Keep Calm (16 page)

When Burnlee and Darling came into the den that morning without Steel, all motion left the room, like a sailboat that drops one of its mainsails and comes to an instant drift. Georgia sadly reminded herself that she had used Davina as a reason to get up and out of bed that morning, had once again dressed and made up almost purposely to see her. She wanted to stop this, this constant contemplation of the young inspector. It made no sense. She blamed it on the pills. The pills were clouding her judgment. She was sure of it. They had taken her, changed her.

After the Burnlee/Darling meeting, Georgia had a quick meeting with the foreign secretary, Elena Dowl-Curtiss. The hostage standoff in Lebanon had been averted. A British soldier had been wounded, but all the others were safe and had been released. It was set to Alan Munroe to craft a statement, and Georgia had committed to put it before cameras in time for the evening telecasts. She thought it would be an advantage to have her going in front of the public on matters other than Roland's condition, to get them used to seeing and hearing from her.

*   *   *

GEORGIA WAS CHAUFFEURED
, at the center of a motorcade, down across the bridge and over to the hospital to see Lassiter at her lunch hour. He had been awake for a full twenty-four hours, and Kirsty and his doctors thought it would be all right for her to pop in quickly and show support. There was still a large, unruly contingent of press from around the world camped out on the curb of the hospital. Security was naturally as tight as Georgia had seen it anywhere in London since maybe the king's coronation a few years earlier.

Roland was groggy, wildly medicated but coherent now, and more or less able to speak. The doctors wanted his visits limited to a very few and on a stopwatch always ticking, so he and Georgia had only a short time alone. He nodded when she came into the room and reached over for some water, his mouth too dry to speak. She saw him struggling with the cup and quickly leaned in to help. He was still shockingly handsome, even if he looked like he had aged twenty years in the last five days.

“You poor thing, you've been through hell, haven't you?”

The words came out slowly from both of them, his from the pure physical labor, hers weighed down with a lifetime of emotion.

“Now I know how you were feeling after the crash, Georgia.”

“I know you suffered then, too. We were both in pain.” She smiled at him. “I'm counting on you to pull through.”

He smiled back, his eyes going distant. Already the short conversation had tired him out.

“It was an American? A nutter? That's what Kirsty's saying.”

“We don't fully know yet, Roland. The details are coming out. He came in on Heaton's team. I don't think there's enough there yet to feel Heaton was anything other than a victim as well.”

Roland took it all in. It was obvious that his thoughts were garbled, coming to him in static bursts. “He was there to sell his pensions package.”

“Did he say anything to you, Roland, anything that would give one pause?”

Roland took what felt like a decade to answer. Then finally formed a thought. “He told me to look over the binder before you did, told me to be sure to read the summary at the back carefully, before you got to me. I told him I would. I was curious. That's why I went into the cupboard there. When it happened.”

It was obviously too hard for him to replay the moment of the blast—too soon. His eyes watered up. Georgia's did as well. This was an answer that said so much. Heaton had sent him to the cupboard, had caused him to feel the full force of the bomb. It was an awful indictment. Or was it? Perhaps Heaton would say he was just selling his pensions package.

The doctors were back in the room, pushing Georgia politely now to move along. She gave Roland a sweet kiss and left, holding back her tears. He was too tired to even say good-bye and had drifted off by the time she left the room.

*   *   *

IN THE CAR
on the way back over the bridge from the hospital, Georgia was told that Inspector Steel needed to see her. Apparently whatever personal matter she had in the morning was now straightened out and she had new information to share. Georgia okayed Early squeezing in a fast meeting. Once back at Downing Street, Georgia went up to her flat in 11 to straighten up, recomb her hair, and swallow one more quick little pill.

Steel was dressed casually: a tight cashmere wool sweater and a pair of designer jeans, her hair nicely blown out. She was wearing the perfume again, even more this afternoon than the day before. Her eyes were dark today, though, Georgia thought, as if she hadn't slept, or something had troubled her on a very personal level. It seemed as if recently she may also have been crying.

