Authors: Chris Simms
‘That’s fine. I’ll see you in a bit.’
Once he’d gone, she stood up. That, she said to herself, is one to erase from the memory bank. Just count yourself lucky you didn’t invite him in for a coffee. He would have looked at you like the lonely saddo you are. Her mind went to his wink and she shuddered. It had been dirty, lascivious. Like he fully expected the visit would lead to … she sat down in his seat. It was still warm. His buttocks. She saw Nina’s long nails digging into them. Stop! She blinked the image away, focusing on the partial report displayed on the screen.
As Martin had said, it summarized the interviews conducted with Sravanti’s parents and siblings. She skimmed over his notes; they were good. Succinct, to the point, no waffle. It seemed likely the daughter’s fears were well-founded – the parents had been unwilling even to speak about the fact their son and daughter were over in Pakistan. But the interviewing team had managed to see the younger sister during school. According to her, the father had always been frank about his wish to see Sravanti married into a respectable family. The sister was afraid; she saw the same pressure beginning to bear on her. Iona thought about how her own father let her choose who she went out with.
The report was typed up within twenty minutes. Standing by the printer waiting for it to come out, Iona looked round the room. A group from DCI Palmer’s team looked busy on something. The last civilian worker was clearing her place on the overspill desks. She carried a tray of print-outs over to Euan, who pointed to the stack on his side table. Iona wondered how many people were still working full-time on the missing girls. She was fairly sure no one from Sullivan’s lot was still at the burned-out remains of Heslin’s shop. There was the team assigned to the interviews over at the care home. Hamilton and Baguley would be asking questions out in Islamabad. Apart from that, she concluded, it’s probably only me, Martin and Euan.
She wandered into Sullivan’s empty office with Martin’s report. She had never set foot in it before. He had a picture frame by his phone. Not the usual wife or kids; it was Sullivan himself. He’d been snapped in a ski resort’s mountain-top café. Aviator mirror shades and a big grin. It all spoke of ego to Iona. She glanced at the printed sheets in her hand. Should I just leave them on his desk? Presumably, the FMU people in Islamabad are waiting for the report. Best take it to Roebuck; he can sign if off and send it on. She was turning round when Sullivan’s wastepaper basket caught her eye. A copy of the
Chronicle
was sticking out. She paused. It was open on the page with the Sudoku puzzle. Is that the one I helped Martin with? It looked like his green pen. He’d added a comment in the margin.
She checked the main office. No one was paying any attention. Bending forward, she lifted it out just enough to read the words:
10/10! She went for it BIG TIME.
The paper dropped back. She straightened up and quickly walked out. The implications were sending ripples of nausea through her. It had been a ruse. He’d used the Sudoku puzzle to play her. She ran over the sequence of events. He bloody had! It was that simple thing – that request for help – that made me open up. The bastard. We agreed to make a fresh start after that, begin working together. And what has that led to? She looked at what was in her hand. Me doing his typing. Me being conveniently dropped off at my house. Me being edged to the side. Me being a complete and utter idiot.
She came to halt mid-step. Where had the whole Sudoku idea come from? Was it that initial interview with Philip Young? She continued towards her desk, remembering how she’d used the puzzle to get the student to relax. Did that mean O’Dowd was part of this? She imagined the man slipping a comment to Sullivan in one of their private meetings. Try Sudoku on her. She thinks she’s an expert. That’s the angle Martin needs to take with her. Trust me, it’ll work a treat.
She sat down and took a couple of deep breaths. I could actually throw up right here. She considered her own waste-paper bin. I could. Right in there.
‘You all right, sweetie?’ Euan was looking over from his desk. ‘Someone walked over your grave?’
She managed a tight smile. ‘Just realized something, that’s all.’ She checked her boss’s office. He’d gone. ‘Euan, do you know where Roebuck is?’
‘Upstairs. With Sullivan, holding O’Dowd’s hand as he updates the CC.’
Of course, she thought. Reporting all our latest findings so the Israelis are kept happy. Prove that we’re making progress. ‘I’ve just got this report – it’s for the FMU guy over in Islamabad.’
‘Oh – that’s to go straight away. Are you OK sending it? Contact details are on Martin’s desk. I am snowed under here.’
‘Of course.’ She walked round to Martin’s side and looked at his empty chair. It still held the imprint of his arse. She didn’t sit down.
