False Impression (34 page)

Tom reluctantly
placed his FBI badge back in his pocket, and although he said nothing, the look
on his face wouldn’t have left either policeman in any doubt how he felt. As
Jack stood up, the sergeant grabbed his arm and quickly handcuffed him.

‘Hey, is that
really necessary?’ demanded Tom.

Tom, don’t get
involved,’ said Jack in a measured tone.

Tom reluctantly
followed Jack out of the dining room, through a room full of guests, who
studiously carried on chatting and eating their meals as if nothing unusual was
going on around them.

When they
reached the front door, Tom said, ‘Do you want me to come with you to the
station?’

‘No,’ said Jack,
‘why don’t you stick around. Don’t
worry,
I’m sure
I’ll be back in time for coffee.’

Two women stared
intently at Jack from the other side of the corridor.

‘Is that him,
madam?’

‘Yes it is,’ one
of them confirmed.

When Tina heard
her door open, she quickly flicked off the screen.

She didn’t look
up, as only one person never bothered to knock before entering her office.

‘I presume you
know that Petrescu is on her way back to New York
?5

‘I’d heard,’
said Tina, as she continued typing.

‘But had you
also heard,’ said Leapman, placing both hands on her desk, ‘that she tried to
steal the Van Gogh?’

The one in the
chairman’s office?’ said Tina, innocently.

‘Don’t play
games with me,’ said Leapman. ‘You think I don’t know that you listen in on
every phone conversation the chairman has?’ Tina stopped typing and looked up
at him. ‘Perhaps the time has come,’ Leapman continued, ‘to let Mr Fenston know
about the switch under your desk that allows you to spy on him whenever he’s
having a private meeting.’

‘Are you
threatening me, Mr Leapman?’ asked Tina.
‘Because if you are,
I might find it necessary to have a word with the chairman myself.’

‘And what could
you possibly tell him that I would care about?’ demanded Leapman.

‘About the
weekly calls you receive from a Mr Pickford, and then perhaps we’ll discover
who’s
playing games.’

Leapman took his
hands off the table and stood up straight.

‘I feel sure
your probation officer will be interested to learn that you’ve been harassing
staff at a bank you don’t work for, don’t have an office in and don’t receive a
salary from.’

Leapman took a
pace backwards.

“When you come
to see me next time, Mr Leapman, make sure you knock, like any other visitor to
the bank.’

Leapman took
another pace backwards, hesitated, then left without another word.

When the door
closed, Tina was shaking so much she had to grip the armrests of her chair.

W
hen the police
car arrived at the station, Jack was bundled out. Once he’d been checked in by
the desk sergeant, the two detectives accompanied him downstairs to an
interview room. DS

Frankham asked
him to take a seat on the other side of the table.

Something else
Jack hadn’t experienced before. DC Ross stood quietly in one corner.

Jack could only
wonder which one of them was going to play the good cop.

DS Frankham sat
down, placed a file on the table and extracted a long form.

‘Name?’ began
Frankham.

‘Jack Fitzgerald
Delaney,’ Jack replied.

‘Date of birth?’

‘Twenty-second
November, sixty-three.’

‘Occupation?’

‘Senior
Investigating Officer with the FBI, attached to the New York field office.’

The detective
sergeant dropped his pen, looked up and said,

‘Do you have
some ID?’

Jack produced
his FBI badge and identity card.

‘Thank you,
sir,’ said Frankham after he’d checked them. ‘Can you wait here for a moment?’
He stood and turned to his colleague.

Would you see
that Agent Delaney is offered a coffee? This may take some time.’ When he
reached the door he added, ‘And make sure he gets his tie, belt and laces
back.’

DS Frankham
turned out to be right, because it was another hour before the heavy door was
opened again and an older man with a weathered, lined face entered the room. He
was dressed in a well-tailored uniform, with silver braid on his sleeve,
epaulette, and the peak of his cap, which he removed to reveal a head of grey
hair. He took the seat opposite Jack.

‘Good evening,
Mr Delaney. My name is Renton, Chief Superintendent Renton, and now that we
have been able to confirm your identity, perhaps you’d be kind enough to answer
a few questions.’

‘If I can,’ said
Jack.

‘I feel sure you
can,’ said Renton. ‘What interests me, is whether you will.’

Jack didn’t
respond.

*We received a
complaint from a usually reliable source that you have, for the past week, been
following a lady without her prior knowledge. This is an offence in England
under the 1997

Protection
from Harassment Act, as you are
no doubt aware.

However, I feel
sure you have a simple explanation.’

‘Dr Petrescu is
part of an ongoing investigation, which my department has been involved in for
some time.’

‘Would that
investigation have anything to do with the death of Lady Victoria Wentworth?’

‘Yes,’ replied
Jack.

‘And is Dr
Petrescu a suspect in that murder?’

‘No,’ replied
Jack firmly.
‘Quite the opposite.
In fact, we had
thought she might be the next victim.’

‘Had thought?’
repeated the chief superintendent.

‘Yes,’ replied
Jack. ‘Fortunately the murderer has been apprehended in Bucharest.’

‘And you didn’t
feel able to share this information with us?’ said Renton.
‘Despite
the fact that you must have been aware that we were conducting a murder
enquiry.’

‘I apologize,
sir,’ said Jack. ‘I only found out myself a few hours ago. But I’m sure our
London office planned to keep you informed.’

‘Mr Tom Crasanti
has briefed me, but I suspect only because his colleague was under lock and
key.’ Jack didn’t comment. ‘But he did go on to assure me,’ continued Renton,
‘that you will keep us fully informed of any developments that might arise in
the future.’ Once again, Jack didn’t respond. The chief superintendent rose
from his place. ‘Good night, Mr Delaney. I have authorized your immediate
release, and can only hope you have a pleasant flight home.’

