by Ken Follett
"It's me," Kit said when Hamish answered. "Can you talk?"
"And a happy Christmas to you too, Ian, you old bugger," Hamish said cheerily. "Just a tick, I'm going to step outside . . . That's better."
"Everything all right?"
Hamish's voice became serious. "Aye, but she's doubled the guard, so I've got Willie Crawford with me."
"Where are you stationed?"
"In the gatehouse."
"Perfect. Is everything quiet?"
"Like a graveyard."
"How many guards in total?"
"Six. Two here, two at reception, and two in the control room."
"Okay. We can cope with that. Let me know if anything unusual happens."
"Okay."
Kit ended the call and dialed a number that gave him access to the telephone system computer at the Kremlin. The number was used by Hibernian Telecom, the company that had installed the phones, for remote diagnosis of faults. Kit had worked closely with Hibernian, because the alarms he had installed used phone lines. He knew the number and the access code. Once again, he had a moment of tension, worrying that the number or the code might have been changed in the nine months since he had left. But they had not.
His mobile phone was linked to his laptop by a wireless connection that worked over distances of fifty feet or so--even through walls, which might be useful later. Now he used the laptop to access the central processing unit of the Kremlin's phone system. The system had tamper detectors--but they did not register an alarm if the company's own phone line and code were used.
First he closed down every phone on the site except the one on the desk in reception.
Next, he diverted all calls into and out of the Kremlin to his mobile. He had already programmed his laptop to recognize the numbers likeliest to come up, such as Toni Gallo's. He would be able to answer the calls himself, or play recorded messages to the callers, or even redirect calls and eavesdrop on the conversations.
Finally, he caused every phone in the building to ring for five seconds. That was just to get the attention of the security guards.
Then he disconnected and sat on the edge of his chair, waiting.
He was fairly sure what would happen next. The guards had a list of people to call in the event of different emergencies. Their first action now should be to call the phone company.
He did not have to wait long. His mobile rang. He left it, watching his laptop. After a moment, a message appeared on the screen saying: "Kremlin calls Toni."
That was not what he had expected. They should have called Hibernian first. Nevertheless, he was prepared. Quickly, he activated a recorded message. The security guard who was trying to reach Toni Gallo heard a female voice saying that the mobile he was calling might be switched off or out of range, and advising him to try later. The guard hung up.
Kit's phone rang again almost immediately. Kit hoped the guards would now be calling the phone company, but once again he was disappointed. The screen said "Kremlin calls RPHQ." The guards were ringing regional police headquarters at Inverburn. Kit was happy for the police to be informed. He redirected the call to the correct number and listened in.
"This is Steven Tremlett, security guard supervisor at Oxenford Medical, calling to report an unusual incident."
"What's the incident, Mr. Tremlett?"
"No big emergency, but we have a problem with our phone lines, and I'm not sure the alarms will work."
"I'll log it. Can you get your phones fixed?"
"I'll call out a repair crew, but God knows when they'll get here, being Christmas Eve."
"Do you want a patrol to call?"
"It wouldn't do any harm, if they've not much on."
Kit hoped the police would pay a visit to the Kremlin. It would add conviction to his cover.
The policeman said, "They'll be busy later, when the pubs chuck out, but it's quiet the noo."
"Right. Tell them I'll give them a cup of tea."
They hung up. Kit's mobile rang a third time and the screen said: "Kremlin calls Hibernian." At last, he thought with relief. This was the one he had been waiting for. He touched a button and said into his phone, "Hibernian Telecom, can I help you?"
Steve's voice said, "This is Oxenford Medical, we have a problem with our phone system."
Kit exaggerated his Scots accent to disguise his voice. "Would that be Greenmantle Road, Inverburn?"
"Aye."
"What's the problem?"
"All the phones are out except this one. The place is empty, of course, but the thing is, the alarm system uses the phone lines, and we need to be sure that's working properly."
At that point, Kit's father walked into the room.
