“What do you know about Xavier?”
“He’s very private. Though I know that he was awarded best cadet at Sandhurst. I did learn his father was a diplomat. His mum is Scandinavian and worked for the U.N. He was an only child. He’s a proud Brit, I can tell you that.”
The vision of Xavier being drawn into the belly of the helicopter flashed into my consciousness, and I felt again a dreadful sense of loss at seeing him being taken away under nefarious circumstances.
She caressed her brow. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“We never talked.”
“Cameras are everywhere.”
“I borrowed a pen. You wanted it back.”
She smiled weakly and for a split second I saw her younger self before the Secret Service had snagged her out of Oxford and showed her…things. Lifted the veil to what the world is really like. You see that same disturbed look on the faces of new recruits, once they get a glimpse inside Pandora’s Box—and realize that lid will never close again.
Her smile faded with the weight of it all.
“It was good seeing you, Katherine. Thank you for stopping by.”
She was up on her feet again. “It’s a burden, James. To know what we know and not act on it.”
“That’s the job.”
“There was some talk…”
I leaned forward. “Go on. You know you can trust me.”
“Farmer was on the phone talking about how Xavier had betrayed his country.”
“You personally overheard that?”
“That just isn’t Xavier. I’m sure there’s some misunderstanding.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “Xavier was on the Underground when an explosion went off. You remember that one? The terrorist attack a year ago. He helped commuters find their way down a deserted track. Xavier saved countless lives that day. He didn’t just run off and save himself. He stayed to help. That shows compassion. I’m a good judge of character. He’s a good man.”
Recalling my time with him certainly reflected this. Though men changed and motives evolved. Still, I was sitting here alive because of him.
“Katherine, when I walked into Farmer’s office you looked surprised to see me, why?”
Her nervousness showed. “We weren’t sure you’d…make it back.”
I placed my hands behind my head in a casual pose. “That old gout making trouble again.”
Her eyes widened with hope. “My friends call me Kitty.”
“Kitty, thank you for your honesty. It really helps me see this through a clearer perspective.” I reached into my drawer and pulled out a mobile phone.
I handed it to her.
“Is this a burner?”
“Just in case.”
She looked unsure, but then threw it into her handbag anyway. Reaching for a post-it note on my desk, she scribbled down a number. “If you need anything.”
I took it from her.
Kitty paused in the doorway and without looking back, whispered, “They’re holding him in a military prison. He’s being moved to an undisclosed location today.”
She closed the door behind her.