A Spy's Life (13 page)

Dowl took off his glasses and nodded to Clark, who began speaking with laboured patience. ‘Sir, you have to understand the conditions at a crash scene where there has been a violent impact and wreckage is spread over an area of several hundred yards, where the body of the plane has been burned in a fire with temperatures reaching thousands of degrees. These conditions do not aid the recovery of bodies. I am afraid mistakes do occur.’

‘But surely,’ Parsons shot back, ‘there was some kind of passenger list you could check against?’

‘Not in this case,’ said Clark, making it plain with a look to Dowl that this was one for him.

‘Nothing?’ said the reporter, transferring his gaze from the right of the platform to Dowl at the centre.

‘No,’ said Dowl. ‘The aircraft was returning to New York anyway. The UN personnel were making use of it as an economy measure. It will not escape your attention that many of the people on that plane had been at Congress arguing for the payment of late contributions to the UN budget.’

‘So you didn’t know who was on that plane. How can we be sure that you haven’t made a mistake? There could still be people unaccounted for. Isn’t that right?’

Dowl shook his head. ‘No, that’s not possible.’

‘And you’re saying that the next flight would have carried the Secretary-General. When was that trip scheduled for, Mr Dowl?’

‘Last Friday. He was due to visit Colombia with members of the Economic and Social Council.’

‘And the trip didn’t go ahead?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘Colombia, that’s a dangerous spot. This must have occurred to the accident investigators and the FBI. I mean, if this crash wasn’t caused by wake-vortex, you would have to look for another cause, wouldn’t you? Have you ruled out any tampering with the plane’s systems?’

‘That’s a hypothetical issue because the NTSB has established wake-vortex as the cause of this accident.’

‘If I’m not mistaken,’ returned the reporter, ‘the only hypothesising going on around here is Mr Clark’s. However convincing the theory appears to be, it is still only a theory – a hypothesis.’

Clark interrupted Dowl with a raised hand. ‘Sir, we are certain that this accident was caused by wake-vortex. It’s more than hypothesis – all the flight and cockpit data comply with the pattern of previous incidents. Since 1983 seventy serious incidents have been minutely studied, and that’s just in the United States. During a ten-year period in Britain five hundred and fifteen incidents – not accidents – were reported at London’s Heathrow alone. We know what we’re talking about here. This is a well-documented and well-understood phenomenon.’

‘Plainly not a well-avoided one,’ said Parsons, and, before anyone had time to react, he added, ‘If the Falcon was too close to the Boeing, someone must be to blame, Mr Clark.’

‘The wake separation distance was satisfactory. We’re looking at all the meteorological data of the time to see if the vortex was capable of an abnormal lifespan. These findings will be included in the final report. But I stress that we are not saying that the investigation is closed.’

‘That’s exactly right,’ chimed in Dowl. ‘This conference is an exercise to keep you, the media, abreast of the preliminary conclusions.’

Harland had heard all he needed.

9

THE QUANTUM FOE

He returned to his office to find Marika with arms imperiously folded across her chest, remonstrating with a man who was fiddling with the fax machine. She gestured Harland into his own office and said sternly, ‘Why didn’t you tell me what happened here last night?’

He shrugged. ‘I didn’t want to worry you. I just had some money taken, that’s all. And I’ve got a bit of a bruise.’

‘But you were mugged! Here, in the United Nations! It’s terrible. Everyone is shocked that such a thing could happen to you after last week.’

‘Well, there it is. I was a little shaken up, but I’m okay now. I’m looking forward to going away for a bit of peace. By the way, how did you hear about it?’

‘One of the guards who found you came by. Asked if there was anything else missing. I said nothing except the fax roll. Somebody stole the damned fax roll. Can you believe that?’

‘What do you mean?’ He knew perfectly well what she meant and instantly realised the significance of the theft. The imaging film, which passed through the machine between two rolls, much like an old-fashioned camera, contained a complete record of the faxes he had received the previous night. All someone would need to do to retrieve the documents was to place the film, page by page, in a photocopier. It was as simple as holding an old piece of carbon paper up to the light – in fact simpler because each section of the imaging film was used just once.

Harland hid his reaction. ‘Someone on this floor must’ve taken it when their machine ran out.’

