“Oh, do be sensible.” She paused for a moment. “He was conscious for a while, so lucid I was convinced he’d recover. Perry was there, and Perry told him that you’d betrayed him, that you’d been working with Karasek. Harry wouldn’t have it. He was adamant. Perry told him it couldn’t have been anyone else and Harry shook his head and said, ‘It was Jerry de Borg.’ Those were the last words he spoke—to us, anyway.”
Finn smiled, his throat tightening with emotion.
He imagined Harry saying it, and laughed at the wild goose chase he’d sent them on. “Imperative to identify Jerry de Borg.”
“Who is he, Finn?”
“He’s nobody. It’s a joke.” She looked more confused than he’d ever seen her. “Look, I went home one weekend for an old friend’s wedding. I sat next to a guy called Jerry de Borg—nice guy, in a band, beautiful girlfriend, we had some laughs. When I got back I was telling Harry about this guy and he says, ‘Jerry de Borg sounds like someone in a spy novel.’ After that it became a running joke, if anything went wrong, if anything happened that we couldn’t make sense of . . .”
“It was Jerry de Borg!”
“Exactly. If you’d asked me six years ago, I would’ve told you.”
Louisa nodded, deep in thought for a while before saying, “Well, that’s one more thing we can cross off the list. And I can’t say for sure, but I think we might have had an innocent musician under surveillance for the last six years.”
She looked at him and smiled. She was joking—or at least, he thought she was.
And a mystery of his own was solved, too. He realized a part of him had relished the thought that he’d meet Harry again, even if he’d been recast as an adversary. But there was no mystery there, and no way back to that past.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Finn had them drop him along the street from the Frosts’ apartment building.
He climbed out, and as he waited for Jim to get his bag, he leaned back into the car and said, “By the way, thanks, for helping me yesterday.”
She smiled. “No, thank you, Finn. For the second time, it seems our disparate interests have dovetailed rather nicely.”
“I’m sure they did, hopefully for the last time.”
“Oh, you never know. Remember what I said, Finn—one of these days you and I will sit down and have a proper conversation.”
“You don’t want me back, so I’m not sure what we’d have to talk about.” He waited a beat and added, “Or are you writing a book, too?”
She laughed, but he didn’t wait for a response, just took the bag from Jim and set off along the street.
When he got to the apartment it was Sam Frost who opened the door. He stared at Finn for a moment as if he didn’t recognize him, then said, “Finn, sorry, come in. Come through to the living room.”
Finn left his bag in the hallway and followed him through. Maria was there, and a woman he presumed was her mother, looking through some brochures.
Maria looked up and said, “Hello, Finn.”
“Hello.” He waited to be introduced to the older woman, but it seemed to slip everyone’s mind.
Maria said, “One never expects to plan a child’s funeral.”
“No.”
The older woman stood and said, “I’m making coffee—would you like some?”
“No, thank you, I won’t be staying.” She nodded and left the room.
Sam said, “Please, sit down.”
“No, I won’t. As I said, I can’t stay. I just wanted to tell you, it’s done.”
“Oh God,” said Sam, a mixture of emotions playing out across his face.
Maria only looked up and asked, “Did they suffer?”
“Not as much as you, and I don’t expect it to provide much solace, but I feel better for knowing those people aren’t in the world anymore. I just wish . . .” He ground to a halt, seeing the pointlessness of it all.
Maria said, “We’d like you to come to the funeral, if you would like to.”
“I’d like that very much. Take care.” He turned, and Sam took that as his cue to show him back to the door.
Finn picked his bag up, but then Hailey emerged around the corner of the L-shaped hall.
“I thought I heard your voice! How . . . I mean . . .”
“It’s done,” said Sam, repeating Finn’s words.
Hailey nodded. She looked unsure whether to kiss him on the cheek or hug him, a new shyness and uncertainty around him that had emerged in the days he’d been away. He was glad of that.
“Good,” she said. Then, as if explaining her presence, she said, “I came over to spend some time with Alice—just because, you know . . .”
Sam said, “She’s been a great help.”
As they spoke, Alice herself came around the corner but kept her distance. As with her brother, the two unremarkable parents had produced a child of striking beauty. She smiled awkwardly at him, then turned and disappeared again.
Finn said his goodbyes, and found a cab to take him home. And as he got there, he saw Grasset standing outside, as he had been a couple of weeks before, admiring what felt like a summer morning.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Harrington.”
“Bonjour, Monsieur Grasset. Another beautiful day.”
“It is beautiful.” Finn was ready to walk past him, but Grasset said, “Monsieur Harrington, your wife, she came back. Yesterday.”