Ian Rankin - Westwind

The young man, who had been pacing the room as though still unable to believe the scene he had just witnessed, drew himself upright at the sound of the name. His eyes turned to Hepton.

‘I work at the embassy here in Washington,’ Parfit was saying. ‘What’s all this about George Villiers?’

‘He wants me dead.’

‘But why, in God’s name?’

‘That’s a good question, Mr Parfit. It has something to do with the reason I’ve been trying to get in touch with Major Dreyfuss.’ There was a knock at the door. A uniformed guard opened it and had a short whispered conversation with Sanders.

‘Oh?’ Parfit sounded intrigued. ‘And what reason is that, Mr Hepton?’

The guard had gone. Sanders looked towards Hepton and shook his head: there was no sign of Villiers. Hepton couldn’t help wondering how hard the guards had tried. He also wasn’t entirely sure that he could trust Sanders himself. Yet here he was, having the conversation he wanted with the people he needed to speak with. He took another breath, his heartbeat slowing a little, the roaring in his ears more of a gentle breeze now.

‘The day the shuttle crashed—’ he began. But Parfit interrupted.

‘Wait one moment, would you, Mr Hepton? I’m going to put you on our conference facility, so that Major Dreyfuss can participate.’

Hepton waited impatiently.

‘Okay, go ahead now.’

He began again. ‘The day the shuttle crashed, about the time Argos was launching a satellite or whatever it was doing up there, our satellite went haywire. A friend of mine had an idea what had happened, but he ended up dead. Before he died, he gave me one word. That word was Argos.’

There was silence at the other end. Hepton glanced towards Sanders, who was listening intently.

‘Martin?’ It was Dreyfuss’ voice. ‘What do you think happened?’

‘I’m not sure. But people are getting killed because of it.’

‘All right then,’ said Dreyfuss. ‘Listen, I’ve got part of a sequence. I wonder if you know what it means. The whole sequence was much longer, but all I have are the first few letters and numbers.’ He paused. ‘Ze/446.’

Hepton smiled. He could have completed the sequence for them if they wanted.

‘That’s an easy one,’ he said. ‘It’s Zephyr , of course. It’s part of Zephyr ’s identification code.’ His smile vanished. ‘How did you get hold of it?’

‘One of the crew on the shuttle had it on his screen. It kept flashing up.’

Hepton’s blood went a few degrees colder. ‘Then you were trying to lock onto Zephyr .’ It was a statement.

‘That’s just what I was thinking.’

Parfit’s voice came on the line. ‘Tell me about Zephyr , Mr Hepton.’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘What exactly does it do?’

‘It’s an all-purpose satellite, as versatile as we want it to be.’

‘What was it doing the day it went haywire?’

‘Not a lot. We’d been running some regular checks on it.’

‘Well, what might it be doing now? Any specific jobs it was supposed to carry out?’

‘A few. The big one, I suppose, is monitoring the troop pull-outs.’

‘The pull-outs?’

‘Nobody’s supposed to know. But we’ve been keeping an eye on the US bases in Britain.’

‘But why?’

‘To make sure it all runs smoothly. There are some protest groups, including one pretty big one called USA Stay. They said they intended to stage some kind of resistance. You know, linking hands around a camp, or putting a padlock and chain on the gate. Symbolic stuff mainly. But the brass wanted to know what they were up to.’

‘The brass?’

‘Yes, the military. They’ve been keeping an eye open. A couple of high-rankers were on site when Zephyr malfunctioned.’

Hepton was trying not to be melodramatic. He wanted to state facts rather than his own suppositions, just to see what Dreyfuss and Parfit might make of it. This was the first time he had told anyone the story — Jilly excepted — and it felt good. Almost like the confessional.

‘Then,’ he continued, ‘a friend of mine who works beside me thought he had something on his computer, some data showing interference with Zephyr . Next thing I know he’s been rushed to hospital, and soon after that he’s supposedly hanged himself in a closet. Then a woman called Harry tried to shoot me, run me over, and shoot me again.’

‘Harry?’ Parfit sounded almost excited.

‘Yes. Do you know her?’

‘I think so. We had a run-in with her four or five years ago. I thought she’d retired.’

‘She tried to kill me.’

‘Surprised you’re still alive then. Killing is her job. But how in hell is she mixed up in this?’

Hepton stared fixedly at Sanders. ‘My friend, the one who died. He told me to watch for someone called Villiers. I think Villiers and Harry are working together.’

‘But working on what ?’ asked Parfit. ‘That’s the question. What does this satellite...’

‘ Zephyr ,’ said Hepton.

‘Yes, Zephyr . What does it do exactly when it’s hovering over its target?’

‘It takes photographs and sends them back to control.’

‘Control being where?’

‘Binbrook.’

‘Are these still photographs or videos?’

‘Stills, mostly. The data is beamed down to us, and the pictures develop on a machine almost instantaneously.’

‘Ingenious,’ Parfit said, as though he meant it. ‘A little like a fax then?’

Hepton smiled again. ‘A little, yes.’

‘But clear?’

‘Clear enough. In focus, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Ingenious,’ Parfit said again. Then: ‘Sorry, hold on a second, will you?’ There were muffled sounds at the Washington end, the sounds of a conversation. Hepton thought he heard the name ‘Johnnie’ mentioned at one point. Then Parfit’s voice came back, loud and more or less clear. ‘Sorry about that. Right, so are we any further forward, do you think?’

‘Well, we know that Argos locked onto Zephyr,’ said Hepton. ‘Probably using the satellite it was launching. What we don’t know is why. I had the idea it was all some kind of secret test, trying out some capability of the satellite that the powers-that-be wanted to keep hidden from even the ground controllers.’

Parfit seemed to consider this. ‘Hmm,’ he said at last. Hepton wasn’t sure whether it was an interested ‘hmm’ or a sceptical ‘hmm’; the scrambler was still robbing the voices of any emotion. Then Parfit cleared his throat, and Hepton thought he could hear Dreyfuss whispering something, a name...

‘As Major Dreyfuss has just reminded me,’ Parfit said, ‘there is a man who might help us. His name is Cameron Devereux. He’s the other reason we called. Devereux was Major Dreyfuss’ contact at mission control. What you need to realise is that Argos was meant to crash, and with no survivors.’

‘A suicide mission?’

‘I doubt whether the crew knew that, though they must have known why they were up there in the first place. One of them tried to strangle Major Dreyfuss.’

‘Strangle Dreyfuss?’ Hepton saw the effect of his words on the room. Sanders, who was starting to sit, now stood up again, and Jilly looked aghast.

‘This man said something about needing to bury a coffin. Does that mean anything to you?’

‘No, nothing. So what about this Devereux?’

‘He might well know something about the sabotage. And if so, he may also know what the mission was.’

‘So talk to him.’

‘Yes, but he’s gone on vacation to London.’