Dracup shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You’re sure they didn’t follow us?”
“Sure as I can be.” The agent shrugged.
Dracup wasn’t convinced by Farrell’s casual attitude. He’d feel safer if they kept moving. “Aren’t you going to keep an eye on the front?”
“Relax, Prof. We’ll get moving shortly. Meantime, you’d best clean yourself up. You don’t want to attract any unwelcome attention if we’re pulled over.”
Dracup looked at his hands. They were thick with dried mud. “The police, you mean? Yes, all right. In a moment.” He picked up the object in one hand and hefted it. It had to provide the answers he needed. “Look at the engraving – I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Uh huh. But does it get us any further?”
Dracup felt the weight in his pocket with a slight flux of conscience. He sighed heavily. “It will. It has to.”
“How about coffee?”
“Farrell, I could get to like you.”
The American gave Dracup a puzzled look.
“Sorry. British humour.”
Farrell grunted. Dracup slipped off his coat and made for the bathroom, locking the door behind him. His mobile buzzed in his pocket. He pulled out the vibrating instrument and checked the number. Yvonne.
Dracup sat wearily on the toilet and thumbed the answer button. “Hi.”
“Simon? I – I’m sorry. I know it’s the middle of the night.”
“No problem. I was awake anyway.”
“I can’t sleep. I – I just need someone to talk to.”
“Malcolm?”
“Out like a light. He’s very busy at work, you know –”
“I know.”
“Simon? Where are you? The police have been round again. They’ve been asking questions about –” Yvonne hesitated.
“What?”
“About you. They want to know where you are. They think –”
Dracup groaned. “I know what they think. They’ve no leads, so I’m their chief suspect.” There was a moment’s silence, then:
“Yes.”
“Great.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“So where are you, Simon?”
Dracup let out his breath in a long sigh. “In Aberdeen.”
“Scotland? But you’ve only just –”
“I know. Something came up. I think it may be significant.”
A brief pause, then: “Simon, do you know where she is?”
“Not yet. But I’m getting closer.”
Dracup heard Yvonne catch her breath. He imagined her standing downstairs in the dim light of the standard lamp, Malcolm unconscious upstairs. When she spoke again her voice was even. He wondered what inner strength sustained her when all she could do was wait. And hope.
“Simon. Do you think she’s all right?”
“Yes. Yes, I do. I think she’ll be fine. She’s as tough as old boots.” He gave a short laugh and regretted its hollow sound.
“You don’t think she’s – I mean –”
“No. I don’t.” He reached inside his coat pocket and drew out the wax tablet. It was about the size of an envelope. “Listen. I’m sure I know what’s happened. I’m almost sure why. The question I’m working on is where.”
“It’s to do with your aunt, isn’t it? Her will.”
“Yes. Look, I’m coming back down to Reading tomorrow. I’ll keep you in touch, okay? Everything will be fine.”
“Are you going to talk to the police?”
“I suspect I’ll have no choice in the matter. I don’t want them to think I’m running away.”
“Can’t you tell them what you’ve found? Then they can investigate, you know. They have procedures –”
“Not for this they don’t. Listen, I’m not acting alone. I have help already. The police will just mess things up, complicate everything. It’s complicated enough as it is, believe me.”
“You okay, Mr Dracup?” Farrell’s voice floated through the keyhole.
Dracup covered the phone with his hand. “Fine. On the phone.”
“Okay. No problem. Coffee’s on the table.”
“Who was that?” The tone of Yvonne’s voice shifted to one of suspicion.
“A guy I’m working with.”
“Who is he? Not a policeman?”
“Sort of. CIA.”
Another pause as she took the information in. Then: “Oh God, Simon. What is this? What have you got us into?”
Dracup took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you more tomorrow. You should get some sleep,” he added gently.
There was a moment’s silence across the airwaves. He could imagine her smoothing her hair back from her forehead the way she did when she was anxious about something. “Yes. I suppose I should. And you should too.”