Майкл Ридпат - Launch Code

‘Yes,’ said Bill. ‘Yes, he was. And he was a brave man. I’ve told Toby and Megan the real story of what happened on the submarine.’

‘Really?’ Alice glanced sharply at Toby, making him feel unaccountably guilty. ‘It’s a shame no one will know about what Lars did. His family.’

‘Yes. I guess I am lucky Donna told you girls.’

‘You’re also lucky you’re not dead.’

Bill raised his eyebrows, stunned.

‘I mean, someone tried to kill Toby this afternoon, didn’t they?’

‘Yes, they did.’

‘And no one knows why?’

‘I’d like to speak to you about that.’

‘Not tonight, Dad. Not tonight.’

Bill sat down opposite his daughter. ‘There are things we must discuss.’

‘And there’s soup I’ve got to eat,’ said Alice. ‘Look, Dad. I’ve been questioned by the police all day. I’m exhausted. I just want to eat something and go to sleep. OK?’

‘All right,’ Bill nodded, controlling his impatience.

Toby joined them at the kitchen table, and there was a painful silence as Alice finished her soup. Toby wondered what Bill wanted to say to Alice and what Alice didn’t want to say to Bill. He also marvelled at how Alice had somehow managed to take control of the situation within moments of returning.

She finished her soup, and got to her feet. ‘Well, goodnight,’ she said. She hesitated and then kissed her father on the top of his head, eliciting a brief smile.

‘I’ll be up in a moment,’ said Toby.

‘Do you think she knows you suspect her of killing Sam?’ Toby said to his father-in-law after Alice had gone.

Bill shrugged. ‘Who knows what Alice knows?’

Toby joined her in their bedroom twenty minutes later. The light was off and Alice was on her side facing away from the door.

‘You OK?’ Toby said as he undressed.

There was no reply for several seconds. Then Alice spoke. ‘No. You?’

‘No.’

Toby undressed and got into bed. It had been a truly dreadful day. He had seen a man get killed only two feet away from him. He had nearly been killed himself. And Alice? God knows what Alice thought. God knows what Alice had done.

Toby had always felt comfortable in the Guth family, secure in its warmth and its minor arguments. But now it was blowing up around him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

At least he had Alice.

Didn’t he?

He turned, reached over and touched her back.

She tensed. He left his hand there. Then she rolled over and grabbed him by the shoulders tightly. ‘God, Toby, I’m so glad you are still alive!’

‘So am I,’ he said. ‘Believe me, so am I.’

She kissed him, gently for a few seconds, and then urgently, and then she was on top of him and he inside her.

Megan sat on her bed and stared at the four walls of her crappy little room. It was the smallest in the house; well maybe Maya’s was smaller, but Maya’s was cuter and had a view out over the marshes, whereas Megan’s room looked out over a scruffy field to a row of back gardens in the village. It was true she could see the windmill on the hill above Barnholt, the real windmill with its broad wooden sails, not one of those giant propellers spinning out to sea.

There was no floor space. One large suitcase remained upright and unopened, the contents of the other covered the carpet. It was not as if there was anywhere to hang anything.

Megan wondered if this was where she would stay for the next few weeks in Norfolk. Surely, once everyone else had left and Dad had returned to London, she could take over Alice and Toby’s room?

This was so not working out as she had planned. As in most big families, Megan assumed, each child had their role. Alice was the conscientious elder daughter, Maya was the youngest cutest one, Brooke was the anxious one, and Megan was the naughty one.

She had enjoyed this role as a child, getting into scrapes and rubbing her father and mother, both of whom she loved desperately, up the wrong way. She had run away from the house in Cobham when she was eight, and hidden herself away in nearby woods until two a.m.; she had got caught smoking when she was twelve at the International School in Brussels and she had been discovered by her Australian boyfriend’s mother having sex with him when they were both aged fourteen in the garage in the expat compound in Riyadh. He wasn’t even really a boyfriend, but he was a kindred spirit and he had his own issues which intrigued her.

Then their mother had died. Megan was nineteen and at college. All four girls had reacted in different ways. Maya’s beauty had become soulful, and she had withdrawn from the family; Brooke’s anxiety had increased to the point where their father sent her to a therapist; Alice had taken over from their mother in running the family and Megan became that bit more disruptive. She dropped out of college. She found a boyfriend who was a jerk and a criminal. She took stupid jobs that didn’t suit her. She occasionally sought her father’s advice, but, whenever she did so, she was careful not to follow it. She let her sisters down, especially Alice.

She didn’t exactly do it on purpose. When she had accepted the invitation to Alice and Toby’s wedding in London, she thought she was going to go. It was just, when the day arrived, she didn’t. Why should she? They didn’t really want her there. The family wouldn’t notice her absence: they would probably be glad she wasn’t around to embarrass them all. She was doing them a favour by not showing up.

And all that was fine, because she knew that her mom and dad loved her, and even when her mom died she knew that Dad together with Alice could cope. She was safe screwing up her life, because her family would always be there for her.

But now what was she doing? Behaving like a brat. Coming home with all her stuff like some freshman dropping out of college. Being rude to her father.

This time the family could not cope. The family was falling apart around her. Alice was in trouble. Dad was losing control. Brooke had run away scared, following her own husband who felt justifiably betrayed. Maya had slipped away without anyone noticing.

Which left Megan. And Toby.

She liked Toby. He was kind. He was concerned — not just for Alice, but for all of them, including her. He took her seriously.

It was no surprise that Alice had nabbed him; Alice was always going to marry a kind, supportive, good-looking husband.

Now Megan had a job to do. She had to pull her family back together again. None of her sisters could do it.

She was smart. At least as smart as Alice — no, she must stop comparing herself to her sister!

She couldn’t believe her father’s fear that Alice had killed Sam Bowen. Like Toby, she wouldn’t believe it. The police couldn’t figure out what was going on, so she must.

She opened her computer and began tapping out ideas. Things she knew. Things she suspected.

Then she looked for connections.

Assuming her father was telling the truth, there seemed to be two possible avenues to follow, both connected to the Alexander Hamilton : Craig Naylor’s death on board the submarine and Commander Driscoll’s approach to Pat Greenwald.

First Megan checked online for any traces of reporting on the Hamilton’s near-launch back in 1983. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing. There were articles and extracts from books on the other near misses that Sam Bowen had mentioned: the false readings of missile attacks at NORAD and at the Soviet early-warning centre in the early eighties.

Next, Lieutenant Naylor’s death. There was very little about this either. In fact, all Megan could find was an obituary in the local paper of the town in New Jersey where he had grown up and where his parents lived. There was a photograph of someone who looked very much like Justin Opizzi. Craig had been a good-looking guy with a warm, open face and a military haircut. He had played for the high school baseball team, and left a grieving wife, Maria, a father who was a lawyer, and a mother, as well as a younger sister, Victoria. There was a memorial service at the local Presbyterian church.