Lovers and Liars (15 page)

‘MaryT he said. ‘I thought you must be out. I brought that book you wanted. I.

He broke off, staring at Gini. There was a brief silence, an odd taut second in which Gini felt sure that though this visitor enacted surprise, he experienced none on seeing her. Then, as he moved

I towards the door and up the steps, Mary moved too, rushing -‘forward, arms outstretched.

John!’ she said. ‘What a lovely surprise. This is Gini - Gen:*rieve. You remember? Come in, come in .

I wthome’s opening remark was that he would stay five minutes. stayed ten. He had, he explained, been at meetings all evening, had just picked up his two sons from friends. His sons, he with a wry smile, had just had their first experience of an sh Christmas pantomime.

‘4,!They couldn’t make head nor tail of it/ he said. ‘Men dressed women, women dressed as men, dancing horses, fairies and ons … When I picked them up, they were wildly overexcited.

“And now the inevitable has happened. They’re both asleep in the of the car. No, no, they’re fine, Frank is with them, but I stn’t stay. Lise will be waiting for us. I have to get back.’ -well, it’s very sweet of you … ‘Mary was clutching her new

. ‘But you needn’t have bothered.’

Nonsense. You said you couldn’t wait to read it. And these nds live right around the comer, so I thought I’d drop it in. as no trouble at all. You have - if you’ll forgive my saying so,

the most lurid taste in books.’ He flicked the cover. ‘MurSerial killers on the loose. You’ll be awake half the night.’ ‘I know.’ Mary looked guilty but unrepentant. ‘But I adore m. I always have. It’s very kind of you, John. Thank you very .1

He turned back to the watching Gini with an easy smile. ‘How t you, Genevieve? Do you share Mary’s taste for blood and T

‘Not really. No.’

z`Me neither. And I never seem to have the time to read any , anyway. Not for pleasure … No, Mary, really. I mustn’t much as If d like to - and no, I won’t have a drink.’

‘Just a little one?’ Mary waved a whisky bottle.

‘Hawthorne laughed. ‘A little one? You never poured a small .in your life. You make the stiffest drinks I ever encountered ‘and I don’t dare take the risk. I really do have to get back.’

He began to move towards the door.

-Genevieve/he took her hand briefly in a firm grip, then released

0 see you again. One of these days perhaps wef 11 have nce to meet properly. Mary talks about you so much, I feel I

you already - and Lise has been longing to meet you …

What?‘He swung around as Mary interjected, then smiled warmly. ‘This Saturday? Well, that would be great .

He moved out towards the hall, Mary following him. From the studio, Gini watched them. She saw him put his arm around her stepmother’s shoulders. He made some enquiry as to Mary’s welfare, which Gini could only half catch. Mary laughed, and gave him a push.

‘of course. I’m absolutely fine/ she heard. ‘You fuss too much, John. It’s very good of you, but you don’t need to worry. One gets used to it - truly. I just take it one day at a time.’

They passed out of sight. In the doorway, they paused, and Gini heard Hawthorne make some lowvoiced remark; Mary hooted with laughter. The door opened; Gini heard Hawthorne’s feet descend the steps.

‘Gini Mary called to her. ‘Gini, come and look at this. Aren’t they adorable? Look . - - I

Gini reached the front door just as Hawthorne climbed into the waiting black limousine. In the back of it, just visible next to the bulk of a large security man, were two angelic blond children, both fast asleep. Hawthorne lifted his hand; the car moved away. Gini and Mary moved back into the studio. Mary gave her a small triumphant sideways glance.

‘Well,’ she said. ‘You, Gini, made a hit.’ ‘I didT

‘You most certainly did. Are your ears burning?’ ‘No why? What did he sayT

‘Never mind, but it was complimentary.’

‘I can’t think why. I hardly opened my mouth.’

‘Then it canIt be what you said that impressed him/ Mary replied smartly, with an arch look. She moved across the room, picked up her new book, then put it down. ‘So, anyway, you promise you’ll come on Saturday? just say you will - and then I’m going to shoo you out. I need my sleep.’

‘Rubbish. You just can’t wait to read that book

‘All right,’ Mary smiled, ‘I admit it - but just promise me you’ll come.’

‘Sure. I’d love to. There’s just one thing . ‘Yes?’

‘Would you n-dnd if I brought someone with me? just a friend from France. He’s staying in London at the moment, and . - - ‘ At this, Mary rapidly lost interest in her new book, and Gini’s

heart sank. She knew what was coming next.