Early brought in a tray with some tea. He left them in privacy, closing the door to the den. As soon as they were alone, Georgia couldn't help but pry.

“Is everything okay, Inspector? You seem like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders this morning.”

Steel wanted to open up with the chancellor, to tell her about the incident at her home the night before, but she felt it wasn't her place to burden her with her problems, even if Georgia was the one person she truly wanted to share it with, the only one whose shoulder she wanted to cry on.

“No, no, thank you for asking. I've just had a rough night.”

Georgia knew that there was more to the story, but she didn't want to push. She walked over to the couch, not using her cane, sat down next to the inspector, and served her a cup of tea.

“Madam Chancellor, I know that Major Darling has briefed you on the status of the American: that it wasn't his body, that we're actively looking at the details to figure out whose body it was in the Tatums' rental car, and to find the present location of the Tatum family.”

“The whole thing is becoming quite the mystery, isn't it? There's the assassination attempt, and now a murder.”

Steel nodded as she sipped her tea. “It's Heaton. Heaton, ma'am. He and his people are behind this. Major Darling and the home secretary will be cross with me for going to you this strongly on this. It's not what they'll want me to say. They wanted to have more answers, but I don't need any more. I know without a doubt he's right at the center of this.”

Steel waited for Georgia to answer. She didn't. She sat there on the couch, staring at Steel. She sensed somehow that this had become incredibly personal to the young officer, almost overnight. She moved closer, wanted to comfort her. She spoke quietly, confiding in Steel, thinking maybe that she would confide in her in return.

“I spoke with the prime minister this morning. He's conscious, just barely. He solved the riddle as to why he was in that cupboard when the bomb went off. David Heaton sent him in, looking for a dossier he was to read through ahead of me.”

Steel took it all in and understood this to be Georgia agreeing with her on Heaton's complicity.

“It speaks darkly of Heaton. It scares me as well, Inspector. I'm sure he'll have a story on the backside of it. I'm sure he's prepared an ironclad version of his innocence, but it troubles me. It makes me wonder who else is involved. He's a very, very well-connected man. This government is run sometimes by strings, strings pulled from the murky side of the shadows.”

She and Steel sat there on the couch across from each other, trying hard not to telegraph or reveal the odd fascination or energy one was getting from the other. It was there, though, and it was then that a tear leaked, jumped, escaped, or was pushed out of the corner of Steel's eye. It sailed slowly down the side of her face.

The chancellor saw it at once. It took every ounce of will that she had not to catch it with her finger and softly wipe Steel's cheek dry. She reached over for a tissue instead and handed it to the young woman.

“Thank you. I'm sorry. I had a very hard night, ma'am.” Again, she said nothing. She didn't want to unfold right there in the PM's den. She didn't think it right.

Georgia would have none of it. She took Steel's hand. It was warm, and soft as could be. Her thumb stroked the back of her palm, soothingly. “Tell me what's troubling you, Davina. Please?”

Steel closed her eyes and opened them again. She was ready to take the plunge and tell her story.

“Two of Heaton's men. They were in my bedroom last night. They came in the middle of the night.”

Her words spilled out carefully. Georgia refused to let go of her hand. She wanted her to know it was all right to unburden herself.

“They gassed me. They had my arms and legs bound. One of them … fondled me, more as a warning than a thrill, I would suppose. But it was vulgar, and the thing is, I can still feel his fingers there.” Georgia nodded. She understood.

Steel had more. “They threatened my father's life. The whole thing was a threat to me, to my parents, to our home.” She stiffened now. Georgia's comfortable grip soothing her, she journeyed on from pain toward rage. Georgia could see her eyes go dark.

“I had seen them earlier. I had words with Heaton at his building. I told him I wanted answers as to what he knew of the American's past, of the incident here at Number 10. Of course, he claimed purity in the whole event, but he sensed I knew better. So he sent his in-house creeps to my home. To get inside of my head … inside of me.”

