After we'd fed the prisoners, which I found quite weird, and eaten ourselves, not literally, we gathered together and listened a few times to the recording of Peterson's confession.
"It doesn't add up," said Adam.
"Did he seem delirious at all?" I asked.
"No," said Arthur, "I'm sure he knew what he was saying. He seemed to be enjoying my reaction so he could well have been winding me up but I can't think why. Why waste your dying breath telling pointless lies?"
"What did he actually die of?" asked Adam.
"I'm not sure," said Arthur.
"I mean did he have a stroke or something that could have affected his brain?"
"I don't know, I'll have to check with the hospital."
"Is it even worth us talking about this?" I asked. "I mean, we're already investigating the CIA, who no longer exist anyway, and we have their director down the corridor. Does it really matter if Peterson was working for them or not?"
"I suppose not," said Adam. "Even if he was he can't do any more harm now. None of those agents will be redeployed by the Americans in another organisation so even if they do have some information on us or Britain they'll never again be in a position to use it."
"Hang on," I said, "remember what that driver said? He knew about your implant but he said something else. Can we get the recording down here?"
Adam opened his laptop and accessed the interrogation archive.
"Yes, here it is." He hit the space bar.
"And this man here?" we heard the boss ask. "What do you know about him?"
"He has a computer chip in his brain but we don't know exactly what it does. I've only ever seen photos of him, I had nothing to do with the attack on him."
"Who carried out that attack?"
"The two who were with me, and two other agents."
"Where are the other two agents now?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Can't or won't?"
"I don't know exactly where they are."
"But they are still in this country?"
Adam stopped the recording.
"What is it, Jen?"
"I knew it. When he says 'two other agents' one of them could be Peterson. He's never seen him here, he may not even know he works for us, he could just know him as a CIA agent. I know it doesn't prove anything but it shows that it's possible Peterson was telling the truth."
"I know it doesn't matter to T14," said Arthur, "but I need to know. I have to know who set me up and put me on that plane, Peterson or the CIA."
"Then we shall find out," I said. "We don't have anything else to do at the moment and, although you can't be compromised in the same way again, we do need to know exactly how it was done. It was a breach in operations, something we didn't foresee. It could have implications for the future. If it was the CIA then how the fuck did they find out about your implant? I'm sure the boss would want us to find that out."
"Thank you," smiled Arthur.
"But how do we find that out?" said Adam. "Peterson's dead so we can't ask him, if it was the CIA then that person could well also be dead now. I don't know how to go about this."
"John..." I said, before remembering, "would have known. If I'd been on my game."
"It wasn't your fault," said Adam, "I was much closer than you and I couldn't stop him. It was a systematic, joint failure on all our parts. In any case, John himself was closest of all..."
We lapsed into silence for a while.
"Anyway, getting back to how we figure out Arthur's problem. Given how clumsy the CIA have been lately," said Adam, "they've probably left us a clue somewhere. If it was that easy for Peterson to find proof of Libby Stevens being an agent, it shouldn't be that difficult to find proof of them getting to Peterson."
"And if we don't find proof?" I asked.
Adam sighed.
"I don't think we can make any progress on this while we're stuck down here."
Hannah came through on our headsets.
"All quiet down there?"
"Yes," I replied, "they've had their food and thankfully they're behaving themselves for the moment."
"I'm off home now," said Hannah, "for a bit of normality. Well, probably a bedtime story about a fucking wizard but you know what I mean."
"Bye, have a nice evening."
"See you tomorrow."
The conversation fell back to John.
"I wonder what's in his will?" I asked.
"I doubt he left anything to his ex wife," said Arthur. "I met her once, even I felt tense just being in a room with her. No wonder he started smoking when they met."
"Really," I said, "is that what started him off on the fags?"
"I think part of it was that she really hated smoking."
"Did they ever have any kids?" I asked.
Arthur hesitated.
"I don't suppose it matters now. They had a son who died aged seven. I'm the only one here who knows, he didn't want the sympathetic looks."
"He was always rather withdrawn, wasn't he?" I said.
"You've never wanted children?" asked Arthur.
"God, no. Never had any maternal instinct, never played with dolls when I was little. Besides, I've never had any relationship last long enough to get pregnant."
Fuck! Of all the things I could have said with my stupid, big mouth.
I could tell Adam was hurt by my slip so I found an excuse to get rid of Arthur for a few minutes.
"I'm sorry," I said when he'd gone, "I didn't mean it."
I went over and sat on his lap and gave him a cuddle.
"Death makes you think about that sort of thing," I offered. "And thinking I was pregnant for twenty four hours just wasn't as big a deal for me as it was for you."
"I've missed you so much," he sniffed. "I was gutted when you volunteered for undercover work."
"I didn't do it to avoid seeing you."
"Didn't you?"
"Of course not!" I looked at him. "Is that what you've been thinking all this time?"
"You know me, I am that pathetic."
"Oh get a fucking grip," I said far too harshly.
I gathered my thoughts for a few moments.
"Look, if we worked in a normal office doing a nine to five job then I'd jump at the chance to move in with you and have a proper relationship. Sometimes I think about quitting T14 and having a normal life but what else could I do? I couldn't work in a shop after doing this for a living. I need the variety and excitement, I need to feel that I'm doing something that's important. Being here makes me feel alive. I have to confess that during those eighteen months undercover I often felt lost - many of the days seemed long and pointless. Besides, what happened to John could happen to you or me at any time. I couldn't cope with losing someone I'd devoted my life to."
"Unless we die together in a car crash or explosion one of us is bound to die before the other, that's life, so to speak."
"I know, but I can't deal with that. My Granddad was married for fifty years then spent the last four years of his life utterly alone - I could never cope with that. I'm physically strong but emotionally quite weak at times."
"You never know what's around the corner or what may or may not work out," he said, stroking my hair, "you can't turn down a chance of happiness on that basis."
He wasn't pushing me towards anything but I couldn't help being persuaded by his argument. I took a deep breath and decided to be more pragmatic for once.
"Look," I said, "whenever this current crisis is over and we get rid of these prisoners we're both due some holiday. How about we go away for a week - trekking in Scotland, whatever you want. Just spend some time together and see what happens."
"Sounds like a plan," he smiled.
Arthur coughed politely.
"Sorry to interrupt, I can go and check some more imaginary things if you like."
I laughed and stood up.
"No, it's fine. Isn't it?"
"Yes, it's all fine," said Adam.