Stella Rimington - Rip Tide

‘You know,’ said Martin, sipping his glass of Chablis, ‘I found Geoffrey Fane rather strange today.’

‘Oh, yes?’ asked Liz a little warily. Now did not seem the right moment to tell Martin that Fane knew about their relationship.

Martin shrugged. ‘As a Frenchman, one knows that there are always Englishmen who think we are buffoons, and that there are others who simply dislike us. But many Englishmen seem to like the French, even admire our culture. I always thought Fane was one of them.’

‘And you no longer do?

Martin lifted his hands, perplexed. ‘I found him different this afternoon. He seemed to become competitive, sparring with me if you like.’ He gave a small smile. ‘But I think I know the reason.’

‘What do you think it is?’

‘The presence of Mademoiselle Carlyle! He is quite keen on you, I believe, and not very happy that you should be associated with the likes of me – a foreigner. However good the relations between our bureaux, he sees me as a competitor nonetheless.’

So Martin realised Fane knew about them, thought Liz, impressed that he had sussed that out for himself. Before she could say anything he went on, ‘I don’t take it personally. He would feel that way about any man you were with, I sense.’

He took an appreciative sip of his wine, then said cheerfully, ‘Anyway, it is of no real consequence. Geoffrey Fane remains formidable in many respects, and he will continue to have my respect. But I will soon encounter someone who to me is far more daunting.’

‘You will?’ asked Liz. Did Martin have another meeting he hadn’t told her about?

He looked at her with a sly smile. ‘The weather is supposed to be very fine tomorrow. I expect I will be meeting your mother.’

Sound chap, Blakey. Fane’s words were in the back of Liz’s mind as she sat in the office of the Director of UCSO. David Blakey had the characteristic poise of an MI6 officer, but seemed a good deal more relaxed than the version Liz usually found herself working with. True, Blakey’s suit was beautifully cut, but she noted with relief that there were none of the flamboyant extras that Geoffrey Fane and Bruno McKay liked to affect – no paisley silk handkerchief peeping out of the top pocket, no obvious shirt cuffs with gold cufflinks, no regimental tie.

Blakey had calmly explained the history of UCSO’s concerns: how his original call to Fane had come after the head of UCSO’s Athens office, Mitchell Berger, had become suspicious about the recent spate of hijack attempts on valuable shipments. Now, as Liz moved the discussion on to the murder of Maria Galanos, David Blakey begin to look uneasy.

She said, ‘We’re still waiting for the Greek police report, but we know Maria Galanos was strangled.’

‘Yes, I’d heard that. Do they think she knew the person who killed her?’

‘It doesn’t sound like it – apparently her electricity had been tampered with, presumably to make the flat dark when her attacker struck. Which means it wasn’t some sort of argument that suddenly escalated. It was planned – someone must have got into the flat beforehand. Do you know if she had a boyfriend?’

Blakey shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. The thing is, I never met the girl. I would have thought Geoffrey’s colleagues in Athens would know all that sort of thing. They chose her for the job,’ he added with a note of weariness. He seems more disturbed by her death than Fane was, thought Liz, even though he’d never met her. It must be causing a big upset in the Athens office.

She said, ‘Berger met her, of course, so he probably knows more about her. When’s he coming to London next?’

But Blakey didn’t answer. Instead he reached for his phone and dialled two numbers – an internal extension. ‘Could you pop in?’ he said without preamble.

Moments later, the door to his office opened and a tall, slim woman walked in. She wore a smart linen shirtdress and plain but expensive-looking jewellery – a necklace of gold coins and a bracelet of fine gold wires. No wedding ring, observed Liz. The new arrival was about forty, with a mature, lightly sunburned face, blonde hair tied back, revealing a high forehead, bright blue eyes, and a sharp chin. The effect was smart and attractive rather than beautiful. It was a look that Liz would love to be able to achieve, though she had long ago accepted that she never would.

Blakey stood up and pulled out a chair for the woman. ‘This is Liz Carlyle. She works with the friend I mentioned,’ he told her.

Liz looked at him in surprise; her understanding from Fane was that only Berger in Athens (as well as Blakey himself) knew about the involvement of Fane and his colleagues in tracing the possible UCSO leak. Just how much had Blakey told this woman? She decided to ask Fane at the earliest opportunity what the agreement with Blakey had been.

‘Katherine Ball,’ said the blonde woman, stretching out her hand to Liz.

‘We were talking about the problem in Athens,’ said Blakey.

‘Yes,’ said Katherine, non-committally.

‘Liz was asking about Maria, and I said I’d never met her. I think you did, though.’

‘Yes, though I can’t say I got to know her particularly well. Mitchell and I are usually pretty busy when I’m there,’ she said, looking at Liz and smiling. ‘I’m never in Athens very long, so my days are full – I don’t have much time to chat to the staff.’

Liz nodded. ‘I understand. Do you know if Maria was friendly with anyone in particular?’

While Katherine thought about this, Blakey interjected, ‘She hadn’t worked in the office very long…’

Katherine interrupted. ‘The twins,’ she said. Liz looked at her and she explained. ‘Two Greek girls who work in the office. Anastasia and Falana. They’re not related, actually, but I always call them the twins because they’re inseparable.’

‘And Maria knew them?’

‘Everybody knows them. They’re the dogsbodies in the office. I don’t mean that unkindly – it’s just that if you need anything, from a photocopy to coffee for a visitor, one of them gets it.’

‘And Maria and these two?’ asked Liz, trying to move the woman on.

‘I think they were intrigued by her. Another Greek girl – slightly older but roughly the same generation. Yet half-English, educated – she’d travelled.’ She glanced over at Blakey as she said this. ‘Anyway, I think they got quite friendly. Even went out together.’

This was not surprising, given Maria’s brief from the Athens MI6 Station. It would have been a good way for her to learn the office gossip. The ‘twins’ would have known far more than Berger about the personalities in the office, all their foibles and little habits, which when added up could provide the lead she’d been asked to look out for.

Katherine went on, ‘I have to say, I was a little surprised. Not to be snooty about it, but Maria came from a different background – I don’t think either of the twins has much education, and they both come from fairly humble families. I wouldn’t have thought they had much to offer someone like Maria. All they ever talk about is pop music, clubbing and boys.’

‘Well, they’re young after all,’ said Blakey mildly. ‘That’s understandable.’

But Katherine shook her head. ‘There was more to it than that. I have the feeling they’ve got some pretty ropey friends in the clubs they go to. The girls are often the worse for wear when they come to work; I was going to speak to Mitchell about it, in fact. I think sometimes he’s too tolerant.’

‘Was Maria like that?’ asked Liz. It sounded unlikely. Surely she wouldn’t have been on the books of the Athens Station if she had been a committed party girl.