Steel took a deeply bitter breath. She tried to soothe herself. Another tear fell. This time Georgia couldn't correct herself, didn't feel it necessary; she softly caressed the side of Steel's cheek with her hand and looked deeply into her big brown eyes. Steel's other hand clasped Georgia's hand wrapped around the one in her lap. She let both of her hands float and flutter around the softness of Georgia's satin skin.

“Have you made a report?”

“A rape report? Is that what you mean, ma'am? No. I can't give them that satisfaction. They'll duck it. I've seen what they can do. They can make it about me. They'll use it to muddy the waters on any case we now need to bring about them. I won't hand them that card.”

“Have you discussed this with anyone else?” the chancellor asked warmly.

“Only Edwina Wells, my superior at SO15. She gets it. I can trust her.” Georgia brushed away a piece of bangs that had fallen over Steel's eye. She tried to be as calming as possible. Steel wanted to impress Georgia with her resolve.

“I'll take care of it. In time.” She started to tear up again. Georgia held her hands even tighter now.

“It's all right, love. We'll figure this out. We'll make sure a price is paid for this. I promise you, we will.”

“We have to. We have to bring in the whole DGP. Get warrants. He needs to pay, Heaton. This is high treason. He has to swing for this. He needs to rot in a hole, this one.”

“Yes. Yes, but we'll do it right. He's a very powerful man. He's a game player. We'll win with a calm head. We won't be ramrodding this. We'll take a breath and let the dust settle just a bit. There's a bigger story here. There has to be. He's too connected.”

Steel nodded, looked down. Their two sets of hands were wrapped tightly now—four hands as one. Georgia was strong. Steel felt confident having a partner like this. What happened last night, what happened to the prime minister, to the country: a price must be paid. Someone had to pay.

She wanted to lean forward and kiss Georgia, kiss her deeply. She wanted their lips entwined like their hands now were. She couldn't even believe it had come to this—an undeniable attraction. How long could it be quelled? How could it not be anything other than a disaster? How could it not end in anything but shame and remorse?

They both heard Early's clumsy heels outside the den, stomping across the wooden floor into the office. Georgia could almost count the steps until he'd have his hands on the knob and then open the door to the den. They both wanted it to take so much longer than it would, neither wanting this moment to end. It did, though. Georgia politely pulled her hands free. She smiled and stroked Steel's hair.

“It's all going to be fine, sweet girl. I promise. You've done a wonderful job. I'm very proud of you.” She stood up and broke free in one perfectly timed beat before Early opened the door.

 

BEFORE
■
7

“I just don't see why you can't get your head past the fear and the spy talk and get into the excitement of the fact that you're going to 10 Downing Street, why you're not over the moon that you're going to meet the prime minister of England. Do you have any idea how many people would love to be in your shoes today, Adam?”

Tatum took a deep breath. She had given him a version of the same line about six times already that morning. He couldn't make her understand the trepidation he was feeling, couldn't quite clue her in to the danger he knew lay ahead. Her father wasn't helping. It was obvious that Gordon knew that he had Adam speeding along into nothing but trouble, was well aware something wasn't on the up-and-up, but he surely hadn't said anything to that effect to his daughter.

Kate helped him tie his tie and once again kissed him good-bye at the hotel room.

“You look perfect. Just put a smile on. You're going to remember this day for the rest of your life.” He took the steps down to the lobby.

Gordon was waiting, as always.

“Looking every bit the part today, young man, I must say.” He tried to make small talk. As usual, Adam wasn't interested.

“I don't know what this is about, Gordon, but I know if I were smart I'd go right to the police here. Something's up. I know you know that. At the very best it's fraud.”

“Well, then, I leave that to you. If you think going to the police is your answer, then you should go ahead and do that. If it were me, I'd get into the limo once it comes for you.”

Adam wanted to slug him. He wanted to beat the old man's head into the wall. He bit his tongue and walked out of the lobby and to the curb. Gordon waited for the other HGI execs to come down from their rooms.