Lovers and Liars (63 page)

He switched on the television in the corner of the hotel room. It was the late-night bulletin; there were a few minor items of news, then the final headline recap. An IRA bomb had deto—

1,nated in Piccadilly Circus, killing two; EEC ministers had been ,meeting in Brussels; the Labour Party was calling for a reduction ”In interest rates; there were allegations that Arab-financed hit

squads were operating in London. The weather forecast began; Pascal switched the set off.

‘London’s turning into the terrorist capital of the world,’ he said. ‘You want some more coffee, GiniT She shook her head. Pascal poured himself another cup. Under a false name, they had taken a room at the Randolph Hotel. It was anonymous, comfortable, quiet. Pascal sat down in the armchair opposite her, and stretched out his long legs. He drank his black coffee in one gulp, and lit a cigarette.

Gini said, ‘Pascal, do you ever let up? Don’t you ever feel you’d like a restT

‘On a story?’ He seemed surprised. ‘Certainly not. We have too many things still to do. We must talk to that Suzy woman from the escort agency. We must talk to McMullen’s friend Prior-Kent. Besides,’ he smiled, ‘I’m like Hawthorne perhaps. You remember what that New York Times journalist said to you? Three hours’ sleep a night. I can manage on that too, for a while. On certain occasions, nothing to do with work as such, I can make do without sleep altogether - for nights at a time .

‘I’ve noticed that. Just recently .

‘Darling, come over here. Sit beside me.’ He held his hand out to her.

Gini smiled. ‘You’re sure? It might not be such a good idea . ‘No. You’re right. You’re right.’ He dropped his hand. ‘We should think first. Work first, I know that. It’s just - sometimes I can’t wait for this story to be over. When it is, finally … ‘ He hesitated. ‘Gini, would you come away with me then? Come somewhere with me where we could be alone together, somewhere quiet, somewhere where we can forget all these thingsT

‘You know I will. And do you know where I’d like to goT ‘Name it and we’re there. India? South America? A Caribbean island? The middle of some wonderful desert? That would be good. We could just pitch our tent in the middle of the sand-dunes and stay there all day and all night. We’d have camels, obviously. Oh, and a well near by. Maybe a few palm trees. And at night, we’d come out of our tent, and look up, and there would be millions upon millions of stars. You see the best stars above the desert.’

‘No. None of those places. Despite the stars. I want you to take me where you always promised to take me. To Provence, to your Provence.’

They looked at each other, and Pascal’s face became gentle. ‘Then that,’ he said, ‘is exactly what we’ll do. I’ll show you my

house, and the farm near by, and the little church. We’ll . k red wine in the caf6s, and then we’ll dance all night in the uare . - - ‘

‘In winter?’

4-Winter, summer, spring, autumn. I don’t care.

!He held out his hand to her once more. Gini hesitated, then

.Ten minutes

‘Fifteen/ he replied. ‘I just want to hold you. Fifteen, I swear.’

hour later, Pascal rose. He poured himself more coffee, and k it across to the window. He drew the curtain aside.

hope this fog lifts/ he said. ‘We need to get back to London thing in the morning.’

‘We will. Meanwhile, work. Where were we? I seem to have track there … ‘

Pascal smiled. He crossed the room, and sat down at some stance from her. He lit a cigarette.

‘McMullen’s house/ he said. ‘That’s where we’d got to. The g-room. What did you find thereT

Gini told him. Pascal listened intently.

Tid you have time to check the newspapersT

‘Yes. They date back to July last year. That chimes with what said. He’s been collecting them, and noting the reports on thorne since Lise first told him her story. Which makes me

onder, among other things, when and why he moved into that se.’

‘He’s watching Hawthorne, obviously,’ Pascal said thoughtfully. metimes here, sometimes in London. He claims he was in “Venice. I wonder where else he wentT

vt ‘Wherever it was, I think Anthony Knowles must have known. Maybe he helped him disappear.’

‘The rucksack … was it laced closedT Unfortunately, yes.’

‘You wouldn’t have had time to look at it anyway. And McMullen -was listening, all the time we were in the kitchen.’

‘Was there anything significant thereT

‘Only two things. There was a stick of camouflage cream by the -sink - he would have put that on his face and hands when he was up there in the woods tonight. But it was half used, which suggests that night-time surveillance of Hawthorne’s property is something he’s done before.’ He paused. ‘Then there were some

shelves by the back door. Canned foods, some plates and cups. Plus a small container of gun-oil.’

