Since the stair wasn’t carpeted, he had to have heard us coming from the second floor on. As we got to the third floor landing the only door opened, and there stood a man who just had to be Professor Robert Northwood.
“Ms. Mitchell . . .” he said, in a great, sophisticated English voice. He extended his hand, and she shook it. “And you must be . . . ?”
I could see his flicker up and down Alice’s long body. “My name is Alice, and I represent Mr. Houseman.”
They shook hands, and he gave her the two-handed version. He was trying to score just a little bit even now.
“And you must be Mr. Houseman,” he said. We shook hands, too. I noticed he didn’t give me the once over he’d given Alice. It was probably because he had to look up to meet my eye. “All the way from . . . Iowa, isn’t it?”
His hand was firm, and dry. No sign of nerves. And I had to give him credit, he got the state right. So far, the Brits had done better than most East Coast citizens of the US, who tended to get Iowa, Ohio and Idaho all mixed up.
“Well, it’s a small town,” I said. “We try to look after our own.”
“I’m sure,” he said. “Won’t you come in?”
It was a nice place, but unremarkable. I suspected he had a cleaning lady in once a week. There was a small couch, three stuffed chairs, and a large secretary kind of desk on one wall. A coffee-type table, and two end table with lights, and that was it in the living room. Just off to my right, there was another room that looked like a small library. Tall wooden shelves, filled with books, some hardbound, and the rest those big kind of paperbacks. Set back was the kitchen, which looked very modern and very neat. As soon as we walked in the door, we had to turn hard to the left, because the exterior wall was to the right, and about half of that was window.
“Great view,” I said.
“Especially on such a rainy night,” he said. “It adds an air of mystery about the place, don’t you think?”
“Oh, indeed,” said Alice.
The professor took the women’s coats. I kept my sport coat on, and didn’t have an outer coat. Well, it wasn’t cold, and I hadn’t expected rain.
“Do you have an umbrella?”
“No,” I said. “Not with me. I left it at the hotel. It’s hardly rained since I’ve been here.”
“It has been unusual,” said Sarah Mitchell.
“Please be seated,” said Robert Northwood. “Would any of you care for some wine? Or, I’ve just made some fine Arabic coffee . . . Mazbuta. I add my own cardamom.”
Both Alice and Sarah Mitchell chose the wine. I, and the professor, opted for the coffee.
Once we got the serving out of the way, and we were all seated, he said, “I’ve seen your article featuring Mr. Houseman, Sarah. Interesting. The messenger got it here an hour ago. Thank you.”
“Certainly,” said Sarah Mitchell.
That was sort of my cue. “Then you know how I found myself in the UK,” I said. “There was also a bit of politics involved.” I explained.
“How interesting.”
“You sort of had to be there,” I said.
“I do hope I can be of some service, but I’m not sure just how. . . .”
The way he said it, I knew that he was pretty wary, but in no way did he feel challenged. Good enough.
“Well,” I said, “I know you know Emma. Reasonably well.” I looked him right in the eye. He didn’t flinch.
“Actually, quite well,” he said. “We’ve had a bit of a fling. That’s why I’m so concerned for her safety.” He put his cup down, leaned forward, and played the sincere, confidential witness to the tee. “I shouldn’t have told you that. There are some who feel that the faculty and the students should never fraternize. But, my God, Emma is thirty something, and I truly don’t see that as being what they meant by faculty-student relationships. It isn’t as if she were nineteen, after all.”
If that was meant to gain our confidence, it seemed to work on Sarah Mitchell.
“Sure,” I said. “No problem here with that. What I’d like to know is, well, you know, did she seem worried to you? Had there been any, well, threats? Did she say anything about some people following her?”
That was meant to throw him off the track. It worked.
“Oh, no. Not at all. She’s never expressed any concerns of that sort. Never. She did feel some . . . well, I think concern is the right word here. Concern for how her flat mates might feel about the two of us. But that was all.”
“Sure.” I knew that, if he’d read the article, that he was very much aware that I was Jane’s father. “Jane mentioned that you two had been seeing each other. I don’t think she had any reservations over that. In fact, she said that you and Emma and Vicky and her had gone on some sort of tour together?”
“Oh, yes. Indeed. I have an interest in the tube system. Especially the old, and abandoned stations. We toured one. I thought that, the four of us being together, would ally some of Emma’s doubts.”
“Really?” said Alice. “How interesting.”
He turned his all attention to her, and I do mean all. It was something to watch.
“Oh, yes. Fascinating stuff. Would you be interested in a tour? I can arrange it.”
“That would be very special,” said Alice.
“One other thing,” I said. He looked back at me. With less interest, I might add.
“Of course.”
“Good coffee,” I said. He smiled. “I don’t mean to suggest anything untoward, here,” I said. I was getting fairly close to my “Aw, shucks,” routine, and was being pretty careful myself. I didn’t think that it had ever been used on him, frankly, and figured maybe a slightly modified version would do very well here.
“Yes?”
“Well, it’s just that the bunch who have kidnapped her . . . their title is really close to the name of the group you chair . . . that Eidarous and Belmarsh thing?”
