Wally Woods looked more bleary-eyed than usual that Friday afternoon when he came into Liz’s office. She still had faint traces of bruising round her eyes, but Wally looked a lot worse. ‘I can’t blame work,’ he declared, in response to her question whether he was all right. ‘Our dog’s just had a litter and she’s not a very good mother. I was up half the night feeding the puppies. Makes a change from watching some hairy-faced youths in a terrace in Battersea.’
Liz laughed. She liked Wally: he was an old hand, who’d survived all the changes of targets and technology without fuss or resistance. They also serve who stand and wait seemed to be his motto, and Liz respected both his competence and his interest in maintaining it.
‘So what’s up?’ she said.
Wally waved a manila envelope. ‘I wanted to show you some photographs we took yesterday. We’ve been following this chap Kollek from the Israeli Embassy, as you know. Nothing unusual at first – he seems to have lunch twice a week with that woman you told us about, but everything was above board. Then three days ago it changed.’
‘How was that?’
‘I wish I could tell you,’ said Wally wistfully. ‘We lost him.’ He shook his head in frustration.
Liz could sympathise. Following a target who was determined to lose you was never an easy job.
‘Do you think he knew he was being followed?’
Wally shook his head. ‘I think he was just being very, very careful. In the end, we couldn’t stay with him or we’d have been spotted. I knew you didn’t want that.’
‘No, you’re right,’ said Liz, a little discouraged. Kollek must be Mossad – why would a trade attaché carry out sophisticated counter surveillance? She wondered who he could have been meeting.
‘Cheer up, Liz. That’s not the end of the story.’ His voice was brighter now, and Liz looked at him hopefully. He said, ‘Yesterday we followed him as he left the embassy mid-morning. He took us as far as the Oval cricket ground, but that’s where we lost him – when he went inside. Don’t know if you like cricket, Liz, but the One Day Internationals are on, so the place was packed.
‘By this time I and the other back-up cars had got there as well. It took us two hours of searching row by row, but we found him,’ Wally said proudly. ‘Sitting in the corner stand with a drink in his hand, and a programme, acting like he’d grown up watching cricket. Which seems a bit unlikely for an Israeli.
‘Nothing happened for an hour or so, but then another guy came and squeezed in right next to Kollek. Dressed up – more Lord’s than the Oval.’
‘Oh no,’ said Liz, her heart sinking. Israeli penetration of foreign intelligence services was legendary. ‘You’d better show me the pictures then,’ she said, though she already had an image in mind.
Wally passed over the envelope he had been holding, and said, ‘I don’t know who it is, but I reckon he’s American.’
The first picture had been taken from below. Kollek was caught prominently, holding a large plastic cup – gingerly, it had to be said, like someone trying to fit in. She looked at the men on either side of him: on Kollek’s left sat an Asian man in a yellow windcheater; he was staring intently at the play, seemingly oblivious to his neighbour. Kollek was turned towards the man on his right, his head tilted down as if he were listening carefully.
‘It’s the tie,’ she said numbly.
Wally looked at her curiously.
‘Look at the stripes,’ she said, pointing to Kollek’s other neighbour. ‘They go the opposite way from ours. That’s how you can tell he’s a Yank.’
‘I’m afraid he left at lunchtime, Liz. He tends to work at home on Friday afternoons these days.’ The tone of Wetherby’s secretary made it clear they both knew the reason for this -Joanne.
‘Right. I’ll ring him there.’
‘Do you want the number?’
‘That’s all right – I’ve got it. Thanks.’ Liz thought for a moment. She was loath to interrupt Charles at home, but felt he needed to know at once.
‘Charles,’ she said when he answered, ‘it’s Liz. I am sorry to ring you at home, but something’s come up.’
She listened for a moment. ‘The morning’s fine – that’s no problem. Of course I can. No, I think I’ll drive down.’ She paused, then wrote down the directions he gave her. ‘Got it,’ she said as he finished. ‘Ten thirty will be fine. See you then.’
She hung up, relieved he’d understood the urgency at once. It was unfortunate to disturb his weekend, but there it was – and it wasn’t as if she’d had anything planned herself. It would be odd seeing Charles at home. More to the point, she wondered what Joanne would be like. Well, she thought, at last I’m going to find out.