The Rembrandt Affair

me?”
    “We’ve never followed you.”
    “So much for honesty.”
    “I am being honest, Ms. Reed. We found out about you by accident. Martin Landesmann was under surveillance when you visited his apartment. Unfortunately, you were swept up in the wash.”
    “Is that a legal term?”
    “It is what it is, Ms. Reed.”
    Zoe dispensed with denials and resorted to righteous indignation, the trusted friend of journalists the world over. “Even if this came into your possession in the manner you claim, you had no right to act upon it or even handle it.”
    “In point of fact, we did. I can show you the Home Secretary’s signature if you like. But that said, we are not interested in your personal life. We asked you here because we have some sensitive information—information we will share with you if you help us.”
    Seymour’s offer of classified intelligence did nothing to mollify Zoe’s anger. “Actually,” she said pointedly, “I think it’s time I had a word with my barrister.”
    “That’s not necessary, Ms. Reed.”
    “How about my publisher?”
    “Latham? I doubt they would react well to being dragged into this.”
    “Really? And how do you think the British public would react to an exposé on how MI5 is spying on reporters?”
    After years of being hounded by the press, Seymour was tempted to point out that the British public was more likely to enjoy reading about her affair with Martin Landesmann than yet another dreary scandal involving MI5. Instead, he lifted his gaze reflectively toward the ceiling and allowed the anger of the exchange to dissipate. In the quiet of the upstairs study, the two men seated before the video monitors had conflicting reactions to the verbal sparring. Nigel Whitcombe feared Zoe was a lost cause, but Gabriel saw her defiance as a positive sign. As Ari Shamron always said, a recruit who agreed too quickly was a recruit who couldn’t be trusted.
    “Unfortunately,” Seymour resumed, “Martin Landesmann is not the man you think he is. That shiny image is nothing but a carefully constructed cover. And you’re not the first to be fooled. He’s involved in money laundering, tax evasion, corporate espionage, and much worse.” Seymour gave Zoe a moment to absorb his words. “Martin Landesmann is dangerous, Ms. Reed. Extremely dangerous. And, present company excepted, he doesn’t care for reporters—not because of some false modesty, but because he doesn’t like people digging into his affairs. One of your fellow journalists discovered that not long ago when he made the mistake of asking Martin the wrong question. That man is now dead.”
    “Martin Landesmann? A murderer? Are you completely mad? Martin Landesmann is one of the most respected and admired businessmen in the world. My God, he’s practically—”
    “A saint?” Seymour shook his head. “I read all about Saint Martin’s good works in your article. But if I were you, I’d hold off on Martin’s canonization until you hear all the evidence. This may be hard to accept at the moment, but he’s deceived you. I’m offering you a chance to hear the truth.”
    Zoe appeared to wrestle for a moment over the word truth. Gazing at her face in the video monitors, Gabriel thought he detected the first signs of doubt in her eyes.
    “You’re not offering me anything,” she shot back. “You’re trying to blackmail me. Do you not see anything remotely unethical about that?”
    “I’ve spent my entire professional life working for the Security Service, Ms. Reed. I’m conditioned to deal not in black-and-white but shades of gray. I see the world not as I would like it to be but as it is. And, for the record, we are not blackmailing you or pressuring you in any way. Quite simply, you have a choice.”
    “What sort of choice?”
    “Option one, you can agree to help us. Your work will be extremely limited in scope and short in duration. No one will ever know a thing—unless you choose to violate the Official Secrets Act, which, obviously, we strongly discourage.”
    “And the second option?”
    “I’ll take you home, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”
    She appeared incredulous. “And what happens to all the dirt you and your allies have accumulated? I tell you what will happen to it. It will find its way into a nice little file that will remain within easy reach of powerful fingers. And if I ever step out of line, or do anything to irritate Her Majesty’s Government, the contents of that