Kit froze, paralyzed with fear and terror, as if he were a child again. Stanley looked at the computer and the mobile phone and raised his eyebrows. Kit pulled himself together. He was no longer a kid frightened of a reprimand. Trying to make himself calm, he said into the phone, "Let me call you back in two minutes." He touched the keyboard of his laptop, and the screen went dark.
"Working?" his father said.
"Something I have to finish."
"At Christmas?"
"I said I would deliver this piece of software by December the twenty-fourth."
"By now your customer will have gone home, like all sensible folk."
"But his computer will show that I e-mailed the program to him before midnight on Christmas Eve, so he won't be able to say I was late."
Stanley smiled and nodded. "Well, I'm glad you're being conscientious." He stood silent for several seconds, obviously having something else to say. A typical scientist, he thought nothing of long pauses in conversation. The important thing was precision.
Kit waited, trying to hide his frantic impatience. Then his mobile rang.
"Shit," he said. "Sorry," he said to his father. He checked his screen. This was not a diverted Kremlin call, but one directly to his mobile from Hamish McKinnon, the security guard. He could not ignore it. He pressed the phone hard to his ear, so that the voice of the caller would not leak out to be heard by his father. "Yes?"
Hamish said excitedly, "All the phones here have gone kaput!"
"Okay, that's expected, it's part of the program."
"You said to tell you if anything unusual--"
"Yes, and you were right to ring me, but I have to hang up now. Thank you." He ended the call.
His father spoke. "Is our quarrel really behind us now?"
Kit resented this kind of talk. It suggested that the two disputants must be equally guilty. But he was desperate to get back on the phone, so he said, "I think so, yes."
"I know you think you've been unjustly treated," his father said, reading his mind. "I don't see your logic, but I accept that you believe it. And I, too, feel that I was unfairly done by. But we have to try to forget that, and be friends again."
"So says Miranda."
"And I'm just not sure you have put it behind you. I sense you holding something back."
Kit tried to keep his face wooden so that his guilt would not show. "I'm doing my best," he said. "It's not easy."
Stanley seemed satisfied. "Well, I can't ask any more of you than that," he said. He put his hand on Kit's shoulder, bent down, and kissed the top of his head. "I came to tell you supper's almost ready."
"I'm nearly done. I'll come down in five minutes."
"Good." Stanley went out.
Kit slumped in his chair. He was shaking with a mixture of shame and relief. His father was shrewd, and suffered no illusions--yet Kit had survived the interrogation. But it had been ghastly while it lasted.
When his hands were steady enough, he dialed the Kremlin again.
The phone was picked up immediately. Steve Tremlett's voice said, "Oxenford Medical."
"Hibernian Telecom here." Kit remembered to change his voice. He had not known Tremlett well, and nine months had passed since he had left Oxenford Medical, so it was unlikely Steve would remember his voice; but
he was not going to take the chance. "I can't access your central processing unit."
"I'm not surprised. That line must be down also. You'll have to send someone."
This was what Kit wanted, but he was careful not to sound eager. "It's going to be difficult to get a repair crew out to you at Christmas."
"Don't give me that." Steve's voice betrayed a touch of anger. "You guarantee to attend to any fault within four hours, every day of the year. That's the service we pay you for. It's now seven-fifty-five p.m., and I'm logging this call."
"All right, keep your shirt on. I'll get a crew to you as soon as possible."
"Give me a time estimate, please."
"I'll do my best to get them to you by midnight."
"Thank you, we'll be waiting." Steve hung up.
Kit put down his mobile. He was perspiring. He wiped his face with his sleeve. So far, it had all gone perfectly.
8:30 P.M.
STANLEY dropped his bombshell during dinner.
Miranda felt mellow. The osso bucco was hearty and satisfying, and her father had opened two bottles of Brunello di Montepulciano to go with it. Kit was restless, dashing upstairs every time his mobile rang, but everyone else was relaxed. The four kids ate quickly then retired to the barn to watch a DVD movie called Scream 2, leaving six adults around the table in the dining room: Miranda and Ned, Olga and Hugo, Daddy at the head and Kit at the foot. Lori served coffee while Luke loaded the dishwasher in the kitchen.
