False Impression

“Good evening, Mr. Delaney. My name is Renton, Chief Superintendent Renton, and now that we have been able to confirm your identity, perhaps you’d be kind enough to answer a few questions.”

“If I can,” said Jack.

“I feel sure you can,” said Renton. “What interests me is whether you will.”

Jack didn’t respond.

“We received a complaint from a usually reliable source that you have, for the past week, been following a lady without her prior knowledge. This is an offence in England under the 1997 Protection from Harassment Act, as you are no doubt aware. However, I feel sure you have a simple explanation.”

“Dr. Petrescu is part of an ongoing investigation, which my department has been involved in for some time.”

“Would that investigation have anything to do with the death of Lady Victoria Wentworth?”

“Yes,” replied Jack.

“And is Dr. Petrescu a suspect in that murder?”

“No,” replied Jack firmly. “Quite the opposite. In fact, we had thought she might be the next victim.”

“Had thought?” repeated the chief superintendent.

“Yes,” replied Jack. “Fortunately the murderer has been apprehended in Bucharest.”

“And you didn’t feel able to share this information with us?” said Renton. “Despite the fact that you must have been aware that we were conducting a murder inquiry.”

“I apologize, sir,” said Jack. “I only found out myself a few hours ago. But I’m sure our London office planned to keep you informed.”

“Mr. Tom Crasanti has briefed me, but I suspect only because his colleague was under lock and key.” Jack didn’t comment. “But he did go on to assure me,” continued Renton, “that you will keep us fully informed of any developments that might arise in the future.” Once again, Jack didn’t respond. The chief superintendent rose from his place. “Good night, Mr. Delaney. I have authorized your immediate release and can only hope you have a pleasant flight home.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Jack, as Renton replaced his cap and left the room.

Jack had some sympathy with the chief superintendent. After all, the NYPD, not to mention the CIA, rarely bothered to let the FBI know what they were up to. A few moments later, DS Frankham returned.

“If you’ll accompany me, sir,” he said, “we have a car waiting to take you back to your hotel.”

“Thank you,” said Jack, as he followed the detective sergeant out of the room and up the stairs into reception.

The desk sergeant lowered his head as Jack left the building. Jack shook hands with an embarrassed DS Frankham before climbing into a police car that was parked outside the front door. Tom was waiting for him in the back.

“Just another case study for Quantico to add to its curriculum,” suggested Tom. “This time on how to cause a major diplomatic incident while visiting one’s oldest ally.”

“I must have brought a new meaning to the words special relationship,” commented Jack.

“However, the condemned man is to be given a chance to redeem himself,” said Tom.

“What do you have in mind?” asked Jack.

“We’ve both been invited to join Lady Arabella and Dr. Petrescu for breakfast at Wentworth Hall tomorrow morning—and by the way, Jack, I see what you mean about Anna.”

9/22

42

JACK EMERGED FROM the Wentworth Arms just after seven thirty to find a Rolls-Royce parked by the entrance. A chauffeur opened the back door the moment he saw him.

“Good morning, sir,” he said. “Lady Arabella asked me to say how much she is looking forward to meeting you.”

“Me too,” said Jack, as he climbed into the back.