A Woman Involved Page 8

  He sighed in frustration. This was all conjecture. Maybe God’s Banker had nothing to do with it, maybe she had used it as a figure of speech.

  But no, he did not believe that either. Not in the context. The murder of God’s Banker had everything to do with this.

  And, looking at the facts so far, he had no doubt that she was in grave danger of being murdered too. And not necessarily by the Russians alone.

  12

  In the afternoon the 82nd paratroopers and the Caribbean Peace-keeping Force began to arrive at the new airport, the planes coming in under heavy sniper fire. In Saint George’s the helicopter gunships and fighter planes were still taking on the anti-aircraft guns of Fort Frederick and Fort Ruppert. In the medical schools the American students were still nailed down, mattresses stuffed in windows, the bullets crashing and smashing and ricocheting about them. In the late afternoon the Rangers fought their way to the True Blue campus and cleared a landing zone for helicopters on the basketball court and started evacuating them. And darkness came down on the thudding and the smoke and the dust and the cracking of the guns.

  The sounds of war awoke Anna. She sat up. He said:

  ‘It’s all right, they won’t bomb us by mistake. It’ll all be over soon.’

  She was wide awake. And full of hard distrust again. She said:

  ‘And then what happens? They’re going to fly us out of here by helicopter onto the aircraft carrier?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And then what is going to happen to the civilians?’

  ‘They’ll go wherever they want, once order is reestablished. Most of them will come back here.’

  ‘And me?’

  He hated this subterfuge. He said, ‘We’re going to live happily ever after, Anna.’

  She was incredulous.

  ‘Nonsense!’ She pointed at the sea. ‘Once we’re safely out of here, they’ll fly me to America! And then they question me, don’t they? About the same thing the Russians wanted …’ She cried at him: ‘Well, I’m not going, Jack! I’ll scream bloody blue murder if they try to take me!’

  His nerves were going. ‘Anna? –’

  ‘You don’t deny it, do you? You’re after the same thing, aren’t you? …’ She glared at him: ‘Do you deny it?’

  And then, through his tension, seeing that angry anguish in her eyes, it was easier to lie. He loved her, and pitied her, and he wasn’t going to let anybody do anything to her.

  ‘I deny it,’ he said quietly.

  There was no electricity; the whole island was blacked out. Over near the airfield the Cubans and People’s Revolutionary Army forces regrouped in the darkness, and there was sniper fire and the clatter of helicopter gunships dealing with it.

  ‘Did you read what’s in the bag?’ Her voice was flat as she hung on to her self-control.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’ She said it bitterly.

  He sat back against the wall in the flickering candlelight. He did not want to talk about it now, but he had to.

  ‘Last night you said that this thing could destroy the whole Catholic Church.’

  She blinked. She waved her hand in dismissal. Then sighed. ‘Oh, what’s the use, you won’t believe me. Yes, it’s about the Catholic Church. And that’s all I’m going to tell you …’ She sighed angrily. ‘Look, I know you’re not a Catholic any more –’

  ‘But I have great respect for the Church. All churches.’

  ‘All right. But to me it’s much more than that. It’s … God’s corporeal representative. God is the most important thing in life, and therefore His Church is the most important thing on this earth …’ She paused then made the point with slow emphasis: ‘I believe. I believe that the Pope is God’s vicar. That he is infallible. I believe in transubstantiation, in the Holy Trinity, in Heaven and Hell – the whole nine yards.’

  Morgan nodded.

  She went on, as if rehearsed: ‘I know the Church can make mistakes, but that’s because of human frailty. You get mistakes in any profession. And I know that many people resent the Catholic Church.’ She didn’t take her eyes off him. ‘It’s wealth, for example. The … grip it’s got on the people. The fear, if you like. Okay. Arguments can be made against all that. But I sincerely believe that the power of the Church works for the good of mankind. It is good for mankind to be under the thumb of the Church, because man is an irresponsible, cruel, thoughtless creature. Man needs a big stick. And the Church is God’s stick. The Church is vital to the stability of mankind, let alone to his immortal soul.’

