Solo - Jack Higgins [41]
'By the use of interrogation methods that were reminiscent of the Gestapo more than anything else.'
'No,' he said. 'Quite wrong. Anything worthwhile I had to offer came by courtesy of the Chinese. They gave me personal instruction at a camp called Ti-pai in Manchuria.'
She sat there, staring up at him, aware that she should be angry, and wasn't, which was strange because this man represented everything she despised most. Uniformed authority, the military machine that was once more chewing up the youth of her own country and spitting them out in Vietnam.
'Harry Baker told me it was coppers you didn't like,' he said. 'He was wrong. Obviously it's uniforms.'
'Perhaps.'
He lit a cigarette. 'That's better. You almost smiled and the corners of your mouth started turning up instead of down.'
'Damm you,' she said.
He sat on the edge of the desk. 'Do I get to see the Hoffmann girl?'
'From what Baker tells me, this is to do with the Maxwell Cohen shooting. Special Branch think it was the Cretan again.'
'That's right.'
'And you think you might get a lead on him from Lieselott?' She shook her head. 'She wouldn't tell you, even if she could.'
'Because he made love to her?'
She shook her head. 'I don't think you understand. To someone like her, he's almost a god. A symbol of what they believe in.'
'Don't tell me, let me guess. The purity of violence.'
She opened a drawer and took out a yellow pamphlet. 'Someone sent me this from the Sorbonne the other day. This was printed by one of the student bodies. They're supposed to be at university getting an education and what an education.' She opened the pamphlet. 'Listen to this advice for demonstrators. When punching policemen, leather gloves should be worn. Newspapers wrapped around the body reduce the effectiveness of rifle butts. One anti-flu pill taken half an hour before the riot begins, another when the grenades start coming over, reduces the sickness you're supposed to get from inhaling the gas.'
'I hadn't come across that one before,' Morgan commented. 'I must remember. When do I get to see her?'
'All right, waste your time if you want to. Have you got a car?'
'Yes.'
I've made an appointment for three. It will take twenty minutes to get there. You can pick me up at two-thirty. Now, if you wouldn't mind.'
He picked up his briefcase and raincoat. 'Do you always wear your hair held back like that?'
'What in the hell has it got to do with you?'
'Let it hang loose if I were you, girl,' he said. 'On a good day, it might even make you look like a real woman.'
The door closed softly behind him. She sat there, her mouth open in astonishment.
*
The interview room at Tangmere Special Remand Centre was surprisingly pleasant. Patterned wallpaper, fitted carpet, a table, modern chairs. The barred windows seemed almost incongruous.
'Rather pleasant, really,' Morgan said with some irony, peering into the garden.
'This is not a normal prison nor is it supposed to be,' Katherine Riley told him. 'It is a psychiatric institution ...'
'Aimed at rehabilitation, recovery and let us all rejoice for God is good.'
Before she could reply, the door was unlocked and Lieselott Hoffmann was ushered in. The woman prison officer withdrew, locking the door again.
She was a small, plain-faced girl with short blonde hair and wore jeans and a denim shirt. She ignored Morgan and said in excellent English, 'Who's your friend?'
'Colonel Morgan. He'd like to ask you a few questions.' Katherine Riley produced cigarettes, gave her one and a light.
'About the Cretan,' Morgan said.
The girl turned sharply, her face blank and then she turned back to Katherine Riley. 'What's happened?'
'There's been a shooting in London. A prominent Zionist. Black September