Page 22 of Nobody's Hero

‘She was suicidal?’

‘More resigned to a course of action.’

‘How did she come across?’

‘I thought she was very impressive.’

‘She murdered two men in cold blood.’

‘Apparently.’

‘She abducted an elderly academic.’

‘If you say.’

‘Idon’t say. Until they were slapped with a D-notice, the Brit tabloids ran with it for almost a week. There’s a lot of information out there.’

‘We’ll get a full briefing at the embassy.’

‘You aren’t curious?’

‘I’mdesperatelycurious,’ Koenig said. ‘Jane Doe took an extraordinary risk when she faked her death. That she’s reappeared like she has means something’s gone wrong. I want to know what. But the SOG always worked best when we were briefed by the right people. In this case, our contact at the embassy is the right people. Anything else is white noise.’

Twenty minutes later their flight was called. Draper called Koenig an asshole when Upper Class were invited to board first. He was shown to his seat, but only after his ticket had been checked by three different members of the cabin crew. He declined the complimentary champagne but accepted an apple and a bag of pretzels. After he’d eaten, he removed his boots and wedged his jacket behind his head like a pillow. Sleep first, think later.

By the time Draper’s seat was called, Koenig was asleep.

Chapter 19

Koenig was the second person off the plane. He’d slept the entire flight and had woken hungry. He waited for Draper to disembark. It was fifteen minutes before she was able to join him. She looked exhausted, like she needed matchsticks to keep her eyes open. Economy clearly hadn’t agreed with her.

‘Hey there, sleepyhead,’ he said.

She told him to perform a sex act on himself. Rude.

They made their way to passport control. The uniformed Brit behind the Perspex screen scanned their passports, then waved them through without playing twenty questions. Either he’d been expecting them, or the UK Border Agency were under instructions not to delay diplomats, however unkempt they looked. Neither of them had checked luggage, so they headed straight to the arrivals concourse.

A woman was holding a printed bk & jd sign. She was in her early fifties and was wearing it well. Wasn’t trying to hide it. She was tall and graceful, sort of like Draper fifteen years down the line. A thin face, a straight nose, and little to no makeup. She wore cotton canvas trousers, and a plain white T-shirt underneath an unfastened trench coat. She held the sign in the air, like she was a ring girl in a title fight.

‘That’s Bernice Kopitz,’ Draper said.

Koenig didn’t ask how she knew. Not only was she in the private intelligence game, Smerconish had taken her aside before they had checked in at JFK. They’d talked for fifteen minutes, and although it had seemed heated towards the end, Koenig assumed Draper was getting information he wasn’t yet privy to.

‘She’s come herself?’ Koenig said. ‘I’m impressed.’

‘Don’t be,’ Draper said. ‘Bernice was a bit of a legend back in the day. The London posting will be a reward for services rendered somewhere inhospitable. The journey to the embassy will take half an hour; she won’t want to waste that time.’

Which she didn’t. Instead of introducing herself, Bernice said, ‘The diplomatic pouch arrived three hours ago, Mr Koenig. We’ll talk in the car, and I have a briefing prepared back at Nine Elms.’

She led them to a Mercedes in short-term parking and threw Draper’s hand luggage in the trunk. She slipped into the London traffic and eased past a truck with ‘Sainsbury’s’ written on the side. It was a garish orange and yellow and white. Koenig couldn’t tell if it was transporting groceries or circus animals. He glanced at the Merc’s dash. The temperature gauge said it was below freezing. He’d have to buy more clothes at some point. He looked up at the low grey clouds and the permadrizzle, at the early commuters and their umbrellas. And maybe a hat, he thought.

‘Damn,’ Bernice said, glancing in the rearview mirror. ‘I’ve picked up a pigtail.’

‘I’m not familiar . . .’ Draper said.

‘Scotland Yard know about you. It’s always a risk when I drive myself. They sometimes put a car on me, see if I’m going somewhere interesting. I thought I’d gotten away with it this morning. It’s early and I’m in my assistant’s car. Probably playing silly buggers because our guys got their guys to quash the Speakers’ Corner investigation. They’ll be running your photographs now.’

‘Can you sort that?’ Koenig asked. ‘I can do without the distraction of bounty hunters right now.’

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