‘Want some breakfast?’ Sam asked.
‘Sure.’
Cahill watched the news feed some more while Sam made scrambled eggs with toast and coffee. He began to feel a little more human with food in his belly. Sam ate her breakfast with him and went back upstairs when she heard their two daughters – Anna and Jodie – starting to stir noisily.
It was close to seven when Cahill called Logan Finch, his best friend and in-house lawyer at CPO. They shared a history of more than just business dealings.
Logan sounded alert when he answered the phone; Cahill heard lots of voices in the background.
‘Hey, Logan,’ Cahill said. ‘Sounds like you had a sleepover last night?’
Logan was heavily involved with Rebecca Irvine – a detective constable in Strathclyde Police. She was divorced with a young son and they socialised with Logan and his daughter, Ellie, at weekends. Sometimes the socialising for Logan and Rebecca went on into the night. Cahill was glad. It was a good relationship for both of them.
‘What can I say?’ Logan answered. ‘It was fun.’
‘I’ll bet.’
‘I take it this is more than a friendly call, given we’re due to be in the same office in less than two hours.’
‘Yeah, it is. Did I remember right that when you were in private practice you had a couple of cases with the US Government? Or at least some kind of organisation connected to it?’
‘It was at DHS. Homeland Security. I defended them against a couple of claims in the courts over here by Scottish tourists who did not appreciate their very thorough customs examinations.’
‘Criminals, eh?’ Cahill said. ‘Never happy getting arrested.’
‘Something like that,’ Logan said, laughing.
‘Can you make contact?’
‘I don’t know. I can try. Why?’
‘I’ll fill you in later.’
‘Okay. We’ve got to get the kids ready for nursery and school. Can we catch up about it in the office?’
‘Okay. But get there as soon as you can, okay? I get the feeling the longer we wait on this the more likely that the lines of communication will close up.’
‘Sounds mysterious.’
‘You ain’t heard nothing yet.’
4
CNN was showing a helpline number for families to call at the airline in the US if they wanted information about the crash. Cahill thought he’d give it a go while he waited to hear back from Hardy.
It took a while for the call to be connected and a man’s voice came on, sounding harassed.
‘Uh … it’s about the crash.’ Cahill did his best to sound upset and distracted.
‘How can I help, sir?’
‘My brother. He’s—’
Cough
.
‘I know this is difficult, sir,’ sounding sympathetic now, ‘but before I can do anything for you I need a name.’
‘Sorry, of course.’
Sniff
. ‘His name is Tim,’ Cahill said. ‘Tim Stark. I just know he was on it. He told me he would be.’
‘I’m checking for you now, sir.’
Silence.
Cahill heard fingers tapping on a computer keyboard. Then some more tapping.
The guy started talking to someone beside him, but was covering the mouthpiece of his phone.
The talking stopped.
‘I’m going to put you on hold for a minute, sir,’ the man said. ‘Please stay on the line.’
Cahill held.
Held some more.
Looked at his watch and saw five minutes tick by. No way to treat a grieving brother, he thought.
‘Good evening, sir.’ A different male voice came on the line. ‘You’re asking about your brother. About Tim Stark.’
‘Yes.’
Cahill had given up the pretence of trying to sound upset. This man sounded like he was not in the mood for anyone’s bullshit.
‘What’s your name, sir?’ the man asked.
‘Alexander Cahill.’
Pause.
‘Sir, I don’t understand.’
‘We’re half-brothers.’
The line went dead again – back on hold. Cahill had given his own name because he knew that they would check him out and find out that he had been a serious player, and had a connection with Stark in the Service.
He held again for a while. It was approaching ten minutes this time when the same man came back on to the line.
‘Mr Cahill,’ he said, ‘what’s your interest in this matter?’
‘Are you with the airline?’ Cahill asked.
‘I think you know that I’m no more with the airline than you are Mr Stark’s half-brother.’
‘We’re being honest with each other, are we?’
‘Let’s see how we get on.’
‘Tim and I go back a ways.’
‘We know. We looked into it.’
‘So you know that he’s on our side, right?’
‘I know that he
was
.’
‘His wife called me today in a state. Tim told her he was going to be on that flight but his name is not on the passenger list. And no one will tell her anything. So I offered to help. I’m good that way. Helpful, I mean. Especially where my friends are concerned.’