‘Thank you,
sir,’ said Jack, as Renton replaced his cap and left the room.

Jack had some
sympathy with the chief superintendent. After all, the NYPD, not to mention the
CIA, rarely bothered to let the FBI know what they were up to. A few moments
later, DS

Frankham
returned.

‘If you’ll accompany
me, sir,’ he said, ‘we have a car waiting to take you back to your hotel.’

‘Thank you,’
said Jack, as he followed the detective sergeant out of the room and up the
stairs into reception.

The desk
sergeant lowered his head as Jack left the building.

Jack shook hands
with an
embarrassed
DS Frankham before climbing into a
police car that was parked outside the front door.

Tom was waiting
for him in the back.

‘Just another
case study for Quantico to add to its curriculum,’ suggested Tom.
‘This time on how to cause a major diplomatic incident while
visiting one’s oldest ally.’

‘I must have
brought a new meaning to the words “special relationship”,’ commented Jack.

‘However, the
condemned man is to be given a chance to redeem himself,’ said Tom.

‘What do you
have in mind?’ asked Jack.

‘We’ve both been
invited to join Lady Arabella and Dr Petrescu for breakfast at Wentworth Hall
tomorrow morning, and by the way,
Jack,
I see what you
mean about Anna.’

J
ack emerged from
the Wentworth Arms just after seven thirty to find a Rolls-Royce parked by the
entrance. A chauffeur opened the back door the moment he saw him.

‘Good morning,
sir,’ he said. ‘Lady Arabella asked me to say how much she is looking forward
to meeting you.’

The too,’ said
Jack, as he climbed into the back.

We’ll be there
in a few minutes,’ the chauffeur assured him as he drove out of the hotel
entrance.

Half of the
journey seemed to Jack to be from the wrought-iron gates at the entrance to the
estate up the long drive that led to the hall. Once the chauffeur had brought
the car to a halt, he jumped out and walked round to open the back door. Jack
stepped out onto the gravel drive and looked up to see a butler standing on the
top step, obviously expecting him.

‘Good morning,
sir,’ he said, ‘welcome to Wentworth Hall. If you would be good enough to
follow me, Lady Arabella is expecting you.’

‘“A usually
reliable source,”
‘ muttered
Jack, but if the butler
did overhear him, he made no comment as he led the guest through to the drawing
room.

‘Mr Delaney,
m’lady,’ announced the butler, as two dogs, tails wagging, padded forward to
greet him.

‘Good morning,
Mr Delaney,’ said Arabella. ‘I think we owe you an apology. You are so
obviously not a stalker.’

Jack stared at
Anna, who also looked suitably embarrassed, and then turned towards Tom, who
couldn’t remove the grin from his face.

Andrews
reappeared at the door. ‘Breakfast is ready, m’lady.’

When she woke a
second time, a young doctor was changing the dressing on her shoulder.

‘How long before
I’m fully recovered?’ was her first
question.

The doctor
looked startled when he heard her voice for the first time – such a shrill,
piping note didn’t quite fit her legend. He remained silent until he’d finished
cutting a length of bandage with his scissors.

‘Three, four
days at most,’ he replied, looking down at her. ‘But I wouldn’t be in a hurry
to get myself discharged, if I were you, because the moment I sign your release
papers, your next stop is Jilava, which I think you’re only too familiar with
from your days serving the past regime.’

Krantz could
never forget the barren, stone-walled, rat-infested building that she had
visited every night in order to question the latest prisoners before being
driven back to the warmth of her well-furnished dacha on the outskirts of the
city.

I’m told that
the inmates are looking forward to seeing you again after such a prolonged
absence,’ added the doctor. He bent over, peeled an edge from the large dressing
on her shoulder and paused. ‘This is going to hurt,’ he promised, and then in
one movement, ripped it off. Krantz didn’t flinch. She wasn’t going to allow
him that satisfaction.

The doctor
dabbed iodine into the wound before placing a new dressing over it. He then
expertly bandaged the shoulder and placed her right arm in a sling.

‘How many guards
are there?’ she asked casually.

‘Six, and
they’re all armed,’ said the doctor, ‘and just in case you’re thinking of
trying to escape, they have orders to shoot first and fill in any unnecessary
forms later. I’ve even prepared an unsigned death certificate for them.’

Krantz didn’t
ask any more questions.

When the doctor
left, she lay staring up at the ceiling. If there was any chance of escaping,
it would have to be while she was still at the hospital. No one had ever
managed to escape from Jilava penitentiary, not even Ceau§escu.

It took her
another eight hours to confirm that there were always six guards, covering
three eight-hour shifts. The first group clocked on at six o’clock, the second
at two, and the night shift came on duty at ten.

During a long,
sleepless night, Krantz discovered that the half dozen guards on night duty
felt they had drawn the short straw.

One of them was
just plain Ia2y and spent half the night asleep.

Another was
always sneaking off to have a cigarette on the fire escape – no smoking allowed
on the hospital premises. The third was a philanderer, who imagined that he’d
been put on earth to satisfy women. He was never more than a few paces from one
of the nurses. The fourth spent most of his time grumbling about how much, or
how little, he was paid, and his wife’s ability to clean him out before the end
of every week. Krantz knew that she could take care of his problem if she was given
the chance. The other two guards were older, and remembered her only too well
from the past regime. One of them would have been happy to blow a
hole
right through her if she’d as much as raised her head
from the pillow.