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

2 February he had flown into Tallinn and on the third flown to London before returning to New York. She said nothing but looked at Reiner and raised her shoulders. ‘I’ll see what I can do. You think this is going to tell you why my husband, Samson and Mr Harland were all attacked on the same day?’

‘Maybe,’ said the Deputy Assistant Director, putting his hands together to wrap things up. ‘The understanding of motive. Why was your husband attacked? Why were Mr Samson and Mr Harland? And why not you?’

The mild callousness of the question startled her. She turned to him. ‘How dare you suggest it’s a matter of idle curiosity that I haven’t been killed or hurt.’

‘I meant no offence,’ he said. ‘Our British friends believe this was a revenge for Narva. If that were the case, you’d be a natural target. That’s all I’m saying, Mrs Hisami.’

But the tiger was out of its cage. Anastasia stood up and looked down at him. ‘This isn’t just one incident, is it, Mr Deputy Assistant Director? My husband has now been persecuted for three years. That campaign against him included my kidnap and his detention on false charges, and now he’s been poisoned while answering questions in a show trial whose only purpose was to humiliate and ruin him. Has anyone else in the United States endured such treatment? No! Yet no official organisation has ever come to his aid. Not once was he offered support! That’s extraordinary, given what Denis has done for America – the charities he’s funded, the taxes he’s paid, the jobs he’s created.’ Her outstretched arm pointed down the hallway to the area where Denis was being treated. ‘This is a man who has built whole industries and invested in collapsing projects where there was no hope. And yet he saved people’s livelihoods, their homes! He’s an American hero, but he’s treated like dirt. Why is that? Is it because his politics set him apart from the heartlessness of our times? Or is it because Denis is an outsider with a Middle Eastern background and dark skin?’

Kristof listened impassively and, when she’d finished, asked her to sit down.

She remained standing. ‘Mrs Hisami, please understand we have no agenda other than to find out who tried to kill your husband and why. Period.’

Reiner said, ‘We’ll be grateful for your attention on the planner, Mrs Hisami. And if you think of anything, call me.’ He gave her a card with a cell number. ‘We assume that you will remain in DC for the foreseeable period, but if you do travel, we’d certainly like to know where you’re headed and to stay in touch with you. I don’t need to remind you that this is a national security issue in which the President has taken a close interest. We may need to speak with you at any time.’

They rose and moved to the door. Agent Berg hung back a little and turned to her as her two colleagues exited. She gave a brief, corvine smile then said, ‘It’s nice to see a wife display such passionate loyalty. Don’t see that a lot these days. Good day to you, Mrs Hisami.’

Anastasia had no doubt what she meant and, later, when Tulliver joined her by the window of Denis’s room, she said. ‘They’re plugged into us – they’re watching everything.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘The bitch from the FBI was having a dig about Samson. She was saying, “We know everything about you and we’re watching.”’

He nodded. ‘Heard you painted the barn door red.’

‘Jesus, where did that phrase come from?’

‘My Kentuckian forebears.’

‘I’m going to email you this evening, and I will ask you to have the plane ready for a morning departure to the West Coast from Dulles. I’ll say I need to attend to things at the office on behalf of Denis the following day, okay? Maybe schedule the plane to return to DC two days after. Send out a few emails saying I’m going to be there.’

‘What about Denis?’

She shook her head. ‘They say he’s not coming round anytime soon. They keep on telling me about the time required for complete rehabilitation. They’re preparing me for some bad outcome, Jim. I feel it.’ Her arms were folded and her hands had retreated into the sleeves of her cardigan. She turned to him. ‘What if he doesn’t get better? How are we going to manage all this?’

‘One day at a time,’ he said, peering through the window. ‘Actually, he looks a lot stronger to me.’

‘I’ll need a car to Dulles at 2 p.m. That okay?’

‘And you’re going to London?’

She didn’t answer.

‘And when are you back?’

‘Don’t know.’ After a long look at Denis, she turned to go to her room.

‘There’s one other thing,’ he said. ‘I had a call from Warren Speight’s office. He wants to express his sympathy to you personally by coming over to the hospital.’

‘Why? He’s the reason we were in Room 2172 in the first place.’

‘He feels he should.’

‘The man’s a right-wing asshole. Pure fascist.’

He blew his cheeks out then gave her his regretful look. ‘I actually wouldn’t mind thanking the congressman myself. He saved me from getting covered with nerve agent when I went to help Denis. If he hadn’t yelled at me, I would be in there with Denis. Might be useful to hear what he has to say.’

‘Fine. We’ll do it early tomorrow morning.’

Chapter 13

The Tulip Guy

Jo Hayes was informing on him. The realisation came to Samson in the night as he lay half asleep in the hospital ward with his leg stitched and bound. She had kept her colleagues apprised of his movements during Anastasia’s kidnap but had, rather decently, tipped him off about the police’s intention to arrest him at Heathrow. So, there were no hard feelings and a year or so later they had dined at Cedar and ended up in bed. She called it a ‘consolation screw’ just to make sure that he knew she knew he still