Dead Line

TWENTY-TWO

Charles Wetherby looked up with a frown. He was in the middle of a phone call to the deputy head of GCHQ and there was his secretary, normally the most discreet of women, standing in the doorway waving her hands. Her face was a map of anxiety.

‘Hold on a moment, please,’ he said into the phone, and cupped his hand over the receiver. ‘What’s the matter? I’m busy at the moment.’

‘There’s a policeman on the line. He’s at the Whittington hospital. Liz Carlyle’s been brought in. She’s been hit by a car.’

‘My God. Is she OK? Is she badly hurt?’

‘I don’t know. He won’t say.’

‘Put him on,’ Charles said, rapidly cutting off his other call. ‘This is Charles Wetherby. Who am I speaking to?’

‘It’s Sergeant Chiswick, sir, Special Branch. We had a call from Camden District about a woman named Carlyle who was brought into A and E. She was carrying Home Office ID, but they didn’t get very far when they rang there. So we were brought in.’

‘Is she alive?’

‘Yes, though it was a close-run thing – if the ambulance had been ten minutes slower she wouldn’t have made it. She’s in surgery now, and the doctors seem to think she’ll pull through.’

‘Can you tell me what happened?’

‘She was hit by a car in Kentish Town. Near the Underground.’ He paused briefly. ‘The car hit her on the pavement, sir. A witness said it looked as if the vehicle left the street deliberately.’

‘Did the driver stop?’

‘No. We haven’t got much of a description, I’m afraid. It was a man – and that’s about it. The closest witness is a woman and she’s still in shock. But one thing she did say is that the car was a minicab. It had the sticker on the back window.’

Charles thought quickly. ‘Now listen carefully, Sergeant Chiswick. When Miss Carlyle comes out of surgery, I want her put in a single room and kept under police guard -armed guard. There may have been an attempt on her life; I don’t want another. If you have any questions, or if there is any problem, ring me back straight away. Is that understood?’

Once he put the phone down, Charles sat for a moment, tapping a pencil on his desk top, collecting his thoughts. He called his secretary in and asked her to find Peggy Kinsolving, get DG on the line, extract the contact details for Liz’s mother from her file (though he’d wait to ring her until after Liz was out of the operating room), and get the head of media relations to come and see him right away. The presence of Special Branch at the Whittington and now an armed guard on Liz’s room might well draw a reporter, tipped off by a member of staff, and he wanted that possibility closed down straight away.

There was one other call he needed to make. He got through right away.

‘Fane,’ said the voice, in that slow drawl Charles always found annoying.

‘Geoffrey, it’s Charles Wetherby. Liz Carlyle’s been hit by a car.’

‘No! Is she all right?’

At least his concern sounds genuine, thought Charles, though the last thing he was interested in right now was sharing his worry about Liz with Geoffrey Fane. ‘The thing is, Geoffrey, the police say this may not have been an accident. It looks as though a car tried to run her down.’

‘Are they sure?’

‘Well, they’ve got a witness and the car didn’t stop.’

‘But who would do this?’

‘That’s why I’m calling.’ Charles’s voice was cool now. ‘Is there anything you haven’t told us? When you briefed us on your source, you didn’t give the slightest indication that one of my officers could be in danger.’

‘Steady on, Charles. There wasn’t any reason to think so. As far as I can see, there still isn’t. It may not have anything to do with that.’

‘Nonsense.’ Charles was emphatic. He could picture Fane in his office, high as an eyrie in the central block of MI6, reclining in the padded leather chair he favoured. The image infuriated him. ‘She’s got nothing else on that could pose this kind of a threat.’

‘I know you’re upset-’

‘Upset? There’s a very real possibility she may be injured for life. We certainly knew nothing of any danger. You were obliged to let us know if there was even a possibility of this.’

‘I know my obligations,’ Fane protested.

‘If you’ve held anything back, I want to know what it is. Is that clear? Otherwise, I’ll consider you to have placed one of my officers in danger quite unnecessarily.’

They both knew how serious a charge that would be. Charles was about to say something further, then thought better of it. He knew he’d got his point across.

Charles sensed Fane was trying to stay composed. ‘I certainly hear you, Charles,’ he said carefully. ‘I’ll be in touch.’