Lovers and Liars (61 page)

He looked across at him. ‘Tell me,’ he said quietly, ‘what is your connection with thisT He gestured to the pictures. ‘You can’t have been more than twenty when this happened, and you can’t have been in Vietnam.’

It was not the most honest of questions, given the information he already had, but McMullen seemed unaware of that. He was gazing away across the room.

‘It was nineteen sixty-eight. I was eighteen,’ he said. ‘That year I was in Paris first, then Oxford. The raid on My Nuc actually happened while I was at Oxford. My first term.’

‘And your connection? There must be one/ Pascal said gently. McMullen’s mouth tightened. He jerked his face away. J knew the woman in those photographs. The woman Romero killed. I had never met her sister - the one who escaped. But I was able to make contact with her, later, in later years.’

‘Would you like to tell me how you knew the woman hereT ‘No. I wouldn’t. I don’t want to discuss it any more.’

‘All right. Then would you like to tell me who took these photographsT

‘His name is in that file. He is Vietnamese, obviously. It was his job to document that kind of atrocity. His unit arrived there two days after Hawthorne’s platoon pulled out. He’s still alive also. He now lives in Ho Chi Minh City.’

‘There were other witnessesT

‘To the aftermath? Yes. Their names are also there.’

‘Have you made any attempt before to make this allegation publicT

‘Yes, I have. I wrote to several American senators, towards the end of the war. When the war was over, I made one further attempt. I approached a newspaper.’

‘And you weren’t believedT

‘No. They didn’t even make any investigation, except of the most cursory kind. They told me the pictures came from a suspect source

- the former enemy in other words. Hawthorne was a congressman by then. No. I wasn’t believed.’

‘Anyone else?’ It was Gini who spoke now. She rose. ‘Why didn’t you make contact with the journalist who was cut off with that platoon? He was a living witness, after all-‘

t,‘I did make contact with him.’ McMullen met her gaze with ktold blue stare. ‘I wrote to your father three times. You can Ok him. He replied once, to the final letter. He informed me Owas wrong. The next time I wrote, the reply came via his ers. I didn’t write again.’

There was a silence. Pascal quietly began to gather up the res and return them to their envelope. Gini continued to straight at McMullen.

hy did you never mention this aspect of the story to Jenkins?’ Because I knew what would happen if I did. I’d be dismissed a lunatic, the way I was before. Who gives a damn about ething that happened twentyfive years ago in some little ge on the other side of the worldT

h, I see. Whereas if you came to my paper with a sexual al about an eminent man, everyone would leap to attention that it?’

‘dn’t youT McMullen replied coldly. ‘Didn’t Jenkins? Didn’t eyard?’

d you plan it that way?’ Gini’s voice had sharpened, and al swung around.

ini … ‘ he began, on a warning note, and put a restraining on her arm.

;No. Let’s just take a closer look at this . Gini pushed his aside and faced McMullen. ‘You fed us precisely thelind story designed to make us sit up and pay attention. It was lurid ugh. You then lent credence to that story by organizing that

1e parcels fiasco, on which Pascal and I wasted an immense

nt of time, and as a direct result of which three people Why? What was the point of that if it wasn’t just to wind up further? You deliberately made it look as if Hawthorne t have sent those parcels-‘

P!Gini.’ Pascal moved between her and McMullen. ‘Not now.’

0”This is pointless. And I don’t have the time.’ McMullen was Oready moving away.

Gini thrust herself between him and the door. ‘Then you can krnn well make the time,’ she said. ‘We’ve waited long enough or this meeting. Doesn’t it occur to you that we might like to ask Pme questions? Or are we just supposed to accept all this because lou tell us it’s so? So far, you’ve produced the name of one doctor, Od that’s all. You’ve produced photographs that could have been Wen anywhere in South-East Asia at any time-2

V”That’s not all I’ve produced.’ McMullen had come to a halt in

front of her, Pascal just to his side. ‘You haven’t even looked at the other evidence in there. There are statements, testimonies, eyewitness accounts.’ His voice was choked with emotion. ‘What does it take to convince you people of anything? You’ve witnessed what Hawthorne is. You’ve witnessed three deaths. Do you need any moreT

‘Stop this.’ Pascal moved swiftly between them. ‘Can’t you see? You’re both wrong and you’re both right. This achieves nothing-!

