The Old Enemy by Henry Porter (read with me .TXT) 📕

to watch Anastasia. Her jaw jutted out slightly and her mouth was set firm. She dragged her eyes from the water and returned his gaze with a brief, grim smile. ‘You’re wondering if I’m going to be okay,’ she said.

‘Are you?’

She shrugged. ‘Whatever it is between us, I loved Denis. You understand?’

‘I do.’

‘It was shocking to see him like that. I was mortified for him, a man of such dignity and power lying there like a fucking dried-up, dead old mummy. I owe him everything – he saved me, and his money has saved thousands of people.’ She looked down.

‘He was an extraordinary man. Few of us are ever going to make his impact.’

‘I betrayed him with you, and now I’m going to betray him again. I have read things that I never wanted to know about.’

‘What things?’

‘I can’t talk about them.’

Her phone pinged with a message. ‘I need to make a call,’ she said, then jumped up and went forward, steadying herself against the motion of the boat with one hand on the forestay. He watched her. She seemed to be agreeing to something. She hung up, looked down at her phone and began to read. Then she made two more calls and returned to his side.

‘They’ve moved it up. I’m on at 10 a.m. It’s not advertised. They’re going to make a last-minute change to the schedule. I’ve told Ulrike, and she’ll work on persuading Reid to bring Daus. But that’s not going to happen, is it? I’ll prepare a simple presentation, but I have to understand the whole thing.’

She went below again and Samson wandered back to the cockpit as Daphne pulled back on the throttle to slow the yacht. They dropped anchor a little further on, in the lee of Liverpool Point, within sight of the Mallows Bay Ghost Fleet, the resting place of scores of ships from the First World War. The lights of a small craft sped from the shore across the water, which was unruffled by wind or current. ‘That’s Zillah,’ said Daphne, and told the crew to lower the landing platform at the stern. Sails were stowed, ropes coiled, the anchor was checked and the deck washed down.

Zillah hopped on to the stern boards and gave a thumbs-up to the man on the rigid inflatable. She handed her backpack to one of the crew and stepped up, smiling. In the years dealing with this strangely concealed, neutral person, he had never seen such unguarded joy. She evidently did love her boat.

It was still warm in the shelter of the bay so a table was set up in the cockpit and the crew went to prepare dinner. Anastasia emerged looking red-eyed and they sat down with another beer. Naji was apparently taking a nap in the forward cabin, where she had been working.

‘Okay, so I’ve got a lot to tell you,’ said Zillah. ‘Jim Tulliver is out of his coma. He is recovering faster than they anticipated. He has some memory loss, specifically about what happened to him on the night, but more generally about how he came to be in Manhattan and what he did for Denis. His sister informed him about Denis. She had to – it’s all over the news and he’d see it on the hospital TV. He’s devastated.

‘The media is looking for you, Anastasia. And so is Homeland Security. But before I get into that, you’d better tell me what you’re planning because I can’t do my job if I don’t know the full facts.’

They went through it all, picking up each other’s thread. The names of Reid and Speight gave Zillah no confidence whatsoever. If it were up to her, she wouldn’t have told Reid, and Speight was so damned sinuous even he didn’t know his next move.

‘So we need to get you into the decontaminated Rayburn by early morning. That’s going to be hard, but not impossible. We can start by doing a number of things. You should organise a media conference for yourself for 9 a.m. Pacific Standard Time on Monday at Denis’s office. When you’ve done that, I want you to switch off all your devices and give them to me, with your passcodes. But you’ll need to make one more call. You’re going to dispatch Denis’s jet to the West Coast with one of my people, who will start sending emails and texts from you the moment they land. I suggest you compose those tonight. They need to be in your voice. Maybe thank them for their support at this time. If you’re able to talk about funeral arrangements, that would be great. Put in as much personal stuff as possible. The plane should leave at around midday tomorrow and I will have the devices picked up before we weigh anchor.’ She turned to Samson. ‘And you need to turn off your devices now. Naji also.’

‘They’re secure,’ said Samson. ‘I’ll make sure Naji does, though he isn’t going to enjoy life without the Web for twenty-four hours.’

‘So, this is where we are right now. Reiner and his team have all been furloughed or transferred. Agent Paula Berg has been moved to San Antonio. Frank Toombs is indisposed. He may have been re-tasked, or suspended. I don’t know which at this time. Homeland Security under Michael Selikoff is running everything. Selikoff is a very smart lawyer out of the Southern District in New York. If you put the entire staff of Homeland Security in a stadium, Selikoff would have ninety-nine per cent of the brains. He is close to the White House – very close – and he is working with the US Marshals. I don’t know how they justify this, but that’s the way things are these days. State and Justice are out of the loop and the only thing that matters to the people at the top is making sure you don’t use anything that may have been left to you by Denis.’

‘You think they’re working in collaboration with Mila Daus,’ said Samson.

‘Absolutely not! I don’t