A spasm of emotion crossed his face. But his voice was cool. “Do you know what that information was?”

“Not in detail. But something to do with a computer tape, I believe.”

He nodded. “Okay. I think we may be a little premature here, but let’s make a few enquiries anyway.”

She expected him to dismiss her or summon a subordinate, but he picked up his phone and dialed an outside number. “Mrs. Crabtree?” He said. “Superintendent Rigano here. I’m sorry to trouble you. Is Simon there by any chance?… In London? When did he go, do you know?… Yesterday? I see. And you expect him back Saturday. Yes, a computer exhibition. I see. Do you know the number of his stand? You don’t? Never mind. No, it’s not urgent. Has anyone else been trying to contact him?… No? Fine, thanks very much. Sorry to have disturbed you. Good night.”

He clicked a pen against his teeth. Then he dialed an internal number. “ Davis? Get in here, lad,” he demanded. A moment later the door opened, and a plain clothes officer in shirtsleeves entered. “Where’s Stone?” Rigano asked him abruptly.

“I don’t know, sir. He rushed off about six, just before you went out. He’s not been back since.”

“What do you mean, he rushed off?”

“He came out of his room like a bat out of hell, sir, and ran out to the car park. He took off in that souped-up Fiesta of his.”

“Jesus,” Rigano swore softly. “I don’t believe this. Is his room locked, Davis?”

“I suppose so, sir. He always locks up after himself.”

“Okay. Get me the master key from the duty officer. I’m bloody tired of not knowing what’s going on in my own station.” The young officer looked startled. “Go on, lad, get it.” He departed on the double.

“What’s going on?” Cordelia asked.

“Sorry, can’t say,” he replied with an air of such finality that Cordelia couldn’t find the energy to challenge him. There was silence till Davis returned. Then the two men left the room together. Five interminable minutes passed before Rigano stormed back into the room. His fury was frightening, his face flushed a dark crimson. Ignoring Cordelia, he grabbed the phone, dialed a number and exploded into the phone, “Rigano here. I’m letting you know that I intend to lodge a formal complaint about Stone. Do you know he’s been bugging my office? Not only has he destroyed this force’s credibility over this whole investigation, but now he’s taking the law into his own hands.

“Listen, I have good reason to believe that someone could be in a situation of extreme prejudice thanks to this, and I’m not going to lie down and die any longer. You’ll be hearing from me formally in the morning.” He slammed the receiver down. His hands were trembling with the force of his rage.

The storm had done nothing to ease Cordelia’s growing fear. Rigano turned to face her and said carefully, “I’m not happy about it.” He sighed. “I wish to hell she’d listened to me. Is she always so damned headstrong?”

“Never mind the bloody character analysis. Where is she? Who is she with? She’s in some kind of trouble, isn’t she? What’s going on?” Cordelia almost shouted.

“Yes, she’s in trouble. Deep trouble.”

“Well, why are we sitting here? Why aren’t we doing something about it?”

“I’m going to get her,” he said decisively. “It’s going to cause all sorts of bloody aggravation. But I can’t leave her to stew. I can’t walk away from it. Miss Brown… I suggest you go home and try not to worry. She should be home by morning. If not, I’ll let you know.”

Cordelia could not believe her ears. “Oh no!” she exploded. “You don’t get rid of me like that. If you’re going to get Lindsay, I’m coming too. I will not be fobbed off with all this static. Either you take me along or I’m going to get on the phone to Lindsay’s boss and tell him she’s been kidnapped by one of your sidekicks. And everything else I know.”

“I can’t take you with me,” he said.

“I’ll follow you.”

“I’ll have you arrested if you try it.”

It seemed like stalemate. “I know about the tape,” said Cordelia. “I know where there’s a copy of the analysis of it, too,” she said, guessing wildly about Annie’s involvement. “Take me with you or the lot goes to Lindsay’s paper. Even if you arrest me, I get to make a phone call eventually. That’s all it’ll take. And just think what a story it’ll make-famous writer sues police for wrongful imprisonment.”

He shook his head. “There’s no point in all this blackmail, believe me. I give you my word, I’ll get her back to you.”

“That’s not good enough. Something’s going on here. And I can’t leave it in anyone else’s hands. It’s too important.”

He finally conceded, too worn out to carry on the fight. “All right. You can follow me. But you won’t be allowed to come in.”

‘Why? Where the hell are you going? Where is she?”

“GCHQ Cheltenham, I think.”

“What?”

It was nearly midnight when they reached the main gates of the intelligence complex. As Rigano instructed, Cordelia parked as unobtrusively as possible about quarter of a mile from the brightly lit gate. She watched as Rigano drove up and, after five minutes, was admitted. Tearing irritably at the cellophane on the packet of cigarettes she’d bought at a petrol station en route, Cordelia prepared herself for a long vigil. Rigano wasn’t exactly her idea of the knight in shining armour. But he was all she’d got.

18

The chirrup of the telephone broke the stalemate in the smoky room. Lindsay was grateful for the note of normality it injected into what had become a completely disorientating experience. Harriet Barber frowned and picked it up. “Barber here,” she said coolly. A puzzled look crossed her face and she turned to Stone, handing him the phone. “You’d better deal with this,” she ordered.

“Yes? Stone speaking,” he said. He listened for a few moments then said, “I’ll be right down.” He replaced the phone and got to his feet. “I don’t understand this, I’m afraid. Are you staying here?” he asked.

“The situation down there is your problem, Stone,” she replied icily. “Deal with it. Deal with it quickly.”

He left the room.

“I suppose a visit to the loo would be out of the question?” Lindsay asked.

“Not at all.”

“You surprise me.”

“Provided you don’t mind my company.”

“What?” Lindsay demanded, outraged.

“We don’t take chances with valuable government property,” Barber replied easily. “Besides, I thought it might rather appeal to you. Given your… inclinations.”

Lindsay’s face revealed her contempt. “I’d rather eat razor blades,” she spat.

“That could be arranged,” Barber replied with a faint smile. She pulled a small black notebook from her jacket pocket and made a few notes. Lindsay glowered at her in silence. Long minutes passed before the phone rang again. “Barber here,” the woman said again. She listened, then said abruptly, “Out of the question. No…” She listened again. “He says what?” Anger clouded her eyes. “Well, in that case, you’d better bring him up. I’m not going to forget this whole episode, Stone.” She slammed the phone down and stared at Lindsay. She lit another fragrant French cigarette, then got up and offered one to Lindsay who accepted gratefully. “We have a visitor, Miss Gordon,” Barber said, her voice clipped and taut.

“Who?” the journalist asked wearily.

“You’ll see soon enough,” was the reply before Barber lapsed into silence again.

Lindsay heard the door open and swivelled uncomfortably round in her chair. A surge of relief flooded through her when she saw an obviously disgruntled Stone hustling Rigano into the room. He stopped on the threshold, his face the stony mask that Lindsay had come to recognize as normal. But when he spoke, the concern in his voice was a distinct novelty. “Are you all right?” he asked, moving slowly towards her. Before she could reply, he spotted the handcuffs and rounded angrily on Stone. “For Christ’s sake,” he thundered. “She’s not one of the bloody Great Train Robbers. What’s all this crap?”