in order to detect or prevent a crime, protect national security, or in the interests of the economic well-being of the UK.’
‘Is that some kind of legal document they made you memorise?’
‘Again, you are correct.’
‘What is this really about, Maxine?’
‘Your new boyfriend is Zachary Hunter.’
I was trailing my index finger over the gold lettering on Jane Eyre’s cover, then tracing the edge of the oval portrait of Charlotte between the title and the author’s name. ‘You obviously know that he is.’
‘So you know about his ex-wife?’
‘I know she left him.’ I followed a fishing boat with my eyes, a speck whose ghost-shape outline I could still see, imprinted from when it had been closer to land.
‘Does he know where she is?’
‘Why don’t you ask him?’
‘It’s been tried. The experiment was not successful.’
I shrugged. ‘Well why should he know? The fact that she’s not in his life is pretty normal, given the circumstances. That’s how it is with most people after a relationship ends. Not to mention the fact he divorced her on the grounds of desertion.’
If Maxine were given to expressiveness, I couldn’t help but feel that she would be rolling her eyes. ‘She’s classified as a missing person. Did he tell you that the police questioned him about her disappearance?’
There was a trickle of sweat down my spine. ‘The police always question previous partners. There can’t have been any evidence against him or they’d have charged and tried him.’ Then, the obvious thing, the thing I should have asked first, came to me. ‘Why do you care about this?’
‘I care about a missing woman.’
‘No you don’t. Even if you did, it’s not the kind of thing MI5 gets involved in.’
‘Believe what you like. You know it isn’t protocol for us to explain the reasons for what we do to potential informants with no security clearance. Do you know her name?’
‘Jane.’ I didn’t elaborate on my failure to discover her surname. I’d tried a few Internet searches for her under Zac’s but found nothing. I hadn’t wanted to press him to talk about her, when I could see how painful he found it.
‘Jane Miller,’ Maxine said, as if she guessed that my knowledge was limited. ‘Let me give you some facts.’
‘I don’t want your facts.’
‘Hear me out. Okay?’
I didn’t say yes, but I didn’t stop her, either.
‘Born August fourth, 1980, in London. Raised there by a single mother. Father was American – died in 2008 – Jane never knew him, unless seeing him as a baby counts. The father moved back to the US after Jane’s mother divorced him – their relationship ended before Jane’s first birthday. The mother’s been dead since 1998.’
I couldn’t quell my own curiosity, though I tried to sound bored. ‘What was – is – Jane’s profession?’
‘Social worker.’
‘Maybe she pissed somebody off. Maybe you should be looking at that.’
‘She stopped working a few years before she disappeared.’
‘What was her area?’
‘The elderly – not a speciality where she’d be likely to attract a lot of hate.’
‘You didn’t tell me the names of her parents.’ I pulled Jane Eyre closer, across my tummy, as if to shield myself.
‘Jane’s mother was Isabelle Miller. Her father was Philip Veliko. Philip remarried soon after he returned to the US and had a son with his new wife. Frederick.’
‘Would the father’s new family have reason to resent Jane?’
‘Jane inherited some money from her father, but the second wife predeceased him and Frederick didn’t dispute Jane’s inheritance – everything was split equally between Frederick and Jane. No known grievances or hostile behaviour from any of them.’
‘Was Jane in contact with her brother?’ Jane Eyre rose and fell as I breathed.
‘As far as we can tell, only after their father’s death, not before.’
‘Well, you should still look at the brother. Most people would be pretty pissed off if some sibling they didn’t even know swanned in and took half their inheritance.’
‘Listen to me, Holly. Jane Miller is like you. And like your friend in the book.’ Briefly, lightly, she tapped Jane Eyre with a gloved finger. ‘She found herself living with a man whose closets were filled with skeletons. And she found, in the end, that she had to look in them. You are already living the perfect cover story. You don’t need to change a thing.’
Round and round my finger went. ‘My life isn’t a cover story. My life is my life. My life is real.’ I shook my head. ‘Normally, you ask someone inside a government organisation to betray their country in some way. In my case, you want me to betray my boyfriend, be an informant on my boyfriend. No way. Not happening.’
‘There are countless kinds of intelligence targets. You know that. We want any information that can help us find Jane and make sure she’s safe.’
‘Zac doesn’t make women unsafe. Zac saves people’s lives. Besides which, making sure women are safe is not your core business.’
‘Our core business is complicated.’
‘Then perhaps you should try explaining it in more detail to your potential agents. You might find they’d cooperate more enthusiastically.’
‘You’re a little different than most, more informed than is typical, given your history with us. I’m telling you everything I can. More than usual.’
‘Flattering and confiding all in one move – you’re a master of that recruitment script, but it’s not working. Zac wouldn’t hurt anybody. He’s the most loving, protective, generous man I’ve ever known.’
‘That’s a lot of adjectives.’
‘I don’t need you to critique my language. I finished my English degree.’
‘If you’re right about him, then looking more closely can only show that.’
I put Jane Eyre in my bag, out of her sight and reach. ‘Why on earth would I do this for you? What are you even trying to buy me with? I know you normally think of incentives when you’re recruiting an agent. What possible incentive would I have?’
She allowed herself a smile. ‘Ideological, in your case. I won’t patronise you by not admitting that. It’s your value system. You’d be protecting other women. Helping Jane. As I said, you’d be helping Zac, too.’
‘He wouldn’t see it that way. This is a wasted journey for you. There is no way I will do this.’
‘Look. Here’s another incentive for you, but maybe one that isn’t so easy for you to admit. I’m talking about your curiosity. You are Pandora, Holly. It’s in your blood, that impulse to look where you shouldn’t. My guess is that you’ve continued to do it, even without the legitimacy that the job would have given you.’
She was right, but I wasn’t about to admit it to her. ‘I’m not going to spy on Zac. Not for anybody and certainly not for you.’
‘If he’s telling you the truth, you’ve nothing to lose. You’d be helping him, removing him from suspicion. If you’re wrong, wouldn’t it be better for you to know it? Because if you are wrong, you may be living with a modern-day Bluebeard.’
I