In the Evil Day

68

…LONDON…

‘We’re pretty much in a holding pattern,’ said Palmer. The small windowless room on the top floor of the embassy was overheated, and it made him feel tight in the chest.

‘It’s getting close for me, Scottie. I’d hoped things would be tidy by now.’

‘I’m not taking this lightly.’

‘No, I know you’re not. What help have our friends given you.’

‘Some. They’re on the case. Could hear something any time.’

‘Not a big country.’

‘Big enough. Plus there’s water around it.’

‘Is that a thought?’

‘We’ve got it covered, I hope.’

‘There was something in Hamburg.’

‘Yes. People did some housekeeping.’

‘Simpler ways, surely?’

‘They apparently thought it would be more surgical.’

‘They think Hiroshima was surgical. Sorted out the clown problem?’

‘An all-professional show next time.’

‘Call me any time.’

‘I will.’

‘And not a loose thread, Scottie. Not a fucking thing.’

‘Understood, sir. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, Scottie.’

Palmer dialled the other number. There were two rediallings.

‘Yes.’ It was Casca.

‘Palmer. Anything of interest?’

‘The present matter, sir,’ said Casca. ‘We put together a bunch of stuff, bits and pieces, mostly from the one place. It adds up and it’s not helpful. You might want to do something about it, sir.’

‘Tell me.’