Page 28 of The Love Letter
‘Ah. So you’re not . . . ?’
‘No.’
‘Good. That makes the situation a little easier.’
Simon frowned. ‘What exactly do you mean?’
‘The thing is, we believe your friend may have been passed some – how shall I put it? – very delicate information, which, if it fell into the wrong hands, could cause us problems.’ Jenkins’ hawk-like eyes appraised Simon. ‘Have you any idea what this something might be?’
‘I . . . no, sir. I have no idea. Can you elucidate?’
‘We are pretty certain that your friend has received a letter that was posted to her by a person of interest to us. Our department has been instructed to retrieve that letter as soon as possible.’
‘I see.’
‘It’s very likely she doesn’t appreciate its significance.’
‘Which is what? If I may ask.’
‘Classified, I’m afraid, Warburton. Rest assured, if she does have it, it is absolutely imperative she returns it forthwith.’
‘To whom, sir?’
‘To us, Warburton.’
‘Are you saying you want me to ask her if she has it?’
‘I would try a less blatant tactic than that. She’s staying with you at the moment, isn’t she?’
‘Yes.’ Simon looked at him in surprise.
‘We checked her flat over a couple of days ago, and the letter wasn’t there.’
‘Tore it to pieces more like,’ he commented angrily.
‘Needs must, I’m afraid. Of course, we’ll make sure her insurance company is generous. Now, given it wasn’t there, I would suggest that if she does have it, it may well be on her person, possibly at your flat. Rather than subject her to more unpleasantness, I thought I could leave it to you to retrieve it for us. Rather fortuitous, really, you being her . . . friend. She trusts you, I presume?’
‘Yes. It’s what most friendships are based on, sir.’ Simon could not help the sarcasm that dripped unsolicited from his tongue.
‘Then for now I’ll leave it to you to sort out. Unfortunately, if you don’t, then others must. Warn her off, Warburton, for good and for all. It really would be in her best interests to desist from further investigation. Righto, that’s everything.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Simon left the office, angry and confused at being put in an impossible position. He walked back through the maze of corridors to his own section and sat down at his desk.
‘You’ve been to see Jenkins?’ Ian, one of his colleagues, came and perched on the corner of it.
‘How did you know?’
‘It’s the glazed look in your eyes, the slightly slackened jaw.’ Ian smirked. ‘I think you need a good stiff gin to help you recover. The boys are having a shindig over at the Lord George.’
‘I was wondering why it was deserted in here.’
‘It is Friday evening.’ Ian shrugged on his coat.
‘I might join you later. I have some bits and pieces to tidy up.’
‘Okay. Night.’
