Eva had shown Leon Irene Hunt’s name at the bottom of the contact list on Sophie’s memory stick. Sophie had contacted her the week after Jackson had disappeared, which made Eva think that maybe the contact had been left by Jackson for Sophie; or that Irene Hunt had tracked Sophie down – but why? The connection between the secret servicewoman and her brother was baffling and, once her anger had died down, Eva was not yet sure whether it was as sinister as it seemed. She had told Leon about Hunt’s bizarre non sequitur confession about being involved in Jackson’s disappearance – staging the car crash. Leon had barely reacted to any of the information other than an imperceptible cooling of the air around him. As she sat in silence staring out of the window at the rain falling over the suburbs, Eva knew that Hunt was much more wrapped up in any of this than they had first realised.
When Don Porter was told that the PA of a rather famous journalist had set up a meeting with him for midday he almost bit his secretary’s head off. Apart from the fact that he simply didn’t have the time to deal with anything other than what was unfolding in front of him – if he wanted to keep his job – he queried what she had been thinking, inviting a journalist out here when there was so much information that they were trying to stop leaking out. The last thing he needed right now was an investigative journalist sniffing around. If he thought he was going to get the inside scoop on this algae mess he had another thing coming – Don could legitimately tell him to get lost and would do so without hesitation.
A complete media shut-down had been put in place to avoid any further scaremongering and all that was being fed to the waiting hacks was the news that the clean-up teams had been sent out to some of the affected areas that morning and had so far made good progress. They had been sent images of the dead algae which had been broadcast across the country and people had begun to go back to their lives after the panic of the day before. The phone calls the Agency had been receiving had dwindled in the morning, as everyone was given collection points for the algaecide and reassured that the situation was under control.
The reality, of course, was very different. Don knew from the research of Fred Humphries that the dead algae was in fact much more dangerous than the live plants. Due to the cannibalistic nature of the algae, it would simply grow stronger and more bountiful by feeding on the corpses of the dead plants. Plus, as each plant died it released its spores into the air which were carried on the wind, by animals, even on people’s shoes to new watery homes. The more the algae died, the more it would spread. The algaecide had so far done absolutely nothing to slow the sinister progress, in fact in some areas it seemed to have speeded it up, and several of the clean-up team members had reported feeling unwell and had to leave the site which was a worrying development. Not only that but they had not been able to get hold of a single responsible person at the company occupying the premises in Sunbury, which still appeared to be at the centre of the geographical area of the algae explosion near London. If nothing else they had to get the company to take algaecide for any open water areas it had within its grounds. Discussions of their lack of licences and breaking of regulations could wait until this crisis was over. Don sighed and scratched his head as his phone began to ring once again. He thought of Fred’s over-excitement when he had reported back to Don on what he had found inside the company premises they thought was at the centre of it all: Large pools. Filled with algae.
Eva was thrown violently against her seatbelt as the force of the car hit them on a quiet country road they had taken to avoid heavy traffic. Throughout the two minutes it took to unfold, the only thing she saw as the car flew forwards, spinning out of control, was Leon’s hand suddenly appear on the handbrake to her right and yank the stick back. The car immediately pulled up and turned into a violent skid as the brakes slammed down, screeching and screaming and flinging Eva backwards against the leather headrest of her seat. The car eventually came to a halt facing the way it had come.
An eerie silence fell, broken only by the smell of burned rubber.
Eva looked up, her breath coming in raw, rasping bursts.
She expected Leon to spring into action but he seemed dazed and didn’t move.
Suddenly there was another impact and they were moving sideways, being shunted off the empty public road and in through the open entrance of what looked like a scrap yard. Within seconds the huge powerful vehicle that had hit them had used its bull bars to push their car into the yard. A large metal gate swung closed behind them.
Eva and Leon stayed in the car as the other vehicle reversed and then came to a halt around a hundred metres away from them, between their own car and the metal gate. Nothing happened. The vehicle had blacked-out windows but inside nothing appeared to be moving.
Eva looked at Leon, who nodded over to her left, towards a small Portakabin where the door was opening.
The petite figure of Irene Hunt emerged clad in a long, dark trench coat and a large dark purple scarf. Eva inhaled sharply when she saw her.
Apparently in no hurry, Hunt slowly made her way over to the Land Rover. She tapped on the window and Eva wound it down.
‘Get out.’
Eva knew Leon had a gun, but he hadn’t produced it. Perhaps he didn’t feel threatened enough yet. She stepped down onto the rough earth; as her foot made contact with the floor she realised her legs were shaking. ‘What are you doing, Irene?’
The other woman looked at her.
‘I think the more pertinent question is what are you doing?’
‘I’m going to assume that you already know.’
‘You’re taking part in a game that you cannot win, Eva.’
‘How are you involved in this?’
Irene looked at Leon and then took Eva by the arm and led her towards the Portakabin. Her grip was steely and utterly unbreakable. Eva glanced back to see Leon sitting in the car, his exit being impeded by two armed men who had emerged from the vehicle with blacked-out windows and were positioned on either side of him.
