The Hornbeam Tree (39 page)

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Authors: Susan Lewis

BOOK: The Hornbeam Tree
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‘I’m sorry we didn’t get much time this morning,’ Katie told her. ‘I guess I’m not going to be a terribly good subject after all.’

‘You’ll be excellent,’ Laurie assured her, ‘but if you’d prefer print …’

‘I’ll think it over.’ She grimaced. ‘I keep saying that, don’t I?’

By the time Katie came back from seeing Laurie off, Michelle and Tom were sitting at the table, holding hands, and discussing everything that was happening. Katie listened for a few minutes, still feeling vaguely dizzied by the fact that he was actually here, so heaven only knew how Michelle must be feeling. Eventually, resisting the temptation to join in, she said, ‘I was thinking about taking Molly to the cinema this afternoon. Or shopping. She obviously wants some new clothes. It’ll give you two some time to yourselves …’

‘Hey, no, we don’t want to push you out of your own home,’ Tom protested, ‘and we’ve got a lot to talk about here, the three of us …’

Laughing, Katie said, ‘You don’t need me, and frankly, I’ll be glad to get out for a while.’

‘Then can we all have dinner tonight?’ Tom asked. ‘My treat.’

‘Oh no,’ Katie responded.

‘Oh yes,’ he corrected. ‘Molly included. Then, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to whisk your sister off to a hotel somewhere.’

Michelle’s eyes were shining. ‘Does the sister get any say in this?’ she demanded.

‘No,’ he answered shortly.

‘Oh my God!’ Michelle suddenly gasped. ‘The village hall. I have to give a talk at six,’ she told Tom.

‘I can make your excuses,’ Katie offered. ‘Maybe I’ll treat them to one of my saucy little diatribes instead.’

‘But I can’t let them down,’ Michelle said. ‘That would be awful – if they really are looking forward to it. It just means I’ll have to spend the afternoon preparing it.’

Tom frowned. ‘I thought you’d have something like that sitting on a shelf,’ he commented.

‘I did, before my computer was taken.’

‘Of course. Well, I’ll tell you what, I’ll help you put it together, and I’ll even join in the talk, if you want me to,
then
I’ll take you all for dinner. Does that work for you?’ he said to Katie.

‘I suppose so,’ she replied, secretly delighted. ‘I’m not sure about Molly though. She leads her own life these days.’

‘Just you leave her to me,’ Tom said. ‘Hell, we could even invite Brad to join us.’

‘Brad?’ Michelle echoed.

‘Molly’s boyfriend,’ he explained.

Michelle turned to Katie.

Katie nodded and grinned. ‘He got it out of her, just like that,’ she said with a click of her fingers. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you with the computer and go and make her day by taking her into Bath. Or maybe,’ she said, narrowing her eyes at Tom, ‘you’ve already managed to do that,’ and leaving him chuckling after her, she walked off up the stairs.

Chapter Seventeen

JUST THANK GOD
, Elliot was thinking, as he listened to the voice leaving a message on the machine, that he hadn’t got to the phone in time, for the very last person he needed to talk to right now, or at any other time come to that, was Andraya Sorrantos.

‘… so I was thinking,’ Andraya was saying, in her dark, husky tones, ‘it wasn’t so much fun the way we said goodbye, so please call me. I am back in London now. Perhaps we could have dinner and talk a little, and later we can do the kind of things we like to do best.’ She paused, allowing him time to conjure the memory, and to his dismay he could feel an automatic response stirring. ‘Call me,
caro
,’ she said, and the click of the phone going down was followed by the sounds of the machine resetting.

Immediately he erased the message, hardly able to credit the good fortune that had allowed him, rather than Laurie, to walk into the flat at that moment. He didn’t even want to think about how that would have started things off for the evening,
nor
was he faring too well right now with the guilt of how he’d responded to Andraya’s thinly veiled offer of sex. However, it had nothing to do with reality, for nothing, just
nothing
, would ever persuade him to go near her again. Not that he held her responsible for his weakness, the blame for that lay completely at his door. She was simply a reminder of how much he loathed himself for giving into it, and how bitter the price was that he was having to pay.

Deciding to dismiss her from his mind, as though the call had never happened, he was on the point of going round the bar into the kitchen when he realized there was every chance she’d call again, and if Laurie was here … Snatching up the phone he quickly pressed in Andraya’s number.

