Free Liz Carlyle - 06 - Rip Tide by Stella Rimington Page B

he said, ‘So how are things across the Channel?’
    ‘Where precisely?’
    ‘In Paris, of course,’ Fane said cheerfully. ‘I gather you’re there quite often these days. Our mutual friend Bruno Mackay says he’s run across you several times.’
    Liz face was expressionless as she looked at him How dare you? she was thinking. Standing here in my office, in your beautifully cut suit, with your arrogant expression, poking around in my private life. But all she said was, ‘Yes, my work does take me to Paris from time to time. As you know I’m our main liaison with the French services on counter-terrorism.’
    ‘I know there’s one French service you are very involved with,’ he replied, and she could see he was struggling to keep a smile off his face.
    ‘I wouldn’t believe everything Bruno Mackay tells you.’ Mackay was number two at MI6’s station in Paris, and an old sparring partner of Liz’s. Clever, self-confident (over-confident Liz would have said), charming if he wished to be, yet often simply arrogant, Bruno had always enjoyed teasing her. So he knew about Martin Seurat, she thought crossly. She was perfectly happy for people to know she was seeing Martin, but she disliked the thought of being gossiped about, especially by Bruno Mackay and Fane.
    ‘Sadly I’m going to have to find a new source of information from Paris.’
    ‘Why’s that?’ asked Liz. She had seen Bruno at the embassy only last month.
    ‘We’re posting Bruno.’ And before Liz could ask where, Fane leaned over her desk and said teasingly, ‘Will you be my source of Paris social news then, Elizabeth?’
    She gave a thin-lipped smile and shook her head, hoping he’d had his fun and would now get to the point. She said, ‘I have a train to catch – and before you ask, no, it’s not to Paris.’
    ‘What I was wondering,’ said Fane, sitting down in her visitor’s chair, ‘was how it went with this Amir Khan character. I heard that the French had asked for your help. Did you get anything out of him?’
    ‘I was just writing up my report when you came in. Khan hasn’t opened up at all to the French and he wasn’t much more forthcoming with me. I was going to come and tell you about it.’
    ‘He wouldn’t talk at all?’
    ‘Silence wasn’t the problem.’ She told him about Khan’s long-winded monologue, and how he’d obviously decided to try and bury her in words. ‘We’ve learned he went to Pakistan eight months ago and didn’t come back. I tried to get him to say how he’d got to Somalia, but he just fed me a cock-and-bull story. He even claimed the pirates had taken him prisoner. ‘
    ‘That’s disappointing,’ said Fane, with a note of mild reproof.
    ‘I thought so too,’ admitted Liz cheerfully. ‘But then he slipped up.’ She waited while Fane looked at her with undisguised curiosity. ‘I asked him who had given him his orders in Pakistan, and before he thought, he said that it hadn’t been in Pakistan.’
    ‘Ah-ha,’ said Fane approvingly.
    Liz felt as if she’d been awarded a gold star by the headmaster. ‘Frankly, he’s pretty green. I think his defiance is a big act and underneath he’s scared stiff. Though if he’s scared of us, I think he’s even more scared of whoever got to him in the first place.’
    ‘Well, he’s got that right. We might keep him in prison but we’re not going to kill him.’
    ‘He claimed the French Navy chaps roughed him up.’
    ‘They probably did,’ said Fane dismissively. ‘The Marine Nationale can be a little over-zealous. But if he didn’t get his instructions in Pakistan, where did he get them? Here?’
    ‘Possibly. Or in some other country he went to after Pakistan. That’s why I rang you when I got back; I thought you might be able to help.’
    The trace of a smile touched Fane’s lips. Liz knew he was pleased. He liked nothing better than to be asked for help, particularly by her. At heart he was an old-fashioned chauvinist, instinctively