This didn’t satisfy Marika, but she had something else on her mind. The Secretary-General’s office had called down. There was a brief gap in Benjamin Jaidi’s schedule just after two, and he wanted to see Harland.

He arrived outside the Secretary-General’s suite of offices a little ahead of time, and walked up and down the corridor looking at the framed pencil sketches of the UN buildings. Suddenly he was aware of the guard at the end of the corridor stiffening in his chair. He glanced to his left and found the Secretary-General standing almost next to him.

‘It’s a good trick,’ he said, ‘I learned it when I was a boy. The man who taught it to me said the secret of sneaking up on someone is to imagine that you are leaving half yourself behind. I am sure he was pulling my leg, but it seems to work, doesn’t it?’

Harland looked down into the garnet-black eyes of Benjamin Jaidi. He had met him five or six times before and had always been struck by the man’s eerily fluid presence. Diplomat, crusader, politician and seducer of despots, Jaidi inhabited many roles, but would only agree with the job description of a predecessor who said that a Secretary-General was like a secular Pope. There was something in that, but it didn’t embrace the illusionist’s craft that the neat, inscrutable little man practised in his every waking moment. Harland thought of him as a modern, dark-skinned Merlin. He was without obvious origins. He spoke with an unplaceable lilt, which someone once described as dockside singsong, and his looks might have come from anywhere – the Middle East, Africa, India, even South America. In fact he was born in Zanzibar, was schooled in European universities and had spent most of his working life in the United States.

He took Harland by the elbow and walked him slowly back to his offices pouring out charm and concern for his ordeal. With Jaidi you felt immersed in sympathy.

They sat down in a sofa with their backs to the view.

‘I must say, that looks a nasty injury on your head. Is that the result of the crash?’ He paused. ‘Or did you receive it last night?’

So Jaidi knew.

‘Last night, but it looks much worse than it feels.’

‘Yes, you certainly seem to have been in the wars, Mr Harland. You must look after yourself in future.’

‘Yes.’

‘So,’ said Jaidi, clasping his hands over his crossed knees, ‘Alan Griswald was a friend of yours?’

‘Yes, a good friend.’

‘Did you know he was coming to see me with information which he would only convey to me in person?’

‘I had some idea. Would you mind if I asked what it was about?’

‘It concerned his work in The Hague for the International War Crimes Tribunal, but I can’t tell you more because I don’t know.’ He paused. ‘Do you think this crash was an accident as they are saying?’

Harland weighed his reply. ‘Well, I just watched the press briefing downstairs and the Safety Board’s findings seem feasible enough. There’s no evidence of sabotage.’

‘Yes, wake-vortex is certainly a convincing explanation,’ said Jaidi ruminatively. ‘I haven’t heard of such a thing before. But let me ask you what you really think, Mr Harland.’

‘I think there are very good reasons to suspect that it was sabotage. Someone didn’t want Alan Griswald to talk to you.’

‘But you’re right – there’s no proof. It’s disturbing that such a thing could happen – so many good people killed and yet there’s no evidence of a crime. It makes one feel powerless and angry.’

‘Yes, it does.’

Jaidi sat in silence with a queer expression on his face. Through an open door beyond him, Harland could see the business of the Secretary-General’s office in full flow, but Jaidi seemed in no hurry. ‘I haven’t had any lunch. Shall we see if we can get some tea? I think we need tea and cookies, don’t you?’

He sprang to his feet and went through the open door.

Quite soon afterwards a very tall, Scandinavian-looking woman brought in a tray. Jaidi took a plate of biscuits and began to talk while steadily munching through them.

‘I think we both know more than we are admitting, Mr Harland. Can I make that assumption without offending you?’

Harland nodded and wondered what the hell was coming next.

‘You see, I’ve learned that you know about Monsieur Bézier and that you’ve made inquiries about the work being carried out by your friend Griswald.’ He saw that Harland was about to interrupt and put up his hand. ‘Please, let me finish. I understand that you may be upset by this, but I’ve had to acquaint myself with the facts as fully as I can. I am facing – or rather we are facing – a very difficult time. I think we have to embrace each other and share what we know.’

