Simon Tolkien Inspector Trave Trilogy: Orders From Berlin, The Inheritance, The King of Diamonds

Seaforth’s reaction surprised Ava. He didn’t say anything; instead he smiled, looked down at Thorn’s hand on his arm, and then slowly took hold of Thorn’s wrist with his free hand and lifted it away. He acted as though he had all the time in the world. Ava could see that Thorn was trying to resist, but he was powerless in the face of Seaforth’s superior strength.

Seaforth held Thorn’s hand suspended in mid-air for a moment. Thorn’s face was screwed up as if he were in pain, and then Seaforth let go and Thorn sagged over to one side.

‘I’m here for the same reason I assume you are,’ Seaforth said evenly. ‘To pay my respects to Albert Morrison and to express my sympathy to his bereaved daughter. Perhaps you should consider doing the same.’

‘You hardly knew him,’ said Thorn through gritted teeth. He was still nursing his wrist.

Seaforth’s face was turned away from Ava, so she didn’t know if he was going to respond, but there was no opportunity in any event. Bertram had now appeared at her side, apparently unaware of any trouble. He looked unfamiliar for a moment. She thought perhaps that it was seeing him in a black suit and necktie instead of his customary bow tie and tweeds. If pressed, she’d have said that the new outfit was something of an improvement.

‘We need to go, my dear,’ he said, rubbing his hands. She couldn’t tell if it was against the cold or because he was pleased with the results of his meticulous planning of the day’s events – both, perhaps. ‘Father Harris has gone on ahead with the undertaker. I must say I think Hodson has done a first-class job with the arrangements. I wasn’t sure whether to instruct him or the funeral directors up on Lavender Hill, but I really think my choice has been fully vindicated. Everything has gone like clockwork,’ he added pompously.

‘Where’s the car?’ Ava asked, wanting to get away. She realized with surprise that she didn’t want Seaforth to see her with her husband.

‘Over there,’ said Bertram, pointing to the other side of the road.

She allowed Bertram to take her arm and started to walk away, but then she stopped, hearing Alec calling her name. ‘Go on ahead,’ she said to her husband. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

Bertram scowled, looking back and seeing Alec Thorn coming up behind them. He’d never liked Thorn, sensing that he had more than friendly feelings towards his wife, and he’d welcomed Thorn’s increasing absence from their lives since his marriage. But now was not the time to make a scene. ‘Don’t be long,’ he said to Ava. ‘We don’t want to be late.’

She turned around to face Alec and felt an unexpected wave of anger pass through her. What business did he have making a scene at her father’s funeral? Had he no respect? No sense of decorum?

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, looking abject. ‘I don’t know what possessed me.’

‘Nor do I,’ she said coldly. She wanted to leave, to get the whole awful day over with.

‘Listen, Ava, if there’s anything I can do to help, you know you can call me. Look, here’s my phone number,’ he added, pushing his card into her hand as if it were some kind of peace offering.

But she wasn’t looking at him. Instead she was staring over his shoulder to where Charles Seaforth was standing, watching her. He smiled as he caught her eye, and at that moment, almost as if it were scripted, the sun peeped out from behind the thick grey clouds that had been swirling across the sky ever since the rain stopped, and picked him out in its beam. It was as if he were being shown to her, she thought; identified as someone who was going to be significant in her life. As if he were some kind of angel sent down from heaven. She laughed at the thought. There was no such thing as angels. Not in this God-forsaken world.

‘Ava!’ Bertram was calling to her. She had to go. She nodded half to Alec, half to herself, as if registering all that had happened, and then she turned to walk away, catching sight as she crossed the road of the young policeman Trave, watching her intently from the steps of the church. She wondered how much he’d seen of what had passed.

CHAPTER 6 (#ulink_e15b3380-150a-52b1-8364-1b456f716208)

The next morning, Seaforth was waiting for Ava on the other side of the street from her flat when she went out to do her shopping. She was shocked and even a little alarmed to see him. It made no sense that this complete stranger was suddenly so interested in her, unless it had something to do with her father’s death. Anyone could be the murderer. It could be Bertram; it could be this man, except that he didn’t feel like a killer to her – which was a stupid way to think, she told herself. Seaforth’s sparkling blue eyes, which seemed to promise humour, tenderness, and understanding all at the same time – everything that had been missing from her life up to now – had nothing to do with it. She needed to watch herself, to stay on her guard. Now more than ever.

