CHAPTER 16 – ENLISTING DARLENE
"Oh, hello, I'm here to see Felicity," Stolemaker's secretary Darlene Dourlein said as she was let into Felicity Findlater's flat. She looked around. "She said she was having trouble with her fish tank again? Or with her fish, at any rate? We're in the same fish fanciers club, and-"
"Just a ruse, I'm afraid, to get you over here so I could brief you on something," Richard Hugh said. "The fish are fine, as far as I know. Felicity's gone, and taken Dennis Uppington with her."
"Dennis Uppington?"
"Works in Orchard's office."
"Oh, Uppity. I know who you mean. But I haven't any idea what you mean, to be honest with you."
"Uppity?"
"His nickname around his department, I'm afraid. Bit of a stick in the mud, or so they say."
"Yes, well, right now we have to find some way to work with him, muddy ends and all. Will you have a seat?"
"I'm not sure I should. It just being the two of us, and away from the office."
"Earlier today, Pamela Williams, who works under Creasey in foreign analysis, shot Stolemaker. He'll be all right I think-"
"You might have said he'd be all right at the front end!"
"You're perfectly right. I should have said so at the front end."
"I will sit down, I think."
"Thank you. That will make this easier, I think. Let me get us some coffee, shall I? I'm having scones. How about you? What's so funny?"
"You, getting me coffee."
"I owe you a few hundred cups worth, if I figure right. I'd hate to know how many coffees you've brought me."
"We've been around a while."
"Today it feels like an especially long while. But, hey, enough of the doldrums. Let me brief you on what I know, and what I'm guessing, and, before I forget, here's how to get hold of the chief." He handed a note across. "He wants us to be careful on communications. That it was a colleague that shot him has him – us – more than a little worried about whom to trust."
"That might qualify as an understatement."
"Possibly. And here's instructions Orchard gave Uppington." He handed the instruction sheet across, now encased in a plastic bag to protect fingerprints. He watched quietly while she read.
She looked up when she was done. "And?"
"And after Uppington followed these instructions, he and I and Emma and an innocent bystander or two were nearly blown to bits by a bomb in that package he picked up at the drop site. At the Loomis cottage. End destination on the note there. Front walkway area."
"Anyone hurt?"
"Odd circumstances saved us. One dog killed in the blast. Humans scared, dirty, not hurt. And here's another thing. Just after, I noticed a person in a field behind Loomis's, running off. It might not have been anything other than a walker who thought it best to clear out since violence was being done nearby – a healthy bit of survival instinct that might have been – only, they shot at me and a postman when we gained a bit in our pursuit. When a person shoots at me, I admit that I consider their presumed innocence to be a bit compromised. And shooting at letter carriers is beyond acceptance, of course."
"What sort of person?"
"Youngish, but grown. Boyish female or effete male. Couldn't tell. I hate to admit that. You'd think you could tell from the way a person runs, but I can't. Well, sometimes I can, but not in this case..."
"You're hesitating. That usually means something."
"Something seemed familiar, but nothing I can put my finger on."
"Not Williams, by any chance?"
"No, but... Wait. Maybe disguised, but I don't think so. That's the sort, though. Harsh, thin, pale, not the least bit cheery."
Darlene suppressed a smile. Not the least bit cheery? Richard Hugh had his own way of describing people, and she found it both charming and surprisingly useful.
"Did Loomis see them? Did he have any ideas on whether it might have been a neighbor or something?" she asked.
"Uh, no. I'm sorry. I have bad news. Loomis had been murdered some time before that. I'd stumbled across his corpse shortly before Uppington showed up with his bomb."
"Oh."
"Sorry. Felicity warned me you were all in the fish club together, or at least that you knew each other from that angle. I should have come into the subject a bit more gently, I think. Or picked my words better, at least."
"No. That's all right. We weren't that close," Darlene said. She started to add something, but thought better of it.
Richard hastily moved back to business. "Was there any reason you mentioned Williams earlier? When I mentioned the person behind Loomis's house, you seemed to think of something?"
"Pamela Williams used to spend a lot of time with Loomis. Bit of a hanger-on, really. Back when he was helping the department out, you know, with what he could dig up on some doings in France. Made a pest of herself really, Williams did. Of course, she is a fanatic about France, pumping everyone for what they know on the country, particularly its politics, particularly anything to do with communists."
"Oh, really. Is that her field? Communists?"
"She's made it her field. Elbowed everyone and sundry aside to move up, too. Orchard pulling strings for her didn't hurt her career path any. It hurt her personal relations with colleagues, but as long as she's top of the heap, she doesn't seem to care what people think."
"What's her connection with Dr. Orchard?"
