Chapter 36
“Remember, I'm a good cop and you're a good cop. There’s no bad guys around here.” Hooley was leading the way to the interview room. “When we get in there, let's play it very cool, like we already know everything there is to know. I want her believing that we might be the only real friends she has, and I don't want her thinking her best option is to start talking about whatever scam the three of them have come up with.”
Stepping inside, he nodded at the uniformed officer standing against one wall and directed his first questions at him.
“Has Ms. Wong had something to eat and drink? Has she asked for anything special?”
“She’s twice declined the opportunity to have something to eat and just requested a cup of tea, which she hasn’t really touched.”
Hooley pursed his lips, as if he found this information fascinating. Then he turned his attention to Emily Wong, making eye-contact as he sat opposite her, and placed a set of printed documents on the table between them. From this pile, he carefully extracted a blank notepad. Taking his time, he wrote her name on the front page of the pad, adding the date, time, location and names of the others present.
He paused for a minute, seemingly fascinated by the camera lens in the ceiling, then muttered as he carefully wrote a couple of phrases – including ‘terror suspect’ and ‘high-security prison’, all the time making sure Wong could see the words he spelled out.
Wong had not moved a muscle throughout this performance, but her eyes had grown wider and wider as he continued to scribble at the notepaper.
She finally cracked. “Wait… what are you saying?” The tension was making her voice squeak.
Hooley put down his pen and looked up, his face a mask of surprise. “I'm sorry, I didn't realise you hadn’t understood what I explained in Paris. You and your friends are at the centre of a terror investigation. You're the only people in custody right now – and that's probably not a great position to be in. I know you want a lawyer, but we don't have to supply you with one just yet.”
A single tear leaked from her left eye and she let out a gentle moan. The DCI was pleased that Roper was unmoved by her reaction. In the past, he had really struggled when people turned on the water works. It never occurred to him that someone might try and make themselves cry to make others feel sorry for them.
As more tears flowed, Hooley remained impassive, until he judged it was the right moment to offer a tissue. She might be faking, but he did have some sympathy. He’d be crying in her situation. After she had dried her eyes, he urged her to drink some tea.
With a shaking hand, Wong picked up the paper cup and took a small mouthful; then she put it down again, probably worried that in her state she would either knock it over or drop it.
“Before we get down to talking about the offer you made last night,” Hooley went on, “I just need to pull some details together – because we know, or suspect, quite a lot already. Then we can move on to the more difficult things.”
The tension, which was simmering nicely, boiled over as there was a frantic pounding on the door. As everyone spun to look, the door burst open and an excited Brooker steamed in, brandishing a piece of paper.
Even though Hooley had been expecting it, her dramatic appearance set his heart racing. He could only imagine what it was doing to the unprepared Wong.
“You were right sir,” Brooker said. “It was exactly as you said.”
She handed him the sheet of paper and stood there looking expectant. Hooley kept it turned away while he read the words, then read it again before handing it, carefully, to Roper.
Roper kept the pretence going as he looked at the sheet of paper, then handed it back.
“Didn't I tell you that was going to be the case?” Hooley asked. Looking at the suspect, he made a ‘what can you do’ gesture with his hands. “My colleague and I need to break off for a moment, but we’ll be back as quickly as we can.”
Together, Hooley and Roper stepped out to meet Brooker in the corridor. “Your idea worked brilliantly!” she whispered. “I was watching her the whole time and she was desperately trying to make out what was on the paper. I thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head.”
As she talked, Hooley glanced at Roper and saw that the expression about her eyes ‘popping out of her head’ was about to be challenged by his ever-literal minded fellow detective.
“It’s OK Jonathan. It’s just an expression. Like that conversation we had about people saying it’s ‘raining cats and dogs.’ They just mean it’s heavy rain.” Roper clamped his mouth shut as he thought about this, but the DCI swiftly moved on. “It did seem to go well. Let’s go and have a very early tea break so she stews on it for a little while. When we get back in, we’ll find out just how much it’s stirred things up for Ms Wong…”
As they walked back in, Wong was staring at them in what could only be a resigned way. Her shoulders had slumped, her hair was flat, and her eyes were wide open, seeming to reflect the depths of her personal misery.
They sat down and waited. This was clearly a key moment. What came next could make all the difference.
Wong started talking slowly. At first, she seemed reluctant to speak, but soon her words were getting faster and faster.
“Diamonds and Pearls was being used by a drug smuggling gang. They gave us their dirty money and we cleaned it up. We were naive and stupid because we never saw it coming. Or at least I didn’t… Everything had been planned in advance. We were offered a lot of money to set the business up. It came from an associate of my father’s. I was stupid – I really believed my father when he told me this man was a good investor. And, well… all three of us were desperate for money. We’d had to leave school because our parents got into trouble, but we still had the same friends and none of them had money worries. I wanted my old life back so hard I never asked questions. It was just greed, really. I closed my eyes to what was going on. The store was a perfect vehicle for the gangs. It generated an enormous cash flow and we had multiple large credit card transactions every day.”
