White Bone Read Free Page A

problems.”
    “The two of you need a moment? I can leave the room.”
    The eggs were delivered.
    “Well, maybe not.” Winston stabbed a piece of sausage and stacked on a slice of tomato. He lifted it to his lips but did not take a bite.
    “I have many resources within the government,” he said, “including Number Ten, if I must play that card. I’d rather not. My contacts are not without substantial resources in Nairobi.”
    “Is that a double negative?” Knox asked. Some egg yolk leaked from his lips. He wiped it with a starched and ironed piece of cloth. “Are you talking about British Intelligence? Bring ’em on. Let’s trace that text.”
    Winston gave no acknowledgment. He might not have heard.
    “We’ll await this evening’s contact,” Dulwich said. “She’ll post on one of two websites. Nothing coded or tricky, just a post to let us know she’s still going good.”
    “Every night? Did she post last night?”
    Dulwich wasn’t pleased. “Solar flares or something. Murphy’s Law, right? We’ll give it the rest of the day.”
    “Not I. No way. A bomb with a question mark. What was she into?”
    “Is,” Dulwich emphasized.
    “You don’t know that. We don’t know that.
Is
, if we’re lucky. If we’re fast.
Was
, if we’re slow to respond. You know the drill, Sarge.”
    “Hello?” Winston said. “I do not know the drill. Please.”
    “John believes she’s been abducted, which would explain, to his way of thinking, both the text sent to him and our not hearing from her last night.”
    “But we were told—”
    “Yes. Tanzania, all the way up to Israel. A satellite failure or something.”
    “I’m listening through Grace’s ears and I’m not hearing what I want.” Knox drank more of the coffee.
Who could make a cup of coffee this good in their home?
he wondered, envying Winston’s wealth. Odd, that wasn’t his way. “If she’s blown, then by whom? Cops? Spooks? Mob? The original job was . . . ?”
    Knox worked on the smoked salmon while keeping his eyes on Dulwich.

5

    L ast year I made a donation,” Winston said, “of over a million pounds to fund measles vaccinations at the Oloitokitok Clinic in southern Kenya. The clinic is privately funded. It services a sizable geographical area, including northern Tanzania. There’s a long version if you want. But you strike me as an impatient man, John. So. About two months ago, data started coming in showing we had made one hell of a lot of people extremely ill with our vaccine. We now suspect the original measles vaccine was stolen in shipment and replaced with one to prevent leptospirosis in cattle. We caused meningitis, lung infections and quite possibly worse. We were told that in all probability the original vaccine was resold out of country at a high price, and that the cash funded terrorism. I sent Grace to find out where my money went, who took it and, if possible, to undermine whoever stole it. If the clinic is directly or indirectly involved with terrorism, then it’s also connected to the poaching ofelephant tusk and rhino horn, another pet peeve of mine. I want that made public.”
    “Follow the money,” Knox said. “Her specialty. By ‘undermine,’ you mean get it back.”
    “Yes.”
    “You asked her to steal money from terrorists.” Knox grimaced. “Nothing risky about that. You know her,” he said accusingly to Dulwich. “Shit!”
    Silence.
    Knox addressed Dulwich. “Her daily reports?”
    “Not reports. Just confirmation she was on the right track. Two sites to check for posts. If one, things were moving. The other, a setback. Two weeks ago, the clinic shut its doors unexpectedly and without explanation. It was empty, all equipment gone, within days.”
    “She scared someone,” Knox said.
    “Indeed,” Winston said.
    “And you honestly believe she hasn’t been kidnapped or killed? Jesus, Sarge.”
    Dulwich twitched. “It could be coincidence. However unlikely.”
    “She turned over a rock and