* * *
Jessica doubtless would have proved sympathetic and offered a virtual shoulder to cry on, but Charlotte was in no mood to share her woes. She’d only known Anderson just over a week, and was still confused as to why she felt so let down. Lottie was after all just a word but to Charlotte it meant far more, primarily an unpleasant reminder of childhood taunts. Under normal circumstances, a good book with a side order of chocolate was the best antidote to turn her mood around, but the distraction of work would have to make do. It wasn’t just Lottie; it was almost as if Anderson had deliberately tried to put her off Warsaw. If so, she wanted to know why.
A chirrup from her mobile broke into her thoughts, her mood darkening as she saw it was a text from Anderson. Charlotte forced herself to wait for a full minute before reading it, brow furrowing as she scanned across the lines. Again there was the annoying Lottie, this time with the arrogant assumption she was some contrary female who would change her mind on a whim, someone who could be bought by the purchase of a plane ticket and the promise of a posh hotel.
Charlotte left it for another half hour then sent a curt rejection in reply, stopping short of telling Anderson to get lost. Perhaps, when she cooled down, everything might look a little different and she was wise enough not to completely burn her bridges. But, for the moment, Anderson was a selfish and insensitive bastard who deserved to rot in hell.
By the time she arrived home, Charlotte was calm enough to look afresh at phone call and text. For a week she had investigated and questioned, and had learnt to follow a lead or work through a problem. Now she put her detective hat on again and tried to leave emotions aside. What if ‘Lottie’ was deliberate? Anderson was well aware of how she would respond. Why bother asking her to go to Warsaw if he wanted her to refuse? Perhaps he felt obliged to ask, but for some reason believed going to Warsaw was unwise, even dangerous. But still safe enough for Anderson?
Charlotte quickly became fed up going round in circles; she wanted answers and had a good idea who might help supply some of them. In the end it took a trip to Marshwick, plus a slightly disconcerting search of her parents’ house, before she finally managed to acquire Devereau’s contact details.
Back home once more, she sat brooding over a cold cup of coffee, if not frightened then at the very least worried. Once Devereau’s mobile had repeatedly gone to answer phone, Charlotte had moved on to the landline, ready with her opening line of thanking Devereau for his commiserations regarding her father’s death. The call had only lasted a few seconds, the sad voice of Devereau’s daughter a warning to tread carefully and all Charlotte had been able to extract was that Devereau was very poorly in hospital, having been hit by a car while out for his morning walk.
Charlotte made herself a fresh coffee, then chose to persist with the theme of Devereau. Even though it wasn’t worthy enough for the national news, the internet carried the story of a hit-and-run in Bushey: local man, age fifty-six, in critical condition, police appeal for witnesses, occurred around 9.20 a.m.
There was no doubt in Charlotte’s mind the victim was Adam Devereau. So what the hell was Anderson up to? He wouldn’t have done anything without consulting with Devereau first and how could he have done that with him in intensive care? Struggling to understand, Charlotte finally managed to convince herself that Anderson had obviously spoken to Devereau before the accident, and had thus been unaware of what had happened. Consequently, she was probably worrying over nothing.
There seemed only one way to be certain. However, Charlotte was becoming fearful of every new disclosure, and she took her time working out exactly how to play it. Sticking with her preference for lists, she carefully prepared two versions of things to say: version one to be used if Anderson really was a chauvinist pig, the other if he was in trouble. If the latter, she also needed some way of getting him to tell her where he was and whether she needed to go to the police. And how on earth could she do all that without making Rebane or McDowell or whoever it was, suspicious? Was Anderson in immediate danger, and was she too at risk? And what about her mother?
It seemed impossible to get answers to everything, so she forced herself to prioritise. As long as Anderson’s brain was switched on and he remembered a friendly argument from Saturday, it might just work – not that she really believed she would need the back-up option.