‘What are you saying, sir?’ asked Harland, tired of Jaidi’s opaque formality.

‘That we have a common purpose and we need to acknowledge it.’

‘No, before that, about Bézier. How have you acquainted yourself with the facts?’

Jaidi sighed and bowed his head a little.

‘Are you saying it was one of your people who took the fax roll from my office? And the break-in at my apartment, the attack last night? I can’t believe it. Are you saying these were at your instigation?’

‘I knew this would be difficult.’ Jaidi sighed again. ‘Yes, I plead guilty on two counts. Let me explain. It seemed to us, by which I mean Mr Ollins of the FBI and Sean Kennedy, the head of security here, that you might have taken something from Alan Griswald’s body. We suspected that you knew what he was bringing me because you were friends. Old friends, I gather. There
was
something, wasn’t there? But then last night it was stolen from you. Mr Kennedy wondered what else you knew and went to your office and found the fax roll. I’m afraid that he also arranged for a search of your apartment over the weekend, though he did tell me that he and his colleague were let in by a porter. So it was not strictly a break-in.’

‘That doesn’t make it any better, sir,’ said Harland sharply. ‘They read my private correspondence.’

‘Yes, I agree, it’s inexcusable, but up until this morning we weren’t sure where you stood. Then it became clear that you were as interested as we were in finding out what had happened to the plane and what Griswald was doing. Those actions spoke well of your motives. But now you must tell me what you took from Griswald’s body.’

Harland told him about Griswald’s wallet and how he had found it on Saturday afternoon and then about listening to the disc and the pulse of sound which he suspected was some sort of code. He left out his visit to the Griswald family.

‘And you no longer have that disc?’

‘No, it was taken last night.’

‘Yes, we thought something like that had occurred. It was a pity you didn’t tell Ollins in the first place, wasn’t it?’

‘I didn’t realise until Saturday afternoon that I had it. By that time I was beginning to think that Ollins was not being entirely straight. That impression was pretty much confirmed by the press conference this morning when there was no mention of the Frenchman.’ He paused. ‘Look, sir, can I ask you why you are so keen to conceal Bézier’s presence on the plane? Sooner or later, someone is going to have to admit that he was killed with the others.’

‘Yes, that’s true. The answer is that Ollins and Kennedy, who I should mention used to be colleagues, wanted time to find out about Bézier. It’s also important that the people who are trying to prevent me learning about Griswald’s evidence do not know that Bézier was on the plane.’

‘But if this was sabotage, surely Bézier was one of the targets.’

‘Not necessarily. It’s my conviction – no, my instinct – that Griswald was the lone target. I don’t think they knew about Bézier. The important thing is that we learn how he fits in.’

‘You keep on saying
they
. Who are
they
?’

‘Are you familiar with quantum theory?’

‘Yes,’ said Harland doubtfully.

‘Because that is what Alan Griswald mentioned in the one conversation that I had with him. He said he was dealing with a suspect who was like a quantum entity.’

‘What on earth did he mean?’

‘I’m not sure, but in the quantum world, as I understand it, very small entities can be a wave and a particle at the same time. They can also be in different places at the same time. This defies common sense.’

‘Yes,’ said Harland, dimly recalling a physics lecture at Cambridge, ‘that’s to do with the Uncertainty Principle. As one manifestation becomes definite, the other recedes and becomes hazy. The point is that you can never be sure of the hazy state.’

‘Exactly! Griswald said he had managed to focus on one aspect of this individual which concerns a crime in the Balkans but he was hazily aware of this individual’s other roles and his influence, which may even have penetrated the War Crimes Tribunal. He said it was almost inconceivable how this individual had multiplied his identities to operate on so many different levels. That’s why he used the quantum analogy and why he was coming to me. The War Crimes Tribunal is, as you know, a UN-sponsored operation. He wanted to know that he had my support before he began to pursue this matter in earnest. Obviously he did not gain that support because next week Griswald will be buried along with all the others who died in the crash.’

‘So you’re sure that it was sabotage.’

‘No, I’m not. I can only say that it’s likely because this is not my forte. I rely on people like Sean Kennedy to keep an eye on things and he has his friends, but in the world of espionage we are babes in the wood.’