Then Stanley said, "How would you all feel if I started dating again?"
Everyone went quiet. Even Lori reacted: she stopped pouring coffee and stood still, staring at him in shock.
Miranda had guessed, but all the same it was disquieting to hear him come right out and say it. She said, "I suppose we're talking about Toni Gallo."
He looked startled and said, "No."
Olga said, "Oh, poo."
Miranda did not believe him, either, but she refrained from contradicting him.
"Anyway, I'm not talking about anyone in particular, I'm discussing a general principle," he went on. "Mamma Marta has been dead for a year and a half, may she rest in peace. For almost four decades she was the only woman in my life. But I'm sixty, and I probably have another twenty or thirty years to live. I may not want to spend them alone."
Lori shot him a hurt look. He was not alone, she wanted to say; he had her and Luke.
Olga said bad-temperedly, "So why consult us? You don't need our permission to sleep with your secretary or anyone else."
"I'm not asking permission. I want to know how you would feel if it happened. And it won't be my secretary, by the way. Dorothy is very happily married."
Miranda spoke, mainly to prevent Olga saying something harsh. "I think we'd find it hard, Daddy, to see you with another woman in this house. But we want you to be happy, and I believe we'd do our best to welcome someone you loved."
He gave her a wry look. "Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but thank you for trying to be positive."
Olga said, "You won't get that much from me. For God's sake, what are we supposed to say to you? Are you thinking of marrying this woman? Would you have more children?"
"I'm not thinking of marrying anyone," he said tetchily. Olga was irritating him by refusing to argue on his terms. Mamma had always been able to get under his skin in exactly the same way. He added, "But I'm not ruling anything out."
"It's outrageous." Olga stormed. "When I was a child I hardly saw you. You were always at the lab. Mamma and I were at home with baby Mandy from seven-thirty in the morning until nine at night. We were a one-parent family, and it was all for your career, so that you could invent narrow-spectrum antibiotics and an ulcer drug and an anticholesterol pill, and become famous and rich. Well, I want a reward for my sacrifice."
"You had a very expensive education," Stanley said.
"It's not enough. I want my children to inherit the money you made, and I don't want them to share it with a litter of brats bred by some tart who knows nothing except how to take advantage of a widower."
Miranda let out a cry of protest.
Hugo, embarrassed, said, "Don't beat about the bush, Olga dear, say what's on your mind."
Stanley's expression darkened, and he said, "I wasn't planning to date some tart."
Olga saw that she had gone too far. She said, "I didn't mean that last part." For her, that amounted to an apology.
Kit said flippantly, "It won't be much different. Mamma was tall, athletic, nonintellectual, and Italian. Toni Gallo is tall, athletic, nonintellectual, and Spanish. I wonder if she cooks."
"Don't be stupid," Olga told him. "The difference is that for the last forty years Toni hasn't been part of this family, so she's not one of us, she's an outsider."
Kit bridled. "Don't call me stupid, Olga. At least I can see what's under my nose."
Miranda's heart missed a beat. What was he talking about?
The same question occurred to Olga. "What's under my nose that I can't see?"
Miranda glanced surreptitiously at Ned. She feared that later he might ask her what Kit meant. He often picked up on such things.
Kit backed off. "Oh, stop cross-examining me, you're a pain in the arse."
"Aren't you concerned about your financial future?" Olga said to Kit. "Your inheritance is threatened as much as mine. Have you got so much money that you don't care?"
Kit laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, right."
Miranda said to Olga, "Aren't you being a bit mercenary?"
"Well, Daddy did ask."
Stanley said, "I thought you might feel badly about your mother's being replaced by someone new. It never occurred to me that your main concern would be my will."