  Morgan waited. He nodded.

  ‘It follows that if anybody attempts to … damage the Church, I will do everything in my power to stop him. Not only as a Christian but as an honourable person.’ She paused. ‘That is my solemn duty. And if I didn’t do it, I would be … Judas Iscariot.’

  Morgan watched her. And loved her. She went on:

  ‘And believe me, if these people who’re chasing me succeed …’ She tailed off. Then: ‘I don’t believe what Max told me is true. I believe it’s a vile fabrication. But the fabricated evidence exists. And Max got his hands on it.’

  ‘Did he say how he got hold of it?’

  She shook her head. ‘But Max was everywhere, knew just about everybody. Fingers in all pies.’

  He said: ‘You’ve heard of Klaus Barbie?’

  She was taken by surprise. Then said dismissively: ‘Of course, it’s been in the newspapers recently. The Butcher of Lyons. He’s in jail in France.’

  ‘Awaiting trial. Did Max know Barbie?’

  She looked mystified. ‘Not to my knowledge.’

  He did not believe her. ‘Did Max know any old Nazis? Hiding in South America?’

  ‘He might have. They’re all over South America.’

  ‘Did he go to South America much?’

  ‘Often. He had business deals all over. Look, Max had many failings. If you’re wondering if Max was a Nazi, you’re quite wrong. Why’re you asking these questions?’

  ‘If you won’t tell me I’ve got to try to figure this out for myself.’ He went on: ‘Roberto Calvi, God’s Banker? Did Max know him?’

  She stared at him an instant.

  ‘I don’t know. He knew a lot of people in international banking. I only met a few of them.’

  ‘What do you know about God’s Banker?’

  ‘Only what was in the newspapers.’

  He said: ‘Why did Max keep those magazine articles about the Third World debt in his safe? One could find them in any public library.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Was God’s Banker involved in Max’s negotiations over the Third World debt?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  She closed her eyes. ‘Oh Jack, Jack … Here!’ She thrust her hand into her pocket and tossed a wad of newspaper cuttings onto the mattress. ‘You might as well read it for yourself, if you can get it in any public library! This was also in the safe. He wasn’t murdered, he committed suicide. ’

  He unfolded the cuttings. There were three. She said: ‘They sometimes contradict each other, like bloody newspapers do. I might as well summarize them for you.’

  ‘Okay.’

  She sighed tensely, and looked away.

  ‘Nothing to it. Roberto Calvi, God’s so-called Banker, owned the Banco Ambrosiano in Italy. Thought to be very respectable. He also became a financial adviser to the Vatican Bank – that’s why he was nicknamed God’s Banker. But, unbeknown to the Vatican, he also did a lot of shady deals. The Vatican found itself innocently involved. There was a financial scandal. God’s Banker was eventually prosecuted in Italy, fined ten million dollars and sentenced to four years in jail. He got bail, pending appeal, and fled to England on a false passport. The next morning he committed suicide by hanging himself from Blackfriars Bridge. End of story.’

  Morgan said: ‘Suicide? With ten kilos of bricks in his pockets?’

  ‘Exactly. If it was murder, they wouldn’t have w
eighted him – hanging was enough. He weighted himself to ensure a quick death. He also had a lot of money on him – fifteen thousand dollars. A murderer wouldn’t have left that.’

  ‘Last night you cried: “I’d rather die like God’s Banker than tell anybody”. You must believe it’s murder.’

  She waved a hand. ‘I was hysterical last night. And completely flabbergasted by you showing up.’ She turned away. ‘When Wall Street crashed in 1929 bankers and stockbrokers jumped out of windows like lemmings.’

  He did not believe her. ‘When was it that you had this drunken row with Max?’

  ‘On my birthday. Last year.’

  ‘That’s the twentieth of June?’

  ‘So you remember.’

  He looked at the newspaper cuttings. ‘And God’s Banker was found hanging on the eighteenth of June. Two days before. And when Max had his drunken outburst he taunted you with God’s Banker, to prove he had the evidence?’

