‘No, indeed. There’s a little job I want you to do, while you’re in the area.’ Philpott explained about the Emily Selby shooting and the possibility of the case being taken up by UNACO. ‘You know the kinds of fears a case like this can raise. Apart from the possibility that Emily Selby was a spy, there are other worries. The gunman could have been an irate Palestinian.’
‘Was Emily Jewish?’
‘She was. Think of the possibilities: a Jewish employee of the US government gunned down by a man of Arabic appearance.’
‘It raises a lot of scenarios.’
‘Well, for the moment it’s enough to be aware of them,’ Philpott said. ‘Emily had a small suite at the Knightsbridge Lawn Hotel, and unless intergovernmental procedure has changed wildly in the past year or two, the rooms will be sealed off for a few days until it’s decided who has the right to nose around in the dead woman’s property.’
‘You want me to pre-empt the search.’
‘If you would.’
‘Any idea what I might be looking for?’
‘A journal, perhaps, cryptic notes, any item in her possessions that doesn’t chime with the rest. Try to find out if Emily was less of a credit to her job than anyone suspected.’
Sabrina looked at the clock on the side of the main building. If she was going to get coffee before people started throwing bricks at her, she would have to go now.
‘Should I do the job tonight, sir?’
‘Not any later.’
‘In that case I’ll have to do some manoeuvring.’
‘Why so?’
‘There’s a full-scale military-style kit inspection tomorrow morning. My stuff’s in a foul state. Getting it ready will be a three-hour job, at the tightest.’
‘You’re an agent of UNACO, my dear, which means you count resourcefulness among your many qualities. I’m sure you’ll manage. How much longer will you be at Hounslow?’
‘I finish tomorrow.’
‘Lord, time flies.’
‘I hope to be back in New York Saturday.’
‘By which time, I’ve no doubt, you’ll be an even more finely-honed and efficient emissary of justice than you were before you left us.’
‘Are you being serious, sir?’
‘Not particularly,’ Philpott said. ‘Take care, Sabrina.’
‘As ever,’ she promised.
When she walked into the canteen three minutes later, the usual silence fell. It was momentary, a one-beat cessation of talk and rattling as the sixty-two men and four women in the place stopped everything to register her arrival.
Sabrina was not embarrassed or discomfited. She had been attracting overt interest since a few months past puberty; also, at Hounslow there was the added professional factor. The blonde was an American cop - or so they believed - and since all dreams of slick law enforcement centre on the US police image, Sabrina realized she was as much a focus of envy as anything else.
‘It’s coffee, black, no sugar, right?’ Plump Inspector Lowther was on his feet, pointing to the chair opposite his own at the table nearest the door. ‘I was on my way to get seconds anyway. Sit down, I’ll only be a minute.’
‘Thanks.’
As she pulled out the chair a young officer at the next table said, ‘Hey, settle an argument, will you?’ He pointed to her black cotton coverall suit. ‘You had that made special, didn’t you?’
‘Nope.’ Sabrina patted the gold-and-blue embroidered badge on her sleeve. ‘It’s standard NYPD issue.’
‘Really? Has it got special deep pockets for the bribes?’
Sabrina smiled back. ‘You must watch an awful lot of bad movies. Get out more often in the real world. Bribe a girl to go with you.’
He blushed, and the jeering laughter of his companions obviously stung. He looked away and said no more.
‘Here we go…’ Inspector Lowther put a cup of coffee in front of her and sat down with his tea and a jam doughnut. ‘I hope it’s hot enough.’
‘It’s fine, thank you.’
He was a sweet soul, and even though he was on the make Sabrina found the attentiveness endearing. He had latched on to her from the start and had helped her over the early hurdles without once making a move on her. But she could tell the hope was there. When she left England she would not miss Lowther, but at least she wouldn’t remember him with distaste.
‘So,’ she said, making small talk, ‘today’s the grand finale, huh?’
He nodded. ‘Rocks, bottles, firebombs, burning buildings, the lot. Nervous?’
‘Very,’ she lied. ‘How about you? Have you ever been in a real-life situation like this one? People throwing stuff, hating you, too far gone to hear reason?’
‘I got a taste of it in 1990, at the Poll Tax riot in Trafalgar Square. A man with a broken chair leg and a hatred of the police put me in hospital for ten days.’
‘Wow.’
‘But you must get into some vicious scrapes in New York.’
‘I never faced a mob.’
‘Ever had to shoot anyone?’
‘No,’ she lied again, thinking, More people than you’d believe. ‘Up to now I’ve dealt mostly with traffic violations.’
‘Well, at least you have an exciting working environment.’
‘I wouldn’t say that. Frantic’s a better word.’
And then, without any lead-up or warning, Lowther leaned forward and said, ‘Would you have dinner with me tonight, Sabrina?’
That look, she thought: the wistful smile, the eyes telling her he’d be devastated if she said no. It never worked, she always saw it as emotional blackmail, something else about men to despise. On this man, however, it simply looked pathetic.
‘I have an engagement already this evening,’ she said, simultaneously spotting an opportunity.
‘Oh.’ He shrugged.
‘But I’ll tell you what - we finish at noon tomorrow, right? How about lunch somewhere in the West End? My treat. I’d have loved to make it dinner, but I have to catch an overnight flight to New York.’
She watched the flicker of changes in his expression, all desperately transparent. This was less than he’d had in mind; she had side-stepped the proposition, but it was better than rejection; what she suggested still wasn’t dinner, it was unromantic daytime stuff, but it still wasn’t rejection…
‘Well, that would be great,’ he said. ‘But I can’t let you pay.’
‘NYPD pays,’ Sabrina said. ‘They’re covering me for two goodwill entertainments and I haven’t done one yet, so we can have a splash.’ She gave him her friendliest smile. ‘Is it a date?’
He nodded, thoroughly charmed.
‘Oh, and by the way, I was going to ask you, it’s presumptuous of me, I know…’
“Go ahead,’ he said generously, ‘anything at all.’
‘Well.’ She made an uneasy face. ‘It’s the passing-out kit inspection tomorrow morning. It’s obvious they take it seriously. I wouldn’t want to lose the points, but I’ll be squeezed for