As he watched from behind the one-way mirror, Eames walked in alone, strutting slightly, her lovely face drawn into a severe expression, harsh and judgmental.
"So, Ms Collins. You're accused of aiding and abetting an international criminal in the commission of a terrorist act." She snorted contemptuously, and leant over the table in an imitation of Goren's favourite intimidate-the-suspect move.
"I didn't do any such thing. You're making a big mistake. All I did was talk to my boyfriend. I want a lawyer."
Eames laughed. "You don't get one. You're being accused of aiding and abetting terrorists, Ms Collins. Right now, you're in a hole so deep, you're not going to be seeing daylight for a very long time." She paused, pacing the table, and then leaned down to snarl in Collins' ear: "And by the way, your so-called boyfriend is scum. Murdering, lying, scum wanted in five countries."
"No he's not!"
"Oh, really." Sarcasm dripped from Eames' every word.
"Yes, really." Collins glared Eames in the eye. Goren marvelled at her naivety; she really had no idea what she was dealing with. Good news for them, bad news for Andropov.
"He's a good man. I can't tell you any more about him. But he's a good man."
"A good man who associates with terrorists?"
"He only does what he has to do for the greater good," Collins muttered, then clammed up.
"The greater good," Eames repeated sarcastically. "You know something, Ms Collins? I'm from New York. You know what we think of people who help terrorists there?" She bent down and glowered at Collins, meeting her eyes. Goren himself would have flinched from her now; the anger in her eyes was a palpable force. And only partly put-on, he thought. "You disgust me," Eames spat, and left.
Goren watched Collins intently, aware in his peripheral vision of her entering the room and coming to stand beside him. Collins was staring ahead, resolutely, but with the slightest hint of tears in her eyes. Perfect, he thought. He smiled briefly at Eames, who nodded quietly and replied: "She's all set up for you." He took a deep breath, and entered the room, wearing his gentlest expression.
"I'm very sorry about that," he said as gently, as possible, sitting down in the chair opposite Collins, being careful to walk around her so that she could see him, get a sense of his height, letting her get a good look. "My partner sometimes gets a bit carried away. I'm sure you can understand."
She nodded, and the brightly charming manner she'd tried on him back at Towells Construction made a return. "That's okay. I understand you've got to do your jobs."
Thank goodness she isn't thinking to ask why two American cops are involved with this, or where her lawyer actually is. "That's right, we do. Now, I do need to ask you some questions about your boyfriend.""About Mike? Well, of course I'll try to help." Standard answer, coached carefully by Andropov, Goren mused.
"Now, can I ask you when you met him?"
She seemed surprised at what sounded like an entirely social question. "Well… let's see. About six months ago. I work in an art gallery at weekends. We had an exhibition of Russian art on. He wanted to see it…" She actually giggled. "He was so charming."
"That was your degree, right? Art?"
"Oh yes. I wanted a career in it, but it's such a hard field to get into."
"I suppose he must have encouraged you. Been very supportive."
"Oh yes. He was so supportive. Encouraged me not to give up my dreams, lent me some money… he even came to my own little exhibition."
"What did he say he did for a living?"
"I'm not really supposed to tell you."
"Ms Collins, I'm a police officer. You can tell me. I'm sure we're all in the same line of work here."
"Well…" she leant in, confidentially, "He said he worked for the secret services. He's half Russian you see, speaks the language…" She caught herself. "I can't tell you any more."
"Would you say he was a good man, Ms Collins?"
That got a fierce response. "Yes. Yes, I would, and I don't believe a word of what you're all implying about him. Mike would never do anything unless it was for the right reasons."
"And I'll bet you were a pretty good girlfriend in return, huh?"
She blushed. "Well, he was so different from all the other men. A real gentlemen. He knew something of life, about the real world, you know?"
"The real world." He paused for a minute, and looked at his notes. When he judged that he had left her long enough to start her worrying about whether she'd said the wrong thing, he looked up from his notes and gave her his best dazzling smile.
"So have you seen him recently?"
"No… well…." He could almost see her searching frantically for the best, non-incriminating answer. Andropov must be kicking himself right about now that he didn't cut his losses and kill her, too, Goren thought darkly. She picked an answer and went with it.
"He was away for a few days." She paused, then offered up what she thought was a titbit. "New York, he said. I've been missing him." Perfect. The perfect answer.
"Did he call you? Let you know what he was doing?"
"No. No, he didn't, but that's okay. He was busy."
"Busy, huh?" He smiled again, and with great gentleness closed the trap around her. "Let me show you what he was busy doing, Ms Collins," he replied, and shoved the pictures in the folder at her. He had chosen them carefully. They presented a timeline; Andropov in his disguise as Ahmed Nissar, then the bloodied corpse of the young architect in his uncle's apartment, the CCTV stills from Mr Petrovski's hidden camera of Miya Elahi and later Ahmed Nissar in the grocery store, the bloodied corpse of Miya Elahi, the coroner's report, the WANTED posters of Andropov, both as himself and in his disguise as Ahmed Nissar…
Collins had gone white and shaking, and was muttering "No! no, no, no…." He got up and quickly threw himself round the corner of the table to lean over her shoulder, forcing her to keep looking at the photos. In the same gentle voice, he murmured; "That's what your boyfriend was doing. He tricked you. He tricked you and used you. Didn't you wonder why he kept asking you to do odd little favours? Why he asked you to steer us towards Omar Khaleel as someone who had a grudge against Ranjit Elahi – your friend, Ranjit Elahi, who was so nice to you?"
