The Hidden Target (51 page)

“Terrorists—anarchists. I have never had any connection with them!” she burst out angrily.

“Indeed you have. You’re up to your pretty little neck in a terrorist conspiracy. So tell me about it.”

“Why? To help you give evidence against me? But I don’t think you will. If you do, there will be nothing left of your career—or of your life. Renwick the laughing-stock! No, I don’t think a man with your reputation could face that.” Her voice had risen, her face was triumphant.

“Oh, those photographs,” he said. “I wondered when you’d get around to trying some blackmail.”

“You’re a fool. They will be used.”

“Well, if my stock goes down in some quarters,” he said with a good show of amusement, “it will go up in others.”

“I’ve warned you. They will be used.”

“And let yourself be exposed? In every sense,” he added, smiling.

She looked at him in frustration, not knowing whether to believe him or not. “If it has to be,” she said slowly, “it has to be.”

“All for the good of the cause? Well, well—you really are a dedicated woman. Perhaps it might be better—for you as well as me—if you burned the negatives.”

“You know I don’t have them.”

He knew that quite well. But who did have the negatives now that Theo had abdicated?

“I don’t,” she protested. “Theo—everything was sent to Theo. It was his idea, his orders. I never—”

“Of course not,” Renwick said wearily. “You were just the little innocent trapped by the big bad men.”

“But I
am
innocent, Bob.” She had turned to pleading again, her eyes soft, her lips tender. “I loved you. I thought you loved me. Didn’t you? And I still love you.”

“In God’s name,” he said, his anger suddenly breaking through. He rose, went to the window.

“Expecting someone?” She looked at the door. Had there been a key in that lock? Even if he had it now, her bag was there—easily reached, easily opened.

“Yes.” He turned to face her. “And don’t try it!” he warned her as she took a few steps towards her handbag. He had his Beretta in his hand. “My own small piece of protection,” he said as he pocketed it again. “Sit down, Thérèse. You may as well wait in comfort. But don’t make up stories. Tell the truth. It will be easier for you in the end.” He went back to his own chair.

“Would you have used that—on me?” she asked.

“Not to kill. Just to delay you a little.” Would Mac and his friends never arrive? Or, he thought again, nothing has been found in the attaché case. I’ll get a ’phone call telling me to let her go. And for me—hell to pay.

In silence, he waited six agonising minutes. Then a car drew up at the front of the house. Could be anyone, he told himself: a delivery of flowers, liquor, even O’Connell. He kept his hopes down and his eyes on Thérèse Colbert.

The door to the living-room opened. Two strangers, seriouseyed, entered with Mac. Mac was grinning all over his wind-beaten face.

They’ve found it, thought Renwick as he got to his feet and handed over Colbert’s bag. “One weapon at least,” he said quietly. He wasn’t going to stay and hear her rights being read, or to see her being taken out handcuffed. Nodding to Mac, he turned away from the front door and walked slowly down the hall towards the back of the house.

He reached a white conservatory, barely completed, with decorative trees in giant pots, flowers in rustic boxes, all clustered in the centre of the tiled floor to leave space for work-in-progress around the curving windows. Outside, the light was fading, the small remainder of a garden bleak with falling leaves. Well, he thought, that is one file we can close. Our part is done. The FBI and other security agencies can dig hard and come up with more. But for J.P. Merriman & Co., Theo’s file is closed—ended along with his Washington project.

He heard a movement behind him. “Nina?” He turned quickly. But it was Mac.

“I asked her to give me two minutes with you,” Mac said. “It’s news from Claudel. He had a call from Bombay, just before Gilman caught his flight back to London. It’s about that baggage Theo left in his suite—for his three men to bring out safely. Some safety!”

“Do we never get rid of Theo?”

“Gilman and friend A.K. Roy got rid of his negatives. Burned them. That’s the message: all negatives burned. Does it make any sense to you?”

Renwick drew a long deep breath. “They found negatives?”

“Among a few special files. Theo’s own small travelling office, I gather. We’ll hear more from Gilman when we all get back to London. Clever bastard.”

“Gilman?” A slow smile spread over Renwick’s face. “Yes,” he said gratefully.

“No. Theo.” Mac shook his head. “You’re right. He still keeps cropping up. For a man who’ll never make the headlines, he’s quite a personality. Which reminds me—my federal friends would like to have a little talk—just a general wrap-up, more background information.”

“You could handle it.”

“Sure. But don’t you want some credit—share the congratulations?”

Renwick laughed. “Come on, Mac. Everything is okay. Leave it at that.”

“It will be played down, of course. The newspapers will never hear of that damned attaché case. Do we tell O’Connell about it?”

Renwick shook his head. He would tell Nina. But O’Connell? Definitely no. “Not our job, Mac. We’ll leave it to your friends Bill and Joe.” They’d decide what should be told—or not told.

“Wonder what they’ll come up with?”

“Oh—that the attaché case was damaged inside. Beyond repair.”

“And that’s a pretty fair description.” Mac smiled at some memory. “But they’ll certainly have to warn O’Connell about an enemy agent making free with his home.”

“That could be enough.”

“A shocker,” Mac predicted. “At least he won’t be carrying any high explosives into the White House. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an emergency meeting this week. Tomorrow, perhaps—when more news comes in. Iran of course. Sunday morning over there, now. Well, I’ll see you in London. We’ll have a celebration party. When?”

“In about ten days. I’m due some leave.” Geneva, he thought: that’s where we’ll go.

Mac studied Renwick’s face. “So you’re getting married?”

“Yes.”

