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“Yes, that’s almost exactly what I mean,” he agreed. “The money is for that cause, and the list of contributors would horrify us. That’s what Stoney was working on. And the amount is vast, millions.”
“And he was killed for it.”
“It looks like it,” he admitted.
Josephine frowned, her concern deep in the shadows of her eyes. “And there is something else. What more did Peter say to you? And how is it that he knows about it? Did you tell him what Margot told you? You did. Of course you did.”
There was nothing to be gained, no protection he could give her from the reality. Now, of all times, he would have wished to, yet it was a relief to tell her, not to face the fear alone. “Peter has a man in Vienna and another in Trieste, where the root of this particular plot is planned. He’s well established there, Peter says.”
“The point, Lucas?” Her voice was brittle. She looked tired; she was too old to be frightened all over again for those she loved.
And he resented it profoundly. “The point, my dear, is that Aiden Strother is the man in Trieste, and has been for years.”
She paled, but she did not interrupt.
“His cover was broken and Peter needed to warn him, in spite of the fact that his contact is apparently dead. He sent the one person who would know Strother by sight, and that he would trust.”
“Elena. That’s where she’s gone!”
“Yes.”
Josephine said nothing. For Lucas, this was worse than if she had spoken.
“He didn’t tell me until after she had gone,” he said. It sounded like an excuse. In fact, it was. “Not that I could argue with his choice. She can’t join MI6 but refuse to do the jobs that are dangerous or distasteful.”
“I know, I know.” She almost choked on the words. “So, all we can do is sort out who killed Stoney Canning and take our evidence to Bradley.”
“No, not Bradley.” His voice was dry in his throat. “I don’t entirely trust him. Nothing specific or I’d do something about it. But this stuff of Stoney’s goes very high.”
“I thought Bradley was head of MI6? How much higher can you get?” She blinked and shook her head.
“I don’t know what more he wants. Maybe he’s riding a tiger, and now he can’t get off?”
“Oh, heavens.” She closed her eyes, then seemed to have to force herself to open them and look at him. “Where the hell have we missed our way so badly?” Her voice cracked and she struggled to keep it level. She seemed to understand all the things he had said, and everything not said as well: the suspicions, the fear, the innate dislike, the disagreement that seemed fundamental. “How far back does this go?” she asked. “Do you even know?”
“I’ve been studying Stoney’s diaries. I haven’t read every word—God knows his handwriting is worse than Elena’s—but I can trace this thread of thought back just over a year.”
Her eyes widened. “That long?”
“Adolf Hitler didn’t come to power overnight, Jo. He planned very carefully. He didn’t tell people what he was going to do for them; he asked them what they wanted, then turned around and said that was what he would give them. Over forty percent of the people voted for him. It’s not as if we couldn’t have seen this coming.”
“Stoney—”
“Stoney was far wiser than he seemed, but I can’t prove anything because he was very vague in his diaries. I might be reading into it what I can see now.”
“Then we must find the rest,” she said quickly. “This isn’t enough. We have to know who killed Aiden’s contact, and how, and then why. If I understand all the things you’ve been saying for the last two years at least, and the things that tie them together—and they must be followed up, if you are right—then it is much worse than we think.”
Lucas stood up. “We had better start. We haven’t found much here. I’ve read all the papers we took and you’ve read most of anything else we could find. We need to look harder.”
Josephine also stood. “I’m ready, but we must have a plan. Otherwise, we’re going to miss the piece that matters, even if we have it in our hands.”
They went out to the car and were several miles along the road before she spoke again. “You knew Stoney at university,” she said.
“Yes.”
“What did he study? And what else did he do, that you know of? Hobbies, interests, sports…?”
He smiled. “Stoney? No sports, except it came as a surprise to me to learn that he actually skied quite well.”
