could only escape and be
free with the help of someone with real money, yachts, gated properties, not to
mention bodyguards.
H
helped me, without seeking
any special favours.’

‘What happened
to the fiend in the end? Is he still around? Could he find you – us – here?’

‘No. No. Not
long after
H
took me under his
wing, my nightmare ended, with my nemesis dying in a road accident. It seems he
was driving under the influence of alcohol and drugs. Came off at a bend on a
mountain road without even braking – there were no skid marks. His auto tumbled
down the hillside and caught fire.’

Had it really
been an accident? Holt thought it wise to avoid asking the obvious.

‘How did you feel
when you heard he was dead?’ he asked instead.

‘Relief. To be
honest, reborn. For even with the bodyguards and all that, I knew he would get
me in the end and was just biding his time, waiting for his chance. For
absolute security, I would have had to have been the president of the United
States, and even then…’

‘You didn’t feel
sorry for him?’

‘Funnily enough,
once I knew he could no longer harm me, there were flashbacks to the time when
we first met, when I believed in him. I was only a child then in a way.’

‘Why did you stay
with
H
and even marry him when
there was no longer any danger?’

‘Partly out of gratitude
for having protected me in my time of need, but more perhaps because I had gotten
so used to the good life with very few strings, and the freedom that money
provides. He’s so satisfied with what he is doing, he does not need to control
me. Quite the opposite of the other one. He lets me do almost whatever I want,
so long as we cooperate and keep up appearances. Then there is the simple fact that
with his intelligence and great sense of humour, he is wonderful to be with. Then
there are all the fascinating people he knows.’