It feels good to be out in the fresh air, the bright sunshine. Has someone slipped up? Without thinking, she raises one hand to the neckband and touches it; she’s barely able to breathe. All she needs to do is speak, tell the officer what’s happened. Is he really one of theirs? She glances back at Cara, who’s staring at her through the window, and remembers the pain.
‘May I ask your destination today?’ the officer continues.
She glances at Putin and then back at the officer. ‘To France, to see my boyfriend,’ she manages, recalling Putin’s instructions. No names.
‘Would you like to speak to him?’ Putin interrupts, holding out his phone to the traffic officer. Putin’s suddenly full of charm, like he was yesterday when he greeted her at Paddington. ‘My boss – he is calling me now.’
The traffic officer hesitates for a moment, as if weighing up his options, and then takes the phone out of what looks like a bored sense of duty. Is this a charade for Kate’s benefit?
‘Am I speaking to Gilmour Martin, registered keeper of a Tesla Model S?’ he says formally, leaning over to look at the number plate, which he proceeds to read out.
Who’s Gilmour Martin? Gil from Thailand? Kate closes her eyes, hoping in vain that she may have misheard. Rob’s right. Gil is here – to destroy Rob, her, their life together. She thought it sounded like Rob on the phone this morning, but perhaps it wasn’t. It was definitely somebody else on the bed when the lights came on last night, Capgras or no Capgras. Was it Gil? Did she sleep with a total stranger? She should have been brave and confronted him, asked him outright. She feels sick, their intimacy sullied all over again.
She tries to keep it together as the officer asks for a date of birth and address, checking it on his own phone, and then listens for a while. A part of her wants to grab the phone, hear Gil’s voice, ask him what he’s done with Rob. Does he sound the same as him too?
‘Three people.’ The officer sighs and looks briefly at Kate. ‘Your partner, your driver, named on the insurance, and another female passenger, also a named driver.’ A longer pause this time. ‘Thank you.’
She watches, transfixed, as the officer passes the phone back. She is about to say something, protest that her partner’s called Rob not Gilmour, when Putin catches her eye. She glances at the car, where Cara is still glaring at her through the window, the remote visible in her hand. No names.
‘We’re going through the Tunnel today,’ Putin says to the officer cheerily. ‘The boss needs his car in France.’
‘Have a safe journey,’ the officer replies, walking back to his own vehicle.
Kate watches him get in and sit there for a moment, talking to someone on the car radio. All around her busy Londoners are going about their day, chatting on phones, carrying coffees back to the office. She wants to stop one of them, explain about the neckband, but she knows she can’t. Run. Not yet. She must bide her time.
91
Jake
‘What do you mean you can’t stop them?’ Jake says, glancing around him. He’s about to board the Eurostar at St Pancras International and is talking on speakerphone to DI Hart. Bex is standing next to him on the platform.
‘According to the traffic officer, Kate showed no visible signs of distress,’ Hart says. ‘They’re driving to Dover, taking the Eurotunnel and then heading out to Brest. You’ve about ten hours to get there.’
‘Aren’t you coming?’ Jake asks, despairing. Why didn’t Kate say something, make a scene when the police officer stopped the car?
‘We’ll liaise closely with our colleagues in France,’ Hart says, ‘but there’s not much we can do until we get more evidence.’
Jake looks at Bex, who shakes her head with resignation. Behind her, at the far end of the station, an LED installation by Tracey Emin lights up one wall with its message to Europe: ‘I want my time with you.’ Kate’s a big fan of Emin. Of Europe too. He closes his eyes, fighting back the tears. They both know the police should be doing more for Kate. Jake is doing all he can, helped by Bex. She’s paid for his train ticket, put some data on his phone and withdrawn some cash for him, but she isn’t coming herself. Her passport is back in her house in Wiltshire. Jake has been carrying his around for the past three days, ever since he rescued it from the boat.
‘Talk to Dr Varma if you want evidence,’ Jake says. ‘He was terrified when we spoke to him. I had to… persuade him to tell us where Kate was going.’ He is not proud of having lost it with him in the street.
‘And you need to tell us everything you know about Gilmour Martin,’ Hart continues. ‘How you knew Rob’s doppelgänger in Thailand was called Gil.’
‘Have you found him then?’ Jake asks. According to Hart, Gilmour arrived in the UK on a false passport six months ago.
‘Not yet, but the traffic officer who stopped Kate appears to have spoken to him on the phone. That’s where Kate’s heading – to see Gilmour in Brittany.’
‘Jesus, you need to stop her.’ Jake is panicking now. ‘Gilmour told Rob in Thailand that he was going to destroy him, his life. That’s what Rob’s been so worried about, why he confided in Kate about his fear of doppelgängers. Seems like he’s coming for her too.’
‘We’ll do everything we can,’ Hart says. ‘An all-ports marker is already in place with UK Border Force. We’ll try to delay her departure until we’ve questioned her. And we’ll ask the French authorities in Brest to visit Rob’s house. But if Kate’s happy to be there, our hands are tied. Until we can prove what’s going on.’
‘She’s not happy, believe me,’ Jake says. ‘You need to talk to Dr Varma.’
92
Kate
It doesn’t take long for Kate to realise they’re not going to France via the Tunnel. Continuing to use the map to avoid static ANPR cameras, Putin heads west along the south bank of the Thames. After a circuitous route through Vauxhall, they drive on past the new American Embassy and cut down to the river in Battersea, where they pull up at the London Heliport.
Putin gets out of the car, followed by Cara, who hands him the remote then gets back in, behind the steering wheel. Putin opens Kate’s door. She thinks again about making a break for it. Her only chance of escape is if she can put enough distance between herself and the remote. It must have a limited range. She just doesn’t know how limited. And the pain…
Run.
‘Do exactly as I say,’ Putin says, gesturing for her to get out as he looks around. Why have they chosen to fly her out of the country from here? Presumably there will be checks like any other airport and her name will trigger an alert of some sort.
‘Do you need my passport?’ she asks.
‘It’s not necessary.’
‘Why not?’
He doesn’t answer.
Twenty minutes later, she’s watching London below her turn into a diminishing patchwork of houses and roads, laced through with the glistening thread of the Thames. Her chances of escape are diminishing too. She prays that Jake and Bex are down there somewhere, looking for her. Will Jake have contacted DI Hart? There were no Border Force officers at the heliport, no last-minute intervention by the police. It will be too late if anyone notices after she’s left the country.