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The Edgartown police had blocked the track down to the Rhinehart compound with traffic cones and quickly pulled them out of the way to let us through； but not before we’d come to a stop。 Demonstrators surrounded us； and a fusillade of thumps and kicks raked the side of the van。 I glimpsed a brilliant arc of white light illuminating a figure—a man； cowled like a monk。 He turned away from his interviewer to stare at us； and I recognized him dimly from somewhere。 But then he vanished behind a gauntlet of contorted faces； pounding hands； and dripping spit。
“They’re always the really violent bastards；” said my driver； “peace protesters。” He put his foot down； the rear tires slithered uselessly； then bit； and we shot forward into the silent woods。
AMELIA MET ME INthe passage。 She stared contemptuously at my single piece of luggage as only a woman could。
“Is that really everything？”
“I travel light。”
“Light？ I’d saygossamer 。” She sighed。 “Right。 Follow me。”
My suitcase was one of those ubiquitous pull…alongs； with an extendable handle and small wheels。 It made an industrious hum on the stone floor as I trailed after her down the passage and around to the back of the house。
“I tried to call you several times last night；” she said without turning round； “but you didn’t answer。”
Here it comes； I thought。
“I forgot to charge my mobile。”
“Oh？ What about the phone in your room？ I tried that as well。”
“I went out。”
“Until midnight？”
I winced behind her back。 “What did you want to tell me？”
“This。”
She stopped outside a door； opened it； and stood aside to let me go in。 The room was in darkness； but the heavy curtains didn’t quite meet in the middle； and there was just enough light for me to make out the shape of a double bed。 It smelled of stale clothes and old ladies’ soap。 She crossed the floor and briskly pulled back the curtains。
“You’ll be sleeping in here from now on。”
It was a plain room； with sliding glass doors that opened directly onto the lawn。 Apart from the bed； there was a desk with a gooseneck lamp； an armchair covered in something beige and thickly woven； and a wall…length closet with mirrored doors。 I could also see into a white…tiled en suite bathroom。 It was neat and functional； and dismal。
I tried to make a joke of it。 “So this is where you put the granny； is it？”
“No； this is where we put Mike McAra。”
She slid back one of the doors to the closet； revealing a few jackets and shirts on hangers。 “I’m afraid we haven’t had a chance to clear it yet； and his mother’s in a home for the elderly so she doesn’t have the space to store it。 But as you say yourself； you travel light。 And besides； it will only be for a few days； now that publication has been brought forward。”
I’ve never been particularly superstitious； but I do believe that certain places have an atmosphere； and from the moment I stepped into that room； I didn’t like it。 The thought of touching McAra’s clothes filled me with something close to panic。
“I always make it a rule not to sleep in a client’s house；” I said； attempting to keep my voice light and offhand。 “I often find； at the end of a working day； it’s vital to get away。”
“But now you can have constant access to the manuscript。 Isn’t that what you want？” She gave me her smile； and for once there was genuine merriment in it。 She had me exactly where she wanted me； literally and figuratively。 “Besides； you can’t keep running the media gauntlet。 Sooner or later they’ll discover who you are； and then they’ll start pestering you with questions。 That would be horrid for you。 This way you can work in peace。”
“Isn’t there another room I could use？”
“There are only six bedrooms in the main house。 Adam and Ruth have one each。 I have one。 The girls share。 The duty policemen have the use of one for the overnight shift。 And the guest block is entirely taken over by Special Branch。 Don’t be squeamish： the sheets have been changed。” She consulted her elegant gold watch。 “Look； Sidney Kroll will be arriving any minute。 We’re due to get the ICC announcement in less than thirty minutes。 Why don’t you settle in here and then come up and join us。 Whatever’s decided will affect you。 You’re practically one of us now。”
“I am？”
“Of course。 You drafted the statement yesterday。 That makes you an accomplice。”
After she’d gone； I didn’t unpack。 I couldn’t face it。 Instead I sat gingerly on the end of the bed and stared out of the window at the wind…blasted lawn； the low scrub； and the immense sky。 A small blaze of brilliant white light was traveling quickly across the gray expanse； swelling as it came closer。 A helicopter。 It passed low overhead； shaking the heavy glass doors； and then； a minute or two later； reappeared； hovering a mile away； just above the horizon； like a sinister and portentous comet。 It was a sign of how serious things had become； I thought； if some hard…pressed news manager on a trimmed budget was willing to hire a chopper in the hope of catching a fleeting shot of the former British prime minister。 I pictured Kate； smugly watching the live coverage in her office in London； and was seized by a fantastic desire to run out and start twirling； like Julie Andrews at the start ofThe Sound of Music ： Yes； darling； it’s me！ I’m here with the war criminal！ I’m anaccomplice ！
I sat there for a while； until I heard the noise of the minivan pulling up to the front of the house； followed by a commotion of voices in the hall； and then a small army of footsteps thudding up the wooden staircase： I reckoned that must be the sound of a thousand dollars an hour in legal fees on the hoof。 I gave Kroll and his client a couple of minutes for handshakes； condolences； and general expressions of confidence； then wearily left my dead man’s room and went up to join them。
KROLL HAD FLOWN INby private jet from Washington with two young paralegals： an exquisitely pretty Mexican woman he introduced as Encarnacion and a black guy from New York called Josh。 They sat on either side of him； their laptops open； on a sofa that placed their backs to the ocean view。 Adam and Ruth Lang had the couch opposite； Amelia and I an armchair each。 A cinema…size flat…screen TV next to the fireplace was showing the aerial shot of the house； as relayed live from the helicopter we could hear buzzing faintly outside。 Occasionally the news station cut to the waiting journalists in the large chandeliered room in The Hague where the press conference was due to be held。 Each time I saw the empty podium with its ICC logo in tasteful UN blue—laurel boughs and scales of justice—I felt a little more sick with nerves。 But Lang himself seemed cool。 He was jacketless； wearing a white shirt and a dark blue tie。 It was the sort of high…pressure occasion his metabolism was built for。
“So here’s the score；” said Kroll； when we’d all taken our places。 “You’re not being charged。 You’re not being arrested。 None of this is going to amount to a hill of beans； I promise you。 All that the prosecutor is asking for right now is permission to launch a formal investigation。 Okay？ So when we go out of here； you walk tall； you look cool； and you have peace in your heart； because it’s all going to be fine。”
“The president told me he thought they might not even let her investigate；” said Lang。
“I always hesitate to contradict the leader of the free world；” said Kroll； “but the general feeling in Washington this morning is they’ll have to。 Our Madam Prosecutor is quite a savvy operator； it seems。 The British government has consistently refused to hold an investigation of its own into Operation Tempest； which gives her a legal pretext to look into it herself。 And by leaking her case just before going into the Pre…Trial Chamber； she’s put a lot of pressure on those three judges to at least give her permission to move to the investigation stage。 If they tell her to drop it； they know damn well that everyone will just say they’re scared to go after a major power。”