As she spoke, she kept her eyes downcast, looking at a single spot on the table. Hooley and Roper were content to let her keep talking, secure in the knowledge that every single word was being captured on tape.
Pausing only to catch her breath, she carried on, “The plan was really simple. Almost childish I thought. Invoices were created for goods that never existed. We pushed them through the system and clean cash came out at the other end.
“When we first started the business, with the money my father’s friend had given us, they never asked for anything. We thought we were really clever, that we were proving what great businesspeople we were… But we soon got a taste of what was about to happen.”
She broke and cried again. Hooley guessed that some unpleasant memory was being recalled.
“Are you ready to continue? Remember, we need everything. I’m sorry if it’s a bad memory – but you do need to tell us.”
She seemed to gather herself and started again. This time, her voice was quiet, and they had to listen carefully.
“About 18 months ago, someone asked us to run money through the accounts. They said they knew my father and it was OK. I had no idea who they were, and Mark was especially angry. He said we were a special company with many influential friends, and they should be very careful.
“They came back a few days later and there were a lot more of them. They tricked us into a meeting at our office at Chelsea Harbour.” She looked away, the memory making her tremble. Moments later, she managed to carry on, this time keeping her eyes closed as if this would hold the memory at bay. “Two of them grabbed Mark. They were really rough with him. Detectives, he was crying out in pain. Another pair made sure his sister and I watched. If we looked away, they hurt us. Then they ripped his shirt off and slashed him all over his body.
“Once he was bleeding, they squeezed lemon juice into his wounds, making him cry out even more. It was too much for me and I was s
ick. They hit me for that, hit me very hard and told me I was a ‘soft little girl’.” She paused, trying to process the memory. “The leader was the most frightening of all. He had a pair of eyes tattooed on his upper eye lids. They were really lifelike and gave him a seriously frightening expression. He told us that, if he came back, it would be worse. ‘Next time we slice him up good and bring some proper stuff to pour over him,’ he said. ‘You can watch as his skin gets dissolved away, and then the rest of him. It’s a very bad way to go. So, tell me, what is your answer?’” Again, Wong paused, steeling herself at the recollection. “We actually begged to be allowed to help the money-laundering scam take place. It all went on quite smoothly, if any crime can be said to be smooth, until there was the bomb.”
Wong told them that the three partners were convinced that the bomb attack was carried out by a rival drug gang, although they had no evidence for this.
She insisted, “It was the only thing that made sense. We’d done exactly as the man with the eyes asked, so it had to be another gang. Maybe they wanted to take over.”
She slowed down – so Hooley asked her what she could tell them about the men. “I speak a little Spanish and they were talking Spanish for sure. At the time I thought they were from South America, but I don't know.”
By now, Wong had been talking non-stop for half an hour and Hooley called a break. He wanted to pool their thoughts and decide where to go next. His sense that they were close to something important was getting stronger.
Back at the office, Roper took charge.
“Sorry to jump in but my Rainbow Spectrum is saying that neither of the two women knows that much, or at least not the whole truth. It’s all down to Mark Savage.”
“And you’re quite sure about this?” Hooley knew the answer but felt he had to ask.
“This is the strongest sense I have had yet.”
“OK. In that case, do we even bother with the sister and go straight to her brother?”
Chapter 37
Healy was keeping herself busy. She’d spent the bulk of her day attempting to chase down any details about who John Ryder had involved in producing the new screens for the mobile handsets.
It was clear that his product was some way behind those of his rivals. In effect, it was still at the innovation stage. That would all change if the concept made it through the development stages – then it would be about measuring output in the millions – but, for now, it would be strictly small batch. Healy had already started having waking nightmares about just how many small labs and production facilities there were in the world. Just to add to her problems, it was certain that Ryder would have signed his collaborators to non-disclosure agreements.
This wasn't the first time that she had tried to backtrack Ryder’s footsteps and previous experience had taught her to work her way through each area in as much detail as she possibly could. So far, Healy had concentrated her inquiries in the Far East because that was where she had the most contacts – although, if she was honest, they were spread pitifully thin. As well as developing countries, she was even sniffing around California. The state was chock full of developers, engineers and designers.
As usual, she had been working since before dawn. Her eyes felt gritty and she started to rub them. She’d been so busy that she’d barely noticed a steady stream of people leaving documents in her in-tray. Now she realised how big the pile of documents needing her attention had become.
Healy reached for the stack, then stopped with her hand in mid-air. She was pushing herself too hard. She needed to take a moment to review what she’d done and find out what was happening with the confidential search operation she’d commissioned.
She’d contacted a very expensive, and very discreet, firm of security consultants yesterday morning and they had promised they would be working on the problem within the hour. She had no idea how they went about their work, but Ryder himself had always insisted they were the only people to use.
