The Lucifer Network by Geoffrey Archer Page B

‘You
would
have invited us to the wedding . . .’
    â€˜I imagine I might have done. No. I’m not married.’
    Sam didn’t want them probing into his life. He’d come here for one reason only.
    â€˜So . . . to what do we owe this pleasure?’ Beryl asked, perching her hands on her ample hips. She had the same wiry hair as Sam, but it had been cut short in a style like a teacosy.
    â€˜As I said, I was just in the area,’ Sam explained uncomfortably. He couldn’t broach the subject in front of the girls.
    â€˜Oh no you weren’t.’ She turned to the sink to fill a kettle. ‘Dropping in isn’t your style. You’re after something. I take it you’d like some coffee now you’re here?’
    â€˜That’d be nice. Thanks.’
    The girls took it as their cue to go back to whatever they were doing. Sam gave them a smile.
    â€˜So? How’s things?’ Beryl asked when she’d plugged in the kettle.
    â€˜Not bad. Not bad.’
    â€˜Your work still all hush-hush?’ She tried to make it sound inconsequential, but he knew that she was rather in awe of what he did.
    â€˜That’s right.’
    â€˜Travel a lot, do you?’ Jim chipped in.
    â€˜Now and then.’
    â€˜Nice for you.’
    Beryl put custard creams on the kitchen table and they all sat round it. There was silence for a few moments.
    â€˜Come on Sam. Spit it out,’ Beryl told him. They watched him expectantly.
    â€˜It’s to do with our father.’
    Beryl blanched. ‘Our
father
? But he’s been dead nearly thirty years.’
    Sam stood up and crossed to the kitchen door, checking that the girls weren’t in earshot. Then he closed it.
    â€˜Something odd’s come up,’ he told them, sitting down again and keeping his voice low. ‘Bit of a bombshell. And it’s highly confidential. Not the sort of thing to be talked about with children or friends.’
    â€˜Sam! Don’t be so mysterious. What’s happened?’
    â€˜Well . . . the Russians are claiming he spied for them.’
    Jim and Beryl’s mouths sagged and their eyes became saucers. Neither of them spoke.
    â€˜A former Soviet military intelligence officer who’s defected to the United States has handed over a list of people they recruited back in the 1970s,’ Sam explained. ‘And Dad’s name was on it.’
    Beryl covered her mouth. Jim was the first to speak.
    â€˜Lordy . . .’
    â€˜No,’ Beryl reasoned, shaking her head. ‘That can’t be right.’
    â€˜That’s what I said,’ Sam told her. ‘It’s a mistake. Has to be.’
    â€˜Whatever our father was, he wasn’t a spy,’ she went on heavily. ‘He lived for the Navy. Put it above everything else. Particularly his own damned family,’ she stressed, her voice rising in pitch. ‘He went to sea, came home, patted his beloved little boy on the head, ignored his wife and daughter, bedded a handful of women he wasn’t married to, then went to sea again.’
    Sam closed his eyes at this familiar litany of complaint. ‘You’ve only got our mother’s word for the other women,’ he told her defensively.
    â€˜And when did she ever lie?’
    Sam groaned inwardly. His conversations with Beryl always went this way.
    â€˜Well . . . whatever he did in his spare time, he wasn’t a spy and I intend to prove it,’ he told her, determined not to be sidetracked.
    â€˜Quite right too,’ said Jim, his brow furrowing. ‘But how?’
    â€˜I don’t know yet.’
    Beryl’s complexion was turning a blotchy red and her eyes had become dark dots of anger. ‘I simply don’t believe it,’ she hissed.
    â€˜No. Nor do I,’ said Sam.
    â€˜No!’ she squealed. ‘You, Sam, you! That’s what I don’t believe. I do not understand how you can sit there and say we only have