He stiffened. “And . . . ?”
“Well, I was wondering if you could give me some idea what that other group is like. I mean, I hear your group is more of a petitioning type of thing. Not kidnappers, like these others. So, I dunno, have there been any . . . well, contacts, between you and another group with almost the same name?”
When he looked at me this time, I swear I detected some condescension. “Oh, they’re not the same at all. My group is purely political. There wouldn’t be any contact, none at all. We wouldn’t move in the same circles.”
“Oh. I was afraid of that,” I said. I tried to sound upbeat. Sometimes it’s lots easier to convince somebody you’re disappointed if you try to sound upbeat.
Alice’s phone rang. She answered it, and then said, “Excuse me,” and got up and walked over to the window. “Better now,” she said into the phone.
“That’s what I tried to tell them, too,” said Sarah Mitchell.
“Pardon,” said the professor.
“About the difference between the groups.”
“Indeed,” he said. “I’m so glad to hear you like the coffee,” he said. “Would you care for some more?”
“Sure.”
He got up and went into the kitchen. I watched his reflection in the window. He glanced at my reflection several times. To let him think I wasn’t aware of him, I said, “I really do like this view.”
In the small room across the street, the two-man team known as Green was watching, videotaping, and listening to the events in the target flat with minimal interest. Thus far, nothing that would seem to justify this particular effort was happening. Edward, the team leader, was just answering a call on his cell phone.
“Hullo?”
“It’s Mike,” said the familiar voice of the leader of the Blue team. “We’re off.”
“You’re what?”
“Off, away, calling it a day.”
“This is a prank?”
“No,” said Mike, patiently. “You’ve got the memo, and we’re scheduled for Number 10 tomorrow. I’ve just checked with the
office, and they say to pack it in.”
Edward was stunned. “You best talk with the Superintendent. They must have misunderstood.”
“It was the Superintendent’s office I called. They say we leave. Sorry, thought you knew that.”
“My understanding was that we all worked our assigned shift. You’ve two hours left.”
“Not so. We were called in two hours early due to the flap about the stealth footman. Thought you knew.”
“Bloody hell. Right, then. We’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”
Edward turned to his partner. “Blue’s off for home, Danny. They were called in two hours early today.”
“Truly?”
“Right. Well, then, we’d best cover both positions. You get on down to the rear of the place. I shall stay here.”
“It’s raining. Why don’t I stay here, instead?” Danny was joking. He was the junior member of the team.
“Because of my exalted rank, you sot. Now off you go.”
Edward looked back across the street. “It’s not like there’s a flurry of activity. Do you suppose we should ring her and tell her we’ve divided the posts?”
“It might break the rhythm for no reason,” said Danny, putting on his coat. “Alice plays ’em well.”
“True. Right, then. Enjoy your shower.”
“More wine?” asked Robert Northwood.
“No, thank you,” said Alice.
“Well, then,” he said. “Is there any other way I can be of assistance?”
Sarah Mitchell spoke up. “Do you know if she’s been sleeping with any of the other faculty?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” he answered. “I do hope this isn’t going to descend into the salacious.” He said it with a smile.
“Oh, no,” said Sarah Mitchell. “I was just wondering, would you happen to have a reproducible photo of you and her, together?”
“I fear I don’t,” he said.
He sounded pretty cocky to me. Apparently, he did to Alice, too, because she took off the gloves.
“Before we all get too comfy,” she said, “I think there are a couple of bits of information you should know.”
“Anything you can share will help us get her back,” he said. I could gladly have strangled him at that point.
“First,” said Alice, reaching into her purse, “My name is Alice Tennent. I work for the Government.” She displayed her ID. “More specifically, MI5.”
I don’t know who was more surprised, Robert Northwood or Sarah Mitchell. Northwood was the only one who spoke, though.
“Are you here to kill me?”
No kidding. That’s what he said. Alice never blinked.
“Certainly not,” she said. “But I am authorized to tell you that Emma Schiller is dead.”
While Sarah Mitchell recovered sufficiently to begin scribbling furiously, Robert Northwood’s jaw dropped.
“No!”
“Indeed she is,” said Alice. “Deputy Houseman identified her body.”
“She’s dead all right,” I said. “No doubt in my mind.”
“She can’t be,” said Northwood. “She can’t be.”
“I believe Hamza tried to contact you, but couldn’t reach you,” said Alice, delivering a second blow.
“This can’t be,” said Northwood, and looked at his watch. “It’s Wednesday. The nineteenth.”
“And she has to be kept alive until the twenty-first? I’m afraid someone changed the schedule,” said Alice.
At this point, she’d given Northwood a near overload of information, all of it exceptionally bad for him. She backed off a bit, to prevent him going catatonic on her.
“It may have been a mistake,” she said. “Your two little helpers are incredibly amateurish. It could well have been preventable.”
Robert Northwood was looking a little green around the gills. “It’s over, then?”
“Your part certainly is,” said Alice.
“How did you find out?”
“Your associates tried to dispose of the body. It was found in the back of an automobile they were driving.” She didn’t say it was a chance thing.
