The Hornbeam Tree (32 page)

Well, there was nothing else for it, she’d just have to steal the money. She could take it out of her mum’s handbag, which was probably in its usual place, hanging on the back of a chair in the kitchen. The thought of that slowed her up a bit, making her feel slightly dizzy and sick. Her mum would go like, totally ballistic if she ever found out, but she wouldn’t find out if Molly took the whole purse, would she? She’d think she’d dropped it
somewhere
, which she might have, because those sorts of things happened all the time.

Disconnecting from the Web, she picked up her coat and bag and tiptoed out on to the landing. The place was dead quiet, except for her heart which was banging about like a drum. Her mum didn’t snore, which was a shame, because then she’d know if she was asleep, and Michelle didn’t watch TV – like, was she for real? – so there was no noise downstairs either.

Hardly daring to breathe, she took the stairs one at a time, wincing and waiting after each creak of a floorboard, though there were hardly any, and none of them were like, really loud.

The handbag was in its usual place, which was perfect, because it wasn’t possible to see that chair from inside the sitting room. She skimmed quickly towards it, dipped a hand in, felt around, and finding the purse pulled it out. Her heart was beating so fast now it was like, right out of control. She didn’t really want to do this, but what choice did she have? If her mum would give her more money there wouldn’t be a problem, would there, so really her mum only had herself to blame. And she definitely wouldn’t want her to go out nicking stuff from shops and getting herself arrested, maybe even put in reform school, or prison, so this was definitely what she had to do, because it was the best thing for her mum too.

Opening the top flap of her school bag she slid the purse inside. She was feeling like, so peculiar now, as if she was floating or drowning or something. She tried to breathe and found her chest was like, closed down. She tried again. It worked,
but
she had to get out of here now. She was just taking a step towards the door when Michelle said,

‘Molly.’

She froze, then spun round. To her horror Michelle was standing right there, in the kitchen.

‘Put it back,’ Michelle said quietly.

Molly’s eyes flashed with outrage. ‘What?’ she demanded.

‘You know what I’m talking about, now put it back and we’ll pretend it never happened.’

‘You’re crazy, do you know that?’ Molly sneered. ‘You’re sick up here. I haven’t got anything, so I don’t …’

‘Molly, I saw you take it, now put it … Molly! Come back here,’ she shouted, as Molly flung open the door. ‘Molly!’

Molly was leaping the fence. She wasn’t listening to anything Michelle was saying. It was all blocked out. She was just running and running, into the lane, up past the duck pond, crashing into Judy as she came the other way, but on she went.

‘Molly, are you all right?’ Judy called after her.

Molly tore on. She wasn’t stopping for anyone, she was going to Chippenham, where she’d buy the bracelet, then she’d catch the bus back to Allison’s, or even over to Rank Rusty’s and show him she didn’t need his stupid help …

Judy was still looking bemused as she joined Michelle in the garden. ‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘She seemed in a mighty big hurry.’

Michelle sighed, and shook her head. ‘Let’s just say I’m starting to get an idea now of how deeply in denial she is,’ she said.

‘Oh dear. So Katie still hasn’t told her?’

Michelle shook her head.

‘Well, it’s not uncommon for relatives to try and block it out,’ Judy said, following her into the house. ‘It’s a form of self-protection, obviously, so if Molly tells herself forcefully enough that it’s not happening, then in her world it’s not.’

‘Which is clearly why she’s having such a hard time with me being here,’ Michelle said, filling the kettle. ‘Underneath it all she knows what it means, so if she can make me go away then everything will be all right again.’

‘Poor love,’ Judy said. ‘Breaks your heart, doesn’t it, to think of what she’s going through.’

Michelle nodded, and attempted a smile. ‘We’ll get there,’ she said softly.

Judy put a hand on her arm and squeezed it. ‘I came round to find out how Katie got on today,’ she said. ‘I guess she’s asleep, is she?’

‘She was, but there’s a good chance Molly and I managed to wake her up. If we did, she’s apparently decided to be very un-Katie and just let us get on with it.’ She didn’t add, ‘which doesn’t bode well for our miracle,’ for not intervening in that dreadful scene could be an indication that Katie might actually be starting to let go.

