Mike Kingdom was with Charles Yelland in his study when the call came in from Violet, who was using another name.
He answered immediately in case it was the kidnappers. “Charles Yelland.”
“Mr Yelland, I’m ringing from the Foreign and Commonwealth Office in London. We’re investigating the murder of a British national in Colmar last week and wondered if you could help us by answering a few questions?”
“I have no idea who you are. I’m rather preoccupied at the moment. How did you get this number?”
“From Jo at your office. She phoned me back at the FCO and can therefore vouch for me, if you would like to check with her? If it’s easier, I can email the questions to Jo? However, it is rather urgent.”
“I was rather hoping that you were the police ringing to say that you had found the kidnappers of my cook and her daughter.”
“I’m sorry, Mr Yelland, but I don’t know anything about the kidnap.” Violet was thrown off by this, and she was having to think on the hoof. “Which police force is investigating?”
Charles asked Mike Kingdom and then gave the name of the investigating officer to Violet.
“Our principal interest is the PEGASUS project. We know that Mr Musselwhite had supported it widely in the media, but may we ask whether he was involved in the project in a personal capacity?”
“Johnny did stand to gain financially if the project went ahead. Please remember that this project isn’t on British soil, doesn’t conflict with British interests and would lead to lower gas prices, for example.”
“Mr Musselwhite hasn’t detailed any of this in the minister’s register of business interests.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what he did or didn’t list.”
“Have you or he been threatened?”
“As you will find out when you contact the police, the kidnappers of my cook and her daughter have demanded a copy of the PEGASUS agreement and for me to effectively and publicly quash the project.”
“Was Mr Musselwhite party to this agreement?”
Charles hesitated. “Yes.”
“Was Mr Flushing party to it?”
“No, definitely not. I don’t know him, although I believe our paths may have crossed once at the British Embassy in Algiers.”
Mike Kingdom was listening to this conversation intently.
“Do I understand from” – Violet paused, presumably to check the name – “Jo, that you’re at your residence in Spain?”
“Yes, with my wife and daughter … and a lot of protection. It was they who were the kidnapper’s real target. I’m staying here until this thing blows over.”
“Good. I’ll phone you back if Her Majesty’s Government has anything else you may be able to help with, if you don’t mind?”
“Happy to help.”
After the conversation, Violet was straight on to Simon, Ben, Dennis, Alice and the others who had attended the meeting at MI6. A series of working groups was set up given that the likely motive for the murders was now known.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It was 9.00am on Tuesday, 6th September, and in Spain, the sky was free of any cloud. The sun was still at a low level, blinding Mike Kingdom as she sat on a terrace eating a croissant with apricot jam. She had come to a decision while drinking her cup of tea: she was happy with the security arrangements at the villa under Wazz and, with the three Yellands safely in one place, she could fly to Marrakech and check out Randy’s room. His apartment in Málaga had yielded little other than tempting her to think that he didn’t spend much time there.
She was frustrated. She felt she had made so little progress finding Randy and this was mostly due to the distraction of having to organise Charles Yelland’s life for him. The man was a nightmare.
Angelica walked out onto the terrace, wearing a pink dressing gown and carrying a Love Island water bottle; she was barely awake. She sat down at the other end of the marble table without saying good morning. The sun was shining straight into her eyes, which forced her to stand up, walk around the table and sit opposite Mike.
“Happy birthday.” Mike was holding her mug of tea in both hands.
“It doesn’t feel like it,” came the flat response, with Angelica’s bleary eyes barely opened. She took her phone from her pocket and started flicking with her thumb.
“You aren’t posting any pictures or telling your friends where you are, are you?” The sun was glinting off of Mike’s cropped, bright-red wig.
“I’m seventeen not seven, and I don’t want to be kidnapped … again. Keep your hair on.”
“Bit late for that.”
“Sorry.”
“I’m as frustrated as you, believe me. I’m meant to be finding my brother-in-law, not baby-sitting your father.” Mike was trying to engage the surly teenager.
“Where is he?” Angelica asked without looking up from her phone.
“I hoped that he might be in Málaga, but now I’m guessing Marrakech.”
“Where’s that?”
“Over there.” Mike nodded at the mountains on the horizon, which were just visible across the Mediterranean Sea.
