Evensong

“It all kicks off in four days. October 14, the eve-of-summit reception. Then October 15 for nine days or however long it lasts. Are we still agreed?”

“Is this because of the news about Marek?”

“They were saving Marek for later, but something made them decide to reveal him now. They’re still active. You stopped their plans for the Signing Room, but they’re still coming for me.”

“That book you gave me. You went out and looked for it yourself, didn’t you? Not your staff, but you.”

“Yes.”

“Nobody’s done anything like that for me before, except maybe Arden.”

“Who? Oh yes, her...Well, you tore a page out of your book, and nobody’s done anything like that for me. Not even Gaetano. But they’re both gestures and they both belong in the past.”

He wanted to argue, but couldn’t find the right words. Her sermon, the part of it intended for him, had hit him like one of his Verbs. He saw her differently. He was beginning to think he understood her.

“What if I was wrong?”

But she wasn’t listening. She had already decided she understood him. “Your obsession about—what do you call it?—The Detail. That’s in the past too. If we both survive this I’ll tell you. But it’ll wipe out what you think you feel for me...”

“How do you know what I think?”

“Because you’re looking gormless. God knows what you’d have said if I hadn’t interrupted you...And it’ll wipe out everything I’d planned for getting closer to you, some of which I’d almost believed would work. But it won’t, not with a Consultant. You were right about that. So you’ve won and I’ll leave you alone.”

He didn’t reply.

“Oh, come on. We can still do the fucking if you want, that doesn’t mean anything. We’ll each take what we want from it.”

“You said that once before.”

“This time I mean it.”

“You said that once before too. Why are you talking like this?”

“Because you’re starting to sound as gormless as you look. I understand you better now. You changed after your meeting with Rafiq, but only on the surface. Underneath you’ve still got the same one-person comfort zone. And that’s just you, I haven’t even started about me.”

He didn’t reply.

“Too much keeping us apart, Anwar. On both sides. Think about it. Me? And a Consultant? You were right the first time. That train’s left the station.”

“Maybe it hasn’t arrived yet.”

“Don’t be crass. It’s gone. Like I wrote in your book, you mistimed.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that.”

“Yes it does. Listen to yourself. You’re in denial. When your head’s in the sand, you know what you’re talking through.”

Again he didn’t reply.

“Why do you think I promised to tell you The Detail afterwards? Because we won’t be here afterwards. You really mistimed. When I thought I wanted you, you were scared to commit. Now you think you want me, but in a few days we won’t be here. Even you can’t defend me against what they’ll send. It will kill you, Anwar! Rafiq knows that. That’s why he’s left you here on your own. He’s saving his best Consultants, however many there are, for when they come for him. He’s next, and he knows it.”

A noise behind made him whirl round, and both of them gasped. Gaetano was coming towards them, and with him was Arban Proskar. 

4

Back at Fallingwater, Arden briefed Rafiq about events at the villa.

UN Intelligence had told her that what happened to Proskar was bad news because, to them, it was. They’d missed him. They traced his entry into Croatia easily enough, as he was travelling openly on his passport, but because of the way he’d left Brighton they expected him to go into Zagreb, where his flight had landed, or on to Dubrovnik; he had family in both cities. They didn’t expect him to leave Croatia directly after entering; but that was what he did, slipping over the border into Slovenia, where he used his passport to get a flight back to Britain. For UN Intelligence it was an almost unheard-of error, though his change of mind was a genuine act of impulse. As his plane touched down at Dubrovnik he’d simply decided that he shouldn’t walk out on her.

Rafiq’s usual courtesy almost slipped during all this. He had trouble concealing his boredom, since it was all academic now. She’d previously told him that the examinations carried out exhaustively on Marek’s body at Kuala Lumpur confirmed conclusively the findings of the field examinations carried out at the villa at Opatija. Beyond any doubt it was Parvin Marek, and beyond any doubt he’d been dead, and kept in cold storage, for at least three years. Carefully-worded news releases were already breaking in the media.

While he gazed at Arden, Rafiq saw a number of scenes passing behind his eyes; scenes from ten years ago which he couldn’t repeat to her, but didn’t need to.

“I know what you’re feeling,” she told him, and immediately regretted how empty it sounded. For once, her famous empathy had deserted her.