Part 37 (1/2)

Brock gave an impatient little frown. 'Maybe so,' he conceded. 'But you mustn't let your feelings get in the way of your reason, Kathy.'

She stared at him in astonishment. 'My feelings?'

Brock blinked and looked embarra.s.sed for a moment, then said quickly, 'Bren, we need to find out exactly where Garry left his traces at Ferncroft Close, and whether any of them were overlaid by Peebles'. I'm also wondering if Garry may have killed Peebles with that overdose. It always seemed very convenient that he died before we could get to him.'

As they began to discuss procedures, Kathy turned back to her desk and got on with her work.

John had moved to another hotel, not far from Chelsea Mansions. When Kathy called on him that evening she found him ironing a s.h.i.+rt.

'Catching up with the laundry?' she said.

'Helps me think,' he replied.

'Have you been doing much of that?' The truth was that she had half expected him to be gone, back home to Canada.

'A bit.'

'Not theorising though, I hope.'

He smiled. 'Yes, that too. I've been making my head hurt.'

She noticed a pile of books and pamphlets on the table. She looked at a t.i.tle. 'Imperial War Museum?'

'I spent a bit of time there today. Interesting.'

There was a certain intensity in the way he said it. 'Anything you want to share with me?' she asked.

He switched off the iron and hung his s.h.i.+rt in the closet, then turned to face her. 'Yes. Let's sit down.'

They sat, and for half an hour Kathy listened without speaking. Finally he said, 'What do you think?'

She took a deep breath. 'I think it's brilliant. You must tell Brock.'

'Oh no.' He shook his head firmly. 'I got burned the last time, Kathy. You can take this to him if you think it's worth it, but leave me out of it. That way he may give it a fair hearing.'

'No. If you believe this then you've got to tell him yourself. And I'm going to be there and I'll make him b.l.o.o.d.y listen.' She got out her phone. 'Okay?'

He bowed his head and, after a long pause, agreed.

Brock was still at the office, Kathy found, and hadn't had an evening meal. 'How about Mexican?' she asked.

'I'm not very keen on Mexican.'

'You'll like this,' she said, and gave him the address of the place in Brompton Road.

They watched him come, look around, then respond to her wave. He shook hands with John and sat down, taking the menu the waiter gave him.

'I can never remember what these things are,' he grumbled, looking down the list. Kathy made some suggestions and poured him a gla.s.s of wine.

'Well,' he said, sitting back. 'Cheers. It's been a beautiful day to be out and about, and not stuck indoors like us. What have you been up to, John?' It sounded as if he was trying to be neutral and polite.

'John's been working too,' Kathy said. 'He's got an interesting story to tell you, Brock. He told me, and I thought you had to hear it, all the way through, without interruption.'

Brock looked at her in surprise, then gave a quiet smile. 'Excellent. I enjoy a good story. Fire away, John.'

So John cleared his throat and began.

Half an hour later the enchiladas lay cold on Brock's plate, untouched.

'So that's about it,' John concluded, looking at him warily.

'Importexport,' Brock said at last with a chuckle. 'Well, it's a very good story, John. Why can't I find detectives with that sort of imagination?'

Kathy looked at him to see if he was being sarcastic, but he seemed genuinely impressed. He began attacking the enchiladas without apparently noticing them, his mind clearly still fixed on John's account.

'Circ.u.mstantial, of course, but we can fill in some of the gaps. Kathy, what do you think?'

'Quite interesting.'

'Quite interesting? It's b.l.o.o.d.y brilliant.'

'You think there might be something in it?' John asked.

'I think it may be exactly what I've been looking for.' Brock chewed for a moment. 'This isn't too bad.'

forty.

The interagency meeting reconvened on Monday morning at eleven a.m. The same people were there from the Home Office, Foreign Office and the police, all except Brock, who had taken Kathy's place at Commander Sharpe's side.

'A wrap-up session, then,' Sir Philip opened the proceedings. 'Shouldn't take too long, I hope.' He looked pointedly at his watch. 'Commander Sharpe, a brief summary? We have all read your report, I take it.'

Sharpe outlined the circ.u.mstances surrounding the arrest of Toby Beaumont and his team, and made some recommendations about what should be released to the press. His account was accompanied by chuckles and raised eyebrows from the Foreign Office man.

'Excellent,' Sir Philip said. 'No international ramifications, almost all of Moszynski's millions recovered, first-cla.s.s result all round. Any comments?'

'Just a small rider,' Sean Ardagh said, 'regarding the human remains found in Beaumont's suitcase.'

'Oh yes?'

'Our lab has completed tests and they support Beaumont's story-probably a young German soldier from the First World War.'

Sir Philip shook his head sadly. 'Disgusting. I think we'll keep that quiet, don't you?'

'What about the strip of material with the bones?' Brock asked.

'Collar of his uniform,' Sean said.