Chapter Fourteen

THE SMALL TOWN
of Pietrasanta, with its typical Italian piazzas and flatfronted houses was gleaming after a deluge of rain. Elliot was beside the apartment window working on his laptop while half-listening to Tom as he spoke to Michelle on the phone.

‘So first they set up the worst of the known terrorist groups to stage a devastating attack on the West,’ Tom was saying, ‘then, just in the nick of time, the plot gets exposed and paraded down Pennsylvania Avenue. Next thing we know the hawks have been re-elected, then with proof of this terrible plot’s origins, the invasion of Pakistan can begin, because America has to get control of those nuclear weapons before they fall into the wrong hands – which they’re apt to at any time.’

Michelle was quiet for a moment as she took it all in. ‘And if the British believe they were the intended victim of the plot,’ she finally added, ‘the Government won’t receive too much opposition to riding into the next war with their American chums.’

‘Exactly. All this is theory, of course, we have no proof, and actually there is a case for the end justifying the means, because the Pakistan situation has to be resolved. It’s the iniquitous exploitation of people’s fears for re-election purposes that I object to, because we’re going to end up with the British public believing they came very close to being nuked, when it was all a ruse to get the Republicans back in power, and their country into another war. It’s unconscionable, and if we’re right in our assumptions, the neo-conservatives, who are driving this, can’t be allowed to get away with it.’

‘Hang on,’ Michelle said, ‘Katie’s listening, she wants to say something.’

‘Do we have to have proof?’ Katie asked. ‘You’ve got the maps and the emails …’

‘But nothing to connect them,’ Tom reminded her. ‘As it stands, we’d have a hard job getting anyone to run it, because it’s all hypothetical, and the mainstream US press is pretty much Republican-owned, so no-one’s going to stick their necks out over something like this unless they’re certain their heads won’t end up rolling.’

‘You’d get it published here, in Britain.’

‘Maybe, but they too will probably want something a bit more substantial to go on, and as time’s still more or less on our side we can carry on trying to join at least some of the dots, so that when we come to present our case it looks credible, even if not totally irrefutable.’

Reaching for his own phone, Elliot felt a familiar twist of nerves go through him when he saw it was Laurie. ‘Hi, any luck?’ he said, already knowing what she was calling about.

‘Yep. Sir Christopher Malton’s agreed to see me for five minutes if I can get there before eleven. I’m on my way now, so it would help to speak to Tom.’

‘Of course, I’ll put him on.’

‘Before you do, have you spoken to Max this morning?’

‘Still too early for him. Why?’

‘Just that Nick flew down to Washington to join him last night.’

Immediately Elliot’s face darkened. ‘For a particular reason?’ he asked, understanding that she must have spoken to Nick to know where he was.

‘I think something came up in New York. He didn’t give me any details though.’

Elliot glanced across the table as Tom finished his call. ‘Laurie’s about to meet with Christopher Malton,’ he told him. ‘Talk her through the way you want her to play it.’

‘I’d say lay it all on the table,’ Tom responded. ‘We’re not the ones with anything to hide.’

As he took the phone, Elliot got up from his computer and went to refresh his coffee. Though he was half-listening to Tom, he was finding it hard to get past the mention of Nick, for even to think of Laurie on the phone to him, never mind everything else they were doing, was tearing him apart so badly it was as though he was losing control.

He was still standing in the kitchen, staring at his empty coffee cup, when Tom came in with the phone. ‘She wants to talk to you again,’ he said, passing it over.

Taking it, Elliot put it to his ear.

‘Are you there?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

‘When are you coming back?’

‘Friday. Possibly Saturday.’

‘I’m taking a camera to Katie’s on Friday. It’s just to give her a feel for it, a kind of rehearsal to help her make up her mind, but I can meet you at the flat late Saturday afternoon, if you like.’

He turned to look out of the window, where the mountains that rose up behind the terrace were misted by rain.

‘We need to talk,’ she reminded him.

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you at the flat.’ He was about to ring off when something compelled him to add, ‘What about Nick? When’s he back?’

‘I don’t know. I think at the weekend.’

‘Will you be staying with him?’

She paused. ‘That wasn’t my intention.’

Already wishing he hadn’t asked, he said, ‘Call me when you’ve spoken to Malton,’ and abruptly ended the call.