‘No. Nothing at all,’ McMullen interrupted. He attempted to push Pascal to one side, but Pascal held his ground. ‘I realize now. I was a fool to believe either of you would help - least of all her.’ He gestured angrily at Gini. ‘You’re like every other damn journalist I’ve ever met. Cynical. Blas& You wouldn’t recognize the truth if you saw it with your own eyes. I’m wasting my time. We’re leaving. Now.’

‘No. We are not leaving.’ Pascal moved Gini to one side, and stood blocking the door. His voice was suddenly very cold. ‘You can listen to me first, before we do. It’s not our job to help you publish allegations. It’s our job to discover the truth. And we’ve been trying to do that, for eight days. You have no right to speak to Gini, in that way. You know what she’s been through this past week? Obscene phone calls at night, her apartment ransacked, and yesterday, when you had her chasing around the museum-2

‘Don’t, Pascal. Leave it. There’s no point.’

‘Oh, but there is.’ Pascal swung back to look at McMullen, his eyes angry and his face set and pale. ‘You think someone feels cynical, blas6, do you, when they’re threatened in that way? Sent handcuffs anonymously. Then sent further identical parcels. Parcels that contain a pair of shoes that fits them exactly? Or a black silk stocking? Or has a man on the phone in the middle of the night when the lights have failed, talking filth, describing what she’s wearing, at the exact moment he calls? You think Gini takes that in her stride, just dismisses it? Well, think again. And don’t speak to her that way.’

There was silence. McMullen stepped back. He gave a gesture of bewilderment.

‘Shoes? Stockings? What phone calls? I don’t understand. What happened while we were at the museum yesterday?’

‘Someone broke into my apartment, again.’ Gini spoke flatly, and turned away. ‘I have a cat. I had a cat. They strangled him. Then … they hung him up, on a hook on the back of the

door. That’s what they did. Someone did. And Pascal’s right. jWhen I found him, I didn’t feel blas6. You know what I feltT She rounded on McMullen again. ‘I felt angry. The same way -felt when I walked into that Venice apartment and saw the way two men had been killed. I could have backed off from

s damn story any time I chose. So could Pascal. But neither f us did. Why in hell do you think we’re here now? Because do want to know the truth. And because neither of us inds to give up until we do.’

McMullen had moved further off as she spoke, though he lisned intently. When she had finished, he hesitated, then turned ay. He bent and re-laced the rucksack, moved across and turned off the heater.

‘I’m sorry/ he said in a stiff way. ‘I knew none of that. I had nothing to do with it. I sent the four parcels as an interim asure. A way of giving you a trail, a lead, a way of keeping u both on the story, until I could make contact with you. I d no idea what the repercussions would be, and I had no ea then that it would take this long to see you. I’m sorry, t I’ve told you all I know. There’s nothing more I can add. ave no astonishing proof to produce. I give you my word t everything I’ve told you about John Hawthorne I believe be true. And now I have no more time. I’ll drive you both k to Oxford. I have to go.’

He spoke in a cold, clipped, final way. It was evident that er argument would be wasted. He moved across to the door, itched off the lights, then opened it. He had parked his car it faced back down the slope of the track. When they were ide it, he slipped the gears into neutral and allowed the car coast down to the road without lights. There, he switched m on, and started the engine. Only when they were beyond wthorne’s village, and approaching the main road back into ord, did he speak again.

‘You said you had questions/ he began. ‘Ask them now.’

Gini was about to speak, and leaned forward to do so, but Pascal trained her with a quick touch of the hand.

‘I have a question. When Jenkins first suggested Gini for this did you know who her father wasT

‘Not at first, no. I noticed the similarity in the name - but it’s a mmon enough surname. Then, later on/ he glanced back at Gini, enkins mentioned that you had indirect links to the Hawthornes,

ough your stepmother. He said you were American. Finally he

mentioned your father’s narne.’ He paused. ‘He was trying to sell me on the idea of using you. I was opposed to the idea of a woman working on it. I’d told him so.’