  She turned away. ‘Oh, he was drunk. He was going away the next day and he was insanely jealous. And he … despised the Church. He was just saying anything to hurt me. He used to ask me if I confessed my adulteries, got absolution and then did it again. And so on.’

  ‘ And did he go away the next day?’

  She closed her eyes. ‘Oh Jack, I’m not going to answer any more questions. This is my business!’

  He picked up the list he had made of entries and exits from Max’s passports. ‘The next day, the twenty-first of June, he flew to New York. On the same day, to Switzerland. And, two days later, back to Grenada.’

  She got up. And paced across the room. ‘I can’t remember. He was always flying everywhere. Why the hell am I answering these questions? No more!’

  He held out a finger at her. ‘Listen, Anna. The Russians are after you. I’m trying to protect you.’ He pointed at the window. ‘In a few hours this Mickey Mouse war is going to be over. And the Yanks are going to airlift us out of here. What are you going to do? You’ll have no choice but to go with them –’

  ‘And then the CIA start questioning me!’ She shook her head fiercely: ‘No way! I’ve committed no crime! I’m refusing to go with them to America!’

  ‘Anna, you’re going to have no choice! You’re under martial law. But at least you’ll be safe from the Russians.’ He sighed angrily. ‘So, we’ll get you a lawyer. He’ll protect your legal rights. As you say, you’ve committed no crime, they’ll have to leave you alone.’

  ‘A lawyer?’ She shook her head incredulously. ‘I’ll have to get half a dozen lawyers before Max’s estate is wound up and legally mine, because he didn’t sign the will! But I’m not –’ she shook her head – ‘going to tell a lawyer what Max told me. Because if the Russians can screw the story out of me they can get it out of a lawyer too – easier! And so could the CIA! And how long does this lawyer business take – a couple of days? And you don’t think that in that time the CIA will have got the story out of me? And even after the lawyer gets me free, you think they’ll quit? Will they, hell!’ She snorted angrily: ‘Don’t think I haven’t thought it all through, Jack!’ Suddenly her exhausted eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m not going to let those people get their hands on me!’

  His nerves were going. And oh God, God, what she said was probably true but he was still too much of a Royal Navy man at heart to believe that of the British, even though he believed almost anything now. He got to his feet, and he took her in his arms.

  ‘Anna, you’re coming with me to England. A British lawyer will be able to protect you.’

  She flung her head back and looked up at him. ‘That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? …’

  He sighed. ‘I’m here because of my local knowledge.’

  She stared at him. ‘You’re not going to make me go to England, Jack … I know a hell of a lot more about this than you do, and I don’t trust your pukka British either! …’ She shook her head fiercely. ‘You’re naive to think they’re any different! … And you’re not going to make me go there! … ’

  He closed his eyes, and his heart welled.

  ‘I’m not going to make you go anywhere …’

  She was rigid in his arms. Desperate to believe him.

  ‘Do you swear that you haven’t been sent to get me?’

  And oh God, God, she had all the legal rights in the world on her side. He held her tight and said: ‘I swear it.’

  ‘To God? …’

  He felt his nerves almost crack.

  ‘To God …’

  13

  In the small hours the Marines lifted off in helicopters from Pearls airport and went clattering over the island to Saint George’s; at the same time another company of Marines was coming ashore from the aircraft carrier in thirteen amtracks, with five tanks, to raise the siege of Government House. And the furious sounds of battle filled the darkness. At seven o’clock the Marines came bursting into the grounds and there was cheering and clapping and laughing. Then came the thudding of a helicopter above the house, dust and leaves blasting away.

  The big machine came clattering down onto the lawn. The hostages were already assembled outside. The SEAL commander shouted in Morgan’s ear: ‘You and the lady first, right in the back!’

  Morgan grabbed Anna’s elbow and they ran for the helicopter, They scrambled into the big fuselage. Then the other people came running, doubled up in the roaring blast. Anna sat, clutching the handgrip. The helicopter filled up, people scrambling over each other.

