Ascension Day (30 page)

‘Yes, I’m okay, honey. I’m fine.’ She gave Molly a reassuring hug.

Though now, Alaysha started to worry that she might have overcooked it. Too much emotion, not enough… she continued juggling to try and get the balance right.

Jac found himself looking more and more at his watch as the afternoon progressed.

All of it happening out there in cyberspace between the city and
Libreville
prison, and now, having set it all in motion, the realization that he no longer had control over it. Everything hanging in the balance, Durrant’s life, Jac’s career too if it went wrong, and to make matters worse, he’d suddenly found himself facing a flurry of work to assist John Langfranc with a trial preparation.

Jac didn’t want to let Langfranc down, but he was finding it increasingly hard to focus as it approached four-thirty. Langfranc, understanding as ever, had only asked once, ‘How’s it going?’, but he couldn’t help noticing Langfranc’s look when he’d returned after disappearing without warning for twenty minutes to make his calls outside to set everything in motion.

The minutes dragged even more excruciatingly as four-thirty passed. Jac rubbed at his chest. Tension was knotted so tight there that it felt like indigestion.

He took a deep breath to try and ease it, pushed again to immerse himself in Langfranc’s case, if nothing else as a distraction; and at some stage he was partly successful, his note-making on a pad at last beginning to flow – because when his cell-phone rang at 4.47 p.m. with Rodriguez’ call, it made him jump slightly.

‘We got that e-mail through… or should I say,
an
e-mail from Josh. But there’s somethin’ that worries me about it...’

Jac felt such a rush of elation and ebbing of tension at Rodriguez’ first words that he only half-absorbed what followed.

‘Whoa… whoa. Back up a minute. What is it
exactly
that worries you about it?’

‘Like I said – first thing is that it arrived only fourteen minutes after I sent the samples, whereas I thought it’d be twenty minutes or so. Second thing is it said a couple o’ things that didn’t relate at all to those earlier samples... unless, that is, she’s into makin’ really big, not to mention
brave
, leaps o’magination. And third – and main – thing is it didn’t come from the same e-mail address where I sent ‘em, or anythin’ like it.’

‘How different are they?’

Rodriguez read them out, and Jac had to agree, it definitely wasn’t from the same internet café, and its personalization,
friggy22
, bore no relation to Alaysha’s name or what they were doing that day.

‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ Jac voiced. ‘Even though we didn’t think he could…’

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought immediately I saw it: the main man himself.’

Jac left his sentence unfinished in case of prying ears, and no doubt for the same reason Rodriguez said ‘man’ instead of ‘boy’, in case it was too obvious. But they were both clearly leaning the same way: that somehow, against the odds, Joshua
Durrant
himself had sent it.

‘
Jesus
!’ As the knock-on implication hit Jac, it brought him to his feet. ‘That means if she still… I’d better get hold of her before –’ He was still trapped in a cycle of unfinished sentences.

‘Exactly my thoughts,
Counselor
. We’d be in an overkill situation. That’s why I called you straight off. You got some pretty fast shoe-shufflin’ to do.’

‘Yeah.’ Instantly Jac cut off, he called Alaysha’s cell-phone, but it went straight into her service provider’s message service. She’d obviously switched it off so that she wasn’t disturbed while preparing the e-mail.

‘Alaysha. If you pick this up in time, something unexpected has cropped up – so for God’s sake don’t send that e-mail. And phone me as soon as you get this message.’

He dialled 411 to get the number for Netwave, and took the option of being put straight through. Jac looked anxiously at his watch: already three minutes over by her shortest estimate, six or seven to go by her longest.

But as he started explaining what he wanted, he noticed John Langfranc looking over at him again. Jac quickly averted his eyes to his desk, as if in concentration. He’d no doubt cut a picture of perfect panic the past few minutes.

‘…can’t miss her. Mixed race, real beauty. Somewhere between Beyoncé and Mariah Carey. And she’s with a young girl.’

‘I’m sorry, sir. The computers are all upstairs, and most people head straight up there, so often I don’t get a good look at them.’

‘She said she’d be there now, and it’s really important that I get hold of her. Could you go up and see if she’s there for me?’

‘I… uh, it’s pretty irregular, sir – and real difficult right now. I’m on my own here, and there’s already people backing up waiting on their lattes. I just can’t break away at this moment.’

 
Lattes
? ‘She said she’d be having coffee for a while.’ As Jac spoke, he tapped out a quick message to Alaysha’s last e-mail address. She said she’d shift to another computer, but it was worth a try. ‘Maybe she’s still with you in the café?’

‘Mmmmm, no. Sorry. Nobody here right now fitting that description.’

‘Then she must be upstairs.’ He was getting desperate. ‘
Please
, I’m begging you. It’s absolutely vital that I get hold of her – a matter of life and death.’   

‘I’m sure it is, sir. But if I break off right now and my manager finds out, it’ll be
my
death.’ His voice drifted for a second as he addressed someone in the background. ‘Yes, I know… I
know
. Coming right up.’ He sighed heavily as he came back to Jac. ‘Look, give me a couple of minutes to serve these two people – then I’ll go up. That’s the best I can offer.’

