I Am Pilgrim(229)

I shook my head. ‘I didn’t tell you, but McKinley had his own estimate of when we could expect to hear. I was the outrider – he was an hour earlier.’

‘What happens now?’ he asked quietly.

‘Get on the phone,’ I said. ‘Book the first plane home. If you leave at dawn, you can probably get back before they close the airports.

‘Then do what I suggested – take Marcie and head straight for the beach house. Together, you’ll have a chance.’

‘Better with three,’ he replied. ‘Come with us.’

I smiled but shook my head. ‘No, I’ll go to Paris.’

‘Paris?’ he said, shocked. ‘Cities are going to be the worst places.’

‘Yeah, but I was happy there … I had a lot of dreams … If it gets really bad, I’d like to be close to that.’

He looked at me for a long moment, sad, I think, but it was hard to tell. Then he started to ask me how long it would take for the virus to burn out and other—

I held my hand up, signalling him to be quiet. I thought I had heard something outside in the hall. We both stood frozen, listening. Then we heard it together – footsteps.

I grabbed the Beretta off the night stand and glided silently to the peephole. Ben drew his pistol and trained it on the point where the door would open.

I looked through the spyhole and saw the shadow of a man on the wall. He was coming closer.





Chapter Twenty-four


THE MAN STEPPED into view – it was the bellhop. Unaware he was being watched, he pushed an envelope under the door.

I waited until he had left before I put the pistol down and picked it up. Watched by Ben – heart racing, my thoughts veering between hope and ruthless restraint – I opened the flap and pulled out a single sheet of paper.

I read it, felt the wall of anxiety collapse, and shook my head in wonder.

‘What is it?’ said Ben.

‘I’m a fool,’ I replied. ‘There was never going to be any message that Echelon could hear. Cumali didn’t need to go to the phone box – the man is already here.’

‘In Bodrum? How do you know?’

I indicated the letter. ‘She wants to pick me up at eleven in the morning – she’s invited me to go on a picnic with her supposed son.’

‘No, you’re wrong,’ Ben responded. ‘What can happen if the boy’s there?’

I laughed. ‘He won’t be,’ I said. ‘She’ll make an excuse. Why else would she suddenly invite me to a picnic? She can’t stand me. No, her brother’s here, Ben. Tomorrow, I’m going to meet him.’

Bradley’s doubts died under the weight of my certainty, and I saw the look on his face – I could tell he was dreading the role he would now have to play. To be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to mine either.

I unbolted the door for him. ‘Call Whisperer fast. Just tell him: Buddy, we’re live.’





Chapter Twenty-five


I HAD COME to turkey as a pathfinder and ended up as a lure. Consequently, I had made no effort to put my affairs in order before I left and now I found I had to do it fast.

As soon as Bradley had left to call Whisperer, I sat down at the small desk, pulled out a piece of paper and, late as it was, started to write my will. In normal circumstances – with just a government pension, the annuity from Grace and a small collection of paintings – I wouldn’t have bothered.

But things had become more complicated. When Ben and Marcie had blown my cover and forced me to leave Paris, one of the few things I had thrown into my bag were the two letters from the New York lawyer about the deaths of both Bill and Grace.

The elderly lawyer’s name was Finbar Hanrahan, the son of penniless Irish immigrants, a man of such integrity that he threatened single-handedly to give lawyers a good name. He had been Bill’s lawyer since before he had married Grace, and I had met him many times over the years.

With the two letters in hand and back in New York, I had made an appointment to see him. So it was, late one afternoon, that he rose from behind the desk in his spectacular office and greeted me warmly. He led me to a sofa in the corner from which there was a view all the way up Central Park and introduced me to the other two men in attendance, one of whom I recognized as a former secretary of commerce. Finbar said that they were lawyers but neither of them was associated with his firm.

‘They have read certain documents and I have asked them to be here as impartial observers. Their job is to ensure that everything I do is by the book and cannot be misconstrued or questioned later. I want to be scrupulous about this.’

It seemed strange, but I let it ride – I figured Finbar knew what he was doing. ‘You said in your letter there was a small matter of Bill’s estate that had to be finalized,’ I said. ‘Is that what we’re dealing with?’