‘Please explain to Mom that I’m not about to do anything silly. Stuart’s already rung twice since I got back, and as he’s planning to’ - she hesitated - ‘to come over to the States for Christmas, I’m pretty sure I can hang on until then. By the way, Dad, I thought I’d better warn you that I already know what I’d like for Christmas.’
‘And what’s that, my darling?’
‘That you’ll pay for my overseas calls for the next eight months. I have a feeling that might end up being more expensive than buying that used car you promised me if I get my PhD.’
Connor laughed.
‘So you’d better get that promotion you mentioned when we were in Australia. Bye, Dad.’
‘Bye, darling.’
Connor hung up, and gave Maggie a reassuring smile. He was about to tell her for the tenth time to stop worrying, when the phone rang again. He picked up the receiver, assuming it would be Tara again. It wasn’t.
‘Sorry to call the moment you arrive back,’ said Joan, ‘but I’ve just heard from the boss, and it sounds like an emergency. How quickly can you come in?’
Connor checked his watch. ‘I’ll be with you in twenty minutes,’ he said, and put the phone down.
‘Who was that?’ asked Maggie, as she continued unpacking.
‘Joan. She just needs me to sign a couple of outstanding contracts. Shouldn’t take too long.’
‘Damn,’ said Maggie. ‘I forgot to get her a present on the plane.’
‘I’ll find her something on the way to the office.’
Connor quickly left the room, and ran down the stairs and out of the house before Maggie could ask any more questions. He climbed into the old family Toyota, but it was some time before he could get the engine to splutter into life. He eventually eased the ‘old tank’, as Tara described it, out onto Twenty-Ninth Street. Fifteen minutes later he turned left on M Street, before taking another left and disappearing down a ramp into an unmarked underground carpark.
As Connor entered the building, the security guard touched the rim of his peaked hat and said, ‘Welcome back, Mr Fitzgerald. I wasn’t expecting to see you until Monday.’
‘That makes two of us,’ said Connor, returning the mock-salute and heading towards the bank of elevators. He took one to the seventh floor. When he stepped out into the corridor, he was greeted by a smile of recognition from the receptionist who sat at a desk below the boldly printed caption ‘Maryland Insurance Company’. The directory on the ground floor stated that the distinguished firm occupied the seventh, eighth, ninth and tenth floors.
‘How nice to see you, Mr Fitzgerald,’ said the receptionist. ‘You have a visitor.’
Connor smiled and nodded before continuing down the corridor. As he turned the corner, he spotted Joan standing by the door of his office. From the expression on her face, he suspected she had been waiting there for some time. Then he remembered Maggie’s words just before he left home - not that Joan looked as if a present was uppermost in her thoughts.
‘The boss arrived a few minutes ago,’ Joan said, holding the door open for him.
Connor strode into his office. Sitting on the other side of his desk was someone he’d never known to take a holiday.
‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Director,’ he said. ‘I only …’
‘We have a problem,’ was all Helen Dexter said, pushing a file across the desk.
‘Just give me one decent lead, and I’ll do all the groundwork,’ said Jackson.
‘I only wish I could, Chris,’ replied Bogota’s Chief of Police. ‘But it has already been made clear to me by one or two of your former colleagues that you are now persona non grata.’
‘I’ve never thought of you as someone who gave a damn about such niceties,’ said Jackson as he poured the Police Chief another whisky.
‘Chris, you have to understand that when you were a representative of your government, it was all above board.’
‘Including your kickbacks, if I remember correctly.’
‘But of course,’ said the policeman nonchalantly. ‘You’ll be the first to appreciate that expenses still have to be met.’ He took a gulp from his crystal glass. ‘And as you know only too well, Chris, inflation in Colombia remains extremely high. My salary doesn’t cover even my day-to-day expenses.’
‘From that little homily,’ said Jackson, ‘am I to understand that the rate remains the same, even if one is persona non grata?’
The Chief of Police downed his last drop of whisky, wiped his moustache and said, ‘Chris, Presidents come and go in both our countries - but not old friends.’