Fallon smiled weakly at his own joke. It was obvious why he didn’t smile more often; he had teeth like a barracuda. He handed Gabriel the keys, along with a parking stub.
“It’s in the car park at Victoria Station. The entrance is—”
“On Eccleston Street.”
“Sorry,” Fallon said sincerely. “Sometimes I forget who I’m dealing with.”
“I don’t,” said Gabriel.
Fallon was silent.
“What color is the car?”
“Island Gray.”
“What the hell is Island Gray?”
“The island mustn’t be very nice, because the car is quite dark.”
“And the money?”
“It’s in the boot, two suitcases, just as they requested.”
“How long has it been there?”
“Since early this morning. I dropped it off myself.”
“Let’s hope it’s still there.”
“The money or the car?”
“Both.”
“Was that supposed to be a joke?”
“No,” said Gabriel.
Frowning, Fallon sat down opposite Gabriel and contemplated his nails. There was little left of them.
“I owe you an apology for my behavior last night,” he said after a moment. “I was only acting in what I believed to be the best interests of my prime minister.”
“So was I,” replied Gabriel.
Fallon seemed taken aback. Like most powerful men, he was no longer used to being spoken to honestly.
“Graham Seymour warned me that you could be blunt at times.”
“Only when lives are at stake,” Gabriel responded. “And the moment I climb behind the wheel of that car, my life will be in danger. Which means, as of this moment, I make all the decisions.”
“I don’t need to remind you that this affair has to be concluded as discreetly as possible.”
“No, you don’t. Because if it isn’t, the prime minister isn’t the only one who’ll pay the price.”
Fallon made no response other than to glance at his wristwatch. It was 11:40, twenty minutes before the phone was supposed to ring. He rose to his feet with the air of a man who had not slept well in many days.
“The prime minister is in the Cabinet Room, meeting with the foreign secretary. I’m supposed to join them for a few minutes. Then I’ll bring him here for the call.”
“What’s the topic of the meeting?”
“British policy regarding the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.”
“Don’t forget who’s delivering the money.”
Fallon gave another dreadful smile and headed wearily toward the door.
“Did you know?” asked Gabriel.
Fallon turned slowly. “Know what?”
“That Lancaster and Madeline were having an affair.”
Fallon hesitated before answering. “No,” he said at last, “I didn’t know. In fact, I never would have dreamed that he would do something to jeopardize all we’d worked for. And the irony of it all,” he added, “is that I was the idiot who introduced them.”
“Why did you?”
“Because Madeline was an integral part of our political operation. And because she was an extremely bright, capable woman whose future was limitless.”
Gabriel was struck by Fallon’s use of the past tense when talking about his missing colleague. Fallon noticed it, too.
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he said.
“What did you mean?”
“I’m not sure,” he responded. They were three words he didn’t often utter. “It’s just that she isn’t likely to be the same person after something like this, is she?”
“Humans are more resilient than you realize, especially women. With the right kind of help, she’ll eventually be able to resume her normal life. But you are right about one thing,” Gabriel added. “She’ll never be the same person again.”
Fallon reached for the door. “Is there anything else you need?” he asked over his shoulder.
“A few hours’ sleep would be nice.”
“How do you take it?”
“Milk, no sugar.”
Fallon went out and closed the door softly behind him. Gabriel rose, walked over to the Turner cityscape, and stood before it with one hand resting on his chin and his head tilted slightly to one side. It was 11:43, seventeen minutes until the phone was supposed to ring.
Fallon returned just before noon, accompanied by Jonathan Lancaster. The change in the prime minister’s appearance was remarkable. Gone was the Lancaster whom Gabriel had seen on television earlier that morning, the confident politician promising to repair the fabric of British society. In his place was a man whose life and career were in imminent danger of unraveling in the most spectacular political scandal in British history. It was obvious Lancaster could not endure much more before unraveling himself.
“Are you sure you want to be here for this?” Gabriel asked, shaking the prime minister’s hand.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you might not like everything you hear.”
Lancaster sat down, making it clear he had no intention of going anywhere. Fallon withdrew the mobile phone from his coat pocket and placed it on the coffee table. Gabriel quickly removed the battery, exposing the serial number on the inside of the device, and used his personal BlackBerry to snap a photo of it.