We Are Death (17 page)

The barman raised his eyebrows, looking to see if the gentle interrogation was over, as two of the new arrivals came and stood at the bar.

‘You’ve finished pumping me for information?’

‘Thanks,’ said Jericho.

The barman nodded at him, then moved to his left to see to the new customers. Jericho took his first drink in a while, leant forward on the bar. Syria...

‘I missed something?’ asked Badstuber.

Jericho nodded. Didn’t feel like talking but realised that he could hardly not. It was one thing keeping things to himself when working with Haynes or Dylan, but this was a completely different type of working relationship. And it wasn’t as though he was going to lie and say he had information that Harrow was in Bridgewater.

‘Tom Cruise there overheard Geyerson talking to Harrow. Shouting at him. Said something about Syria.’

‘Harrow’s in Syria?’

‘We don’t know that. Maybe he said that was where he wanted to go, and Geyerson told him otherwise. Maybe it was something completely different. We know from it, however, that they’re in communication. And we can perhaps surmise that Geyerson has some expectations of him.’

He tapped his right index finger on the bar, staring straight ahead, mind working, trying to see if this new information connected to anything else they had.

‘We should get Harrow’s picture to the Syrian authorities,’ said Badstuber.

‘Seriously?’

‘We can try. There are still some embassies open–’

‘The Swiss?’

‘No. But there are some. I will make some calls. There is no harm in trying.’

Jericho nodded. Took another drink. Remembered, at some point, that complete lack of civility was not a prerequisite of his job.

‘Did you have a nice walk around town?’

‘It is fascinating. I bought some things for my daughters in the market, although I did not enjoy the experience.’ Then she waved away the conversation. ‘Enough of that. There is a bus to Imlil at some time after 7am. We should be ready for seven, and hope it does not take too long after. I have hired a guide in Imlil, and he will take us up into the mountains. A local man, he will be able to ask questions, try to track the movements of Mr Geyerson.’

‘Judging from what this guy said, that shouldn’t be too hard.’

Badstuber took a sip of wine, then looked along the bar.

‘He does not look anything like Tom Cruise,’ she said.

––––––––

H
aynes was on the track of the Japanese climbing expedition. The four members who had died. Two accidents, a suicide and a mugging that had gone too far. At least in that way it was different. While each of the four could well have been premeditated murder, if that had been the case there had been some attempt at disguise. In this investigation they now had two clear cases of murder and a threat, in the form of the Death card, made against the other three.

He found as much as he could online, but of course the bulk of it was in Japanese. The international flavour of the investigation was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable. The Himalayas, Jericho off to Morocco, Leighton dragging him off to Paris, the Japanese connection. Quite different from the usual fights outside the Crown that occasionally turned more serious.

He repeated a couple of his earlier calls, hoping to get some more information, and eventually he got the name of a young American climber who had been along for support on the expedition, but who had climbed no higher than base camp.

Another half hour, and Haynes had his phone number and address. San Diego, California. Glanced up at the clock; time was creeping on. If he was going to be in London in time to meet Leighton, he would have to finish up shortly.

‘Anyone know how far behind the US West coast is?’ he asked of the room.

‘Eight hours,’ piped up a voice straight away. ‘No, seven. No, eight.’

Haynes paused, the phone held against his shoulder, waiting to dial. Either way it didn’t really matter. He was making the call anyway.

‘Eight,’ said McGuire, ‘definitely eight.’

Haynes looked back at the clock. Just after eight in the morning. He was just going to have to go for it. Dialled, waited. As he looked at the number, he tried to decide if it was a mobile or home line but didn’t know the difference for America.

The phone lifted.

‘Dude!’

Haynes hesitated a moment. It sounded like he’d just put a call through to Bill and Ted.

‘Can I speak to Luke Dreyfus, please?’

‘You got him, man. Just about to hit the sack. What up?’

‘It’s eight o’clock in the morning, right?’

‘Are you British? You sound British. Are you calling from, like, Britain and shit?’

Oh my God, thought Haynes. If this guy had been on a climbing expedition eleven years ago, it meant he was likely in his thirties now. Maybe even forties. And he was talking like a teenage girl.

