‘Bathroom’s at the end, if that’s what you’re looking for. It’s the small room with the toilet, no bed.’
Damn. Crow had caught him again.
The door closed again. Evan went through the charade anyway. He went into the bathroom and stared at his reflection in the mirror for thirty seconds, a thousand jumbled thoughts going through his mind. Part of him was tempted to wait until Crow and Narvaez had finished their conversation, then take up Crow’s challenge.
Find Sarah if you can.
He flushed the toilet, clumped noisily across the landing and came down the stairs two at a time. He half expected Crow to poke his head out the door and acknowledge the evident end to his nosing around.
He went outside to wait in the car, wishing he’d never gone upstairs.
***
EVAN TAPPED A BEAT on the steering wheel with his fingers, checked his watch. Narvaez had been in there for two hours. Either, one of them had killed the other, or it was a hell of a story. Maybe Narvaez enjoyed it so much he asked Crow to tell him one more time, like a kid who doesn’t want to settle down for the night.
He’d been tempted to follow Narvaez down the hallway as Crow led him into the back room, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, the assumption that he was included. The thought of how Crow’s face might have looked as he held up one of his large hands, told him no, this is a private matter, had put paid to that one.
Did he really want to know? It wasn’t relevant to his investigation, so what did it matter? A sudden clammy, dampness on the back of his neck told him he might have just missed a trick. Crow would have found out from Thompson before he killed him whether Frank Hanna was party to what Thompson had done.
Thinking about Hanna brought McIntyre to mind—and Vasiliev. At least something had come out of the situation in the diner. He now knew the name of the man he needed to watch out for. That wasn’t all. He had McIntyre’s phone. He got it out and found the image gallery, scrolled through the photos McIntyre had taken of him and Frank Hanna. The guy must have been following both of them on and off ever since Hanna first came to him.
There was still no sign of Narvaez. He checked his watch again. It was only five minutes since he last looked. He hefted McIntyre’s phone in his hand. It was a top-of-the-range model, expensive, felt good in his hand. The home screen was stuffed full of icons. He swiped with his thumb, a second page, then a third. Jesus, how many did the guy need? His own phone had the handful of default apps it came with and that was it. He swiped again. The last page, finally. He was about to switch it off and put it away when one of the icons caught his eye, made his breath catch in his throat.
It was a magnifying glass surrounding a cell phone with the word spy underneath it. The word was what made him sit up and take notice. He couldn’t think of one innocent explanation for anything to be called spy—an app on a phone or anything else.
Maybe he was paranoid. The events of the past days suggested otherwise. McIntyre seemed to know exactly what he was up to, despite all of Hanna’s warnings about secrecy. He opened up the browser on McIntyre’s phone and searched for the app developer’s website. He found it immediately. It was exactly what the name implied—an app for spying on somebody else’s cell phone without their knowledge.
He spent the next five minutes reading up on one privacy-invading feature after another. And when he came to the one called ListenLive he knew he’d found the answer. He read the sales blurb, amazed and appalled anyone could buy something so invasive.
Simply make a call to the phone whenever you want to secretly listen through its microphone. The target will not ring or show any signs of an incoming call, but will answer and turn on the mic immediately. No record of this call will be left in the call logs. Safely, discreetly and remotely. Send another hidden message to turn the feature off, when you want to place a normal call that will ring again.
He knew damn well whose cell phone the software was installed on—Frank Hanna’s. McIntyre had been listening in on Hanna’s conversations. He went back to the home page on McIntyre’s phone and opened up the image gallery. It didn’t take long to find the one he knew would be there somewhere—a discreet doctor’s clinic with Hanna’s Bentley in the parking lot.
All McIntyre had to do was follow Hanna around and when he went somewhere interesting, simply call his cell phone. Then sit back and listen to every private word spoken.
McIntyre knew Hanna was dying.
Had he listened in on Evan’s own conversations with him?
He opened up McIntyre’s contacts and found Hanna, sat there with his finger poised over the green call button. What harm would it do to find out if it really worked or if the sales pitch was all hyperbole. If it didn’t work very well, they might not have anything to worry about.
He hit call.
The phone was answered immediately. He heard a radio playing in the background, something classical. Then another closer sound. A hissing, sizzling sound. It made him think of something dropped into a hot skillet. Bacon. He didn’t know exactly what bacon frying sounded like, but he was pretty sure that’s what it was. His mouth watered. Then his stomach growled. He hoped it wasn’t loud enough to alert Hanna. If he listened much longer it would be.
Then, off in the distance, the sound of a doorbell. Evan froze, his mind awash with the effects of a lifetime watching too many bad movies. Was he about to eavesdrop on Hanna being attacked in his own home? Should he shout down the line, don’t answer the door! The sound of sizzling bacon was still loud in his ear as he heard the door open in the background—the phone must be sitting on the kitchen counter, not in Hanna’s pocket.
He heard laughter in the background, faint, getting louder as they approached, friendly voices. He relaxed. Hanna wasn’t about to be murdered as he listened—although if you were going to kill somebody in their own home, the kitchen housed the most opportunities. He’d listen a little longer.
