Майкл Ридпат - Launch Code

‘That’s true, I guess. As long as you don’t get caught.’

‘I won’t get caught. I expect this will be the last time either of us sees Irena Boyarova.’

The spring sunshine warmed up the afternoon, and we ended up at a cafe on the banks of the Seine opposite the Île Saint-Louis. We ate a cheap meal with a cheap bottle of wine, and then worked our way down to the quai a couple of feet above the river.

‘Let’s sit down and watch for our tail.’

There was no tail. But we sat on the bench, looking up at the eastern end of Notre-Dame. Donna leaned in to me, nestling into my shoulder.

Neither of us spoke.

After the excitement of the afternoon, I found myself enveloped by a warm embrace of deep happiness. Love does that to you. Paris does that to you. While I had enjoyed the Navy and been good at my job, I had always had doubts about a life spent under the ocean. It was unhealthy. It made having a wife and children extremely difficult. And while I had genuinely believed that the threat of launching our missiles had kept the world safe for democracy, the knowledge that I might be involved in firing them had always made that a heavy burden.

Now we had come so close, the burden had become intolerable.

So I had no regrets about leaving the Navy. I had no idea where my business degree would lead me, but it sounded like a challenge, and one I was eager to meet. It would give me a chance to make something of myself in the world. The outside world: the real world.

And I wouldn’t be doing it alone. I would be doing it with someone I loved. The woman resting her fair hair on my shoulder. The future belonged to us both.

Staring at the black water shot through with the shaky yellow reflections of the Paris streetlights and the illumination of the cathedral above us, I was sure the future belonged to us both.

I needed to make that happen.

‘Donna?’

‘Yes?’

‘Will you marry me?’

Sunday 1 December 2019, Norfolk

Toby opened his eyes. His wife was staring at him. Her eyes and then her lips smiled when she saw he was awake, and she leaned forward to kiss his nose.

‘Good morning.’

‘Good morning,’ he mumbled in reply. He had woken up confused by a vivid dream involving running around Barnholt beach naked in the rain, and then trying to climb into a locked car that was parked on the sand. At least it hadn’t involved Lars’s death in front of him — or not directly.

‘What is it?’ she said.

‘What?’

‘You winced.’

‘I was thinking about Lars.’

‘Oh.’ She shuffled closer to him under the covers, and kissed his lips. ‘Would you like breakfast? Sausages?’

‘You don’t have to get breakfast,’ Toby said. ‘We can fend for ourselves.’

Alice’s brows knitted in a mock frown. ‘Did I hear you just turn down sausages?’

Toby smiled. ‘No, you didn’t. And yes, I would love some sausages.’

‘And baked beans?’ Initially, Alice had disapproved of Toby’s fondness for baked beans as part of a morning fry-up, considering it weird, but in time he had persuaded her that it was, in fact, perfectly natural.

‘Yes please.’

Alice swung her legs out of bed and looked for her dressing gown, which was draped over a chair.

‘Alice?’

‘Yeah?’

‘There was quite a lot of discussion after you were arrested yesterday, about Craig’s death. Justin got upset; he didn’t believe it was an accident.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Alice was feigning indifference, but I could tell she was listening closely.

‘Lars claimed he had killed Craig.’

‘Really?’ A little more interest.

‘And then later your father told us about Craig’s death. And that it was him, not Lars who had killed Craig.’

Alice froze, her back to Toby. ‘He told you that?’

‘He did.’

Alice turned to Toby, her voice cold. ‘And by “us” you mean...’

‘Me and Megan. And then he told Brooke later on. After Lars was shot.’

‘I’m surprised.’

‘And then he told us about Pat Greenwald.’

‘What!’

‘About your mother’s peace activist friend. And the FBI’s suspicion that she had been in touch with the KGB. And Commander Driscoll had been in touch with her.’

‘Jesus! Why did Dad do that?’

‘We asked him to. We demanded that he tell us. You knew about it?’

‘Yeah. Mom told me. But she told me not to tell anyone else and definitely not let Dad know I knew.’

‘But why all these secrets?’ Toby said, letting his frustration show. ‘Wouldn’t it have been better all along if you or your father had told your sisters? And me?’

‘Toby! These are real, honest-to-goodness-secrets involving my parents and the KGB.’

‘Yes. And two people are dead.’

‘Because this stuff leaked out.’

‘Is that why?’ said Toby. ‘Do you know why Sam Bowen died? Why Lars was shot?’

‘No, Toby, I have no idea. Hey, I’m the one who has been locked up for two days.’

Toby paused. He didn’t want to start a shouting match with his wife. ‘I know,’ he said.

‘You haven’t told the police any of this, have you?’ Alice asked.

‘No. I can’t. Some guy was here from MI5 yesterday morning, with Admiral Robinson who was on the submarine with Bill. He made me sign the Official Secrets Act.’

‘Good.’

‘But after Lars was shot yesterday, I told the police I wanted to speak to MI5. Tell them what I know, and then they can tell the police.’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘Because you are a suspect, Alice. I want to get you off.’

Alice snorted in frustration. ‘My lawyer has a strategy for that! None of us says anything. Not me, not Dad, and certainly not you. That way the police have to prove I killed Sam Bowen. Talking to them will just help them find that proof.’

‘You see, that’s what I don’t get,’ said Toby. ‘If you didn’t kill Sam Bowen, why wouldn’t you or your hotshot lawyer want the police to know the truth?’

Alice glared at him. Frustration had turned to anger. ‘If?’

Toby stared back.

‘You said “if”, Toby. Why did you say “if”?’

‘I... I didn’t mean “if”. I meant... “since”. I meant “since”.

‘Well, you didn’t say “since”, did you?’

Toby hadn’t.

‘You think I killed Sam Bowen, don’t you, Toby?’

‘Of course I don’t,’ said Toby. ‘I would never think that.’

‘All right. If you genuinely don’t think I killed that poor guy, trust me. Do as I ask. You can tell MI5 about Dad killing Craig on the submarine — Admiral Robinson will know that anyway. But don’t tell them anything about Pat Greenwald. Anything. Do you understand?’

‘Won’t Admiral Robinson know about that too?’

‘He may or may not, I don’t know. That’s up to him to tell the police about if he does know. It’s not up to you. Now, will you promise me?’

Would he promise her? Didn’t he have a duty to tell the authorities what he knew? Maybe. But his wife was in big trouble. She was asking him for proof that he trusted her.

He had to trust her.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘I promise.’

Alice went downstairs to make breakfast, and Toby followed her ten minutes later. As he reached the top of the stairs he heard an urgent whisper.

‘Toby!’

It was Megan, dressed in checked pyjama bottoms and a light grey T-shirt, beckoning him to her room.

He hesitated.

Her beckoning became more urgent. ‘I’ve got something to tell you. It’s to do with Pat Greenwald.’ She mouthed the last two words.

Toby joined her in her room. Which was tiny, and most of the floor space was covered in clothes from an open suitcase.