‘A friend?’ Mary, who was a bad actress, attempted a casual tone. ‘Is he anyone I know?’

‘I don’t think so, no. He’s called Pascal Lamartine.’ ‘Have you known him long?’

Gini considered. She averted her gaze. She could say she had P twelve years; she could say she had known Pascal ,;nown ascal

.. lor those three weeks in Beirut. Both statements were true. She d.“No. Not really. He’s working for the News right now, that’s ‘SingleT

‘Mary, give me a break, will you? Yes. Sort of. He’s divorced.’ Mary considered this, Her concentration, Gini saw, was now tense. ‘A journalist, darling? An editor, perhapsT

‘A photographer. He used to be a war photographer - a very one. Now he’s a - well, I guess paparazzi would be the right

She seized on this description with a sense of relief. She might

find it hard to think of Pascal in that way, but the term had uses. It would surely put Mary off.

To her despair, she realized it had quite the opposite effect. . gave a squeak of delight. A matchmaking look came upon features; it was a look Gini had learned to dread.

‘Paparazzi!’ she said. ‘No! How absolutely splendid. I’ve always nted to meet one of those. Such daredevils - roaring around motor bikes, wearing dark glasses at midnight, what was that T

‘La Dolce Vita, Mary. Fellini. And it was motor scooters, not tor bikes—!

‘Same difference! I remember it terribly well. Is he like that, your scalT

‘He drives a car, as far as I know/ Gini said patiently. ‘And Is not “my” Pascal.’

She said this with extreme firmness. Mary took no notice at She made a noise indicating derision, and continued her ss-examination. She was still babbling about Fellini and cameras d exciting young men on motor bikes some fifteen minutes later, en Gini finally managed her escape.

‘Motor bikes,’ she called after Gini, down the steps. ‘I’m perfectly in it was motor bikes. I shall ask him on Saturday - your al.

PASCAL TELEPHONED at eight the next morning. Gini, who had been awake since six, was careful. Sitting a foot from the receiver she picked it up on the fifth ring. Pascal made no comment on this, but said, ‘It’s me. I’ve hired a motor bike. I’ll pick you up at ten.’

‘You’ve done whatT

‘I’ve hired a motor bike. It’s black, German. A BMW. Very fast.’ ‘Pascal, I have a car. You saw my car yesterday.’

‘Precisely. I saw your car. That’s why I hired the bike.’ ‘Is there something wrong with my carT

‘There are many things wrong with your car. it is old. It is slow. It is painted bright yellow. Once seen, never forgotten, your car. It won’t do at all.‘He paused. ‘Besides, we may need to split up - and if we don’t, you can ride pillion. I’ll bring a spare helmet, yesT ‘Pascal … ‘

‘At ten. I have somewhere else to go first, then I’m with you. Au revoir.’

Gini replaced the receiver and sat staring into space. After some consideration, she removed the skirt she had put on, and replaced it with jeans.

‘My stepmother Mary has second-sight, did you know that, NapoleonT she remarked.

She picked him up, and kissed him between his ears. Napoleon ,t resisted such intimacies. He struggled, kneaded her lap, settled timself, and then purred.

e had thought she remembered Pascal so well - yet she had for—

4 tten one of his most marked characteristics: his energy. Pascal in uit of a story was totally single-minded. He worked hard and

worked fast: he forgot about sleep or such minor inconveniences eating. He left those working with him gasping for air.

‘At ten the motor bike roared to a halt outside her flat. At one ute past ten, Pascal was in her living-room, two helmets under arm. He was wearing black jeans, a black sweater, a black ther jacket and no sun-glasses. Thanks, Fellini, Gini thought. he closed the door, papers fluttered, the air whirled.

‘Very well/ he began, striding into the centre of the room, immediately felt too small. ‘I have found out two things. last night, one this morning.’

111ave some coffee/ said Gini, passing him a pottery mug. ‘And own. You’re too tall for this room. You’re making me nervous. made some progress as well.’

You have?’

Pascal took the coffee, and drank half of it without appearing notice that it was in his hand. He put the mug down on mantelpiece, sat down on the sofa, and stretched out his long legs. ‘May I smoke?’

“Yes.’ ‘Thank you. So, tell me.’

Gini explained. She recounted her visit to Mary, and the meeting Hawthorne. Pascal listened intently. When she had finished, frowned.

‘I don’t understand. He seemed surprised to see you there, but felt he was acting? Why?’