‘I’m sorry to show up like this. Unannounced, I mean,’ he said, falling into step beside her as she walked towards the bus stop. ‘I got your address from the phone book. I wanted to see you – to apologize.’

‘Apologize?’ she repeated, surprised. ‘Apologize for what?’

‘For what happened with Alec Thorn yesterday. It was inappropriate; it should never have happened.’

‘It wasn’t your fault. Alec attacked you, not the other way round. I can’t imagine why. I’ve never seen him do anything like that before.’

‘He’s changed.’

‘Changed?’

‘Yes, it’s the war. When did you last see him?’

‘A few months ago, maybe more. I’m not sure.’

‘Months are a long time nowadays. They seem like years. We’re under a lot of pressure at work, and Alec feels it more than most – perhaps because he’s a bit older than the rest of us. He’s closer to your father’s generation than to mine.’

‘Us! Who are us?’ she asked, stopping and turning to face her companion. ‘Please tell me, Mr Seaforth. I need to know.’

‘Charles,’ he said, meeting her gaze. ‘You must call me Charles.’

‘Charles, then,’ she said, sounding the name on her tongue, liking it, feeling it fit. There was no place for caution if this stranger could tell her who her father was – as she’d said, she needed to know. ‘Can’t you help me?’ she asked, putting her hand on his arm. ‘No one else will. I feel like I said goodbye to a stranger yesterday, not my father.’

Seaforth said nothing, so she guessed. ‘It’s the Secret Service,’ she said. ‘You’re spies. That’s what you are, aren’t you?’ It was framed as a question, but she didn’t need an answer. As soon as the words had left her mouth, she’d known she was right. It was as though she’d known the truth for years but had never been prepared to admit it to herself until now.

‘We’re patriots,’ Seaforth said quietly. ‘That’s all. Everyone does their part in different ways.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I can understand that.’

‘You can’t tell anyone I told you. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’

The first emotion she’d felt was relief. At least there had been a reason for her father’s silence; at least he’d done something worthwhile with his life. But now she felt something else – a surge of spontaneous gratitude towards Seaforth. He hadn’t told her the truth because he couldn’t, but he’d certainly enabled her to find it. He’d taken her seriously. Not like her father and Alec Thorn, shutting her out because she was a woman and couldn’t be trusted.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It helps to know.’

‘You have nothing to thank me for. I came here to apologize. Remember?’

‘Yes,’ she said, smiling. ‘I remember.’ She relaxed for a moment, but then her nervous curiosity about the reasons for Seaforth’s interest in her returned, and with it a sense of unease. ‘Why does Alec hate you?’ she asked, remembering Alec’s unseemly rage outside the church and the effortless way that Seaforth had held Alec’s hand suspended in mid-air for a moment before he let go.

‘He thinks I want his job,’ Seaforth said carefully. It was as if he were measuring his words, working out how much he could say.

‘Do you?’

‘I want what’s best for the country.’ He smiled, noticing the frown on her face. ‘Sorry, that’s not good enough, I know. The fact is this is a young man’s war, and if we’re going to win it, a lot of the old guard will have to be swept away. Some of that happened after the last war, but not enough. It’s what works that matters now. There’s no place for a sense of entitlement when our backs are up against the wall. I think people like Alec Thorn find that hard to understand.’

‘Because he doesn’t want to be swept away?’

Seaforth nodded.

‘Like my father was?’

‘I told you at the funeral that your father was a great man. He could have accomplished great things, but no one would listen to him. He understood what was at stake with Germany when Hitler came to power, but everyone was obsessed with Joe Stalin and the Reds, and then it was too late. He was a voice crying in the wilderness.’

They walked on in silence until they reached the bus shelter, where Ava stopped, turning to look again at her companion. She sensed there was something else he wanted to say – something personal, nothing to do with Hitler and Communism. She could tell from the look of indecision on his face.

‘What is it, Charles?’ she asked. ‘There’s something else, isn’t there? What is it you want with me?’

‘I can’t tell you here,’ he said. ‘Could we meet sometime – somewhere we can talk?’

‘Why?’ she asked, taking a step back. ‘You need to tell me why.’