‘Gun-oil?’ ‘It’s used to lubricate the barrels of guns after cleaning thern.’ ‘You think he had guns - a gun - thereT

‘Yes. I do.’ Pascal was frowning. ‘Think, Gini. We haven’t paid enough attention to something very obvious here. One of those friends I talked to, you remember? He mentioned joining a shooting party with McMullen last August. And what was one of the things Dr Knowles mentioned to you on the telephone, when he was detailing McMullen’s intellectual and sporting prowess? Cricket, rowing - what else?’

‘Shooting! Rifle shooting. Of course. He did mention that. Competition shooting. McMullen was outstanding, both at school and at Oxford. His shooting ability earned him a blue.’

‘Meaning?’ ‘It means he was good enough to represent the University at the sport. Pascal-!

‘I know. I know. Let’s take this slowly.’ Pascal rose, and began to pace as he spoke.

‘First, this man is an ex-commando. Then there’s the details of that army career, which still don’t add up. You remember what he said about the Falklands?’

‘Yes. He was there, but not with the Parachute Regiment. I didn’t understand that.f

‘I’m beginning to wonder if McMullen moved across, from the Paras, to something much more secretive. The SAS, for instance. You join the SAS by invitation only, they often recruit from the Paras, and a man of outstanding weapons ability would interest them.’

‘If he was SAS, we won’t be able to check. Nothing. A blank wall … ‘

‘Not necessarily. If he was part of an SAS team in the Falklands

- you heard. I worked out there. I covered that war. And I still have contacts from it, too. I could try … Anyway.’ He frowned. ‘Let’s go back to where we were. McMullen is an ex-commando

- that much is certain. He has been, and presumably still is, an outstanding shot. The presence of gun-oil in his kitchen, suggests he keeps a gun. Now that I should be able to check. Whatever kind of weapons he has - shotguns, rifles, handguns, they have to be licensed. Tomorrow, I’ll check that. Meanwhile/ he turned back to look at Gini, his face now intent, ‘if he does -have a

n there - in a place which is quite obviously a stake-out at does that suggest, GiniT

Gini hesitated. ‘It suggests there’s another way of interpreting s story/ she said carefully. ‘It suggests McMullen could be the nter, and the ambassador the hunted, the quarry.’

‘Lef s turn this story inside out, look at it from a new point of w/ Pascal said. ‘McMullen is a man with a grievance against wthorne that goes back twentyfive years, to Vietnam. McMullen es the woman who becomes Hawthorne’s wife. Let’s say the rriage is an unhappy one - maybe there even are some infidelities Hawthorne’s side. So, together, Lise and McMullen plan a smear mpaign. They invent the story about the blondes, because they o a newspaper will respond. They set up some circumstantial *dence to make it look as if that story could be true - they send t those four parcels, for instance, maybe even call that agency you nt to. They remain in touch, even after McMullen has staged his appearance, and Lise continues to give McMullen information. at she does not realize, meanwhile, is that McMullen’s intentions much further than a smear campaign. He does not intend merely blacken Hawthorne’s reputation - he intends to destroy the man. u remember what he said in the car tonight, Gini? How Lise ould never contemplate divorce, how the only way she could r be free to marry him would be if Hawthorne died?’

‘McMullen plans to kill him, you mean? Some kind of half-assed sassination attempt?’ Gini shook her head. ‘I canft believe that, Pascal. Apart from anything else, you’ve seen Hawthorne’s security. He %vouldn’t stand a chance.’

‘Are you sure? No security is ever one hundred per cent. cMullen is a marksman, he’s army trained. Northern Ireland, the Falklands? Gini, it’s very likely he’s killed in the past. Could he not kill again? Both British and American security obviously consider him a risk - why? Because he’s threatening Hawthorne’s past reputation, or because he’s actually a threat to Hawthorne’s life? Think, Gini. Why, of all places, if he’s in hiding, would

4e choose a place that close to Hawthorne’s country home? ‘Why all those newspapers? He could be building up a pattern of Hawthorne’s movements.’ Pascal gave a quick excited gesture. ‘Maybe he thinks Hawthorne’s security here is less good , than in London. It’s much more difficult to protect the amassador in a house surrounded by open fields and woods. When he’s in the country, Hawthorne attends mass every Sunday morning, the same small church. He throws open his splendid

gardens to the public, and McMullen keeps a clipping on just that event.’