“Saw it coming. Couldn’t be any other explanation for—”

“And your two minutes are up, old boy.” Renwick disengaged his hand from Mac’s enthusiastic handshake, clapped his shoulder, gave him an encouraging push towards the hall.

“Best idea you ever had,” Mac said over his shoulder. He half stumbled over some potted plants, swore, added, “You need some light in here.” He shook his head, gave a mock salute, and was on his way.

Renwick waited. Yes, he decided, we’ll fly to Zurich, drive from there to Geneva. But I’ll surprise her: she’ll think it’s London, will never know until we are picking up our tickets at the airport.

And then he saw Nina walking down the hall towards him, walking slowly, almost hesitantly. “Nina,” he called out, went forward to meet her. Suddenly she was running, joining in his laughter as his arms caught hold of her. He drew her away from the lighted doorway, into the island of trees and flowers.

Helen MacInnes, whom the
Sunday Express
called ‘the Queen of spy writers’, was the author of many distinguished suspense novels.

Born in Scotland, she studied at the University of Glasgow and University College, London, then went to Oxford after her marriage to Gilbert Highet, the eminent critic and educator. In 1937 the Highets went to New York, and except during her husband’s war service, Helen MacInnes lived there ever since.

Since her first novel
Above Suspicion
was published in 1941 to immediate success, all her novels have been bestsellers;
The Salzburg Connection
was also a major film.

Helen MacInnes died in September 1985.

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A series of slick espionage thrillers from
The New York Times
bestselling “Queen of Spy Writers.”

Pray for a Brave Heart

Above Suspicion

Assignment in Brittany

North From Rome

Decision at Delphi

The Venetian Affair

The Salzburg Connection

Message from Málaga

While We Still Live

The Double Image

Neither Five Nor Three

Horizon

Snare of the Hunter

Agent in Place

Ride a Pale Horse

Prelude to Terror

I and My True Love
(October 2013)

Cloak of Darkness
(November 2013)

Rest and Be Thankful
(December 2013)

Friends and Lovers
(January 2014)

Home is the Hunter
(February 2014)

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“The queen of spy writers.”
Sunday Express

“Definitely in the top class.”
Daily Mail

“The hallmarks of a MacInnes novel of suspense are as individual and as clearly stamped as a Hitchcock thriller.”
The New York Times

“A sophisticated thriller. The story builds up to an exciting climax.”
Times Literary Supplement

“Absorbing, vivid, often genuinely terrifying.”
Observer

“She can hang her cloak and dagger right up there with Eric Ambler and Graham Greene.”
Newsweek

“An atmosphere that is ready to explode with tension... a wonderfully readable book.”
The New Yorker

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BY DONALD HAMILTON

The long-awaited return of the United States’ toughest special agent.

Death of a Citizen

The Wrecking Crew

The Removers

The Silencers

Murderers’ Row

The Ambushers
(October 2013)

The Shadowers
(December 2013)

The Ravagers
(February 2014)

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“Donald Hamilton has brought to the spy novel the authentic hard realism of Dashiell Hammett; and his stories are as compelling, and probably as close to the sordid truth of espionage, as any now being told.” Anthony Boucher,
The New York Times

“This series by Donald Hamilton is the top-ranking American secret agent fare, with its intelligent protagonist and an author who consistently writes in high style. Good writing, slick plotting and stimulating characters, all tartly flavored with wit.”
Book Week

“Matt Helm is as credible a man of violence as has ever figured in the fiction of intrigue.”
The New York Sunday Times

“Fast, tightly written, brutal, and very good...”
Milwaukee Journal

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BY DANIEL STASHOWER

The Dime Museum Murders

The Floating Lady Murder

The Houdini Specter

In turn-of-the-century New York, the Great Houdini’s confidence in his own abilities is matched only by the indifference of the paying public. Now the young performer has the opportunity to make a name for himself by attempting the most amazing feats of his fledgling career—solving what seem to be impenetrable crimes. With the reluctant help of his brother Dash, Houdini must unravel murders, debunk frauds and escape from danger that is no illusion...

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“A romp that cleverly combines history and legend, taking a few liberties with each. Mr. Stashower has done his homework... This is charming... it might have amused Conan Doyle.”
The New York Times

“In his first mystery, Stashower paired Harry Houdini and Sherlock Holmes to marvelous effect.”
Chicago Tribune

“Stashower’s clever adaptation of the Conan Doyle conventions—Holmes’s uncanny powers of observation and of disguise, the scenes and customs of Victorian life—makes it fun to read. Descriptions and explanations of some of Houdini’s astonishing magic routines add an extra dimension to this pleasant adventure.”
Publishers Weekly

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BY MICKEY SPILLANE & MAX ALLAN COLLINS

THE LOST MIKE HAMMER NOVEL

Hammer and Velda go on vacation to a small beach town on Long Island after wrapping up the Williams case
(I, the Jury
). Walking romantically along the boardwalk, they witness a brutal beating at the hands of some vicious local cops—Hammer wades in to defend the victim.

When a woman turns up naked—and dead—astride the statue of a horse in the small-town city park, how she wound up this unlikely Lady Godiva is just one of the mysteries Hammer feels compelled to solve...

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BY MICKEY SPILLANE & MAX ALLAN COLLINS

THE LOST MIKE HAMMER COLD WAR THRILLER

Hammer accompanies a conservative politician to Moscow on a fact-finding mission. While there, he is arrested by the KGB on a bogus charge, and imprisoned; but he quickly escapes, creating an international incident by getting into a firefight with Russian agents.