‘T
hat’s right, activity levels have dropped.’ He plucked a stray thread hanging from the rim of his baseball cap. ‘I’d say by, perhaps, thirty per cent. Purely from traffic coming and going.’
‘That would fit.’
The voice at the other end of the line had sounded confident. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘We’re just receiving an update. This has all come from up there, where you are.’
‘And?’
‘They’ve got Nirpal Haziq in custody. He’s being held in Orion House.’
The man with the baseball cap looked at the anonymous building across the road. ‘OK.’
‘The sister of Khaldoon Khan was picked up in a hotel in Islamabad by people from the Forced Marriage Unit some twelve hours ago.’
The man lifted his head. ‘And Khaldoon?’
‘Yes. The Pakistani police got him at a road check. He was heading into Waziristan.’
‘Is he alive?’
‘As we understand, yes. He’s being transferred to the Federal Investigation Agency and is due at their headquarters any minute. A team from the CTU and officials from the British Embassy are waiting to question him; we’re pressing for an immediate update.’
‘But he’s in the custody of the Federal Investigation Agency?’
‘Yes.’
He leaned back. ‘So that’s it. They will learn everything very quickly. He will talk.’
‘We think it’s all bullshit. They are not part of this.’
‘Who isn’t?’
‘Khaldoon Khan. Certainly Nirpal Haziq. They aren’t connected to the girl who took out the checkpoint.’
‘I don’t understand. Khaldoon was trying to get into Wazir—’
‘Where he has relatives. We have a source in there now, on the ground. The story is good. It was a marriage, so forget Khaldoon. Teah Rice came from a care home. We believe how she was recruited links—’
The man with the pair of binoculars trained on Orion House announced, ‘Car preparing to leave the compound now.’
‘One second,’ the man in the baseball cap said into the phone. He looked out of the window. ‘Registration?’
‘It’s the Audi ending in CYP. He’s just unlocking it.’
Another voice spoke out from the back of the office. ‘The one that visited the care home earlier. Detective Sergeant Everington and Detective Constable Khan.’
The voice at the other end of the phone cut in. ‘Stick with those two detectives! Did you copy?’
The man with the baseball cap waved his free hand. ‘Eli, Haim, go. The Audi, keep with it.’
The man with the binoculars spoke again. ‘It’s only Everington. He’s alone.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ the voice on the phone buzzed. ‘You follow that vehicle and, if the female detective leaves, you follow her. They are your priority.’
By the time he’d got Chloe to the front door, Liam’s breath was jagged. The girl’s unconscious body pressed down on his shoulder. He kept his left arm clamped round her thighs as he manoeuvred her through the doorway.
‘Are you OK, can I take her legs?’ Nina hovered anxiously on the top step. ‘She is heavy, isn’t she?’
‘Put it this way,’ Liam replied through gritted teeth. ‘I wish you hadn’t slipped her the special pill down in the cellar.’ He shuffled forward, a limp forearm gently banging against his waist with each step.
Nina’s white Range Rover had been reversed back as far as it would go. The rear hatch was open and the tailboard lowered. He walked sideways down the set of steps and roughly deposited her slack form on to the edge of the boot. A layer of blankets had been arranged behind her.
‘Fuck me,’ he gasped, shrugging her off his shoulders. Nina held the girl’s head as she fell back into the vehicle. Liam then grabbed both ankles, folded her legs in and stepped back. ‘Like shifting a sack of wet cement, that was.’
Nina’s lips were curled. ‘She has been living like a pig, eating and eating … all she was interested in was eating.’
‘Lots to hold on to there.’ He extended a hand and slapped the girl’s curving thigh a couple of times. ‘Solid, that.’
‘Push the legs further across, can you? We need room for the little detective.’
Liam did as asked, raised the tailgate, then reached up for the hatch and lowered it. ‘When’s this copper coming?’
‘Soon. Move the car out of the way and I’ll get the kitchen ready.’ She hurried inside and paused just out of sight. Once the Range Rover’s engine started, she checked her coat hanging by the door. The fur lining its hood was real fox, its padded panels filled with goose down. The thickness of it meant that nothing in the inner pockets showed up. She slid a hand inside and made sure the snub-nosed pistol was still hidden there. Many years ago, he had taught her how to use it. She had kept it safely wrapped in an oiled cloth ever since. Earlier that day, she had slid a full clip of bullets up into the stock.
I
ona’s mobile went and she answered it without checking the screen. ‘Detective Khan.’
‘Yeah, it’s me.’
