Brian Freemantle - Dead End

‘ Still?’ queried Parnell, disbelievingly.

‘They’re very thorough guys,’ said Benton. ‘That’s what their job is, being very thorough.’

‘What about the flight listing?’ persisted Parnell.

‘You should wait until you’re with your counsel,’ said Dingley.

‘What the hell for?’ demanded Parnell, loud-voiced.

‘It means you should wait until you’re with your counsel,’ said Benton, in another of his irritating echo responses. ‘And tell him there’s going to be a fingerprint request.’

‘What?’ asked Parnell.

‘Elimination,’ said Dingley. ‘It’s routine.’

‘Will you have something, when we meet?’ said Parnell.

‘Maybe. Who knows?’ avoided Dingley, again.

From the other side of the glass partition, Kathy Richardson was gesturing with one hand, the other holding the internal telephone.

Benton said: ‘We’re in the way.’

Dingley said: ‘What’s a good time for you?’

‘That depends on Barry. I’ll call him, with the choices, and get back to you.’ It made sense, he knew, to have the lawyer with him, but he wasn’t totally convinced of the need. He said: ‘Why don’t we get on with it now?’

Dingley shook his head. ‘Your lawyer was very clear, Mr Parnell.’ There was a close-to-imperceptible head movement back in the direction of Newton’s suite. ‘We get the rule book dictated to us, like we just have, we’ve got to go with the rule book. We make one mistake, it’s all over.’

‘What mistake? What’s all over?’ said Parnell

‘Taking the wrong step in the investigation,’ said Dingley.

‘You still think I might be someway involved!’ demanded Parnell, indignantly.

‘We collect evidence, Mr Parnell,’ said Benton. ‘We leave other people to decide what to do with it. You’ll get back to us, right?’

‘Right,’ said Parnell. ‘As soon as I’ve talked to my lawyer.’

‘We’re obliged,’ said Benton.

Parnell delayed responding to Dwight Newton’s summons while he tried to reach Barry Jackson, leaving Kathy Richardson to make the contact after thirty minutes. From his side office, Parnell hadn’t seen the lawyers’ departure, but the research division vice president was alone when Parnell reached the man’s suite. The greeting pendulum had swung again. Newton was hunch-shouldered behind his desk, glowering up from a lowered head.

‘You talked about confidential work under progress here!’ Newton accused at once.

‘What?’ exclaimed Parnell, surprised.

‘You heard what I said!’

‘I heard what you said. I didn’t understand what you said.’

‘I’ve just been officially interviewed,’ protested the other man. ‘Asked about work we were doing here on something that emanated from France.’

‘Yes?’ said Parnell. He was content for Newton to lead.

‘Which you told them about,’ the research vice president continued to accuse him. ‘That’s information governed by the confidentiality contract you signed.’

‘I don’t recall any clause in that contract covering a murder investigation.’

‘They’re talking terrorism, for Christ’s sake!’

‘You knew about the Air France flight listings. It came up in court.’

‘Those guys are treating it as sinister – trying to make a connection to Dubette. Because of what you told them.’

‘I didn’t disclose any secrets, Dwight. I don’t have any secrets, so I can’t have breached any confidentiality contract. They wanted to know about anything – and I mean that, anything – that Rebecca might have regarded as out of the ordinary in the last few weeks. She was curious why she and her department had been bypassed, about France. That’s what I told them. That it was out of the ordinary and she hadn’t understood why. Simple as that. Simple as that and only that, because there was nothing more to tell them, was there?’

The other man gave the impression of relaxing, although only slightly. ‘What did Rebecca say about France?’

‘Only that she couldn’t understand why things weren’t normal. And that Burt Showcross told her to leave it. Which is what I told her, particularly after you told me the French idea hadn’t worked out.’

Newton examined Parnell steadily for several moments. ‘They spoke to Showcross. And Russell Benn.’

Parnell wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. ‘With the lawyers present?’

Newton nodded. ‘Do you think they will want to see you again?’

‘They do,’ confirmed Parnell. ‘Barry Jackson will be with me.’

‘He’s representing you, personally. I’d like our people there, as well.’

‘Why?’

‘Dubette have got to be protected, from all this terror rubbish. You’ve seen the papers. And the television.’

‘All this terror rubbish?’ queried Parnell.

‘Misleading accusations,’ specified Newton.

‘Dwight! I’m not up with you on this!’

‘I know the case they’re trying to build: that Dubette, with its access to drugs and chemicals, has some connection with terrorism. That’s why the FBI are involved in the first place.’

‘I really don’t believe this! There’s a perfectly understandable and acceptable explanation for why Rebecca had that flight number in her bag: her job was to deal with samples coming in by air from overseas. And Dingley and Benton have accepted it, as far as I am aware.’

‘That’s not my impression.’

‘Impression?’ questioned Parnell, pointedly. ‘A second ago you told me they were building a definite case.’

‘We’re talking about company lawyers being with you for the next FBI interview,’ said Newton.

‘You were talking about company lawyers,’ contradicted Parnell. ‘I wasn’t. I’m going to see the Bureau guys again, with just my lawyer. And if I get the slightest indication of Dubette being compromised, I’ll stop the interview and tell you, immediately.’

‘I’m not sure that’s the attitude we welcome,’ said Newton.

‘It’s not an attitude,’ contradicted Parnell again. ‘It’s common-sense refusal to be panicked when there’s no reason nor cause to be panicked.’

‘I’ve got to see the board, up in New York.’

‘I’m sure you have,’ said Parnell, unsure why he was being told.

‘Which will have to include your refusal to co-operate.’

‘Dwight, don’t you think the FBI might imagine that I – and Dubette – have something to hide if I arrive next time surrounded by attorneys? I’m not refusing to co-operate. I’m refusing to let there be any wrongful suspicion… wrongful suspicion about me and wrongful suspicion about Dubette. Make sure you tell the board that, in those words.’

‘I’ll definitely make sure of that,’ said Newton, in an attempted threat that failed.

‘There’s nothing to hide,’ insisted Parnell once more. I haven’t, he thought. He increasingly wasn’t sure about Dwight Newton or Russell Benn.

When Parnell got back to his department, Kathy Richardson said Jackson had suggested ten the following morning. When he told Dingley, the FBI agent said: ‘You told him about fingerprints?’

‘He wants to know why.’

Richard Parnell was at Jackson’s office by eight thirty – and had to wait fifteen minutes for the lawyer’s arrival – wanting advice not so much for the meeting that was to come but for the uncertainties that appeared to be arising from those that had already taken place.

When Parnell finished, Jackson said: ‘What do you think you’re telling me?’

‘Let’s not go this route,’ protested Parnell. ‘From the moment we first met, in the middle of the night in a detention cell, I don’t know how many days or weeks ago, I’ve not known what the fuck I’m telling you or anyone else! It’s feelings, nuances, uncertainties: square things that don’t go into round holes. It’s all wrong. Rebecca’s dead, murdered, and something’s wrong and I’m not talking about her being killed or my getting accused of it.’