The Ghost Writer Page #5

to the President, Mr. Lang?

Oh, for God's sake.

God.

Sh*t!

One minute!

Yes?

Sir? You want lunch?

That would be great.

Give me five minutes, thanks.

P. Emmett?

Richard Rycart.

Who is this?

- Dep?

- Sir?

Is there a map of the island

that I could borrow?

Look. It's rain soon.

I don't know. I think it will be all right.

Why don't you take the car?

It's for guests. Here's the key.

- For our guests, it's very nice car.

- Oh. Yes.

Mr. McAra loved this car very, very much.

Do you know... I'm gonna take the...

I'm gonna take the bicycle. Thanks.

This is... Just a moment, just a moment.

It's rain. I give...

I give you my hat and my gloves.

- That's very kind, thank you.

- Good luck for you.

- Thank you. Thank you, yeah, bye.

- Bye-bye.

Just one moment.

God, you frightened me.

- You're British.

- I am, yeah.

It's okay, you can shelter. Sheltering's free.

No, no, no, no! Rosie, Rosie!

In you go. In, in.

Here.

- So, you're British, huh?

- Yeah.

- You anything to do with this fellow, Lang?

- In a way, yes.

Seems intelligent.

Now why did he go

and get himself mixed up

with that damn fool in the White House?

Well, that's what everyone wants to know.

What brings you to this part of the island?

I'm sightseeing.

Well, you sure picked a heck of a day for it.

Someone I knew was found washed up

on the beach there.

- You mean the British guy from the ferry?

- That's right.

- Now that was a funny business.

- What do you mean?

No way should that current have carried him

that far west.

- No?

- No way!

Are you sure?

I've lived here 54 years.

Did you mention that to the police?

The police? At my age,

I've better things to do, young man.

Annabeth's the one dealing with the police.

Your wife?

Annabeth Wurmbrand,

Mars Wurmbrand's widow.

She's the one

who told them about the lights.

- Lights?

- The flashlights on the beach.

- When?

- The night the body was washed up.

Could, could you, um...

Could you point me in the direction

of Mrs. Wurmbrand's house?

Oh, sure. You just...

Here. Follow it down the beach there.

It's the house nearest the ocean.

But she won't talk to you.

- Why not?

- She's in a coma.

Fell down stairs a week ago.

Been in a coma ever since.

Come down!

Come down!

Dep told me you were here!

What?

I said Dep told me you were here.

We came to get you before the storm came.

What are you doing?

- Just taking the air.

- No, really.

I wanted to see

where Mike McAra was found.

Why?

Adam's asked me

to write something about him in the book.

- Where's your bike?

- Up there.

Barry, will you come around with the car?

We'll meet you out by the road.

I can't do that, I'm afraid, Mrs. Lang.

Have to stay with you at all times.

For God's sake!

If we meet any terrorists, I'll text you.

All right, well, stay on the path.

Don't speak to anyone.

We won't talk to a soul, Officer, I promise.

Poor Mike. I can't bear the idea of him

ending up so far from home.

I wonder if we'll ever know

whether it was accident or suicide.

Can't help you. I never met him.

I suppose it doesn't really matter.

He was drunk. He drowned. End of story.

- What was he doing on the ferry?

- No idea.

Funeral's on Monday, in London.

I'm thinking of going.

One of us should put in an appearance,

and it doesn't seem likely

to be my husband.

I thought you didn't want to leave him.

Rather seems as though he's left me,

wouldn't you say?

- Hello?

- Sorry. I did knock. It's just me.

- I brought you some dry clothes.

- That's all right. I can manage.

Dinner's in an hour, okay?

Fine, thanks. For God's sake.

"It was at the time

of the London elections

"that I first got to know Ruth.

"She had gained a First at Oxford

"and then done a year's postgraduate

research as a Fulbright scholar."

Ruth.

Mmm.

- Perfect fit. Now all you need is a drink.

- What are we having?

Biodynamic white wine from

the Rhinehart Vinery in the Napa Valley.

Rhinehart. He doesn't

own a distillery, I suppose?

Mmm. Evening news.

...for war crimes.

Our political editor has more.

Christ, we're the lead story.

Pour us some more wine, will you?

I may have to get drunk for a change.

In Washington,

Mr. Lang received firm promises of support,

both from congressional leaders

and the Secretary of State,

before going on to a private dinner tonight

with the Vice President.

Adam Lang has stood by America's side

in the war against terror,

and I'm proud to stand by his side

this afternoon.

- Adam, good to see you.

- Thank you.

Thank you very much, indeed.

It's good to see you.

Don't grin.

In Iraq, a suicide bomber...

For God's sake!

Adam.

Calling to find out how I think it went.

- Let him sweat.

- Does he always ask for your advice?

Yes,

and always usually takes it.

Until lately.

- Are you married?

- Certainly not.

- Gay?

- No.

- Did you have a...

- I had a... Um...

- What? Girlfriend?

- Well, a bit more than that.

Partner?

A bit less than that.

I don't know,

and there's no word

to describe our relationship.

It was doomed.

Come on. Let's eat.

- How's it going?

- The book?

- Well, it's not, to be honest.

- Sit there.

- Can I ask you something?

- Of course.

I find it difficult

to understand certain things.

- What things?

- Well...

I can't understand

why this good-Iooking lad

who goes to Cambridge

without the slightest interest in politics

and who spends his time acting

and chasing girls,

- suddenly ends up...

- Married to me?

Oh, no, not that. No, not that, at all.

No, what I don't get

is why, at 22,

he's suddenly a political activist.

- I mean, where does that come from?

- Didn't you ask him?

He said he joined the party because of you.

Told me a great story about you

turning up at his place in the rain.

- I was gonna start the whole book with it.

- And now you're not?

No, I can't. It's not true.

- Isn't it?

- Well, you know it's not.

He'd been a member for two years

before he met you.

How do you know that?

I've got a copy

of his original party membership card.

Mike McAra found it in the archives.

Typical Mike, to ruin a good story

with too much research.

Did he find anything else?

Not much. Cambridge stuff mainly.

You were more political than he was.

I was certainly a change

from his Cambridge girlfriends.

All those Jocastas and Pandoras.

And so his marriage to you

must have been pretty vital,

your knowledge

and your contacts in the party.

And I thought he married me for my body.

Did you ever want to be

a proper politician in your own right?

Of course.

Didn't you want to be a proper writer?

Ouch.

I'm sorry. I've hurt your feelings.

I suppose even ghosts must have feelings.

We are sensitive spirits.

Talking of spirits, could you...

Let me get you a proper drink.

White wine,

never really seen the point of it.

That's the sort of thing Mike used to say.

Ah! At last, something in common.

Do you know the coroner reckoned

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