‘Her husband would have understood. She would have done something less obvious.’
‘Mr Ambassador,’ interrupted Lin Wenzu, slowly taking his eyes off McAllister. ‘Hearing your words to the American consul general, that he should say absolutely nothing to anyone, and now fully understanding your concerns for
secrecy, 1 assume Mr Lewis has not been apprised of the situation.’
‘Correct, Major.’
Then why did he call you? People frequently get lost here in Hong Kong. A missing husband or a missing wife is not so uncommon.’
For an instant Havilland’s expression was creased with self doubt. ‘Jonathan Lewis and I go back a long time,’ he said, his voice lacking its usual authority. ‘He may be something of a bon vivani but he’s no fool – he wouldn’t be here if he were. And the circumstances under which the woman stopped his attaché – well, Lewis knows me and he drew certain conclusions.’ The diplomat turned to McAllister; when he continued his authority gradually returned. ‘Call Lewis back, Edward. Tell him to instruct this Nelson to stand by for a call from you. I’d prefer a less direct approach, but there isn’t time. I want you to question him, question him on anything and everything you can think of. I’ll be listening on the line in your office.’
‘You agree, then,’ said the undersecretary. ‘Something’s wrong.’
‘Yes,’ answered Havilland, looking at Lin. The major saw it and I didn’t. I’d phrase it somewhat differently but it’s essentially what disturbs him. The question is not why Lewis called me, it’s why an attaché went to him. After all, a highly agitated woman says her husband’s missing but she won’t go to the police, won’t enter the consulate. Normally such a person would be dismissed as a crank. Certainly on the surface it’s not a matter to bring to the attention of an overworked CG. Call Lewis.’
‘Of course. But, first, did things go smoothly with the Canadian commissioner? Will he co-operate?’
The answer to your first question is no, things did not go smoothly. As to the second, he has no choice.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Havilland exhaled in weary irritation. Through Ottawa he’ll provide us with a list of everyone on his staff who’s had any dealings whatsoever with Marie St Jacques – reluctantly. That’s the co-operation he’s been instructed to deliver, but he was damned testy about it. To begin with, he himself went through a two-day seminar with her four years ago, and he ventured that probably a quarter of the consulate had done the same. Not that she’d remember them, but they certainly would remember her. She was “outstanding”, that was the way he put it. She’s also a Canadian who was thoroughly messed up by a group of American assholes – mind you, he had no compunction at all using the word – in some kind of mentally deranged black operation – yes, that was the phrase he used, mentally deranged – an idiotic operation mounted by these same assholes – indeed, he repeated it – that has never been satisfactorily explained.’ The ambassador stopped briefly, smiling briefly as he coughed a short laugh. ‘It was all very refreshing. He didn’t pull a single punch, and I haven’t been talked to like that since my dear wife died. I need more of it.’
‘But you did tell him it was for her own good, didn’t you? That we’ve got to find her before any harm’s done to her.’
‘I got the distinct impression that our Canadian friend had serious doubts as to my mental faculties. Call Lewis. God knows when we’ll get that list. Our maple leaf will probably have it sent by train from Ottawa to Vancouver and then on a slow freighter to Hong Kong where it’ll get lost in the mailroom. In the meantime, we’ve got an attaché who behaves very strangely. He leaps over fences when no such jumps are required.’
‘I’ve met John Nelson, sir,’ said Lin. ‘He’s a bright lad and speaks a fair Chinese. He’s quite popular with the consulate crowd.’
‘He’s also something else, Major.’
Nelson hung up the phone. Beads of perspiration had broken out on his forehead; he wiped them off with the back of his hand, satisfied that he had handled himself as well as he did, all things considered. He was especially pleased that he had turned the thrust of McAllister’s questions against the questioner, albeit diplomatically.
Why did you feel compelled to go to the consul general?
Your call would seem to answer that, Mr McAllister. I sensed that something out of the ordinary had happened. I thought the consul should be told.
But the woman refused to go to the police; she even refused to come inside the consulate.
As I said, it was out of the ordinary, sir. She was nervous and tense, but she wasn’t a ding dong.
A what?
She was perfectly lucid, you could even say controlled, in spite of her anxiety.
I see.
I wonder if you do, sir. I have no idea what the consul general told you, but I did suggest to him that what with the house in Victoria Peak, the marine guards, and then the arrival of Ambassador Havilland, he might consider calling someone up there.
You suggested it?
Yes, I did.
Why?
I don’t think it would serve any purpose for me to speculate on these matters, Mr McAllister. They don’t concern me.
Yes, of course, you’re right. I mean -yes, all right. But we must find that woman, Mr Nelson. I’ve been instructed to tell you that if you can help us it would be greatly to your advantage.
I want to help in any event, sir. If she reaches me, I’ll try to set up a meeting somewhere and call you. I knew I was right to do what I did, to say what I did.
We’ll wait for your call.
Catherine was on target, thought John Nelson, there was one hell of a connection. So much of a connection that he did not dare use his consulate phone to call Staples. But when he did reach her, he would ask her some very hard questions. He trusted Catherine, but the photographs and their consequences notwithstanding, he was not for sale. He got up from his desk and headed for the door of his office. A suddenly remembered dental appointment would suffice. As he walked down the corridor towards the reception room his thoughts returned to Catherine Staples. Catherine was one of the strongest people he had ever met, but the look in her eyes last night had conveyed not strength, but a kind of desperate fear. It was a Catherine he had never seen before.
‘He diverted your questions to his own ends,’ said Havilland, coming through the door, the immense Lin Wenzu behind him. ‘Do you agree, Major?’
‘Yes, and that means he anticipated the questions. He was primed for them.’
‘Which means someone primed him!’
‘We never should have called him,’ said McAllister quietly, sitting behind the desk, his nervous fingers once again massaging his right temple. ‘Nearly everything he brought up was meant to provoke a response from me.’
‘We had to call him,’ insisted Havilland, ‘if only to learn that.’
‘He stayed in control. I lost it.’
‘You could not have behaved differently, Edward,’ said Lin. ‘To react other than you did would have been to question his motives. In essence, you would have threatened him.’
‘And at the moment, we don’t want him to feel threatened,’ agreed Havilland. ‘He’s getting information for someone, and we’ve got to find out who it is.’
‘And that means Webb’s wife did reach someone she knew and told that person everything.’ McAllister leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, his hands tightly clasped.
‘You were right, after all,’ said the Ambassador, looking down at the undersecretary of state. ‘A street with her favourite maple trees. Paris. The inevitable repetition. It’s quite clear. Nelson is working for someone in the Canadian consulate – and whoever it is, is in touch with Webb’s wife.’
McAllister looked up. Then Nelson’s either a damn fool or a bigger damn fool. By his own admission he knows – at least he assumes – that he’s dealing with highly sensitive information involving an adviser to presidents. Dismissal aside, he could be sent to prison for conspiring against the government.’
‘He’s not a fool, I can assure you,’ said Lin.
‘Then either someone is forcing him to do this against his win – blackmail most likely – or he’s being paid to find out if
there’s a connection between Marie St Jacques and this house in Victoria Peak. It can’t be anything else.’ Frowning, Havilland sat down in the chair in front of the desk.
‘Give me a day,’ continued the major from MI6. ‘Perhaps I can find out. If I can, we’ll pick up whoever it is in the consulate.’
‘No,’ said the diplomat whose expertise lay in covert operations. ‘You have until eight o’clock tonight. We can’t afford that, but if we can avoid a confrontation and any possible fallout, we must try. Containment is everything. Try, Lin. For God’s sake, try.’