  The helicopter roared, and rocked, then rose up into the air. Up, up. The sounds of battle were drowned but now the devastation came into view below, smoke and dust and rubble and bodies. Over to the south the battle to rescue the American students in the Grand Anse campus was still going on. The helicopter swung away and went chopping across the harbour, out towards the sea.

  The Guam lay huge and grey, her decks stacked with aircraft. The helicopter came chopping down, down, the steel decks loomed up; then she touched down and applause broke out from the passengers. The doors opened and out they scrambled, and sailors hustled them across the deck. Morgan began to crouch towards the door, but the pilot twisted in his seat and beckoned to him. He handed him a headset and said over the intercom: ‘You’re the guy from Delta Force guarding Mrs Hapsburg?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Then hold tight.’

  The helicopter roared, then it rose up rockily off the deck again. It wheeled and went chopping away. Morgan looked back at Anna. She tried to shout something to him, but he could only see her lips moving. He rasped to the pilot: ‘Where the hell are we going?’

  ‘To Trinidad. Don’t ask me why, buddy, I just do as I’m told in this game.’

  ‘On whose orders?’

  ‘The Admiral himself.’

  Anna came scrambling angrily across the fuselage. She grabbed Morgan’s shoulders and shouted: ‘Where’re we going?’

  ‘What’s her problem?’ the pilot said.

  ‘She wants to know why the hell we’re going to Trinidad.’

  ‘Tell her I ain’t much good at arguing with admirals. Commanders, sure, lieutenant-commanders, a piece of cake, but admirals? – forget it.’

  Anna shouted something furiously. Morgan took off the headset and grabbed her hand. He crouched down to the rear of the aircraft with her. He cupped his hands to her ear and shouted: ‘Calm down! We’re going to Trinidad. I don’t know why but we have no goddam option! You’re subject to American martial law! When we get to Trinidad, leave it to me – don’t make a fuss until I’ve found out what’s happening! Right now I’m responsible for your safety. If you make ă fuss they’ll put somebody else onto looking after you!’

  He glared at her, then squeezed her hand hard and he scrambled back to the pilot. He rammed on the headset, and tried to think.

  Trinidad … Were they going to try to debrief her there? … Who? Brink-Ford himself? …

  He looked back at Anna. She had her eyes closed, trying hard to control her fury and her nerves.r />
  He put his hand in his pouch, and felt the gun. The gun with which she had killed the Russian, the gun he was supposed to drop in the sea.

  The helicopter came chopping over the airport, towards the far corner. Down there a car was waiting. When the helicopter settled on the ground, two men got out of the car.

  Morgan scrambled out of the helicopter and held out his hand for Anna. She came clambering out, hair flying. They hurried under the downblast towards the car. A third man was getting out, his hand clutching his hat. One man held open the back door for them. Before they reached it, the helicopter was taking off again. Morgan stopped at the car door. ‘Who are you?’ he shouted.

  The man indicated the open door and pointed at the helicopter. Then the noise abated as it rose away. ‘Who are you?’ Morgan repeated.

  ‘Thompson, Security, British Consulate, and that’s Edwards. Get in please, sir.’

  ‘Identification, please. For all I know you’re KGB.’

  The man pulled out a wallet and flipped it open. ‘This’ – he indicated the man with the hat – ‘is Mr Gillespie, the British consul.’

  ‘How do you do?’ the consul called. ‘Do let’s go.’

  Anna held back angrily. ‘May I ask where?’

  The consul said, ‘Can we discuss that en route?’

  ‘No, we cannot!’ She turned to Morgan. ‘Can I have a word?’

  She walked away angrily. Morgan followed equally angrily. She turned to him: ‘So it’s the bloody British who want me!’

  He gripped her arm and whispered:

  ‘Anna, at least we’re not on the aircraft carrier! You couldn’t have swum off! Now those two security guys aren’t stage props! We’ve got to go with them and figure it out from there!’ He seized her elbow and led her back to the car.

  She got in, furiously. Morgan got in beside her, Thompson beside him.

  The consul started the car. He said airily: ‘We’re going to my residence.’ He drove off across the grass. ‘I dare say you could use a hot bath and a decent meal?’