A man’s voice said that bacon sure smells good. Then a loud sniff. Mmm hmm, coffee too. The good stuff.
Evan’s stomach was churning like crazy. He couldn’t listen to this much longer or he’d give himself away, shout down the phone, save some for me!
Suddenly the car door opened. It was Narvaez at last, climbing in.
Evan panicked. He had to cut the call before Narvaez said anything. Even though he’d only been testing the system, didn’t mean to pry, he’d rather not have Hanna catch him. It wasn’t only that. He didn’t want Hanna to inadvertently be party to a discussion in which Narvaez might describe how Crow had dealt with Thompson.
He didn’t know how to end the call. The website said something about sending a hidden message to turn it off. He sure as hell couldn’t see what he was meant to do. He dropped the phone back in his pocket. He’d have to do it later when he had time to go back to the website. He just hoped his pocket muffled their conversation.
He looked back at the house, saw Crow standing in the doorway, a smile on his lips. Was it relief at having unburdened himself after fifty years. Or was it benign amusement as he contemplated a nosy young man he’d caught out—twice. It suddenly struck Evan that instead of creeping around upstairs looking for Lord knows what, he should have listened at the door. Shame he couldn’t have installed the app on Narvaez’ phone before he went in.
Evan raised a hand and Crow returned the salute then closed the door.
Would he ever see the other side of that door again?
‘Did you get what you wanted?’
Narvaez didn’t answer immediately. He rubbed his jaw with his palm, filled the car with the scratch of bristles against rough flesh. Evan gave him time. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to finally get something you’ve waited fifty years for.
‘And then some.’
‘You were right? He killed him?’
Narvaez nodded slowly.
‘For fun? Or was there a good reason?’
Narvaez turned to look at him. He didn’t look as if he
’d found any release in the answers he’d finally got. Maybe that would take time.
‘There was good reason. Very good.’
Evan didn’t expect him to volunteer it, gave him time anyway, just in case.
‘But you’re not allowed to say.’
‘No. Elwood wants to tell you himself—if you’re interested.’
Evan didn’t miss the new-found familiarity, although it was the second part of the sentence that gave him pause for thought. Crow was playing with him. For some reason Crow wanted to be a part of his life—the offer to help find Sarah and now this carrot dangled in front of him. He knew then he wouldn’t be able to stay away forever. He bet Crow knew it too.
‘He said something else. You reap what you sow.’
‘That doesn’t tell me much. You get what you deserve.’
‘Just telling you what he said.’
‘Did you see the wife, I mean bird?’
Narvaez laughed, the first proper laugh Evan had heard come out his mouth.
‘I can see why Elwood is so interested in you. You want to know what I think it is?’
Evan was about to say he didn’t know Crow was interested in him. That would’ve been a lie. He just didn’t know how interested.
‘I think you remind him of how he was as a young man.’
Evan rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hand and blew a rush of air out of his mouth at the idea.
‘I’m not sure how to take that. Seeing as he just finished telling you how he killed a man with his bare hands when he was my age.’
Narvaez shrugged.
‘Just an observation. And it wasn’t with his bare hands.’
‘That’s okay then.’
If he asked the next question it would be as good as admitting Crow had him in his clutches as firmly as his namesake gripped the wooden bar in its cage.
‘Is the story worth hearing?’
‘I think so. I’m glad I heard it. You’d have to make up your own mind.’
Evan went to speak. Narvaez put a hand on his arm to stop him.
‘It might put your mind at rest if you have any doubts about your client.’
‘You’re not saying he had anything to do with Crow—’
‘No. He didn’t ask Crow to kill Thompson, if that’s what you’re thinking. But I think it’s fair to say he didn’t know what Thompson did.’
Evan studied Narvaez for a long moment.
‘You’ve changed your mind about him?’
‘No.’
It was a very emphatic no, reinforced with a very loud slap on the dash.
‘He still got my sister pregnant and left her to deal with it alone. He will always be a coward. And I will always blame him for what she did. But I am prepared to help you now. Elwood has given me a new perspective on things. I will tell you what you want to know.’
He caught sight of Evan’s face.
‘Don’t look so pleased with yourself until you hear what I’ve got to say.’
Chapter 34
NARVAEZ INSISTED ON TAKING him to a Mexican restaurant, said he wanted to celebrate in some small way. After listening to Hanna’s frying bacon, he couldn’t have said anything Evan wanted to hear more. He was going to take a bite out of the steering wheel if he didn’t get something to eat soon.
As soon as they got to the restaurant, Evan went to the men’s room. He got his own phone out and found the app company website, found the manual. He got McIntyre’s phone out and followed the instructions step by step, turned off the eavesdropping.
Then he called Hanna using his own phone.
There was a stunned silence as he explained what McIntyre had done, followed by a heartfelt exclamation that wouldn’t be welcome on the church steps.
‘He knows.’
‘Looks like it.’
Hanna started to say something and stopped. There was a long silence.
