Dead Line

TWENTY-THREE

Fane put down the phone. He was more badly shaken than he would have expected. Liz Carlyle had somehow got under his skin. This accident, attack, whatever it was, affected him badly. He knew as well as Charles that it almost certainly came from her investigations, ones that he had set in train. He didn’t blame himself for that – if he hadn’t passed on the information from Cyprus, he wouldn’t have been doing his job.

But it gnawed at him nonetheless. Cross as Charles had been, he’d refrained from saying what they both knew to be true: this wasn’t the first time an MI5 officer had been put in danger in a case where Fane was involved. As they both knew to their cost, the previous time it had proved fatal, arguably because Fane had not been entirely forthcoming.

There must have been a leak somewhere, one that had almost resulted in Liz being killed. Where could it have been? he thought. Not within Vauxhall Cross, he was confident of that. He doubted there were more than four people in his building who knew Liz was working on the case. And only two, himself and Bruno Mackay, knew any detail of what she was doing.

No, the leak must have come from outside. And there was only one place, other than Thames House, where he’d talked. Grosvenor Square.

He picked up his phone and dialled an internal extension. ‘Bruno, it’s Geoffrey. Got a minute?’

Mackay arrived in short order, spruce in a blazer and club tie. Fane said, ‘Someone’s had a go at Liz Carlyle -ran her down.’

For once Bruno Mackay’s aplomb deserted him. He looked horrified.

‘I know, I know,’ said Fane, ‘it’s perfectly awful. She’s hurt, but it looks as if she’ll recover. The thing is, she’s been working on this Syrian business, and I think somewhere, somehow, somebody’s talked. Nothing else explains it. I’m wondering if it could be Grosvenor Square. Maybe just loose talk, possibly something more sinister. Either way, we need to plug that leak and do it quickly. I want you to take a closer look at young Mr Brookhaven – check him out very thoroughly. His last posting was Damascus, and he may have more contacts than we realise. If you need more resources let me know. But keep it strictly to yourself at present. All right?’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Bruno, his composure restored. ‘I’ll get onto it now.’ Fane knew he didn’t think much of the Americans. ‘Let me know how Liz gets on. I’d like to take her some grapes.’ He grinned.

As Mackay got up to go, Fane said, ‘Be discreet, Bruno. I don’t want Bokus in here like some mad bull.’