‘The information she was given is correct. His name did not appear on the passenger manifest for the flight.’
‘That’s a very carefully worded answer.’
No response.
‘Which agency are you with?’ Cahill asked. ‘FBI?’
‘I’m sorry I can’t be of any more help.’
‘Are you there because you think that plane was brought down deliberately?’
‘This is a very serious incident and a lot of families are suffering tonight. A lot of people lost their lives.’
‘I understand that. All I want to know is whether Tim Stark boarded that plane and if he was still on it when it took off.’
‘You have no official role in this and I am not able to release any further information to you as a result. No matter what your relationship with Mrs Stark.’
Cahill didn’t like the innuendo.
‘That was a cheap shot. Are you trying to piss me off? Because most people who do usually end up regretting it. Not a wise move.’
‘Are you threatening me? It’s a federal offence to interfere with a law enforcement official—’ He stopped himself.
‘Look,’ Cahill said. ‘You know who I am. What I did for our country. What’s going on?’
‘I’m ending the call now, Mr Cahill. Goodnight.’
Click
Cahill called Tom Hardy again.
‘Any luck yet?’ he asked.
‘No. I didn’t reach anyone.’
‘I spoke to a Fed at the airport. Don’t know which agency exactly. Probably FBI. They’re all over this.’
‘What’s the story? What do you think Tim was into?’
‘I don’t know. But I’m starting to believe that he was on that flight. Or at least that he boarded it. Whether he was still on it when it took off, I don’t know.’
‘So what now? I mean, I know you, Alex. Don’t make this a crusade. We just got confirmation that the UK Government is renewing our contract
for another three years. I don’t need to remind you that it’s our most profitable gig. Your head needs to be in the right place.’
‘I’m going into the office. Logan might have someone he knows who can help, from back when he was a scumbag lawyer.’
Hardy laughed in spite of himself – Cahill having completely ignored what he had just said.
‘He’s still a lawyer, Alex.’
‘You know what I mean.’
5
Logan Finch watched from the couch as Rebecca Irvine tied his daughter’s hair in a French plait. He liked watching Ellie and Irvine together, was happy that they were getting on better now.
Irvine saw him watching and made a face. He smiled at her, stood and went to the kitchen.
Irvine’s three-year-old son, Connor, was sitting on the floor tracing shapes in the orange juice he had spilled. He saw Logan and lifted his arms up, laughing.
‘Let’s get you ready for nursery, buddy,’ Logan said, lifting him off the floor and skidding in the juice puddle.
Domesticity.
‘Time to make a move, everybody,’ Logan shouted as he went from the kitchen into the hall of his flat.
Irvine came out of the living room and grabbed Connor from him.
‘You in a hurry?’ she asked.
‘Kind of. Alex called and he needs me to look into something this morning. Sounded urgent.’
‘Want me to drop the kids off?’
‘Would you? That would be great.’
Irvine smiled. He was transparent.
‘All you had to do was ask.’
‘But it’s more fun when you think that it’s all your own idea, right?’
‘Oh, sure.’
Logan leaned in past the flailing arms of her son and kissed her. Irvine’s hand slid up his back and on to his neck as their lips opened on one another.
‘I had fun this weekend,’ he told her.
‘Me too. Let’s do it again sometime.’
He kissed her again before going to his bedroom to grab a jacket, stopping by the bed and putting a hand on the mattress. Feeling the last heat from their bodies lingering there and remembering …
‘Logan …’
Ellie stood in the door with a knowing smile. He didn’t mind that she sometimes still called him by his name instead of Dad. She had only come into his life three years ago – after the murder of her mother. But at fourteen, she seemed far more mature than he remembered being at that age.
‘I gotta go, Ellie,’ he said, brushing past her and kissing the top of her head.
‘Piano practice tonight,’ she said. ‘Did you remember?’
‘Sure,’ he said, not meaning it. ‘Pick you up at seven from Valerie’s?’
‘You forgot again.’
‘Did not.’