‘And when you realized who Gini was, why didn’t you block the idea? You must have known then that you intended to produce this evidence.’ He indicated the folder, which McMullen had handed to him silently, as they walked out to the car. ‘It must have worried you, that connection, surely? You must have known that Gini would react badly to the suggestion that her father was part of a cover-upT

‘Of course it occurred to me. But Jenkins said she never saw her father. He said they were estranged, that they hadn’t been in contact for years. By the time he mentioned all this, events were moving fast. It was mid-December. I had to make a decision quickly. Besides, the writer seemed less important at that stage. What we had to do first was get the photographic proof of Hawthorne’s activities. Once it was proved what kind of man he is, I thought any honest journalist would be prepared to investigate him and his family properly - expose it all, right back to those events in Vietnam. That’s what I believed. Until tonight.’ His voice hardened. ‘Now, of course, I’m beginning to see that I was wrong.’

Gini leaned forward between the two seats.

‘In that case,’ she said quietly, ‘I’ll spell one thing out for you. If we ever prove your current allegations about John Hawthorne, if there proves to be any truth in this story about blondes, I won’t stop there, and neither will Pascal. We’ll go back and investigate everything. I’ll take Hawthorne’s past apart. Believe me or not I don’t give a damn. But this matters to me. Hawthorne is an American politician. I’m an American. Born in the USA. I care.’

McMullen did not answer her. She saw his eyes flick up and fix on her in the rear-view mirror. He shifted gears fast, and took them up onto the dual carriageway into Oxford, a different route, Gini noted, from the one he had taken before. She watched him make these manceuvres. She could just see the side of his face, and his hands gripping the wheel.

‘Meantime/ she continued, ‘there are some questions I want to ask. Concerning the sending of those four original parcels. Let’s assume, for the moment, that the further two sent were part of a campaign of intimidation. But about those four–’

‘Do we have to go over this?‘McMullen sounded irritable. ‘Why? Is it that important? I already told you, it was a stop-gap, a ploy.

y don’t you concentrate on Hawthorne? He’s your story, not .1

‘Even so. I don’t understand Appleyard’s exact involvement. y did you use him to contact Lorna Munro?’

‘I had to be careful with Appleyard,’ he replied. ‘I’d tried to get off the story, but he wouldn’t leave it alone. Once Jenkins involved, I had to find a way of keeping Appleyard quiet. I ed to hold him off until Jenkins’s story ran. All he knew was John Hawthorne had a weakness for blondhaired women.

pleyard thought Lorna Munro would be meeting Hawthorne, that I’d report to him on Hawthorne’s reaction.’ He paused. ink “honey-trap” was his term.’

‘I see.’ Gini waited, but McMullen said nothing more. ‘So you ‘ded to use the parcels ploy, as you call it. When exactly?’ “‘After I left London. I planned it then. I’ve already told you. I

see it was foolish. I regret it now.’ ‘Did you plan it on your ownT .“Yes, I did. WhyT

‘It just seems - feminine in some ways. I wouldn’t expect a n to get the details as right as you did. The clothes Lorna unro wore, for instance … ‘

‘Oh, that was simple. I happened to be visiting my sister earlier

1 t month. I’d glanced at her magazines. I’d seen that issue of ue.’

Gini said nothing. Another lie, she thought, more definite this time; sister had told Pascal she had not seen McMullen since the mer of the previous year.

‘But it must have been quite difficult to set up, surely/ she ssed on. ‘To obtain that coat, the necklace, the Chanel suit-! ‘It wasn’t that difficult. Not at all.’ His eyes flicked again to the r-view mirror. He pulled out into the fast lane. Gini waited. “In that case/ she said, ‘who called ChanelT

‘I’m sorry? Wait just a minute, will you? We’re coming up to Headington roundabout. The traffic’s heavy here … ‘

He accelerated onto the Oxford ring road at the roundabout, and n turned off and began weaving his way through a network of streets towards the centre of town. He still had not answered

r question. Gini glanced at Pascal, whose silence now she nd surprising. His gaze was fixed straight ahead. He gave indication that he was even listening to this at all.

‘Look . Gini leaned forward again. ‘I’m sorry to press the int, but I need to know. You see, 1-!

‘Leave it, GinU Pascal turned around. He spoke lightly, but he caught hold of her hand, and pressed it hard against his seat-back, as if in warning. ‘Leave it, there isn’t time.’ He glanced across at McMullen. ‘These details concern us/ he went on, addressing him, ‘because we spent a great deal of time checking them out. I am now sure that Gini and I have been under surveillance from day one. I think our phone calls and conversations have been listened to, much of the time. Now that may explain certain aspects of what’s happened, but it doesn’t explain it all. Why, for instance, if you intended us to follow that parcels trail, did you send a parcel addressed to Venice, to yourselfT