With Arthur being engaged in his diplomatic duties it was left to Adam, Hannah and myself to try to find a final answer in Peterson's office. What with everything that had happened since his departure and imprisonment, we'd all been too busy to do more than a perfunctory search.
Now that the global news was busy with Winters and his impending trial and probable death sentence, T14 had slipped gratefully out of the headlines. No attempt to liberate the prisoners had been forthcoming so we'd set up a roster of junior agents to guard them in the sealed bunker and the office had returned to normal.
The three of us had been given one day to try to put an end to the speculation about our former deputy. If we couldn't find any answers today we'd be required to return to normal duties, after a weeks much needed leave. By paying way over the odds, Adam and I had managed to get a hotel room in the Scottish Highlands for four nights. We would go there and walk and talk. Maybe other things would happen.
In the meantime, I was determined to do all I could to get the answers Arthur needed.
Peterson had a reputation for hardly using his computer but Adam was nonetheless conducting a thorough search. Hannah and I began emptying his filing cabinet.
"What are we even supposed to be looking for?" said Hannah. "Surely he wouldn't leave anything incriminating in his office."
"Normally I'd agree," said Adam, "but remember that Arthur said he seemed to be taunting him. If that's the case he'd be likely to leave something cryptic or at least some red herrings or something. For somebody who purported to hardly use his computer he has a lot of password protected folders on here. Even if it's a wild goose chase we have one day to give it our best shot."
"And I for one am not letting that bastard get one over on me, even from the grave."
I returned my attention to the files.
After two hours we had torn the office apart and found nothing of any interest. Adam couldn't get into some folders on the computer so we left it to one of the tech team and decided to have a go over Peterson's house in a last desperate bid to find some answers.
Nobody was in so we went around to the back and broke in through the conservatory.
After another hour that search had proved equally fruitless.
"I'm sure we're missing something," I said staring idly out of the bedroom window over the vast garden. "I'm positive he's hiding something from us, even if it's just a note saying 'I was never in the CIA, fuck you'. Come on, think. If I were a crafty, creepy old bastard where would I hide my secrets?"
Something caught my eye.
"It's been right under our nose all the time," I shouted, "come on."
I took them back out into the garden.
"What do you see?" I asked them.
"A big garden, trees and stuff," shrugged Adam.
"And?"
"A shed?" said Hannah.
"Exactly. The garage is full of gardening stuff, they have a conservatory, so what does he need a big shed for."
"Hiding from his wife?" suggested Adam. "I'd have moved in to the shed years ago in his position."
I strode confidently over to the shed.
"A combination lock. Interesting."
Looking around, I took out my Glock and blew the lock to smithereens.
Inside, the shed was almost totally bare. There was indeed a chair, a kettle and several empty scotch bottles, suggesting that he had spent some time in here. I was right about the total lack of gardening implements.
Hannah stepped outside then back in again.
"This is a raised floor," she said, "there's a good four inches underneath these floorboards."
The only tool in the shed was a long screwdriver, perfect for prising up floorboards. I got down on my hands and knees and used the torch on my keyring to examine the floorboards. I soon found the area that was scuffed with screwdriver marks and prized up those boards. Sure enough a large metal cash box was hidden underneath the shed floor. A quick look around revealed nothing else so I put the boards back and stood up.
The box wasn't even locked.
"Well," I said, "here goes."
I opened the box and the three of us stared at the contents.