No one failed to grasp that by “American authorities” she meant Kevin Brown. Kelly scowled.

“There remains a suspicion he could have been involved in some way,” he said. “We don’t know how, but it needs to be checked out.”

“He couldn’t, sir,” said Sam. “If he had proposed himself as the negotiator, maybe. But the choice to ask him was made right here. He told me he didn’t even want to come. And from

the moment Mr. Weintraub saw him in Spain he has been in someone’s company twenty-four hours a day. Every word he spoke to the kidnappers, you listened to.”

“Except those missing forty-eight hours before he showed up on a roadside,” said Morton Stannard.

“But why should he make a deal with the kidnappers during that time?” she asked. “Except for the return of Simon Cormack.”

“Because two million dollars is a lot of money to a poor man,” suggested Hubert Reed.

“But if he had wanted to disappear with the diamonds,” she persisted, “we’d still be looking for him now.”

“Well,” said Odell unexpectedly, “he did go to the kidnappers alone and unarmed—except for some goddam marzipan. If he didn’t know them already, that takes grit.”

“And yet Mr. Brown’s suspicions may not be entirely unfounded,” said Jim Donaldson. “He could have made his contact, struck a deal. They kill the boy, leave Quinn alive, take the stones. Later they meet up and split the booty.”

“Why should they?” asked Sam, bolder now, with the Vice President apparently on her side. “They had the diamonds. They could have killed him too. Even if they didn’t, why should they split with him? Would you trust them?”

None of them would trust such men an inch. There was silence as they thought it over.

“If he’s allowed to go, what has he in mind? Back to his vineyard in Spain?” asked Reed.

“No, sir. He wants to go after them. He wants to hunt them down.”

“Hey, hold on, Agent Somerville,” said Kelly indignantly. “That’s Bureau work. Gentlemen, we have no need of discretion to protect the life of Simon Cormack anymore. He’s been murdered, and that murder is indictable under our laws, just like that murder on the cruise ship, the Achille Lauro. We’re putting teams into Britain and Europe with the cooperation of all the national police authorities. We want them and we’re going to get them. Mr. Brown controls the operations out of London.”

Sam Somerville played her last card.

“But, gentlemen, if Quinn was not involved, he got closer than anyone to them, saw them, spoke to them. If he was involved, then he will know where to go. That could be our best lead.”

“You mean, let him run and tail him?” asked Walters.

“No, sir. I mean let me go with him.”

“Young lady”—Michael Odell leaned forward to see her better—“do you know what you’re saying? This man has killed before—okay, in combat. If he’s involved, you could end up very dead.”

“I know that, Mr. Vice President. That’s the point. I believe he’s innocent and I’m prepared to take the risk.”

“Mmmmm. All right. Stay in town, Miss Somerville. We’ll let you know. We need to discuss this—in private,” said Odell.

Home Secretary Marriott spent a disturbed morning reading the reports of Drs. Barnard and Macdonald. Then he took them both to Downing Street. He was back in the Home Office by lunchtime. Nigel Cramer was waiting for him.

“You’ve seen these?” asked Sir Harry.

“I’ve read copies, Home Secretary.”

“This is appalling, utterly dismaying. If this ever gets out ... Do you know where Ambassador Fairweather is?”

“Yes. He’s at Oxford. The coroner released the body to him an hour ago. I believe Air Force One is standing by at Upper Heyford to fly the casket back to the States. The Ambassador will see it depart, then return to London.”

“Mmm. I’ll have to ask the Foreign Office to set up an interview. I want no copies of this to anybody. Ghastly business. Any news on the manhunt?”

“Not a lot, sir. Quinn made plain that none of the other two kidnappers he saw uttered a word. It could be they were foreigners. We’re concentrating the hunt for the Volvo at major ports and airports connecting to Europe. I fear they may have slipped away. Of course, the hunt for the house goes on. No further need for discretion—I’m having a public appeal issued this evening, if you agree. A detached house with an attached garage, a cellar, and a Volvo of that color—someone must have seen something.”

“Yes, by all means. Keep me posted,” said the Home Secretary.

Tags: Frederick Forsyth Thriller
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