The more she thought about them, the stronger the temptation to give them a call, but she resisted – partly because she didn't want to tempt fate, and partly because she knew they would be in touch the moment they had anything. She expected to hear from them very soon.
She had just picked up a document from the in-tray when her mobile rang. The noise set her heart racing and her whole body felt clammy.
She answered, not quite able to keep her voice steady. “Mary Lou Healy.”
“This is Mr. Elliot.” The man spoke clearly and quietly. She tensed for the second part of the message. “Your order is ready for collection.”
This was it. The signal that the security consultants had something. This was the agreed procedure for contact. The call ended and she put her phone down.
As she did so, she heard the ping of an incoming text message. Hurriedly, she pulled her desk drawer open. Inside there were two small handsets in a bag which had been delivered earlier by Uber.
She recalled her instructions. “You will receive two one-time use phones. The first will receive a message containing a telephone number - but this will not happen until you hear from Mr. Elliot to say the ‘package is ready.’ Get rid of the first phone and make the call on the second. Do not attempt to use it more than once.”
She stood up and gulped in some air, needing to calm down before she made the call. She was sweating so much she couldn’t dry her hands, despite her best efforts to wipe them on her clothes. It wasn’t an exaggeration that her future life might be ruined by this next conversation.
Finally feeling calm enough to make the call, she went ahead. It was answered on the third ring, as she had been told. She listened carefully, all the colour draining from her face. Her worst fear was coming true.
She made a last attempt at escaping the inevitable. “Is there any chance you might have made a mistake? Could you check again, just in case? Please.” To her dismay she heard herself pleading.
The voice at the other end killed off the tiny bit of hope she was holding onto.
“There is no chance of a mistake. We have checked and checked again. The answer is still the same.”
Healy was seized by the need to do something. She dug out her personal phone and entered a number from memory. It was nowhere near as secure as using the “burner”, but she didn’t care.
She thought the call was about to go through to the message system, when it was answered.
“Mary Lou. What a pleasure to hear from you. To what do I owe the honour?”
She had once thought his voice was rich and gentle – but now she knew different. The underlying note of entitlement made her sick to her stomach.
She was hit with a wave of anger so intense that it was a good job she was sitting down. With a supreme effort of will, she kept the rage under control.
“Something very urgent has come up. You need to know. Can we meet tonight at 8pm?”
“Sounds fascinating, but you always were an interesting woman. I’ve got a bottle of something special I was hanging on to for the right occasion. Let’s make a night of it. The usual place.”
It wasn’t a question.
Chapter 38
It was a considerably more chastened Mark Savage who looked at Hooley and Roper as they walked into the interrogation room. Last time round, he’d seemed almost bloated with self-importance. Now he was anxious to please.
He was smiling in an ingratiating manner, even standing up briefly and nodding in what he clearly thought was a mark of respect, one which actually made him look as though he was putting on a performance.
It occurred to Hooley how disappointed Savage would be if he knew just what little impact his display was having on Roper, and he struggled to keep the smile off his face. It wasn’t even convincing the DCI.
As before, he had brought a large pile of documents and files which he dropped on the desk with a loud thud that made Savage pull a face. Spotting the reaction, he decided to see if he could get under the man's skin.
It was now th
at Hooley went into his “old man” routine, huffing and puffing as he poked and prodded at the pile, slowly withdrawing items of interest and then reading them in a painstakingly slow manner.
Despite his little show at the beginning, Savage quickly demonstrated that he was a far from a patient man. “Why have you brought that stuff in here to read now?” he demanded. “The last time we spoke was to discuss the deal. I'm willing to tell you everything I know. In return, you make my charges disappear.”
A passing alien might have wondered who was in charge here, and Hooley seemed happy to stretch the moment out, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a pair of vintage half-eyeglasses. Roper, who had never seen them before, stared at him and then shrugged, remembering that he was following the DCI’s lead.
The older man balanced the glasses on his nose, studied Savage, then searched his pockets until he found a handkerchief to clean the lenses.
By the time he appeared happy with the result, Savage was close to boiling over, squirming in his seat and unable to a keep an angry expression off his face.
Without warning, Hooley barked a question. “What more can you tell me about this drugs gang?”
While the swift change in tone clearly shocked Savage, he quickly recovered, showing no surprise at the question itself.
He answered with a question of his own. “I just said I want to know about the deal. What are you going to do for me?”
Hooley ponderously removed the glasses and stared unblinking at Savage. For all his bluster, the DCI knew he wasn’t dealing with a brave man. “We’re not going to do anything for you until you give us some details about what you’re offering. If you think this works any other way, then you’re sadly mistaken. We hold all the cards here, so you need to start thinking hard about what's in your best interest.”
Savage was opening his mouth to respond when there was a hammering at the door and Brooker burst in. Once again, she was brandishing a note.
Just Kill Them Page 15
