The Last Testament. Sam Bourne

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СКАЧАТЬ world any more. It's moved on without you. You've got to do the same. You need to adjust to your life now, as it is. Our life.’

      So that's why he had been so keen to get her locked away in the consulting room this morning. And she thought he just wanted her to get a punctual start to the day. She had even thanked him! The truth was that he just wanted the garbage men in and out before she had a chance to stop them. For the first time, she met his gaze. Quietly, as if unable to believe her own words, she said, ‘You want to destroy who I am.’

      He looked back at her blankly, before finally nodding towards the other end of the apartment. In a voice that was ice cold, he said, ‘I think someone's waiting for you.’

      She almost staggered out of the room, unable to absorb what had happened. How could he have done such a thing, without her permission, without even talking to her? Did he really hate the Maggie Costello he had once known so much that he wanted to erase every last trace of her, replacing her with someone, different, bland and subservient?

      She stood in the landing that served as the waiting area, her head spinning. The man in blue was still there, now turning the pages of Atlantic Monthly.

      ‘Bad time? I'm sorry.’

      ‘No, no,’ Maggie said, barely out loud. On autopilot, she added. ‘Is your wife coming?’

      He made a curious smirk. ‘She should be along soon.’

      Maggie gestured him into the consulting room. ‘You said it was some kind of emergency.’ She was struggling to remember his case, to remember if he was one of the handful of clients she said could contact her out of hours.

      ‘Yes. My problem is that I'm finding it hard to adjust.’

      ‘To what?’

      ‘To life here. Normality.’

      ‘Where were you before?’

      ‘I was all over. Travelling from one screwed-up place to another. Always meant to be doing good, always trying to make the world a better place and all that bullshit.’

      ‘Are you a doctor?’

      ‘You could say that. I try to save lives.’

      Maggie could feel her muscles tensing. ‘And now you're finding it hard to adjust to being back home.’

      ‘Home! That's a joke. I don't know what home is any more. I'm not from DC; I haven't lived in my hometown for nearly twenty years. Always on the road, on planes, in hotel rooms, sleeping in dumps.’

      ‘But that's not why you're finding it hard to adjust.’

      ‘No. It's the adrenaline I miss, I guess. The drama. Sounds terrible, doesn't it?’

      ‘Go on.’ Maggie was remembering everything that was in those boxes. A handwritten letter of thanks she had received from the British prime minister, following the talks over Kosovo. A treasured photo with the man she had loved through her mid-twenties.

      ‘Before, everything I did seemed to matter so much. The stakes were high. Now nothing even comes close. It's all so banal.’

      Maggie stared hard at the man. The words were coming out of him but his eyes were flat and cold. She began to feel uneasy at his presence here. ‘Can you say more about the work you were doing?’

      ‘I started with an aid organization in Africa, working with people there during a particularly vicious civil war. Somehow – it was a fluke really – I ended up being one of the few people who could talk to both sides. The UN started using me as a go-between. And I got results.’

      Maggie shivered. Her mind was racing, wondering whether she should call for Edward, though that was truly the last thing she wanted to do.

      ‘Eventually I became known as a sort of unofficial diplomat, a professional mediator. The US government hired me for a peace process that had stalled. And one thing led to another. Eventually they were sending me around the world, to peace talks that had hit the buffers. They called me “the Closer”. I was the one who could close the deal.’

      Could she make a run for it? But something told her not even to glance at the door: she did not want to provoke this man. ‘Then what happened?’ Her voice betrayed nothing: years of practice.

      ‘I was the best in my field. Sent everywhere. Belgrade, Baghdad. Back to Africa.’

      Maggie swallowed hard.

      ‘And then I made a mistake.’

      ‘Where?’

      ‘In Africa.’

      Maggie's voice stayed low, even as she said, ‘Who the hell are you?’

      ‘I think you know who I am.’

      ‘No, I don't. So tell me, who are you and what are you playing at? Tell me now or I'll call the police.’

      ‘You know who I am, Maggie. You know very well. I'm you.’

       CHAPTER THREE

       Washington, Sunday, 10.43am

      It wasn't a surprise. She had known that much the moment he had mentioned Africa and the UN. He had been telling her own life story back to her, pretending it was his own. It was a nasty little trick.

      Still, that wasn't why she had grown agitated: she was used to dealing with creeps. This man seemed to know everything about her. Including her – what had he called it? – ‘mistake’.

      ‘I'm not here to taunt you.’

      ‘But you're not here for bloody divorce mediation either, are you?’

      ‘There's no wife for me to divorce. I'm like you used to be. Married to the job.’

      ‘And what job is that exactly?’

      ‘I work for the same people you used to work for. The United States government. My name is Judd Bonham.’ He extended a hand.

      Maggie ignored it, heading slowly backwards towards her chair. She was reeling. First Edward and the boxes and now this. Initially, she had him down as some psycho stalker, a jilted husband who blamed her for his divorce. It wouldn't be too difficult to Google her whole life story, then trick his way in to scare her, to freak her out. But she had read him wrong. He was here on official business. But what on earth could it be? She hadn't done anything for the Agency or State Department since … then. That had been well over a year ago and she had cut all her ties instantly. Not a phone call, not a letter. Nothing. If she had had it her way, she wouldn't even be living in bloody America. She couldn't have gone back to Ireland, couldn't face that; but she had thought about following Liz to London. Instead she had ended up in sodding Washington, inside the belly of the beast. To be with Edward.

      ‘Gotta hand it to you though. You haven't lost your touch.’

      She looked up at him.

      ‘You're СКАЧАТЬ