‘
Okay
. Thanks.’ Jac in turn eased his own sigh of relief.  

But hanging on the line, listening to the background clatter and hiss of the espresso machine as the seconds ticked by, Jac felt his nerves too begin to bubble and steam. If Alaysha had already sent the e-mail, they were sunk; with the one just arrived, the monitoring guard would know immediately it was false. The last chance of saving Durrant gone, and no doubt the death-knell for Jac’s legal career too if it was connected back to him.

Jac looked up with a jolt as John Langfranc broke into his thoughts.

‘Something wrong?’

Jac put one hand over the mouthpiece, shrugging with a tight-lipped grimace. ‘I’m trying desperately to hunt down a lap dancer.’

Langfranc raised an eyebrow. ‘Can’t you wait until after work to see them, like the rest of us?’

Jac forced a conciliatory smile. ‘This one unfortunately is just about to do something that she shouldn’t.’

Langfranc kept the eyebrow arched. ‘I thought that’s exactly what they were paid to do every day: things they shouldn’t.’

Jac’s smile was weaker this time. Still the empty background clatter on the phone: the rest of the world going on as normal, oblivious. Probably it was already too late, and all these obstacles were for a reason: he was being given the message not to be so foolhardy and push things, just let Durrant go where he wanted to. Be with his God.

Jac sighed and closed his eyes briefly in submission before looking up again at Langfranc. ‘Sorry, John. I haven’t been much use to you so far this afternoon. But as soon as I’ve got this sorted out, I’ll –’  Jac broke off, holding one hand towards Langfranc.

Alaysha’s voice.

17

‘
Yep… Nice to catch up after so long. But one of the reasons for my call now, Tom – you know that envelope I sent you to safe-keep all those years back
.’

‘
Only to be opened in the event of your death? Have to say, Leonard, thought it was pretty morbid at the time.
’

‘
The same… the same
.
Well, I need you to send it back to me. You don’t need to safeguard it any more…
’

The second call was in much the same vein, but as it came to Truelle’s third call, all made within minutes of each other, Roche sat forward, paying more attention.

‘You already got a note of that address?’ he quizzed Nel-M. ‘Know who it is?’

‘Old colleague of his from
New York
, now lives upstate in
Binghamton
.’

‘Not that much imagination. His lawyer and a cousin for the first insurance policies, now he trades for an old work colleague and…’ Roche let the sentence hang as the tape rolled on to Truelle’s fourth call.

But Nel-M felt immediately more uncomfortable. The fourth, made two hours later – possibly because of some small time zone difference – was far vaguer. He had little clue where it might be.

‘
Yeah, sure, buddy… no problem. Just send it to the same mailbox number.
’

‘
Thanks, Chris. I appreciate it. How’s the weather right now in the frozen north
?’

‘
Not too bad, actually. Not that cold – hard weather hasn’t hit yet – and real pretty. Autumn gold on the trees everywhere you look. When you get so as you start feeling sicker than your clients, you should head up here and pay me a visit, get some fresh air for a change. Christmas is particularly nice…
’

Nel-M let it play to the end, watching Roche’s face cloud.

‘Is that it?’ Roche quizzed. ‘No address, town or even a country? Just a mailbox – which we don’t even have the number of – and Chris?’

‘ ‘Fraid so. All we know from “frozen north” is that it’s either close to the Canadian border or, more likely,
Canada
itself. Or maybe
Alaska
.’

‘Well, that really narrows it down.’ Roche waved one arm effusively. ‘Do you want to head up there with your snow shoes and start looking? Or should we call on
America
’s finest, who’ve been searching for Bin Laden for the last few fucking years?’

Nel-M nodded in resignation, his face flushing. Roche rarely swore. ‘We just have to hope for a break. Hope that they speak again and we get more detail.’

Roche raised an eyebrow. ‘But as you and I well know, that might not happen. In fact, probably won’t. Truelle will just send his envelope, and they might not speak again for six months or a year. Maybe longer. And we don’t have that sort of time. We’ve only got thirty-four days.’

‘I know. I know.’ Nel-M closed his eyes for a second in submission. ‘I’ll think on how I can push things on. Like I did with the lawyer.’

‘I grant you,’ Roche shrugged, raising one hand, ‘you did well there.’ This was how he liked Nel-M: the puppy dog seeking approval, rather than posturing and cocksure, kidding himself he had anything like equal say on their best next move. And for the same reason,
control
, Roche loved what Nel-M had just laid in his grasp: the option of destroying Jac McElroy’s career at the drop of a hat. But the last thing he wanted to do was let Nel-M know that. ‘Although we still have to worry that if we get rid of McElroy, Clive Beaton might simply put someone else in his place. And someone that might be more able and competent.’

‘Yeah, but surely once Durrant gets to know the e-mail is false,’ Nel-M pressed, ‘it’s going to be game-on again with him wanting to die. And the clemency bid and all the lawyers with it then go straight out the window.’