"No! He said that Khaleel was dangerous and that Ranj had gone abroad to get away from him. He said I'd be helping Ranj." She looked up at him with red eyes. "Khaleel broke into Ranj's house. Did you know that? He broke into Ranj's house. Mike was furious when I told him. He said Khaleel should be investigated, that he was a fanatic…" She was lying. He could see the little tells, the signs that indicated that this was what Andropov had told her to say.
He thought in reply, I'll bet he did. They really didn't leave anything to chance, did they? Now, had Andropov hinted at what he was really doing and why? She was still in denial, but the cracks were beginning to show.
"Oh, really? So when he asked you to steal plans of the stadium from Ranj's office, that didn't ring any alarm bells for you? You weren't worried when he asked you to check if you were being followed from the office? Cause you made us when we tried it. Very impressive. Did he say why he wanted you to do that?"
"I…."
He returned to his seat, sat down, and shrugged. "Guess he wasn't such a good boyfriend after all." He leaned forward with an expression of deep concern. "I'll bet he thought he couldn't trust you. Didn't tell you anything about why you were doing what he asked you to do. Thought you couldn't possibly understand it…" He was gambling now. This was it…
"Of course he trusted me. He told me everything." (Goren had a sudden clear image of Davenport leaping and punching the air behind the one-way glass of the interrogation room.) Collins was still, unbelievably, trying to defend Andropov. "He said it would all be painless. It was all for the greater good."
"Painless?" Goren asked, sounding puzzled. "I don't think a knife in the back is painless, or a posion gas attack… do you have any idea what it's like to suffocate to death? There are going to be women and children at that match."
"That was never going to happen." Collins' voice was high and miserable now. Better still, it was defensive, whiny and self-justifying. "He assured me it would never happen. Khaleel would be caught and it would all go like clockwork."
For a graduate, this woman really isn't very bright, Goren found himself thinking. "What would go like clockwork?" he murmured softly.
"What Mikhail planned. It was all for the good. They wreck our world, anyway," she mumbled to herself, and then assumed the expression known as Jackpot! to any officer conducting an interview, the oh-my-God-I-shouldn't-have-said-that expression, followed hastily by the that? that thing I just said? Totally not important! expression that confirms it.
"They? Who's they?" Goren asked, even as his memory supplied the answer. Sienna's words to him floated back from the night before, "Several major conferences are being held here this year… several very senior politicians are in town at present for a summit on the future management of the world's energy resources… Many of the people involved are going to the match as guests of the British government…."
Oh, very neat. Very neat indeed. Exactly how Andropov had planned to carry out this killing, he didn't yet know, although he could hazard a few guesses. But yes, killing the sort of people who would be guests of the British government at that soccer match… he went cold for a few seconds. He remembered the names on the list that Sienna had provided. They included at least one senior member from each of the current US, Chinese and Japanese administrations, plus several senior British and European politicians.
Perhaps just as importantly, whilst the oil company representatives were not quite at the very top – no CEOs – they were only about one step away from the top. An attack on them would have very long-lasting effects on the global economy… Very, very neat, he thought. And very, very political. He could certainly see why Khaleel had let his group be used as cover. Killing innocent civilians was one thing. A direct strike on figures in at least two of the governments you hated and feared most… yes. He could see how that would appeal.
"He told you that?" he replied to Collins, aiming for a mixture of flattery and slight puzzlement. "He told you exactly what he was planning to do? Kill all those people, the visiting politicians, the oil barons, the polluters?"
"Well..."
"You worked it out all on your own, huh? I read your file. You used to be quite heavily involved in campaigning when you were at university. Attended a few demonstrations, but I'll bet you got fed up with that, all that talking, never getting anywhere…"
"Exactly. It's like I always said." She gestured sharply. "It's got to be direct action. If it's worth having, it's worth fighting for. The stakes are so high."
"The planet is not dying, it is being killed. And the people who are killing it have names and addresses?"
"Exactly." She folded her arms. Goren let her think for a few seconds. Jesus, it's like this woman has never even heard of democracy. The rather earnest young student who had first quoted that saying to him at a environmentalists demonstration he'd been observed had followed it up by saying, "So would you like to sign this petition? We think there's a real chance we can get this law through if there's enough support from the public…"
Time to go for the kill. "Well, Jane, Andropov used you. He told you no-one would suffer, but he lied."
She looked doubtful. He stood up and shouted for the first time, and she cowered. "Look at these photos!" He picked them up and thrust them into her face. "Look at them. That's what he did to two people who did nothing other than suspect what he was doing. Miya Elahi was pregnant, did you see that here in the report? They found that when they did the autopsy." He bent down to look in her face with an expression of concern. "What do you think he'll do to you, Jane, when he finds out we arrested you?"
She burst into tears. He sat down again, and said, as gently as possible. "We need to find him. We need to find him very soon, so that we can stop him."
She looked up at him, trembling. Perfect. It had worked. He had managed to transfer the hold Andropov had over her to himself. Afterwards, he knew, he'd feel slightly sick, but for now he could feel only the deep satisfaction of having done his job.
Suddenly, Eames entered the room. "Goren, they need to speak to you." Her expression was careful, but Goren, who knew her face better than his own, picked up on the signals she was sending. Something was happening. Something big.
"Really?" he said, looking up with an air of disappointment, then being careful to glance back at Jane Collins with an expression of worried concern, an I'm-sorry-to-be-leaving-you expression. She seemed to be buying it.
"Really."
"Okay. I'll be right back."
He left the interrogation room, taking with him everything except the crime scene photos, and re-entered the room behind the one-way window to find it considerably more crowded. Not only Eames, Davenport and DS Hood were watching now. They were stood at the back of the room, and in front of them were Superintendent Barrett, Mulligan (who had the expression of a man watching his house burn down), and Tim Whitefield.
"Nice work, Goren," Whitefield greeted him, with a predatory smile. "Now, let's nail the bastard."