Logan walked through the CPO reception, nodding at the woman behind the desk. The company name – the ‘O’ a stylised target of concentric rings – was on the wall above her. Cahill and Hardy were waiting for him in the War Room – the biggest of the meeting rooms in the CPO office suite. The two men were sitting at a small conference table in the centre of the windowless room, spotlights shining on the glossy table top. A large TV was mounted in the centre of the wall to the right of the door.
Cahill looked up and put a finger to his mouth when Logan came into the room, pointing at the conference phone that was sitting on the table. Logan pulled a chair out from the table and sat quietly.
‘Guys,’ an American voice sounded from the phone, ‘I can’t help you
on this. Not right now anyway. Place is locked down tight and no one is telling me anything.’
‘Thanks, anyway,’ Hardy said before pressing a button to end the call.
Logan looked at Cahill.
‘We’re getting exactly nowhere,’ Cahill said. ‘Nobody wants to talk to us.’
‘You need to fill me in on this before I make the call to the woman I know at Homeland Security,’ Logan told them.
Cahill picked a remote device from the table top and aimed it at the TV. The screen ran a feed from an American news network – still focusing on the crash outside Denver.
Cahill let Logan watch for a while before telling him what was going on.
Logan stared at the screen some more.
‘They think it was brought down deliberately?’ he asked. ‘The plane, I mean.’
‘Who knows. The news people aren’t suggesting anything like that.’
‘Would explain the secrecy, though, right?’
‘Maybe. But the only reason that Tim’s name would raise a flag in those circumstances is if he was a suspect.’
Logan nodded like he agreed.
‘But he can’t be. Not the Tim I know.’
‘So it’s something else?’
‘Can you make the call?’
‘Sure. But she’s based in New York so it’ll be the middle of the night over there. We’ll have to wait, you know. Plus, if this thing is sensitive, she might not be able to tell me anything.’
Cahill stood and went to the TV, watching the images from less than six feet away. He turned to face Logan.
‘If I remember correctly,’ he said, ‘it was more than just professional between the two of you.’
Logan felt heat rise in his cheeks.
‘Am I right?’
Logan nodded.
‘Okay, then.’
‘Not okay,’ Logan told him. ‘It was a brief thing. We only saw each other like that a few times when I was over in New York. I don’t feel comfortable using the relationship this way.’
‘I’m not asking you to.’
‘What
are
you asking?’
‘Make the call. Ask the question. If she says no, then that’s the end of it. Don’t put any pressure on her.’
Logan looked at Hardy. He was non-committal, shrugging his shoulders.
‘Fine,’ Logan said, turning back to Cahill. ‘But I’ll do it like you said. Ask her the question in a businesslike way. Nothing else.’
‘That’s all I’m asking.’
‘So, what do you want to do now?’ Logan asked.
‘Let’s call Tim’s wife.’
6
Melanie Stark answered Cahill’s call on the first ring.
‘I’ve got some people with me,’ he told her before introducing Logan and Hardy.
They both said hello quickly.
‘You get anywhere with the cops?’ Cahill asked.
‘Not really. I mean, they weren’t interested in talking to me. Couldn’t get me off the phone quick enough.’
‘What about the airline?’
‘Same story as before. His name’s not on the list and there’s nothing more they can tell me.’
‘That’s not surprising.’
‘I don’t know what else to do.’
She sounded on the verge of tears.
‘We’ve called some people too,’ Cahill said.
‘What did you find out?’ She sounded more hopeful.
‘Nothing concrete.’
‘Oh …’
‘But, I mean, it’s what they didn’t say that’s interesting.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Well, I called the airline helpline. You know, the one they’re showing on the TV? I pretended to be Tim’s brother and said that I thought he
was on the plane. Then the airline guy put me on hold for five minutes and someone else came back on the line in his place.’
‘Who was it?’
‘He didn’t say, except that he was with a law enforcement agency. And it wasn’t the police.’
‘Then who?’
‘I figure it’s probably the FBI.’
‘What is Tim mixed up in?’
‘I don’t know. And I also called our old boss at the Service, Scott Boston. Do you know him?’
She was quiet for a moment.
‘Yes,’ she said finally. ‘He’s the one who fired Tim.’
‘Well, I don’t know what’s going on over there, but he sounded shocked that Tim was supposed to be on a flight heading for Washington. Hung up on me real fast.’