The English Girl: A Novel

His career was at that moment hanging by a gossamer thread, and yet he looked as commanding and unflappable as ever. Indeed, by the end of his remarks, even Gabriel was convinced that spending a few million more pounds in taxpayer money would solve the problems facing Britain’s permanent underclass.
    The next story had something to do with a Russian energy firm securing rights to drill for oil in the British territorial waters of the North Sea. Gabriel switched off the television, dressed, and extracted a 9mm Beretta pistol from the safe concealed beneath the floor of the closet. Then, after kissing Chiara one final time, he headed downstairs to the street. Waiting curbside behind the wheel of his Vauxhall Astra was Nigel Whitcombe. He made the drive to Number Ten in record time and deposited Gabriel at the back entrance along Horse Guards Road.
    “Let’s hope this one doesn’t end like the last one,” he said with false cheerfulness.
    “Let’s,” agreed Gabriel, and he headed inside.

23
    10 DOWNING STREET
    J eremy Fallon was waiting in the rear foyer of Number Ten. He offered Gabriel a warm, damp hand and then wordlessly led him to the White Drawing Room. This time, it was empty. Gabriel sat down without waiting for an invitation, but Fallon remained standing. He reached into his pocket and removed the keys to a rental car.
    “It’s a Passat saloon, as you requested. If you could return it in one piece, I would be eternally grateful. I’m not as well-to-do as the prime minister.”
    Fallon smiled weakly at his own joke. It was obvious why he didn’t smile more often; he had teeth like a barracuda. He handed Gabriel the keys, along with a parking stub.
    “It’s in the car park at Victoria Station. The entrance is—”
    “On Eccleston Street.”
    “Sorry,” Fallon said sincerely. “Sometimes I forget who I’m dealing with.”
    “I don’t,” said Gabriel.
    Fallon was silent.
    “What color is the car?”
    “Island Gray.”
    “What the hell is Island Gray?”
    “The island mustn’t be very nice, because the car is quite dark.”
    “And the money?”
    “It’s in the boot, two suitcases, just as they requested.”
    “How long has it been there?”
    “Since early this morning. I dropped it off myself.”
    “Let’s hope it’s still there.”
    “The money or the car?”
    “Both.”
    “Was that supposed to be a joke?”
    “No,” said Gabriel.
    Frowning, Fallon sat down opposite Gabriel and contemplated his nails. There was little left of them.
    “I owe you an apology for my behavior last night,” he said after a moment. “I was only acting in what I believed to be the best interests of my prime minister.”
    “So was I,” replied Gabriel.
    Fallon seemed taken aback. Like most powerful men, he was no longer used to being spoken to honestly.
    “Graham Seymour warned me that you could be blunt at times.”
    “Only when lives are at stake,” Gabriel responded. “And the moment I climb behind the wheel of that car, my life will be in danger. Which means, as of this moment, I make all the decisions.”
    “I don’t need to remind you that this affair has to be concluded as discreetly as possible.”
    “No, you don’t. Because if it isn’t, the prime minister isn’t the only one who’ll pay the price.”
    Fallon made no response other than to glance at his wristwatch. It was 11:40, twenty minutes before the phone was supposed to ring. He rose to his feet with the air of a man who had not slept well in many days.
    “The prime minister is in the Cabinet Room, meeting with the foreign secretary. I’m supposed to join them for a few minutes. Then I’ll bring him here for the call.”
    “What’s the topic of the meeting?”
    “British policy regarding the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.”
    “Don’t forget who’s delivering the money.”
    Fallon gave another dreadful smile and headed wearily toward the door.
    “Did you know?” asked Gabriel.
    Fallon turned slowly. “Know what?”
    “That Lancaster and Madeline were having an affair.”
    Fallon hesitated before answering. “No,” he said at last, “I didn’t know. In fact, I never would have dreamed that he would do something to jeopardize all we’d worked for. And the irony of it all,” he added, “is that I was the idiot who introduced them.”
    “Why did you?”
    “Because Madeline was an integral part of our political operation. And because she was an extremely bright, capable woman whose future was