Page 89 of Nobody's Hero

The pilot stepped out from the cockpit. He gave Draper a thumbs-up. ‘We’re cleared for takeoff, ma’am,’ he said.

Draper said, ‘Let’s go.’

They waited for the Gulfstream to get into the air. It didn’t take long. They didn’t have to wait in line for a slot on the runway. Koenig suspected Smerconish had prioritised their flight. The Gulfstream climbed until it reached its cruising altitude, then levelled off. The pilot turned off the fasten seat belts sign. Nobody had been wearing one. Koenig guessed it was regulations.

‘Do you want a drink, Margaret?’ Draper said. ‘This is a six-hour flight and I suspect you’ll be talking for most of it.’

‘I’d better take a coffee then.’

Koenig walked over to the drinks station and poured her a cup. Filled it with cream and sugar. Lots of quick-release energy. He placed it on the table in front of Margaret. Some of it slopped over the rim. ‘Sorry,’ he said, but made no move to clean it.

‘Thank you, dear,’ she said. She took a sip and sighed in appreciation. ‘You Americans might not be able to make tea, but your coffee has always been excellent.’

‘How were you recruited, Margaret?’ Koenig said.

‘The usual way. I was approached while I was lecturing abroad. We all were. It wasn’t uncommon, and as long as we reported it, it wasn’t a problem.’

‘Approached by who?’

‘Bywhom, dear.’

‘Sorry. Approached by whom?’

‘They never said, but I imagine it was the intelligence service of whatever country I was in at the time.’

‘Countries hostile to the US?’

‘Not always, dear. I’m told spying on our friends is just as much fun.’

Koenig glanced at Draper.

She shrugged. ‘We need to know whateveryoneis thinking.’

‘Which of these agents was the one . . .’ He trailed off.

‘What is it?’ Draper asked.

Koenig didn’t answer. Something in the back of his mind was trying to grab his attention. It had been there since Margaret stuck a hairpin in Hobbs, growing slowly and insidiously, like her cancer. He wondered what had prompted it. He tried to remember every conversation they’d had, but this time he put everything through the filter of someone living a lie. He thought she’d made a mistake, although he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. He broke down the problem. Margaret had her cover story, and it would have been well rehearsed. But inevitably, a large part of it was improvisation. She couldn’t predict everything. At some point she would encounter something she hadn’t planned for. Good agents, even ones with impeccable legends, had to be able to think on their feet. Then they had to remember what they’d said. Sometimes for the rest of their lives.

He mentally backed up. He stumbled over something again. Not something he’d said. Something he’dthought.

A word.

It was ‘agent’.

For some reason the word ‘agent’ was bothering him. He didn’t know why, only that it was. Margaret must have mentioned it. Probably in passing, and without the current context it hadn’t meant anything. And she’d said it freely, hadn’t tried to correct herself. Hadn’t realised she’d made a mistake. He cast his mind way back, ended up in the middle of a conversation they’d had in the Scottish Highlands. They’d been talking about her illness. She’d used ‘agent’ when discussing her cancer.

And then, like he’d swept his hands across a cluttered desk, everything became clear. He knew what was bothering him. Trusting Margaret had been a terrible mistake. They were making another one now. He removed his Fairbairn–Sykes and placed it on the table. Spun it round until the blade was facing Margaret.

‘What is it?’ Draper asked again.

‘Her cancer’s a lie,’ he said. ‘Margaret isn’t dying.’ He took a few beats to let that register. ‘And because she faked her diagnosis two years before Bess’s guys started to go missing, it means she wasn’t recruited for a role in all of this. Sheisall of this.’

Margaret grinned. ‘Fuck-a-doodle-do,’ she said.

Chapter 94

While Koenig was busting Margaret, Cora Pearl was backing up the truck and boat trailer through the open door of an empty warehouse in San Diego. Tas was pleased. The journey from Maine to California had been incident free. The Australian had been sullen, but Tas didn’t care. His role was over.

---