‘What will you do with the girl?’
‘We’ll think about that later. First we must talk to her, find out exactly what she is up to, whether or not she has accomplices, who else knows the story,’ Jack Beverley said. ‘We must snuff this story out immediately, leave no loose ends. Ring your daughter now, explain that we’re
coming, don’t discuss anything about Miss Narodni’s story, just tell her to let us deal with Miss Narodni. Say it is a security matter you can’t discuss over the phone. Then you go off to your dinner, sir, and leave this to us. You should have talked to us earlier. We are the professionals. It was unwise to let an amateur deal with the problem.’
Don Gowrie picked up the phone on a nearby table and dialled. A polite English voice answered; he asked for his daughter.
‘I’m sorry, sir, she is not available.’
‘What do you mean, not available? This is her father – I need to speak with her urgently.’
‘Mrs Brougham is out, sir. Can I get her to ring you when she gets back?’
‘Hold the line a second.’ Gowrie looked at Jack Beverley. ‘She’s out.’
Beverley frowned. ‘My men said she had gone back to her house with the Narodni girl. Maybe she went out again?’
‘Shall I ask my daughter to ring me?’
‘Hang on while I think.’ Beverley bit on his index finger, his brows heavy. ‘No, she might not ring until after you had left for this dinner. OK, leave a message for her, saying that there is a security problem. Your security people will be coming to collect Miss Narodni.’
Don lifted the phone to his mouth again and repeated this message. ‘Have you got that?’
The English voice was calm. ‘Yes, sir. Security people will be coming here tonight for Miss Narodni.’
‘She is there, isn’t she?’
‘I couldn’t say, sir. But I’ll give Mrs Brougham that message.’
Don hung up. ‘I don’t like it. I didn’t like that woman’s tone. I’ll swear Cathy was there – why wouldn’t they put me through to her?’
Without replying, Beverley moved towards the door. ‘Must get on, sir.’ He added, with no visible sign of sarcasm, ‘Enjoy your dinner.’
Gowrie stared after him. He didn’t know how he was going to get through this meal. If he could have done so safely he would have pulled out of the dinner, but the Anglo-American Friendship Society was too important to be offended. Many very famous people on both sides of the Atlantic were members. Being asked to speak to them was a significant honour. He had first met his future son-in-law at one of these occasions, in Washington, around seven years ago.
No, he had to show up and give his speech, and somehow pretend everything was just fine. He wouldn’t think about Emily. His skin shrivelled at the very thought of her death. No, he had no time to dwell on all that. Emily had let him down. He should never have asked her to deal with the problem. Jack was right, he should have confided in him. Well, now he had. Jack would deal with Sophie Narodni. Gowrie knew how few scruples Jack had; he was a man for whom killing was a job and he would do that job without a qualm.
Steve had been sitting in the bar with Vladimir for over an hour before he thought of trying to get hold of Sophie again. His head was ringing with the story the old Czech had told him. He felt as if he had been beaten endlessly with a brass gong, the echoes reverberating round and round his skull making him almost deaf. He couldn’t think clearly about what he had heard; he just sat staring at the bristling moustache, flecked with grey ash as Vladimir drew slowly on yet another of his heavily perfumed cigars.
‘Gowrie must have been crazy to take such a risk,’ Steve said again, having said it a dozen times over the past hour. ‘How on earth did he think he could get away with it? I mean, his wife might have blurted it out to her parents, or Sophie’s mother might have told her new husband, they might have tried to blackmail Gowrie, demanding money, or wanted him to get them into the States.’
‘She had begged him to do that, in the beginning, but he convinced her he couldn’t get her out. I’m sure he was right – the Russians wouldn’t have let Pavel Narodni’s family leave at that time. He had just been killed but they probably intended to make his wife talk, give them names, tell them everything she knew. They interrogated her, on and off, for weeks; they didn’t give up on her until they were finally convinced that she knew nothing at all about student politics, that she was just a peasant girl. She was very young, remember; only twenty-one herself then; she’d stayed at home in her tiny village, while her husband went to university. That year he had hardly been home at all.’
‘I suppose Gowrie made a dead set at him? He would have been very useful. American diplomats, like our journalists, always try to get a line in to any local rebels.’
‘No, Johanna claims he never met Pavel. Pavel was too busy with his political meetings to come home that summer, for one thing, and for another she never told Pavel she was working as a maid because he would have been angry if he found out. He was very proud; he wouldn’t want his wife working as a servant. They desperately needed more money, but Pavel would have been furious, he would have thought it humiliating.’
‘It’s amazing Gowrie managed to talk her into giving up her child!’
Wryly, Vladimir said, ‘Don’t forget, all this happened the week the Russians invaded; the country was in turmoil, nobody knew what was going to happen next, people were confused, terrified, and Johanna was pregnant, about to give birth to Sophie. She was in shock, too, having just heard that Pavel was dead. She was afraid for herself, too, in case the Russians came for her. And what would happen to little Anya if they did? She might end up in some state home for orphans. No, Gowrie was very lucky in his timing. He got her right at the perfect moment psychologically. She was at his mercy.’
‘Poor woman. And now she’s dying? Isn’t there a chance she could be cured? I mean, we have very good treatments for leukaemia these days in the States.’
Vladimir shook his head soberly. ‘I’ve seen her. She’s past treatment, fading fast. She left it too late to go to the doctor. I think she’s only hanging on in the hope that Sophie will find Anya and bring her home.’
Steve sighed, glanced at his watch. ‘Talking of Sophie, I must talk to her. And I have to get ready. I’m going to a banquet in the City of London tonight where Gowrie is the main speaker. We’ll see you tomorrow, shall we? You’ve got a room here?’
‘I’ll get one,’ Vladimir said.