‘I don’t know. It was just an instinct I had. Something to do with timing, the way he spoke. He did a kind of double take … ‘ ‘So? If he was expecting Mary to open the door, he would I

“No. You’re wrong. First of all, it was too well done, just an actor. Second, although he performed it well enough, timing was off. He must have been able to see me per. I was standing in full light in an open doorway. He must seen it wasn’t Mary right away, but he carried on actsurprised. Why do thatT

Pascal shrugged. ‘You probably imagined it. What are you saying, that he already knew you were there? He was expecting to see youT

‘Something like that. And I wasn’t imagining it.’ ‘Could he have known you were thereT

‘I don’t see how. I’d only called Mary an hour before. The meeting wasn’t pre-arranged.’

‘Do you see her every Wednesday?’

‘No. We see each other often, but not on regular days.’ Gini hesitated. She felt a sense of disappointment. Pascal was clearly not impressed by this story, and indeed, now that she recounted it, she felt it was lame. What was she describing after all? An odd coincidence, an instinctual reaction of her own - nothing more.

‘Let’s forget it/ she said. ‘It’s probably not important - you’re right. But it’s good that we’ll get to meet them, isn’t itT

‘On Saturday? If we’re careful. Sure. Hawthorne mustn’t suspect any interest in him on our part. If he does we’re blown.’

Gini said nothing. She felt a brief resentment that Pascal should dismiss so easily what she’d done, but this quickly passed. Pascal took a small package from his jacket pocket, and opened it. Gini gave an exclamation of excitement.

‘That’s the tape McMullen recordedT

‘Yes. Jenkins sent it over to the hotel this morning by messenger.’ Pascal smiled. ‘It virtually came under armed guard. We can play it in a moment. But first, let me tell you what I’ve found out.’

He placed the tape on the coffee table in front of him, and leaned forward, intent now. ‘James McMullen. Our source. Where is he? Why did he disappear? I checked back with Jenkins yesterday. The last time Jenkins saw McMullen was when he handed over that tape. That was two weeks before Christmas. They were due to meet the following week, but McMullen never showed. It seems to me that’s our first lead. We have to find McMullen. And that may not be so easy. Jenkins is right - he isn’t at his flat for a start … ‘

‘You’re sure? How do you know thatT

‘Because I went there first thing this morning. I spoke to the porter, and also to a cleaning woman. Both of them last saw him sometime before Christmas, they couldn’t say for certain when.’ ‘I see.’

‘I guessed that would be the case, so last night I called a friend of mine who works at Heathrow. He checked the flight records

for me for the past three weeks. No McMullen, not at Heathrow,

4,;atwick, Stansted or the new City airport. So, either McMullen left the country by boat or train, or-!

‘T,,‘Your friend checked the flight recordsT Gini stared at him. ‘All flight recordsT

‘But of course.’ Pascal showed signs of slight impatience. ‘They computerized. If you have a name, you can run a computer ch. It doesn’t take very long.’

What a useful friend to have/ Gini said drily.

Pascal smiled. ‘I have a lot of useful friends. In fact it doesn’t very much. He could fly from a provincial airport, use a d’s passport, even obtain a visitors’ passport in another name. r Christmas, when there are so many passengers, they don’t ck very closely. So, then I tried the taxi firms, the mini-cabs, se.,

‘Me mini-cab firmsT Gini gave him a look of disbelief. ‘There about three thousand in central London alone.’

Pascal brushed this detail aside. ‘Of course. But McMullen lives an apartment, yes? In one of those converted warehouses not from the News offices. in apartment blocks, residents tend to the same taxi services, sometimes the porter will recommend

. So, I asked the porter in McMullen’s building. He gave me cards. The second was a firm in Wapping, three blocks from uIlen’s flat. They knew him well, often drove him. It was

their records, the last time he used them. They picked him at eight in the evening, and drove him to Victoria Station. t was on December twenty-first, last year. The day before was due to meet Jenkins.’

There was a silence.

‘The boat-trains to Europe go from Victoria/ Gini said.

‘Exactly what I thought. And they keep no record of passengers, ess they book a sleeping compartment on the overnight trains. ullen didn’t. I checked. On the other hand, two trains left for er/Calais that evening. One at five minutes to nine and one at en-ten. He could have been on either train.’

‘Or neither. Or any other that left Victoria that night. Or he t not have left from Victoria at all. It could be a false trail.’ Pascal looked pleased at this. Gini had the impression that it uld have disappointed him had their task been easier. He .ed. ‘Exactly. Maybe something. Maybe nothing. So, this mornwe have to get into his apartment. It shouldn’t be difficult.’ ‘It shouldn’tT