A sudden thought, and after a rapid search she added a newly-found app to her phone, one which claimed to be able to provide the geographic location for both incoming and outgoing calls. That seemed about as much help as technology could supply; the rest was down to her.
Charlotte calmed herself, then checked each of her two versions for a final time. Neither was perfect but they would have to do, and if she didn’t phone Anderson soon, she’d certainly lose her nerve.
When Anderson’s phone went unanswered and defaulted to a recorded message, Charlotte had her response ready. “Hi Mike, it’s Lottie. Not sure if you’re still In England or have reached wonderful Warsaw, but I was thinking about what you said. Give me a call when you’ve got a moment.” When the location app quickly flashed up ‘Unknown’, Charlotte restrained her impulse to throw the phone against the wall.
It was another thirty minutes before Anderson called back, again opting for voice only. “Hi Lottie, I just got your message.” Anderson’s tone was positively cheerful, or was he just relieved?
“Hi Mike, thanks for calling back. How are things going?”
“Pretty good, thanks. Again I’m sorry I had to rush off; my flight leaves early in the morning and there were various things I needed to sort out first.”
Still no mention of Devereau and Charlotte knew it really was time to worry, certain that Anderson would have contacted Devereau by now; even if he hadn’t, Devereau’s family would surely have let him know that Adam was fighting for his life. Or was Anderson so selfish that Warsaw was the priority?
Charlotte didn’t believe it and she ran her finger along version two of her prepared script. “I was just thinking again about Warsaw. I can get away on Thursday for a few days, and I’ve never been to Poland.”
“That’s great, Lottie,” Anderson said, managing to sound enthusiastic. “I’ll get it organised.”
“I looked it up, and there’s some lovely castles to visit. Where exactly are you staying, is it in the centre or on the outskirts – I just need to plan ahead?”
Anderson took his time answering, “I’m not sure, the centre I think; I’m sorry, I’m being met when I get to Warsaw.”
Charlotte sensed Anderson had missed what she was after, glossing over her use of the present tense. And for Charlotte to have emphasised the word centre – as in management training centre – would have been far too obvious. She continued to ramble on about nothing in particular, concerned now she was being far too subtle and Anderson would also miss the second hint. He was playing his part, his tone staying relaxed and animated.
Decision made, she moved on to the last item on her second list, making sure she said it exactly as she’d written it down, while trying to make it sound natural.
“Sorry to have messed you about over Warsaw. I’ll get back to my lonely sofa and watch a film... I thought now you’re one of the departed, then putting my trust in Leonardo DiCaprio would be a good choice, or is it a case of Matt Damon?”
Charlotte could almost hear Anderson’s brain ticking over, “Matt Damon definitely,” he said with emphasis. “I think most people would prefer Jason Bourne to watching Titanic for the hundredth time.”
“Any other suggestions for a relaxing evening in?”
Again there was a slight pause before Anderson responded, “The Last of the Mohicans: romance, betrayal and lots of fighting – what more do you need...”
Charlotte’s hand was shaking as she finished the call. She sensed Anderson had finally picked up on what she was asking, but she wasn’t sure. Saturday’s argument had revolved around a top ten movie list, with twenty or more suggestions thrown back
and forth, including The Departed. In the film DiCaprio had played an honest cop, Damon a corrupt cop. If Anderson was on the same wavelength as Charlotte, the message seemed clear: Anderson believed that Charlotte couldn’t trust the police. And the comment about Damon and most people – did that mean she shouldn’t trust anyone? Matt Damon as Jason Bourne had spent most of his time being chased by the CIA – was that relevant?
Then Anderson had added in The Last of the Mohicans.
Charlotte struggled to work it all out. Maybe he was hinting that Erdenheim was some CIA operation, but the Mohicans’ reference was just too obscure. But then if it was that obvious, Rebane would understand it as well, so Anderson was presumably trying to be devious.
Or, of course, Anderson could just prefer Matt Damon to Leonardo DiCaprio, and particularly enjoy spy thrillers and historical epics...