Their Own Game
Page 57
***
As it happened, Clayton couldn’t get an appointment with the PM until late afternoon on Thursday, which didn’t really matter as he might, by then, have learnt a bit more about Vaughan from Catherine’s researches.
He had an uneasy feeling about that man, and his possible involvement with the opposition. It just didn’t seem to ring true, somehow.
He had arranged to meet Catherine Wilson outside Scotland Yard at 12.30, from where they would get a cab to Covent Garden for their lunch with Vaughan at ‘The Crusting Pipe’ wine bar. He had given Wilson her return air ticket, ‘in case she was delayed for some reason’, as he put it; otherwise, they would meet at the check-in desk at Heathrow.
In the cab, Catherine Wilson was able to give Clayton a rather breathless debrief about her morning’s work.
“Went right through his personal file,” she reported, “and your friend looks as clean as a whistle to me. Not a hint of any trouble, no Irish connections, excellent annual reports, and a very high security clearance.”
“Lifestyle?” queried Clayton.
“No evidence of anything excessive,” she said. “Smallish house in a village called Lane End, near High Wycombe, and a smallish mortgage to go with it. Of course, he left the Yard a couple of years ago now, so I suppose things could have changed since then.”
“Maybe we’ll find out later,” said Clayton, as the cab pulled up.
“Oooh! Shops!” said Catherine.
“Keep your mind on the job, if you don’t mind, Sergeant,” said Clayton.
Alistair Vaughan was already at the table when they arrived, and Catherine Wilson was introduced as Clayton’s P.A.
“Very nice to meet you,” said Vaughan, shaking hands.
“We can talk shop quite openly,” said Clayton. “Catherine’s got a high security clearance, and knows all about our recent endeavours.”
“Good,” said Vaughan. “We haven’t met since my part in the venture was finished, but I was impressed how well that villain Farlow got on, and how quickly he got to grips with things.”
“He seems to have done a good job for us,” said Clayton, “although I haven’t checked the figures to make sure he managed to transfer all there was. I hope to do that later,” he added, watching Vaughan’s face.
“I think you’ll find not a penny piece missing,” said Vaughan. “We watched him like a hawk all the time, and recorded his every move. Every stroke of the keyboard is on tape, by the way, if you should want it for your files.”
“I’ll take the tapes off your hands, if you like, although it might be best if we destroyed them eventually rather than risk them getting into the wrong hands.”
“I agree”, said Alistair. “There are no copies, of course.”
“I could perhaps collect them from you this afternoon” said Catherine. “I shall have nothing better to do while the boss is in Downing Street, although a bit of West End shopping is always tempting.”
“There’s not much in the way of shops in the City,” said Vaughan, “but Canary Wharf is worth a visit, if you have the time.”
“I’d certainly love to have a look round Docklands,” Wilson enthused. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard so much about it. In fact I rarely get to London at all, and when I do, usual head for the West End or Knightsbridge.”
“Don’t all women?” asked Clayton.
They chatted on over a pleasant lunch and a bottle of Claret, but learnt nothing about Vaughan that they thought was in any way out of the ordinary – not a clue. The man was as open and frank as they could wish, and perfectly relaxed. He didn’t mention Farlow’s unfortunate accident on the tube after he left prison, although they all knew of Vaughan’s part in arranging it.
Eventually, Clayton looked at his watch, and made to leave.
“Can’t keep the PM waiting, but you two by all means linger over coffee or another glass. I’ll settle up on the way out.”
He and Vaughan shook hands, promising to keep in touch.
“See you at the airport, Catherine,” he said as he left. “If you’re going to be delayed, give me a bell on the mobile.”
“I’ll have to get back to the Bank soon, too,” said Vaughan. “But if you’ve really nothing else to do, why don’t I point you towards Canary Wharf, and perhaps meet you again later for a drink, when I can show you around.”
“That would be really nice, if you’re sure it’s not putting you out at all.”