Her heart sank. Jim. Why didn’t I look to see who was calling, first? ‘Jim – hi.’ He’ll want answers about Teresa Donaghue. ‘I’m really sorry, Jim – things have only just calmed down. I’m sitting outside Roebuck’s now, waiting for him to come out of a meeting. Then I was going to call you.’ She winced at her lie.
‘Right. Thought you’d forgotten.’
‘No. Not at all. It’s just … you know how it gets sometimes.’
‘The bag that Donaghue had for her laptop. It was nylon, says here. Made by a company called Binto.’
‘That’s on the notes you’ve been given?’ She instantly regretted the comment.
‘It is.’ His petulant tone was back. ‘Approved for general consumption, including us mere plodders.’
‘Sorry, Jim. I didn’t mean—’
‘Looking through the reports, all the laptops taken from CityPads appear to have been in nylon bags made by Binto.’
‘No – not all. Nirpal Haziq used a leather carry case for his. He’s admitted the laptop is his, Jim. There’s no question of that.’
‘I know, I just saw the update. But he has only admitted the laptop was his. My question is: why would he be the only one from that company using a leather carry case, made by Dell?’
‘I don’t know. He wanted something flashier. One that would go with his suit?’
‘What about this: that carry case wasn’t with his laptop. Not when Khaldoon Khan sold it to Eamon Heslin. When it was sold to Heslin, it was in a Binto carry case, same as all the other ones from CityPads. The leather carry case was only put with Haziq’s laptop when Heslin sold it on to Philip Young.’
Iona had the sudden urge to swallow. Her throat had gone completely dry. ‘The profiles in the carry case. You’re saying they have nothing to do with Khaldoon Khan or Nirpal Haziq.’
‘Why would they, if the carry case came from somewhere completely different? It’s just a theory; it’s the bag that’s the key to who’s killing the girls. They’re after the carry case because they know it contains the profiles.’
‘Oh my God, Jim.’
‘What?’
‘Nirpal’s laptop. It had a locked-out bit of memory. IT just got into it; there’s nothing there apart from stolen credit card details. No girl’s profiles. None.’ She checked Roebuck’s office again. Empty, still. How long did it take to deliver their update on the latest findings? Or maybe he was in the new incident room. ‘Jim, if what you’re saying is right – and, believe me, it feels right – the entire investigation so far is screwed.’
‘Hey, hey, hey, one for the thickoids in uniform. Do mention me when you hand this in, won’t you?’
‘Jim, I feel awful. I’m going to make damn sure, don’t you worry.’
‘I was only joking. You take it, Iona. It’ll do your career far more good than mine. I’m going nowhere.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Jim. Listen, I’m going to check this with Nirpal Haziq. We’ve got him downstairs. I’ll ring you right back, I promise.’
Nirpal’s head came up as Iona stepped into the room. He’d been left to stew, just a plastic cup of water for company. He looked her up and down, clearly surprised by her appearance.
‘DC Khan.’ She took a chair on the other side of the table and looked him in the face.
His eyes cut to the CCTV camera mounted in the ceiling. Then he looked at the two-way mirror in the wall to his side. ‘So you’ve checked out the laptop, yeah? You found the credit card numbers?’
‘Nirpal. What type of carry case did you have for that laptop?’
‘You what?’
‘The carry case. What type did you have?’
He looked at the mirror, more concerned at who might be behind that. ‘Listen, I didn’t have anything to do with the murders! I never met Liam Collins. I’m a thief, all right? You got that on your tape? I’m a thief, I admit it.’
‘Nirpal, answer my question, please.’
He flicked a hand in her direction, shaking the chain that ran from the table through the handcuffs attached to his wrists. ‘I’m not talking to you, little lady.’
She stared at him, counting to ten in her head. It was a technique Jim had taught her: the power of silence.
By seven, he glanced back at her, face sullen. ‘Fucking what?’
‘You’re not talking to me.’
He jutted his chin. ‘’S’right. You can hear properly. Well done. Now send in the other guys; I told them the truth about—’
‘Would you talk to Mossad?’ That got his attention. She kept her voice very low. ‘You know who Mossad are, right? Good. They’re here, in the building. They want you. They believe you are a terrorist. Not just the killer of a few students. You’re a recruiter for al-Qaeda. A money man. They want you extradited. Will you refuse to talk to them over in Israel? When you’re down in the basement of some detention facility that doesn’t officially exist?’