‘Yes, my name’s Detective Sergeant Haynes, from the Somerset and Avon Police Force. I–’

‘No fucking way, man. That is so bogus. Did Louis put you up to this shit? I’m–’

‘I need to ask you a few questions about the Kangchenjunga expedition you were part of. Eleven years ago.’

Suddenly Haynes felt he sounded indescribably posh, not something he’d ever thought before.

There was a pause. He could hear a low mutter.

‘Man, are you from Zurich? I thought you guys had given up on this shit years ago.’

Haynes held the phone away from his head for a moment. Wished he had the guy in the room with him.

‘Zurich? I’m calling from the UK.’

‘The fuck? Listen man, not the place, the insurance company.’

‘The Zurich insurance company?’

‘Yeah!’

‘What about them?’

‘They were, like, all over that shit. When all those Jap dudes bought it, the insurance got involved, and there was all sorts of shit. But I haven’t heard from those guys in years.’

‘Can you remember a name?’

‘Of what?’

‘Anyone at the insurance company?’

‘Are you fucking kidding me, man? Seriously? I can’t remember what I had for breakfast.’

Haynes wrote down Zurich, although he wasn’t likely to forget it. If he was going to call someone at the Zurich office in London, or wherever, he was going to have to get on with it. The guy had given him a decent lead, and he made the decision that that was the only useful thing he was likely to get out of him.

‘Right, I’ll let you get to bed. Maybe I’ll call you again next week.’

There was a slight pause, then, ‘Sure, man, whatever. I’m always here, man. Always here.’

Haynes hung up, exhaled, and quickly went about trying to get a number for the head office of Zurich Insurance in the UK.

*

F
orty-three minutes later he walked into Dylan’s office. He’d debated calling Jericho first but had decided to talk it over with the superintendent. If what he’d discovered was really as significant as it looked, why wouldn’t Jericho already have known about it?

He had ten minutes, he thought, before he was going to have to leave, head home, pack, drive dangerously quickly to the train station, and get the last train to Paddington that would get him into London in time to make it to St Pancras for the twenty thirty-one. The last train to Paris.

He liked the sound of taking the last train to Paris with his new love interest, but for the first time since he’d got back in touch with her earlier that week, he wasn’t thinking about Margot Leighton. His throat was dry, his stomach was churning, his skin felt clammy and uncomfortable.

Was it fear?

Definitely fear.

‘How’s it coming, Sergeant?’ asked Dylan, then she noticed his complexion, the anxiety on his face. ‘What’s happened?’

‘The boss,’ he said, sitting down. ‘I mean, the Chief Inspector, his wife... DCI’s Jericho’s wife... I thought she was in the police. That was how they met.’

‘Yes,’ said Dylan, looking curious. ‘You’re all right, Sergeant. Calm–’

He shook his head.

‘Was she still in the police? I mean, when she disappeared?’

Dylan made a slight gesture with her hands.

‘I don’t think so, but obviously it was up in London. I think she’d moved on about a year earlier.’

‘What was she doing?’

‘Sergeant?’ said Dylan, her question more of a rebuke for the tone.

‘What was she doing?’ he repeated.

‘Insurance investigation, as far as I know. I mean, major company fraud, not car accidents or injuries at work.’

Haynes sat back, biting his bottom lip, his mouth dry.

‘How much did the DCI know about what she was doing?’

‘I really don’t know, Sergeant, and I don’t know where you’re going with this.’

Haynes swallowed, exhaled, leaned forward. Was about to relate what he’d just learned, then instead said, ‘Is it possible they never discussed cases with each other? Did they have that kind of relationship, or some sort of code where they wouldn’t–?’

‘Sergeant! Please, for the love of God, will you get to the point?’

He nodded, swallowed again, then stared at the floor.

‘I’ve been trying to find out if there have been any other instances of the deaths of climbers from a Kangchenjunga expedition. There’s only one similar occurrence, eleven years ago. Four Japanese guys all died, in weird accidental ways, within a few months. One suicide. One–’

‘I don’t need to know about the individual deaths. They died, right.’

