Christopher Reich - Rules of Vengeance

The police officer picked up one of the photographs and compared it to a picture blown up from one of the outdoor CCTV cameras on Victoria Street. “Is that or is that not your wife?”

“I’m not certain,” said Jonathan.

Ford set the pictures taken in London next to Emma’s passport picture, which had been provided by the Swiss authorities. There was no denying that it was the same woman. “And now?”

“It looks like her,” said Jonathan. His head throbbed. He was too fatigued to keep up the pretense.

“So we may assume that she is alive?”

Jonathan said nothing.

Ford picked up the photographs. “Does the name Robert Russell mean anything to you?”

“No,” said Jonathan. “Should it?”

“He was murdered yesterday morning. The first picture we showed you of your wife came from a surveillance camera in his building. We have evidence implicating her in Russell’s killing.”

The DVD was still playing, showing the BMW exploding from a different position up the street.

“One second she’s there,” said Graves, pointing a finger at the screen. “Bang goes the car, and the next, she’s gone. A bit spooky, actually. Where’d she go? She was too far away to get vaporized by the blast. Look closely. DCI Ford is just across the intersection. You can see her before and after. But your wife’s disappeared. We still can’t figure it.” He turned off the machine. “So what were you trying to do, Dr. Ransom, running down the street like that?”

Jonathan didn’t answer.

“What?” demanded Graves.

“I was trying to stop her.”

“So you knew there was a bomb?”

“No, I just-”

“Admit it,” said Graves. “You just said that you were trying to stop her. What happened? Have a last-second change of heart? That it? New to this kind of thing, are we?”

Jonathan stared at Graves. “I didn’t know anything about the bomb,” he said.

Graves came closer. “We have reports that you were extremely anxious upon your arrival at Heathrow. Set off all kinds of bells and whistles. Sounds to me as if you knew exactly what she had planned.”

“That’s not true,” said Jonathan. “I only found out Emma was in London last night.”

“Come on,” said Graves, suddenly assuming a comradely manner. “Stop lying to us. Surely you knew about it. You were helping her at every turn. Did you smuggle in the explosives? Swipe some plastique from your rebel buddies in Africa? Was that your part of the job? Later you can tell us how you managed to sneak it past our boys. Right now we’re more interested in why you and your wife wanted to blow up the Russian interior minister. Who exactly are you working for, Dr. Ransom?”

Jonathan recalled the white, red, and blue flag flying from the car’s antenna. The interior minister could count himself lucky to be alive. Emma didn’t fail often. “I don’t know anything about the Russian or about the bomb. I was invited to London to give a speech at a medical conference. I’m not working for anyone.”

“Then what were you doing at the exact location where the attack took place?”

“I already told you. I was trying to stop her.”

“Stop a dead woman from carrying out an attack you didn’t know was going to take place?” Graves continued relentlessly. “Please, Dr. Ransom, listen to yourself. Don’t insult our intelligence.”

Just then Jonathan heard a boom far in the distance and its echo drifting over the countryside. He was familiar with the sound of heavy artillery. He fingered the rough wool blanket. They had him tucked away at an army base. He was outside the system, and he knew all too well the kinds of things that happened there. If he ever wanted to get out of here, he was going to have to cooperate. Emma had been right. He must tell them everything.

“Emma worked for the U.S. government,” he said. “She was an operative for an organization called Division. It’s part of the Defense Department, but don’t bother looking it up. It doesn’t exist. At least, not officially. Something happened in Switzerland last February. A mission that went wrong… Actually, Emma made it go wrong. Several of Division’s men were killed, including its leader. It was better that we pretended she was dead.”

“Why’s that?” asked Graves.

“Emma knew that Division would come after her. She had to hide. I only found out that she was in London last night. I was at a reception in my hotel for the conference and Emma sent someone to tell me she was here. She arranged for us to meet at an apartment on Edgware Road.”

Kate Ford asked for the address, then shared a look with Graves. “And why did she wish to see you?”

“To say goodbye. She wanted to let me know that it was getting too dangerous for her. She couldn’t risk making contact with me in the future. She came to my hotel at four this morning. She got a call before she left my room. I sensed something wasn’t right. You know, that she was up to something. I asked her why she was really here and she told me to mind my own business. I didn’t know it was an operation, or that it had anything to do with any Russians. I thought it was something to do with her keeping safe. Staying one step ahead of them. Anyway, it didn’t matter one way or the other. All I cared about was that she was leaving. I couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing her again. When she left the room this morning, I followed her. She went to a house in Hampstead and picked up the car there.”

“Do you have an address?” asked Ford.

“No, but if you take me there, I can probably find the place.”

Graves shot Ford a disbelieving glance. “Go on,” he said.

“After that I followed her to Storey’s Gate. She stayed in the car for a while, and that confused me. But as soon as I saw the motorcade I knew. With Emma there aren’t any maybes. That’s why I was shouting at her. I didn’t want her to go through with it.”

“So it’s your word that you didn’t know anything about her plan to assassinate Igor Ivanov until you reached Storey’s Gate?” Ford pressed.

“Of course I didn’t know,” said Jonathan more confidently, now that the truth was in the open.

“I think I’ve heard enough,” said Graves, snorting as if he wasn’t having any of it. “The Americans have never heard of your wife. We checked with Langley first thing. We wanted to give them a chance to ’fess up, as it were. You being an American. They denied it absolutely. Never heard of Emma Ransom. Don’t know a thing about a plot to kill Ivanov. Shocked. Angered. Offered their help, and I believe them. They’d never even consider carrying out that kind of an attack on our soil. I’ve got contacts at the FBI, too. Your wife’s name drew a blank again. The only vaguely truthful thing you’ve told us so far is that she was in Switzerland last February, but you want to know something? The British passport she was traveling on was a phony. And now you want me to believe that she worked for some secret spy shop you called…” Graves prompted Jonathan for the name.

“Division,” said Jonathan.

“Division,” repeated Graves, “that either is or isn’t a part of the United States Department of Defense. And that she was some sort of operative traipsing around Europe and pulling jobs. I’m sorry, Dr. Ransom, but we have a word over here for that kind of story. Bollocks.”

“Believe what you want,” said Jonathan. “I’m sick of this.”

Graves shook his head in disgust. “I don’t know why I shouldn’t throw you to the wolves.”

Jonathan sat up, ignoring his pounding head. “Because I am not involved. Can you get that through your thick head?”

Graves stepped closer to the bed. “We put that shirt you were wearing through one of our fancy machines. It said that there was enough explosives residue on it to set off a dozen scanners. At some point in the past twenty-four hours you’ve been in direct contact with plastic explosives.”