Iris, her eyes wide now with fear, tugged the cord twice: the second time it broke off in her hand. There was no response.
Paul looked grim. “I’m sorry to have to do it this way but you’ve left me no choice. You can’t leave, either of you.”
“You read....”
“I saw the release. It won’t work.”
“Why not? It’s what you’ve wanted all along. Everything will be yours. There’ll be nobody to stop you. John will be dead and I’ll be gone for good. You’ll never see me again ... why must you interfere?” She spoke quickly, plausibly but the false proportion was evident now, even to me: the plan was tumbling down at Paul’s assault.
“Iris, I’m not a complete fool. I know perfectly well that Cave has no intention of killing himself and that....”
“Why do you think I’m going with him? to send you the body back for the ceremony which you’ll perform right here, publicly....”
“Iris.” He looked at her for a long moment. Then: “If you two leave as planned tonight (I’ve canceled the helicopter by the way) there will be no body, no embalming, no ceremony, no point ... only a mystery which might very well undo all our work. I can’t allow that. Cave must die here, before morning. We might have put it off but your announcement has already leaked out. There’ll be a million people out there in the street tomorrow. We’ll have to show them Cave’s body.”
Iris swayed; I moved quickly to her side and held her arm. “It’s three to two, Paul,” I said. “I assume we’re still directors. Three of us have agreed that Cave and Iris leave. That’s final.” But my bluff was humiliatingly weak; it was ignored.
“The penthouse,” said Paul softly, “is empty ... just the five of us here. The Doctor and I are armed. Take us in to him.”