‘Elliot, darling,’ she drawled in her rich, honeyed accent. ‘I knew you would call. We can’t resist each other, can we …’

‘Andraya,’ he cut in sharply. ‘I don’t want to see you, hear from you, or even speak to you …’

‘But darling, I am lying here with no clothes on, thinking of you and all the wonderful things you do to me …’

The image of her exquisitely voluptuous body sprang before his eyes, large and tanned, sumptuous and unbelievably sexy. ‘For Christ’s sake, aren’t you listening?’ he cried. ‘It’s over, Andraya.
Finito
…’

‘I don’t think that is true,’ she murmured. ‘You sound so passionate already …’

‘Jesus Christ,’ he seethed, and not knowing how the hell else he could convince her, he slammed the phone down. This time, he noted with some relief,
there
had been no physical response to her, if he discounted the thundering beat of his heart.

Vowing to disconnect the phone if she called again, he scooped up the bags of shopping he’d brought in with him, and walked round to the kitchen to start packing it away. Laurie had called an hour ago to say she was on her way back, which was when he’d abandoned his computer to go downstairs to the exclusive shops of Shad Thames to pick up an expensive bottle of Montrachet, two fillet steaks and a lavish bouquet of autumnal flowers. It wasn’t unusual for him to cook, he enjoyed it, though feeling as anxious as he did right now it was hard to imagine enjoying anything. He was too on edge, too liable to explode with the sheer frustration of not knowing how the hell to play this. Katie’s advice was uppermost in his mind, to make sure Laurie knew she was loved, then to give her the space she needed to come to her own decisions, but would he be able to do that when it could mean she’d end up choosing Nick? For one wild moment earlier he’d considered calling Katie to ask for her advice again, but she had enough to contend with, and for God’s sake, he was a grown man, he could work this out.

Or that was what he was telling himself as he went up to their mezzanine bedroom, not actually knowing if he would sleep there later, though she’d said, when she called, that she would be spending the night here. Whether that meant in the same bed as him, or one of them using the guest room, he’d doubtless find out when the time came, though right now he wasn’t even sure himself which he’d
prefer
. All he knew was that he had no right to set any terms, that he couldn’t even afford the luxury of losing his temper or threatening Nick, which was a big temptation. He simply had to do or say what he could to convince Laurie that it wasn’t too late for them, that they could get through this, though for someone who found it so very difficult to express his feelings it was going to be hard.

After taking a quick shower and shaving, he returned to his study to carry on with some work, and was just opening the files that Katie and Michelle had attached to an email when someone pressed the buzzer downstairs. Surprised, he checked the time at the corner of his screen. It was still too soon for Laurie, and she’d surely use her own key. Then turning cold as he thought of Andraya, he quickly got up, and prayed to God he wasn’t about to find out he was right.

‘Elliot,’ a male voice at the other end said, ‘can I have a word?’

Though relieved it wasn’t Andraya, he was no happier with who it actually was, for Jolyon Kember of the Special Intelligence Service was never someone he was eager to see. However, he should have been expecting the visit, and knowing there was no way to avoid it, he swore under his breath and pushed the button to release the downstairs door. He’d just better be out of here by the time Laurie turned up, or he’d damned well throw him out and to hell with the consequences.

A few minutes later a well-built, smartly dressed man in his late thirties, with a cheery pudding face that almost, but not quite, allowed the shark eyes to be missed, was standing in the middle of the sitting
room
, taking a good look round. ‘Impressive place,’ he commented.

‘You’re not here to discuss interior design,’ Elliot responded coldly. ‘So shall we get to the point?’

‘Must have cost a fortune,’ Kember continued, unruffled.

‘And all paid for by Her Majesty’s Government in exchange for my silence over their supply of arms to despotic African regimes,
and
the rebel forces who are trying to overthrow them,’ Elliot retorted, feeling the need to spell it out. ‘Keep up conflict levels, treble defence spending, and send Phraxos share prices through the roof. And who in our government is on the board of Phraxos?’