As he returned to his computer the phone rang again, and seeing the name of his SIS contact and close friend, Chris Gallagher, he gladly clicked onto the diversion.

‘OK, this is what I’ve got so far,’ Chris told him. ‘They know you’re working with Tom Chambers, which won’t come as a surprise, but they don’t seem to know you’re with him now, which means we spirited you out of the UK without hitting their radar. You might have some hassle getting back in if you come the conventional route, they’ll want to know where you’ve been, they might even detain you, so if you can make it to Le Touquet I’ll pick you up in the Rockwell, just let me know when.’

‘l owe you for this,’ Elliot told him.

‘I’m glad to be of help. Now listen, there’s more. I spoke to Laurie earlier and she’s definitely on the right track with Christopher Malton. He’s in regular contact with Daniel Allbringer, over in the States, and with Michael Dalby, here in the UK. Dalby’s recently been in Washington, so that puts him in the right place when this new committee convened. One of the guys on the ground here in London tells me that orders are coming direct from Dalby himself, but there haven’t been many, just to haul Tom in if they find him, and hand him straight over to the Yanks. Ask Tom if he’s familiar with the name Deborah Gough?’

‘Deborah Gough,’ Elliot said to Tom.

Tom’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘What about her?’

Elliot relayed Tom’s question.

‘I think she’s part of this committee,’ Chris responded. ‘I’ll give you more when I get it. Now for the big one. I can’t mention any names, but the advice I’m receiving for Tom is to get rid of whatever Josh Shine gave him – burn, erase, nuke, whatever needs to be done, just don’t get caught with it in his possession.’

Elliot looked at Tom. ‘Why?’ he asked.

‘If you’ve seen it, you’ll probably be able to answer that better than I can, but I trust the guy I spoke to, so I’m going to add my voice to the advice, get rid of it and move on.’

Elliot said nothing. He didn’t have to, Chris would already know how unlikely it was he and Tom would heed the advice.

‘You’re still supposed to be on sabbatical,’ Chris
reminded
him. ‘If you break that agreement, they’ll go after you in ways that’ll make you wish you’d never heard of Tom Chambers, which brings us neatly to your contact with our own illustrious round table of spooks – and one in particular.’

Elliot inwardly groaned. ‘What about him?’ he said.

‘Have you spoken to him?’

‘No.’

‘Then you should probably prepare for a visit. It would make sense, considering his superiors know you’re in touch with Tom, and once Laurie starts collaring some very important people with some extremely awkward questions, they’re going to presume you’re behind it.’

‘Laurie’s her own person.’

‘Of course, but just keep in mind that there are often more effective ways of reaching a person than dialling direct. And on that note, I’ll leave you.’

With the ominous meaning ringing in his ears, Elliot disconnected and turned to Tom who was still staring at him, listening to his end of the call.

‘Who
was
that?’ Tom asked.

‘His name’s Chris Gallagher,’ Elliot answered. ‘He’s a pilot, an art dealer and ex-SIS. He’s also a good friend, and someone I trust implicitly.’ He didn’t add that in his capacity as art dealer, Chris Gallagher had brought Andraya Sorrantos into his life. This had no relevance to what they were discussing, nor was Chris in any way to blame for the course Elliot had embarked upon as a result of the introduction. All that mattered here was that Chris had access to people and information that was going to prove vital if they continued with this
investigation
. ‘Tell me more about Deborah Gough,’ he said, as Tom came to sit at the table.

Tom arched his eyebrows, and rested his chin on one hand. ‘The last I knew, she was CIA,’ he answered. ‘Probably still is, if she’s involved in this. I’ve never met the woman, but I’m told she’s pretty impressive. Fearless is the word I remember being used. And extreme. She used to head up Counter Intelligence at Langley, but that was a few years ago. She could have made it to executive director by now, or even higher. We can probably find out easily enough.’ He was searching for the fax Katie and Michelle had sent a few days ago, that contained the names of those who’d drawn up the initial recommendation for the P2OG. ‘She’s not here,’ he said, as he looked through, ‘but she could have been a member of the commissioning panel, which is classified I see.’ He read on for a while, then started to chuckle as he registered some of Katie’s comments. ‘We should get her to write this,’ he said, ‘she’s good.’