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If only there were a way I could really hurt her, thought Roxie. The only thing Alexia had ever truly cared about was her career. By rights, that was what she should lose. Unfortunately, Roxie’s mother had an almost supernatural gift for political survival.
Still. One day . . .
In her study at Cheyne Walk, Alexia De Vere flipped through the file that Sir Edward Manning had given her. She’d requested the information only yesterday, but with typical efficiency, Edward had had the file on her desk by eight o’clock this morning. It was a lot thicker and more detailed than she’d expected.
“You got all this from the U.S. State Department?” she’d asked.
“I got it from a reliable source, Home Secretary.”
“And nobody else knows I requested it? You did
n’t discuss it with Commissioner Grant?”
Sir Edward Manning looked affronted. “You asked me not to, Home Secretary. Of course I didn’t.”
Alexia thought, Perhaps I was wrong to distrust him. He’s loyal to the department, if not to me personally. As long as I make sure our interests are aligned, Edward’s going to be a useful ally.
“Are you sure you’re feeling quite well, Edward?” she asked, putting the report aside. “You look as if you’re in pain. Your chest.”
Belatedly, Sir Edward Manning realized that he was clutching the wound again. He’d had to change his shirt three times yesterday and was crunching down ibuprofen tablets like M&M’s. Sergei Milescu had stopped by last night, to ask about “progress.” He’d insisted on sex, which was agony for Edward, and left with the unspoken threat of violence hanging heavy in the air.
“My friends are not patient people, Eddie. They want results.”
“But I don’t even know what I’m looking for!” Sir Edward Manning had pleaded. “I need time. I need to gain her trust. Can’t you explain?”
Sergei Milescu shrugged. “Not my problem. I’ll see you soon, Eddie.”
Sir Edward looked at Alexia De Vere. “I had a minor accident, Home Secretary. I fell off my bike on the way into work.”
Alexia looked horrified. “When?”
“Oh, a few days ago. At the end of last week.”
“Well, why on earth didn’t you say so? You must go home and rest.”
“There’s no need, Home Secretary.”
“There is need. You’re in your sixties, Edward. You must take these things seriously.”
“It’s only a few scrapes and bruises. I’m perfectly fit to work.”
Alexia shook her head. “I won’t hear of it. I’m working from home myself this afternoon, so there’s no need for you to be here. Go home. I’ll have my driver take you.”
Rereading the report Edward had given her in her home office, Alexia wondered whether her PPS had actually gone to bed, or whether he’d sneaked back into the office to work. Career civil servants like Sir Edward Manning—“lifers,” as they were known in Parliament—were almost all workaholics, addicted to their jobs and the buzz of Westminster life. But she quickly forgot Edward as his report once again engrossed her.
CONFIDENTIAL PSYCHIATRIC EVALUATION:
WILLIAM J. HAMLIN.
The patient displays classic paranoid schizophrenic symptoms, including delusions and auditory hallucinations, frequently triggered by the telephone or television. He claims to hear one specific voice, a classic dominant negative hallucination combining critical commentary with specific instructions to the patient. He intermittently describes this voice as female. (Mother?? Deceased during patient’s infancy. Patient alluded in treatment to feelings of abandonment and betrayal.) Generally suffers from obsessional thoughts about women, mostly nonsexual/family-oriented, e.g., acute anxiety about his daughter. His divorce also seems to be an underlying factor in his delusional thinking and psychosis, although relations with ex-wife appear good.
Intermittent depression but no suicidal thoughts. No self-aggrandizing. No recorded violent tendencies. Very limited aggression.
The patient’s condition is manageable with medication and home care, when accepted. Atypical antipsychotics have been highly effective in this patient’s treatment, esp. Geodon (ziprasidone). Unfortunately his track record of staying on meds is poor. Alcohol abuse remains an ongoing aggravating factor.
The psychiatrist had signed and dated the report eighteen months ago. Alexia read the doctor’s notes again and again, trying to piece together William Hamlin’s tortured inner life both from what was written and from what she gleaned between the lines: Who was this man who was looking for her?
And what did he want from her?