Kember’s expression was bland. ‘You did the right thing taking the money and keeping what you knew to yourself,’ he told him, going to take a closer look at a photograph of Laurie. ‘I don’t imagine you’re considering going back on your word,’ he commented, almost to himself. ‘No, that would be foolish, and that’s not a category you fall into, so I’m going to reassure those who have concerns that you remain an honourable man, who stands by his agreements – one of which is to cease reporting for a year.’

Elliot would have liked nothing better than to thump him, for Kember knew very well how troubled he was by his decision to hold back on the Phraxos findings. He had finally made up his mind about this after weeks of the very kind of intimidation he sensed Kember was leading up to now.

‘I would be correct to do that, I take it?’ Kember prompted, turning to look at him.

Since Kember obviously knew he was already breaking the agreement, Elliot didn’t bother to reply.

Kember continued to walk round the apartment. ‘You need to let go of this thing with Tom Chambers,’ he said, stopping to stare out at the view.

‘Let go of what, exactly?’ Elliot challenged.

‘There are things you don’t know, Elliot,’ Kember said, turning round, ‘so please take it from me, this isn’t something you want to become involved in.’

Elliot’s eyebrows went up. ‘That wasn’t an answer to my question,’ he pointed out.

‘I’m not here to answer questions. I’m here to try to stop you getting in this so deep that none of us will be able to get you out.’

Elliot feigned more surprise. ‘Just what exactly do you think I’m getting into?’ he asked, trying again to get Kember to spell it out.

‘The information Tom Chambers obtained from a CIA asset by the name of Joshua Shine is not what you think it is,’ Kember stated.

‘Considering what I think it is, that could come as a relief,’ Elliot responded.

Kember didn’t even flinch. ‘When were you last in touch with Chambers?’ he asked. ‘I’m not talking about recent days, I’m talking about regular contact?’

Trying to gauge where this might be going, Elliot said, ‘I’d have to check, but it’s been a while.’

Kember nodded. ‘The truth is, Elliot, you don’t know what’s been going on with him these last few years, do you? You don’t know who he’s been
mixing
with over there in Pakistan, what he’s been doing, how involved he’s become with causes that are not aligned with our own.’

Knowing exactly what this was leading up to now, Elliot said, ‘Then why don’t you enlighten me?’

Kember’s head went to one side. ‘Ask him to tell you about the false passports found in his apartment, the terrorist training manuals, recruitment videos, arms and explosives …’

‘Oh, come on, you’re not that naive,’ Elliot cut in. ‘He’s a known war correspondent based in Pakistan. Of course he’d have that kind of material in his apartment.’

‘Admittedly, on its own it might not prove incriminating,’ Kember replied, ‘but when weighed with visits to a terrorist training camp, which no other Western journalist has ever managed, and his highly contentious writings that many including his own government would term rabidly anti-American, the case against him begins to strengthen.’

‘For you, maybe, if you want to buy into all that bullshit. For me he’s an exceptional journalist who made
one
visit to a training camp four years ago, and who’s exercising his First Amendment right to free speech. If the current administration don’t happen to like what he says, well I’d say that’s just too bad.’

‘There are plenty of journalists writing the way he does,’ Kember countered, ‘but none of them has in their possession details of a terrorist plot to attack a Western target.’

Finally, Elliot thought, we come to the point.
‘And
you’re here to convince me that he’s part of the group that’s behind this plot?’ he said.

Kember’s eyes bored into his. ‘Face it, Elliot, you don’t know where that plot originated. You’re trying to connect it to the US intelligence services, but you’re not succeeding, and you won’t, because that’s not where it came from. Joshua Shine is a rogue agent, someone who’s being used by the left to try and bring down the Republicans.’

Elliot was shaking his head. ‘You can’t have it both ways,’ he told him. ‘A minute ago you were branding Tom Chambers a terrorist, now you’re trying to say he’s part of some left-wing conspiracy to get the far right out of office. So which is it?’

‘They’re not mutually exclusive,’ Kember responded.

Elliot thought about it and decided that maybe, in a far-fetched sort of way, they weren’t. However, he was buying none of it, and Kember was a fool if he’d come here thinking he would. ‘Do you actually know the details of that plot?’ he challenged. ‘Or are you just a messenger, someone who knows there’s an envelope, but not what’s inside.’

The skin around Kember’s mouth paled.

Satisfied that Kember probably didn’t have the full picture, Elliot said, ‘Tell me what you know about the P2OG.’

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