Once inside the Portakabin, Irene Hunt let go of her arm. It was cold and smelled damp inside the metal shell. There was a rough dark blue carpet on the floor, several desks and filing cabinets. Eva noticed a steaming cup of coffee and some kind of wrapped sandwich on one of the desks that she assumed couldn’t be Irene’s. She wondered how they had managed to take possession of this quiet spot and who had been removed so that they could.
‘Sit down.’
She glanced at Irene, a hard look. Eva didn’t like being told what to do, particularly by this woman.
As Irene Hunt opened her mouth to begin speaking, Eva jumped straight in. ‘I don’t understand how or why you were involved in Jackson’s disappearance as a teenager but I know that you must have been in contact with him since.’
Irene Hunt shut her mouth as Eva carried on. ‘I don’t like you, Irene. You broke my family apart with what you did with my father, you virtually killed my mother.’
Irene stared at Eva with her hard, grey eyes.
‘This isn’t about you, Eva,’ she said eventually. ‘It’s never been about you.’
‘No, it seems as if it has always just been about you.’
Unexpectedly, Irene smiled. She let out a small, bitter laugh and then sat down at the chair behind the desk.
‘It’s not even about me, Eva.’
Eva said nothing.
‘Sit down,’ Irene repeated. Again Eva ignored her.
Irene sighed and took a seat herself. She folded her hands in front of her. ‘Your brother had been working for me – since the car accident after which he disappeared.’
Eva sat down in the chair opposite. She felt as if her legs might go from under her. ‘I…’
‘You know I work for the government. So did he. I helped him arrange that accident because he needed to disappear and start afresh. He was supposed to sever all contact with your family and he was supposed to change his name. Things didn’t quite go to plan.’
Eva was utterly speechless. Apparently
Irene didn’t believe in breaking news gently.
‘When he found out about the affair I was having with your father, Jackson tracked me down and he confronted me. He was dangerously out of control; he had been snooping about in my life – private and professional – and he had too much information so I had him followed. When your father confessed the affair to your mother, Jackson was unable to handle the fall-out. We could see he wanted to escape. So I contacted him and I offered him a way out – maybe to make up for what I had done.’
‘So he really did just run away.’
‘Yes.’
Somehow Eva had been hoping for a more honourable motivation.
‘If it’s any consolation, I think the guilt pretty much ate him up.’
‘It’s not.’
Irene Hunt didn’t respond.
‘What happened after that?’
‘The effect on him of leaving your family with the extra burden of his mother’s death at such a difficult time, the guilt, was immediate. He clearly had not thought it through. Jackson went completely off the rails – drugs, drink, self-harm – you name it, he went there. For a year he kept trying to re-establish contact with you but each time we prevented him. It would have been too confusing for all of you.’
‘And you had other plans for Jackson.’
Irene stopped and Eva realised she had hit the nail right on the head. ‘What was it that you planned to get him to do in return for helping him “escape”?’
Irene seemed to realise there was no point in hiding the truth. She pushed her dark, glossy hair behind her ears.
‘We offered him an opportunity, that was all. Once we thought he had the emotion out of his system we sent him to one of our drying-out facilities and after several tries he got clean. He then took a year in France on his own to get strong, fit and back together. And then we placed him.’
‘You placed him?’
‘At the aid agency.’
‘What for?’
‘There’s a huge op we’ve been working on for a decade.’
‘The algae.’
‘No. This algae business is low-level. My ex-husband is a policeman in Paris and I had him follow Jackson for several weeks and it became clear that he had become obsessed, that he had entirely lost his focus. We don’t want to know whatever you know about it – we didn’t want to know what Jackson or his friend Sophie knew. We didn’t kill him, Eva. He got distracted by the algae. In this business you have to be able to focus only on your specific task, without taking responsibility for the rest of the world. That’s what got him into trouble, he tried to be a hero – the algae story wasn’t what we had trained him for, or what he was meant to be in the agency for.’
‘What was he there for?’
‘Not what, who – Joseph Smith.’
Eva sat up. ‘I’ve heard of him. He was mentioned in a conversation – I was held hostage briefly by a group of Sudanese men, they mentioned his name.’
Irene didn’t seem in the least bit surprised that Eva had been a hostage.
‘It’s likely that they would have noticed you because of your connection to Jackson.’
‘Did they kill him?’
‘We still don’t know.’
‘But I think they’re connected to the algae problem and this information.’ Eva went to reach for the stick in her pocket.
Irene Hunt held up one hand. ‘They’re not – he’s not. It’s something entirely different. They have only found you because of the connection with Jackson – because he never kept his identity anonymous as we assumed he had done – and you must stop pursuing them.’
‘Irene, I think you’re wrong.’
The older woman’s eyes flashed. ‘I’m not.’
‘So you want me to what… go home?’
Irene Hunt nodded.
‘I don’t think you realise the position I’m in, Irene. I’m being pursued. I’ve never been attacked so many times in my life.’