‘And of course there was all sorts of shit flying around, and although they were all Japanese, their expedition was funded from London. With them all dying, there was a lot of insurance money up for grabs. A big international thing, I mean, not really in the news, but the insurance company were looking into it before they coughed up anything.’

Immediately she could see where he was going, but she stared across the desk, not feeling the fear that Haynes had felt, but getting the uncomfortable grip on her stomach.

‘The lead investigator was Amanda Raintree.’

She nodded, swallowed, her eyes dropped.

‘That was his wife, wasn’t it? That was her name?’

Dylan nodded. Still not talking.

‘It doesn’t sound...’ he began. ‘I mean, it’s not like Smith or... it seems like an unusual enough name, it’s too much of a coincidence.’

‘No,’ said Dylan finally. ‘It doesn’t sound like a coincidence.’

‘But surely he would have known? Even if he hadn’t known what she was working on, he would have investigated her disappearance?’

Dylan sat back, her eyes still down, staring at her desk. Fingers started tapping rapidly.

‘So DCI Jericho’s wife disappeared while investigating mysterious deaths surrounding a Kangchenjunga expedition. Now, he’s investigating a similar case, but tied to that we have these tarot cards, which is a clear link to the case he had last winter, and to this mysterious instance of the DCI coming to inherit all that money.’

‘Yes.’

She finally raised her eyes.

‘So everything that’s happened to him in the last year, all that shit to do with Durrant and that absurd television show, has been organised by the same people his wife was potentially investigating eleven years ago.’

Haynes nodded.

‘You know the story of his wife’s disappearance?’ asked Dylan. ‘Does he ever talk about it?’

‘Just what I heard around the station when I joined,’ he said. ‘He never mentioned it himself.’

‘No, nor to me,’ she said. ‘I do know the story, though. From what I gather he saw her off to work one morning, and then never again.’

‘Did she reach her office?’

‘She worked in the morning, then went out on a lunch engagement. She didn’t tell anyone who it was with. Then she never came back. Her phone, her cards, nothing was ever used again.’ She dragged up the story, trying to remember if there were any more details, fingers going all the time. ‘The fact that she was secretive about the meeting, that was the thing. The thing that threw some people off. I read the report. There was a suggestion she’d just arranged to go off with someone, planned it all along.’

‘Where did that suggestion come from?’

Dylan shrugged.

‘Common sense, maybe. She wasn’t usually secretive about her assignations, so why this one?’

‘Seems thin.’

‘Perhaps some people were looking for it... The DCI... I’m sure he’s not just been difficult since she disappeared. He’s brilliant on occasion, I’ll give him that, but he’s a miserablist arsehole just as often. Maybe he had enemies. Maybe people were just happy to believe that his wife would walk out without a word.’

‘Did anyone at the company take up the investigation?’

‘I don’t know. We should find out.’

The tapping stopped. The tension of the moment seemed to ease away from her, and she sat silently, her eyes at a spot on the far side of the room. The silence, after the conversation and the rhythmic drum of her fingers, was huge. Haynes began to feel his trip to Paris run away from him. He could hardly abandon his post. This was more important, and if there was something to be gained in the investigation by going to Paris, he would just have to rely on Leighton to uncover it.

‘What would you like me to do?’ he asked.

‘You’re going up to London tonight or tomorrow?’ she asked, surprising him.

‘Tonight. Well, actually, we were going to go to Paris.’

‘Paris?’

He nodded.

‘Sorry, Sergeant, but I think your–’

‘It’s not that. There’s an academic library the professor needs to visit. She has an appointment tomorrow morning. On the chase of the references in the standard on the Death cards. They weren’t very helpful over the phone.’

Dylan held his gaze. Finger started tapping again.

‘If you’re supposed to be in Paris tonight, you’d better get a move on.’

‘It’s all right, I can–’

‘You’ve got one of the Blackberries?’

Haynes nodded. ‘I mean, I never use it...’

‘Blackberries...,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I mean, is anyone anywhere in the world still using the Blackberry apart from down here in the sticks? You getting the train from Castle Cary?’

‘In forty minutes.’

‘Right, get going. Take what you need, send me a report from the train. Once I’ve got it, I’ll get onto that, see what I can do on a Friday evening. I can take it up in the morning.’