"Fellow Francophiles, as far as I can tell. He has a second home there, you know. Oh, Williams bats eyelids at him, to get her way, but no one thinks it goes past that. Not that she wouldn't go past that, if he weren't so cockeyed pleased with just the eyelashes routine."
"Ooh, we're getting a bit catty, are we?"
She took this in the spirit in which it was intended, which was a gentle reminder to be as careful and reliable as possible in her assessments. "No, I don't think so," she said after reflection. "Oh, but I never finished on her and Loomis. When he found out she was running his briefs past Castelneau for Castelneau's commentary-"
"Whoa. The same Castelneau I accidentally made nice to yesterday? Durand's chief?"
"Yes, actually. He wasn't Durand's chief at the time. He was high up, but didn't move up to top level until Blondet committed suicide. Anyway, when it came out somehow that Williams was using Castelneau as a sounding board, Loomis came uncorked."
"Can't blame him."
"Nor did most people. Chief was livid." Her voice got smaller. "How is he?"
"Sorry, I should have been more reassuring. He got hit twice, upper legs, no bones or arteries involved. For as bad as it is, he was very lucky. I've got him stashed with a reliable doctor, with Emma on site. Well, you'll see if you go out there. It's right next to Loomis's cottage, drat the luck, or I wouldn't have gotten mixed up in that mess. I actually got arrested, and had to get unarrested. Rather, Emma had to get me unarrested. I wasn't making much headway with the local representative of the law, once he saw me kneeling over the body."
"Not your best day ever?" Darlene said. She smiled at him.
He shrugged. "I've had worse."
She didn't know what to say to that. She knew about some of the worse days.
"So, back to Williams," Richard said. "How'd she get away with using a French official to help analyze British intelligence?"
"Who knows? She threw out a good line about how he was a great source because he used to be very active in radical communist circles, understood the mindset, and still had friends in the appropriate high places. It hasn't hurt that both Orchard and Loomis have been going to bat for her."
"I thought you said Loomis came uncorked? Surely that put the skids on things?"
"At first. But she must have done some sort of world-class apology routine. Loomis said anyone could make a mistake and, as long as she didn't repeat it, he'd let bygones be bygones. Of course, he's thinking of… was thinking of remarrying, and I think he was feeling mellow toward the whole world. Gentle fellow to begin with, from what I saw and heard."
"He had a weakness for adopting stray dogs, in any case. To get back to the narrative, Stolemaker thinks there's a plot afoot to kill the Prime Minister, possibly involving people within the agency."
"You might have mentioned that earlier."
"Yes, ma'am. I should have mentioned that earlier. Sorry."
"We have work to do, I think," she said, brisk and businesslike. "I think I'll get some take-away and make a dash for the chief's hiding place."
"I'm sure that Westmoreland would be glad to feed you, and is there any chance I could hide in your car's boot and hitch a ride?"
"My car hasn't a boot. It's a van. Any reason you can't sit in a seat?"
"Not really, probably. I'm likely just feeling paranoid."
"You can lay on the back seat or the floor and nap under a rug, if you'd like. Begging your pardon, but you look as if you could use some sleep."
"I would like to talk to the chief, in any case."
"Not to mention check on your wife."
"You hopeless romantic, you," he joked. It fell flat. "All right, you quite obviously see that I want to check on my wife. Just don't go spreading any rumors that I'm soft hearted, all right?"
"Wouldn't dream of it." She looked around. "Any luggage?"
"Not even any decent clothes. I'm wearing Michael's, if you hadn't noticed."
"I wondered."
"It's a long story."
"Tell me en route."
"What? Between snores, you mean?" He yawned dramatically. She muttered something under her breath and shoved him out the door.
"Thank you for letting me discreetly check the hallway before giving me that final shove," Richard said, with appreciation.
"Wisdom comes with age," she said.
Richard fought off an urge to take Darlene's hand and give it a gallant kiss. She deserved it, for all the years she'd looked out for him and for how well she was rising to the occasion now. But she'd likely disapprove, he thought. Or perhaps he'd simply embarrass her, which would almost be worse. Disapproval you could erase with subsequent good behavior, for one thing. Causing embarrassment was trespassing.
Darlene bit back a smile. Richard Hugh was awfully endearing when he was busy suppressing his knightly impulses for the sake of propriety. She batted down her emotions. This was a time for cool, clear heads – and for professionalism, which was something more than that.
Several hours later, a bleary-eyed Richard was on a flight to Paris. Emma was with the chief. For his sake, they pretended she was sticking around so she and Stolemaker could put their heads together – but his injuries were at that stage where he could rarely, and barely, stay awake, so she considered herself to be primarily on guard duty. Dennis had long since been sent home with instructions. Felicity and Darlene were quietly amassing great gobs of information, singly, together, directly and indirectly.
Not Exactly Allies Page 16