‘You still there?’ Evan said.
‘Yes, I’m still here.’
His voice was tinged with a resignation that Evan hadn’t heard before. Despite his imminent demise he’d always stayed up-beat. Evan heard him blow smoke into the receiver.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah. But it suddenly occurred to me how McIntyre managed to get that thing onto my phone.’
The same thing had been bugging Evan. Hanna’s deflated tone of voice confirmed the only explanation he’d been able to come up with.
‘Your daughter.’
A long drawn out sigh filled the void between them.
‘Last time I went over, I supposedly forgot my phone, left it at her house.’
‘She took it.’
‘I thought it was strange at the time. I never forget it, leave it anywhere. She must have taken it when I went to the bathroom.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I’m not surprised. Doesn’t make it any easier though. Is there anything else I need to know?’
Evan mentally flipped a coin—good news first or bad?
‘It’s not just McIntyre now,’ he said and told him about Vasiliev and the incident in the diner. ‘You need to be very careful.’
Hanna was thoughtful for a while. When he spoke again, Evan got the feeling a decision had been made. The disappointment of a minute ago was gone. He was more like his usual self.
‘Any good news?’
‘Well ... I’m just about to have lunch with Jesús Narvaez.’
The silence was almost as profound as when he’d told him about the phone—without the expletives. And it was different this time. A palpable buzz of excitement came down the line. It wasn’t the time to share Narvaez’ last remark.
Don’t look so pleased with yourself until you hear what I’ve got to say.
‘I’ll call you as soon as I’ve finished. Would you ...’
He hesitated, the idea that had crossed his mind seeming stupid now.
‘Would I what?’
‘Would you meet with Narvaez if he wants to?’
Evan pictured Hanna’s mouth opening and closing as he tried to get some words together.
‘He’s very keen to get answers. From the horse’s mouth. He might make it a condition.’
‘Whatever it takes.’
‘Good. How was the bacon by the way?’
‘Bacon?’
Evan laughed, told him what he’d heard.
‘I almost shouted save some for me down the line.’
‘You should have done that. It was excellent.’
They ended the call. Evan hoped they’d all be in such good humor when he finished talking to Narvaez. If he’d known it at the time, he’d have been pleased he ended the call on such an upbeat note, sharing a joke, because it was the last time he ever spoke to Frank Hanna.
***
‘I THOUGHT MAYBE YOU had gone out the back door,’ Narvaez said. ‘I ordered for both of us already.’
Two bottles of Dos Equis beer sat on the table, Narvaez’ already half-empty. Evan took a long swallow of his, watching Narvaez over the end of the bottle. He felt as if he hadn’t had a beer for a month.
‘Who would have thought it would come to this?’
Narvaez raised his bottle in a salute.
‘I’m grateful you are so persistent.’
‘Tell me about Francisco.’
Narvaez put his beer down, spread his hands on the table.
‘As you guessed, he took the name of the family I took him to.’
‘Grajales.’
Narvaez nodded.
‘They had a lot of children of their own. One more didn’t make much difference. You never knew when one of your own might die. Nobody worried about paperwork, that sort of thing, back then.’
‘Did he know he wasn’t theirs?’
‘Not at first, no.’
‘You told him?’
Narvaez laughed, shook his head.
‘No. I was back in the U.S. by the time he was old enough to ask questions. It was much simpler than that anyway—he wasn’t a
s brown as everybody else.’
‘Did the Grajales family know his history?’
‘Not all of it. They knew what ...’
He looked down at his fingers splayed on the table. Had his recent catharsis at the hands of Elwood Crow caused him to question the things he had done?
‘They knew what I did. They didn’t know any details.’
‘So they couldn’t tell him very much.’
‘No. Which is why he turned up on my doorstep sixteen years after I took him away.’
‘Looking for answers.’
Narvaez waited as the waitress arrived with their food—a selection of enchiladas with tortillas and salad on the side, plus two more beers. Evan watched Narvaez finish his first one and take a second. The man was growing on him. As soon as the waitress had left, he took off his dark glasses. To get a better look at his food, no doubt. He placed them on the table, looked back at Evan.
‘Answers and—’
There was something in Narvaez’ one good eye that made Evan know exactly what he was going to say.
‘A better life?’
Narvaez smiled, a small acknowledgement. He held up one finger.
‘Don’t think you can tell me I told you so, just yet.’
‘Okay.’
‘But that’s what he thought at the time.’
‘It must have been an interesting meeting’—Narvaez smiled again at his choice of words—‘to come in search of a better life and the first person you meet is the person who took you away from it in the first place.’
‘We had that to get over, yes.’
‘Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?’
Narvaez nodded to himself. Maybe that wasn’t quite how he’d have put it, but it sure summed it up. He picked up his bottle and held it bottom first towards Evan. They clinked bottles and sealed it with a mouthful of cold beer. There were worse ways to bond.
‘He had a lot of anger and resentment. So I made up a story. He saw what my face was like. I told him I had no choice, he had been in danger from the men who did this to me. He accepted that at least.’
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