“I need to see my solicitor,” he said. He looked at his watch again. Because he did, I looked at mine. It was eleven twenty-five.
Northwood stood up, and moved generally toward the windows. Not nearly close enough to jump, and he wasn’t the type, anyway. But close enough that he could see the other side of the street. He looked out, with his hands folded in front of him, and his head bent slightly down. He looked for all the world like he was praying. But I could see his eyes in the window, and he was looking out onto the street.
“Who are you expecting?” asked Alice.
“A young woman,” he said. “No one you’d know.” He paused, and then looked back into the room. “She happens to be my solicitor.”
“Hanadi Tamish?” asked Alice.
Northwood sucked in a breath, and let it out with, “Of course. You tap phones, don’t you.”
Alice didn’t say if she did that or not. “We’ll need to talk with her, as well,” she said.
Danny, the second member of the Green team, was examining his new post down on the wet street. He knew that Blue team had been parked in a car somewhere near here, but he couldn’t for the life of him see how they’d been able to get a visual inside the Northwood flat. He’d walked back and forth three times, from the dead end to the intersection, and hadn’t been able to see much more than a glimmer from the light in the kitchen.
He decided to walk up the alley way behind the building, to see if there was some better vantage point.
Mark, who had driven Alice and Carl Houseman to the Northwood residence, had been maintaining a distant surveillance, watching the western length of Burnaby Street in his rear view mirror, and the short eastern portion through his windshield. He had noticed a car leave the area, from the general location where he knew Blue team to be parked, but had simply thought it to be a local resident. Somewhat later, he saw a man come round the corner from Ashburnham Road, and walk east down Burnaby Street. The man flickered in and out of his view, but seemed to be walking aimlessly up and down. He picked up his cell phone, and called the number of the senior surveillance officer at the scene, Edward.
When Edward answered, Mark said, “I’ve got a man walking about near Blue team. Would you have them check it?”
Edward laughed. “That’d be my Danny.”
“What the hell is he doing wandering about?”
“Blue have pulled out. They need to go sleep, as they’re doing a bit at Number 10 tomorrow morning.”
“They’ve gone?” Mark couldn’t believe it.
“We’ve replaced ’em all with Danny,” said Edward. “Not to worry. Are you listening to Alice?”
“I don’t have the gear in this car,” said Mark.
“She’s identified herself, and our target passed a stone.”
“What’s he done?” asked Mark.
“Just looked out the window, and said something about expecting his solicitor.”
Mark didn’t like the sound of that. “I believe I’ll go into the building,” he said.
“Alice is quite capable. And she’s got the American with her.”
“Ah,” said Mark, “well he’s not much more than a local constable in a very rural area, really. And he’s old. I’d prefer being closer, at least. I’ll be in the building. I’ll have my phone.”
“I’ll tell Danny,” said Mark. “You do worry too much.”
“You can’t ever worry too much,” said Mark, as he left his car.
Less than two minutes after Mark left his car, and while Danny was still exploring the alleyway in the rear of the Northwood flat, another car pulled up and parked some fifty feet behind the vehicle Mark had just left. Hanadi emerged from the passenger side, and leaned in to address Imad.
“Find a way to let my parents . . .”
“Of course. You justify all faith in you. God go with you.”
>
She then began walking westward on Burnaby Street, and had rounded the corner and was crossing Ashburnham Road on her way to Northwood’s flat before she was picked up by Edward at his perch in the surveillance room.
By the time he’d dialed his mobile phone, and Alice had answered hers, Hanadi was already climbing the first flight of stairs to Robert Northwood’s flat.
Imad left the car a few moments later, to follow Hanadi, and make certain that she completed her task. Anton slid over into the driver’s seat.
“Wait at the corner of Damer Terrace,” said Imad.
“Yes.”
“If you hear nothing in the next few minutes, wait another fifteen. Then go to Clissold Park, and leave the car near Greenway Close. Do you have that?”
“Yes.”
“If there is a serious problem, go to the Mosque, tell them you need a phone.”
“Yes.”
Imad walked away, and Anton headed the car toward Damer Terrace.
Alice’s phone rang, and she moved in toward the kitchen to answer it. I stood, and moved to lean my hand on the end of the couch, between Northwood and the door. Just in case.
“You were sure it was her?” he asked me.
“Positive.”
He was still having a hard time adjusting. “I just . . . well, I’d rather not believe it. But you were sure it was Emma?”
“Yep.”
“I don’t suppose it makes a difference, but I’d like you to know that I’m very sorry. Very sorry.”
I looked him in the eye. “I don’t care,” I said.
He recoiled just a bit at that.
“I shouldn’t have left before it was all resolved,” he said, as much to himself as to me. Sarah Mitchell had now moved over toward the window, keeping her left side toward me. I could see in the reflection that she was making flicking motions with her right hand. Her cameraman was down on the street.
“You know,” said Northwood, fairly loudly, “if it weren’t for your president, this never would have happened.”
That got Sarah Mitchell’s attention, which it was supposed to do. Her head snapped around to us, and she stopped signaling the cameraman.
“You mean Iraq?” I had to ask.
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