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

saying about him, and never more so than in this current campaign against him by conservative forces in Congress. He watched for their knives, but not the poison. She looked down at him through the observation window – he appeared shrunken and helpless amidst all the drips and wires, and she couldn’t believe he’d even summoned the energy to squeeze the gloved hand of the nurse. He seemed all but dead.

She went to talk to Jim Tulliver, who had also been given a hard time by the CIA and the FBI, and what he described as a meathead from Homeland Security. He jerked his thumb upwards and raised his eyebrows and she understood that they should go to the roof, where there was a glass lean-to, a kind of conservatory where mobile patients could read and catch the sun. They went through the conservatory into the warm late afternoon.

‘Pretty sure they’re listening to us,’ he said, handing her a phone. ‘I carry this one for Denis. You should use it if you’re going to make any sensitive calls. I put Samson’s number on it. Maybe you should tell him they want to talk.’ He studied her. ‘You okay?’

‘Of course.’ She’d played up her vulnerability with the agencies but, in truth, she was feeling a lot stronger than she had for a long time. She recognised the fight rising in her. It came from her father and she didn’t much like the attendant belligerence, but it was preferable to her adored mother’s resignation and fatalism and, as her therapist kept telling her, it was what had saved her during the kidnap.

‘So how are we on the business?’ she asked Tulliver, who looked rather strange in the sportswear the office had sent over to the hospital.

‘Everyone is concerned for Denis, of course, but he turned things round in the last couple of years in a quite remarkable way. We’re debt-free after the sale of our big stake in TV. To be frank, we’re killing it. We’re cash-rich and there are no crises.’

‘Have you talked to our partners and the banks about the power of attorney?’

‘Yeah, they’re good. They know you’re sound. You have a lot of respect out there. “Resilient” is the word they use for you, Anastasia. I think it’s a good one.’

‘No doubts whatsoever?’

Tulliver shook his head.

‘Obviously, it’s for a short time,’ she continued, ‘and the only thing I give a damn about is who did this. I agree with the CIA – I don’t believe this has anything to do with Narva. Do you know what Denis and Bobby Harland were talking about?’

He didn’t answer.

‘You going to say anything about that?’

‘No, because I don’t have any idea.’

She didn’t believe him. Even if Denis hadn’t told him, Tulliver would have made it his business to find out. She looked away to the sun descending over the capital into the blue vastness of America. ‘What do you think I should do?’

‘The agencies are going to sit on your tail here,’ he replied. ‘It’ll be hard to achieve anything. Samson’s your man.’ He stopped, realising what he’d just said. ‘Sorry, you know what I mean – talk to him, will you?’

Their attention was caught by a large raptor circling over the hospital building. They watched for a few seconds. ‘What an amazing bird,’ she said.

‘It’s a red-tailed hawk.’

‘Who knew you were a birder?’

‘I like to know what I’m looking at,’ he said.

‘I do, too.’ She checked his expression. ‘You never let on, do you? But I need you to open up on this. How many times did Denis meet Harland? Where did they meet? I want the flight logs, dates, venues – everything. And I want to hear what actions followed from these meetings, even if you doubt whether they were directly related. Why was Denis paying so much money to protect the woman you told me about? Who the hell is she? What’s she doing to warrant that much money? Is Denis paying for anyone else?’ She stopped and thought. ‘And why Samson? He’s not a bodyguard, for fuck’s sake. Is it true what they say about his debt? Jesus, what an idiot! I want to talk to Macy Harp, so I’ll need his cell number. We have funds, and I know Denis would be happy to spend it on this, so let’s make those available to whoever needs it. I want to know absolutely everything, Jim. Every goddamn thing!’

He held out his phone. ‘That’s Macy’s number.’

She copied it into the mobile he’d given her before. ‘I’ll need that information by tomorrow, Jim. Tonight if you can get it.’

Tulliver nodded and returned to watch the hawk dropping in a glide path towards a park behind the hospital. ‘They come into the city to hunt rats,’ he said. ‘A lot of rats in DC.’

An hour later Dr Michael Lazarus came to her room to tell her that a second round of tests were clear and that there was no chance of her developing any symptoms. She had been lucky, he said. Tulliver more so because there were traces on his suit and the sole of his left shoe, which must have come into contact with Denis’s clothing as he tried to help him. A responding member of the United States Capitol Police had some slight exposure and was being treated at a different location. He had asked for his condition not to be made public because of his wife’s fragile mental health.

‘Which brings me to your husband,’ said Lazarus with a reassuring smile. ‘Broadly, it’s good news. He’s stable and is responding to treatment. We’re seeing improvements every hour in his general condition. Analysis has shown that this agent was a precursor to Novichok. Basically, it’s a concentrated organophosphate, a pesticide, though the chemical structure is new to the toxicologists who have been working on this case, and we wonder if this variation in the structure is responsible for the seizures. He suffered another today, which is disappointing. We’ve given him a pretty large dose of