Brian Freemantle - The Predators

Claudine shook her head positively. Even more flatly she said: ‘The majority of case histories of women sex perverts show them more physically cruel and deviant than men.’

‘Thanks for picking up on the things we missed,’ said Harding.

Claudine saw the opening at once. She hadn’t expected it to be so easy. ‘It’s a combined effort now, not a contest any more, isn’t it?’

‘It certainly is as far as I am concerned,’ said the American guardedly. ‘And I think today’s gone pretty damned well.’

With an aggression that surprised Claudine, Blake said: ‘You sure about that, Paul?’

‘I don’t think I understand that question,’ protested the American.

‘I thought we’d ironed out the working relationship,’ said Blake.

‘So did I.’

‘It would be unfortunate if it got fouled up again.’

Claudine had imagined she would have to lead this discussion and frowned curiously at her partner. Blake refused to meet the look.

‘It won’t on my part,’ assured Harding.

‘It didn’t make sense, John walking out as he did,’ said Claudine. It had to be confronted, not allowed to drift into innuendo and misunderstanding. ‘I know re-interviewing the eye-witnesses was primarily an investigative procedure but I’d have expected someone as obsessional as John to insist on remaining.’

‘I know,’ said the American. ‘I was as surprised as you.’

Claudine didn’t think she could go as far as openly suggesting Norris was suffering a mental problem. ‘So what are we going to do about it?’

‘He’s got a lot of respect, back in Washington,’ said Harding. What the hell was he doing, talking disloyally of a colleague? But Norris was behaving like a horse’s ass. Harding was more discomfited by the man’s behaviour today than he had been when he received the initial Iceman cable alerting him to Norris’s arrival.

‘I thought McBride had clout, too,’ said Blake.

‘I don’t have any reason – or the authority – to question John. If I tried my feet wouldn’t touch the ground until I got to Washington, probably in protective custody.’

‘Which would seem to sum up the problem,’ said Claudine.

‘Any move is going to have to come from your side,’ Harding insisted.

‘It would help if we knew when and where to make it,’ said Blake.

Harding shook his head despairingly. ‘I can’t work against my own task force commander!’

‘Don’t work against us, either,’ said Blake.

‘I won’t,’ repeated the American. Shit, he thought: what a total fuck-up!

Blake was about to speak when the telephone sounded. Harding grabbed it, eager for the respite. It was a very brief conversation. To Claudine he said: ‘It was Harrison, at the embassy. The ambassador has asked to see you.’

Claudine went alone to the Boulevard du Regent, leaving the two detectives watching Volker creating a startlingly life-like portrait of a narrow-faced, suntanned blond that both Rompuy and to a lesser extent Lunckner insisted was an amazing re-creation of the woman in the back of the Mercedes. It would, Volker assured them, be ready by the evening.

James McBride was more composed than Claudine had previously seen him. So was Hillary. Norris was facing them across the desk, legs outstretched in easy relaxation. The chief of mission remained standing.

‘The ambassador-’ started Harrison, but McBride broke in at once.

‘-can talk for himself. I’m not sure this second television appearance is a good idea. John doesn’t think so, either.’

Norris smiled and nodded. He looked beyond Claudine, clearly searching for Harding. The smile disappeared.

Claudine realized at once that the ambassador respected her opinion. So she’d impressed the man at their earlier encounter. She didn’t think it would be difficult to do it again: inexplicably leaving, as he had, meant Norris was totally ignorant of what they’d achieved with the eye-witnesses. It wasn’t going to help the man’s mental condition but Claudine wasn’t sure anything short of hospitalization would.

She repeated her conviction that the abductors had to be drawn into contact upon Europol’s initiative (‘the first, unwitting, erosion of their control’) and that it should be achieved in the shortest possible time (‘it’s the fourth day now: Mary mustn’t be allowed to think no one is trying to help her and start trusting those who are holding her’). Throughout Norris sat complacently, shaking his head in dismissal to every point.

McBride provided the opportunity for which Claudine was waiting. ‘Won’t it simply be a repetition of the appeal I’ve already made?’

‘That would be sufficient by itself,’ said Claudine easily. ‘But we’ve got digitalized pictures of the man and woman who took Mary-’

‘You know who they are!’ Hillary interrupted.

‘We think we’ve got a fairly accurate picture of what they look like,’ qualified Claudine. ‘They’ll be ready by late afternoon, early evening. And their impact will be that much more if you appear, reiterating your appeal directly to them.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me this, John?’ McBride demanded.

Norris was sitting primly upright now, his face fixed, knowing Claudine Carter was lying. She wouldn’t allow anything like an accurate picture of her accomplices to appear publicly. ‘I was waiting to hear from Paul,’ he said inadequately. ‘There’s a danger of getting a lot of bad leads if the pictures aren’t good.’

‘The witnesses are happy with them,’ Claudine assured him. To the ambassador she added: ‘I don’t want to expose you or your wife to any more distress than you’ve already suffered. But I really want these pictures to achieve the maximum impact. Your appearance would ensure that.’

‘I made a fool of myself last time,’ blurted McBride.

‘Not for the first time,’ said Hillary.

‘You couldn’t have done better if you’d been rehearsed,’ insisted Claudine, pleased to contradict the other woman.

‘You sure about that?’ asked McBride doubtfully.

Norris was shaking his head vigorously.

‘We’ve got to make the biggest possible impact, to get them to come to us,’ repeated Claudine. ‘Don’t stage a press conference, as such. Make it a television appeal, limited to yourselves and an interview…’ She hesitated, remembering the need for diplomatic correctness. ‘Include Poncellet, to talk about the importance of the computer graphics to the investigation.’

‘We’ll do it,’ decided Hillary.

McBride nodded, in agreement. ‘I’m to appeal-’

‘Plead,’ broke in Norris contemptuously.

‘Yes!’ said Claudine, eagerly again. ‘That’s what you’ve got to do. Plead. Do whatever it takes to bring them to us.’

McBride was silent for several moments before saying: ‘Will you prep us?’

‘Willingly,’ said Claudine, relieved. ‘We’ll rehearse it word for word.’

Turning to Harrison, McBride said: ‘Fix it through public affairs. And involve Poncellet.’

Norris stayed, listening disparagingly to Claudine’s advice but offering none himself. He realized the woman was extremely clever. His mistake had been in underestimating her. It was possible he’d have to take some very direct action. Detain her and interrogate her. Make her talk.

Norris was waiting in Paul Harding’s chair at Paul Harding’s desk when the local FBI man arrived back at the embassy. He didn’t make any effort to move.

‘You should have called me about the computer graphics. The woman wrong-footed me.’

‘I was still working!’ protested Harding.

‘You got print-outs of the pictures?’

Harding offered them across the desk.

‘I’m not impressed,’ Norris said dismissively. ‘Could be anyone.’