Present Danger

34

Judith Spratt stopped for a coffee at a Starbucks two streets away from Milraud’s shop. This was a part of the city she did not know well, a small oasis of galleries, restaurants and boutiques in what had once been a commercial area of small factories and warehouses.

She needed to collect her thoughts before she went into the shop. It had been decided that no publicity was to be given yet to Dave’s disappearance, so Judith had to find some excuse for enquiring about him at the shop. She had been taken aback when Liz had asked her to do this job; she was not used to direct contact with the public and role playing was not her strength. Her job, at which she excelled, was the processing and analysis of information once it had been collected; when the pieces came streaming in she liked nothing better than to use her mind like a prospector’s sieve, throwing out the dross and making sense of the few gold nuggets that remained.

Before she had joined the service she had been an analyst at an investment bank. That was where she had met her ex-husband Ravi. She had enjoyed the intellectual challenge of that job, but had found it ultimately unsatisfying; it had served no real purpose, other than to line the pockets of the firm’s partners and sometimes to help a distant client somewhere to make a killing. With her husband’s encouragement, and the knowledge that his fat salary made the reduction in her pay tolerable, she’d jumped at the chance of working in Thames House. Her subsequent divorce meant that money was now much more of an issue, but she never regretted her change of career. At MI5 the purpose of her work was always important, and sometimes frighteningly urgent.

She finished her coffee and walked down the narrow street to the door of Milraud’s shop. She was wearing an ankle-length knitted coat with a fringed shawl draped round her shoulders, and flat shoes. The look she was aiming at was arty, bohemian, slightly ditzy but definitely genteel. As far away as could be imagined from an intelligence officer. She stood outside the shop for a moment and took a deep breath to calm her nerves, then she opened the door and went in. A bell tinkled discreetly.

‘Good afternoon.’ A woman stood up from a chair behind a low glass cabinet. She was middle-aged, smartly turned out, with elegantly coiffed grey hair and wearing a dark wool dress with a choker of pearls. She eyed Judith cautiously.

‘Is Mr Milraud in?’ Judith began, walking towards her and giving an eager, slightly goofy smile.

‘Monsieur Milraud is not available, I am afraid. He is out of the country in fact.’ Judith adopted a frown of disappointment. ‘Did you have an appointment?’

‘That’s the thing. I don’t know, and I’m not sure if I have the right day in any case. My cousin Simon asked me to join him here. He collects little guns, you see, and he said he was coming to see Mr Milraud about buying one. He asked me to meet him here this afternoon because we have to go down to the country after Simon has finished here. At least I think it was this afternoon, but if he’s not here, perhaps I’ve got the wrong day – or the wrong time.’ She gave a small sigh, and went on talking. ‘But I know it was here we said we’d meet. He wants me to hold his hand while he negotiates with Mr Milraud. You know, to stop him spending too much money. Not that I’m an expert on guns…’ Her voice trailed off.

The woman stared at her. ‘As I said, Monsieur Milraud is not here.’

‘Don’t think I don’t believe you. The only question then is what I’ve got wrong, not did I get it wrong – since we have established that.’

Judith saw the look of doubt in the woman’s eyes and wondered if she was overplaying her role.

‘Let me have a look at the diary, and perhaps I can see when your appointment might be.’ The woman went through a door marked ‘Private’ at the back of the shop, returning a moment later with a leather-bound desk diary. ‘Your name is?’

‘Crosby. Heather Farlow Crosby.’

Judith watched as the woman consulted the pages of the diary. ‘I see nothing here,’ she said.

‘Oh how silly of me,’ said Judith, putting a hand to her cheek. ‘It wouldn’t be my name at all, would it? It would be my cousin Simon’s.’

‘Simon?’ the woman said, her expression suggesting she was having to work hard to keep her patience.

‘Willis. His mother was the Crosby, which is why my cousin and I have different surnames.’ And she continued prattling while the woman ran her finger up and down the page, until she stopped at one line. When she looked up at Judith now her face was wary. ‘A Mr Willis was here,’ she said slowly. ‘Yesterday in fact.’

‘Ah,’ said Judith with relief. ‘So at least I was close.’ Her smile went unreturned. ‘And was I right about the time?’

‘The time?’ The woman was watching her carefully.

‘Yes.’ Judith glanced at her watch, a slim antique with a silver strap that, like most of the rest of her attire, she had borrowed from a colleague. ‘Two o’clock?’

The woman made a show of looking at the diary. She seemed suddenly nervous. ‘Yes, that is correct.’

‘And could you tell me how long he was here? Did he make a purchase? I’m wondering if he went off to the country by himself. Do you remember when he left?’

‘They left…’ and the woman paused.

Judith pounced. ‘They?’ There was nothing ditzy in her voice now. ‘Did he and Monsieur Milraud leave together then?’

The woman said carefully, ‘No. Your cousin left, then Monsieur Milraud left shortly afterwards. He had his plane to catch.’

‘What time was that?’

‘It must have been about two-forty-five that your cousin left. Monsieur Milraud left about three-fifteen to catch the plane.’

‘And my cousin left alone? You’re absolutely sure of that?’

‘Quite sure, madam,’ replied the woman tersely, dropping her mask of politeness.

‘You see it’s very important,’ said Judith levelly, returning the woman’s stare. There was little pretence left between them.

‘I can assure you that he was on his own when he left.’ The woman had regained her sangfroid and the shutters had come down with force. It was obvious that she knew more than she was letting on but Judith could see that she would get nothing else out of her now. ‘I’m afraid I cannot help you further.’ Judith was being ushered firmly towards the door.

Outside on the pavement Judith found that her nervousness had been replaced with anger. It was obvious that something had happened to Dave and that this woman knew more about it than she was letting on. Now the woman also knew that someone was looking for Dave, and Judith doubted she believed for a moment that it was his cousin.