‘You’re over-reacting, Pascal.’

‘No. I’m just putting forward a hypothesis - and it’s one that makes more sense than I realized, that’s all.’

‘All right. It’s a scenario. But it leaves too much unexplained, you know that. Are you suggesting McMullen killed Johnny Appleyard and Stevey? What about that button you foundT

‘Lise gave it to him. McMullen planted it.’

‘All right - I don’t buy it, but still. Did he also kill Lorna MunroT

‘It’s not impossible. Unlikely, I agree.’

‘Who sent the other parcels, after the first fourT

‘McMullen sent all of them. When you mentioned them tonight, he was just acting surprised.’ Pascal broke off. ‘It’s all right, Gini I don’t believe it either. It’s worth remembering how you can read all these events more than one way, it helps to stop us jumping to conclusions. But no, I don’t believe McMullen was behind all those events. Besides … when he explained his motives, I believed him. I liked the man.’

Gini looked away. ‘I almost liked him then - I certainly believed him. But I didn’t like him earlier, at the cottage, when I confronted him on the question of Vietnam. He was so angry, so bitter and unrealistic. But everything I said was true. Those photographs he produced, they’re no evidence at all … ‘

‘You didn’t look at them,’ Pascal said.

‘No. I could see he wanted to exclude me. I thought it was better to stay out of it, and let him talk to you. I don’t really want to look at them, even now.’ She paused, and turned to him. ‘Were they conclusive evidence, PascalT

‘On their own - no,’ Pascal replied. ‘But they explained the anger and the bitterness he showed. If you genuinely believed a crime of that magnitude had been committed, and no-one would listen to you, no-one would investigate it, if you got closed off by officialdom and corruption and laziness, wouldn’t you be angry and bitter? I think you would.’

He had spoken quietly, but Gini could hear the gentle reproof in his voice. She looked away, then sighed.

‘Very well. That’s fair. You’re right. But it was a strange story, Pascal, you have to admit that. What possible connection could there be between McMullen and that event? A young man at Oxford and a village in Vietnam? Even when you asked him

Oirectly what that connection was, how he came to know of the man concerned, he wouldn’t answer you.’

‘it wasn’t “know of. He knew her. Did you see his face, GiniT ‘No. not all the time. He turned away.’

‘Well, I did/ he said quietly. ‘Gini, I’m hardened to that kind thing, but it was a terrible picture. That young woman - it was meone McMullen had known, and loved. I knew it the instant looked at him. Even before, when he started talking, when he

t those pictures down on the table like playing cards. He was g to distance himself.’ Pascal broke off. He crossed the room, It beside her and took her hand in his.

‘Gini, listen. For the moment, whether what he told us is true false, makes no difference. The point is, it’s what McMullen self believes. Passionately. Just as he now believes passionately

e story of Lise’s sufferings at Hawthorne’s hands. There are werful emotions at work here, deeply powerful emotions. Love anger; hatred and jealousy.’

‘A desire for revengeT

There was a brief silence; Pascal met her gaze, then sighed and rose to his feet. ‘That too. Yes. I’m afraid so.’

V He began to pace the room again. Gini sat in silence trying force herself to be just. This was not easy, for she was no nger impartial, she knew that. Her impulse now was to disedit all that McMullen said; if she could prove to herself that

McMullen was lying about Hawthorne’s actions now, then the ossibility that he had also been lying about Hawthorne’s earlier tions strengthened. And she wanted to believe that he was

+ ing, or at best mistaken, about those events in Vietnam: oh yi

yes - she passionately wanted that.

, After some time had passed, she looked up at Pascal. She knew ‘he was waiting for her to speak.

‘It’s all right, Pascal.’ she said. ‘I believed McMullen too, for much of the time. This can’t all be fabrication. Too much has happened - and McMullen can’t possibly have been responsible ‘for it all, I do know that. There has to be some truth in his allegations. This whole past week - Hawthorne has to be behind it. Unless his father is. Or that Romero man is working , independently. McMullen wouldn’t have made the telephone calls to me. He wouldn’t have - couldn’t have - broken into my apartment and carefully arranged all those things I kept from Beirut. He doesn’t even know about Beirut - how could he? McMullen wouldn’t do any of those things.’ She paused. ‘Put it this way,