Miranda felt hurt for her father. But she was more worried about Kit and what he might say. As a child, he had never been good at keeping secrets. She and Olga had been obliged to keep everything from him. If they trusted him with a confidence, he would blurt it out to Mamma in five minutes. Now he knew Miranda's darkest secret. He was no longer a child, but on the other hand he had never really grown up. This was dangerous. Her heart beat like a tom-tom. Perhaps if she took part in the conversation she had a chance of controlling it. She addressed Olga. "The important thing is to keep the family together. Whatever Daddy decides, we mustn't let it break us up."
"Don't lecture me about the family," Olga said angrily. "Talk to your brother."
Kit said, "Get off my case!"
Stanley said, "I don't want to rake all that up again."
Olga persisted. "But he's the one who has come closest to destroying the family."
"Fuck you, Olga," Kit said.
"Easy," Stanley said firmly. "We can have a passionate discussion without descending to insults and obscenity."
"Come on, Daddy," Olga said. She was furious, because she had been called mercenary, and she needed to counterattack. "What could be more threatening to the family than one of us who steals from another?"
Kit was red with shame and fury. "I'll tell you," he said.
Miranda knew what was coming. Terrified, she stretched out her arm toward Kit with her hand upright in a Halt sign. "Kit, calm down, please," she said frantically.
He was not listening. "I'll tell you what could be more threatening to the family."
Miranda shouted at him: "Just shut up!"
Stanley realized there was a subtext of which he was ignorant, and he frowned with puzzlement. "What are you two talking about?"
Kit said, "I'm talking about someone--"
Miranda stood up. "No!"
"--someone who sleeps--"
Miranda snatched up a glass of water and threw it in Kit's face.
There was a sudden hush.
Kit wiped his face with his napkin. With everyone watching him in shocked silence, he said, ". . . sleeps with her sister's husband."
Olga was bewildered. "This makes no sense. I never slept with Jasper--or Ned."
Miranda held her head in her hands.
"I didn't mean you," Kit said.
Olga looked at Miranda. Miranda looked away.
Lori, still standing there with the coffeepot, gave a gasp of sudden, shocked comprehension.
Stanley said, "Good God! I never imagined that."
Miranda looked at Ned. He was horrified. He said, "Did you?"
She did not reply.
Olga turned to Hugo. "You and my sister?"
He tried his bad-boy grin. Olga swung her arm and slapped his face. The blow had a solid sound, more like a punch. "Ow!" he cried, and rocked back in his chair.
Olga said, "You lousy, lying . . ." She searched for words. "You worm. You pig. You bloody bastard, you rotten sod." She turned to Miranda. "And you!"
Miranda could not meet her eye. She looked down at the table. A small cup of coffee was in front of her. The cup was fine white china with a blue stripe, Mamma's favorite set.
"How could you?" Olga said to her. "How could you?"
Miranda would try to explain, one day; but anything she said now would sound like an excuse. So she just shook her head.
Olga stood up and walked out of the room.
Hugo looked sheepish. "I'd better . . ." He followed her.
Stanley suddenly realized that Lori was standing there listening to every word. Belatedly, he said, "Lori, you'd better help Luke in the kitchen."
She started as if awakened. "Yes, Professor Oxenford."
Stanley looked at Kit. "That was brutal." Anger made his voice shake.
"Oh, that's right, blame me," Kit said petulantly. "I didn't sleep with Hugo, did I?" He threw down his napkin and left.
Ned was mortified. "Um, excuse me," he said, and he went out.
Only Miranda and her father were left in the room. Stanley got up and came to her side. He put his hand on her shoulder. "They'll all calm down about it, eventually," he said. "This is bad, but it will pass."
She turned to him and pressed her face into the soft tweed of his waistcoat. "Oh, Daddy, I'm sorry," she said, and she began to cry.
9:30 P.M.
THE weather was getting worse. Toni's drive to the old folks' home had been protracted, but the return journey was even slower. There was a thin layer of snow on the road, beaten hard by car tires, frozen too solid to turn into slush. Nervous drivers went at a crawl, delaying everyone else. Toni's red Porsche Boxster was the perfect car for overtaking sluggards, but it was not at its best in slippery conditions, and there was little she could do to shorten her journey.