‘I can’t help you with that.’
Eva was taken aback. She had assumed this confession meant some kind of assistance might be offered. ‘My life is in danger.’
‘I’m not a policewoman, Eva. I’m a specialist intelligence officer. I don’t have responsibility for individual citizens.’
‘And I’m not one of your employees. I don’t have to do what you tell me to.’
There was silence in the Portakabin. Outside Eva could hear the mechanical drone of a large piece of heavy equipment.
‘What do you want then, Eva,’ said Irene finally, ‘what will make you go away?’
‘I want a contact, someone inside government who I can give this information to.’
‘And then you’ll stop.’
‘Yes.’
‘Who?’
Eva thought quickly. ‘The Secretary of State for Health,’ she said. That was presumably the person within the government who might have the most in-depth understanding of the severity of an obesity epidemic.
Irene Hunt didn’t reply. She walked outside the Portakabin, leaving Eva to her own thoughts. The conversation had moved so fast that she hadn’t really had time to process the information. Jackson, a spy. It was fairly fantastical but she was kidding herself if she thought she had ever really known Jackson and instinctively she felt that there was something to it. When he had reappeared in their lives Jackson had seemed haunted and none of what he told them ever really made sense. He was always eaten up with guilt for having disappeared when he did – although the first time she had seen him again he had claimed amnesia after the accident, rather than embarking on a career as an intelligence officer. Why do we never tell each other the truth?, she thought.
The door opened and Irene Hunt walked back in.
‘You have a meeting at two this afternoon with the Health Minister, John Mansfield.’
TWENTY-SIX
FOR ALMOST AN HOUR THEIR CAR ploughed through the lunchtime traffic before they finally reached the central London destination. It took them several minutes of circling before they eventually found a space but Leon proved himself to be as aggressive behind the wheel as he was out of it and other cars soon backed away when they saw the enormous dents in the side of vehicle that Irene’s ‘friends’ had made. As they climbed out of the car, Eva stopped and checked her pocket for her copy of the memory stick and once she was satisfied it was there she set off alongside Leon up the busy West End shopping street and away from the throngs, towards the quieter end of Mayfair. Traffic flew past them on the road and all around well-dressed pedestrians were pushing and shoving their way to lunch breaks, shopping sprees and appointments. Eva realised she had not missed the overcrowded streets of London.
Checking the address Irene Hunt had given them as they rounded the corner, Eva led them on to a quieter street, populated by designer shops and expensive coffee houses which opened onto a pretty square lined with gleaming cars. The square had a small park in the middle surrounded by sleek black railings and was edged by red brick houses with Victorian façades and bay windows. They came to a halt in front of one of the most impressive buildings on the square that, if the windows were anything to go by, gave John Mansfield MP access to no fewer than seven floors, including a huge basement kitchen they could see through the lower ground floor window. Eva was surprised that they appeared to be at a private residence, rather than the MP’s public office. Was this how a meeting such as this was normally done?
At the entrance they were searched by a single security guard. Once the search was over, a smart assistant in a tightly conservative suit appeared from a door to the right and they were ushered up to the third floor via some plushly carpeted stairs.
She led them to a comfortable dining room, complete with a huge, highly polished mahogany table and giant silver candelabras. On the table were a silver coffee service and a plate of thickly sliced English shortbread covered with a dusting of white sugar.
‘Help yourself,’ she said, before shutting the door behind her.
A
s the door closed Leon moved silently across the room and filled a china cup with coffee. Eva was preoccupied. The conversation with Irene Hunt had left her feeling incredibly uneasy; she felt like she was walking on very thin ice, totally unaware of the cracks that would drop her through to the deathly cold water below. Not for the first time in all of this, she wished that she could speak to Jackson, ask him what he knew, even just to get his opinion on everything that was happening. Knowing that he was simply no longer there still triggered an almost physical pain. That had to be the worst thing about death – there was no way through it to the person on the other side. She had felt exactly the same when her mother had died. You couldn’t argue your way out of it, or bully someone out of being dead, once they were gone there wasn’t even anything to rail against.
Suddenly the door was opened and in walked a short, smartly dressed man in a well-cut grey wool suit with dark grey hair and narrow, dark eyes.
‘Hello,’ he said as he reached out a hand to shake Eva’s, a smile creasing his well-polished features. He looked very well preserved, thought Eva as she shook the outstretched hand.
‘I’m Eva Scott and this is Leon… ’ She waited for Leon to fill in the blank where his surname should be but he didn’t.
Mansfield nodded. ‘Please take a seat,’ he said, indicating a number of high-backed chairs that matched the dark wood of the enormous dining table.
They all sat, Leon helping himself to the plate of biscuits from the coffee tray which he positioned on the table in front of him, three seats away from where Eva and Mansfield sat opposite each other. He obviously planned to take no part at all in the discussions.
‘I’m afraid I didn’t get much information from the message I received, but I think the urgency with which this meeting was set up means it must be important?’
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