The First Cut (Terrence Reid Mystery Series Book 2)

by Mary Birk

  “The media room is downstairs, below ground. The cable went out—internet, too, so we lost our movie.” Moira approached and took the book out of Anne’s hand. She looked at the cover, then made a face. “Anna Karenina. We studied this book in school and it’s not got a happy ending.” Moira touched Frederick’s arm in a sisterly gesture. “Have you read it, Freddie?”

  He shook his head.

  “It’s about a married lady who has an affair and gets pregnant with the lover’s child. She ends up committing suicide. It’s a dreadful story. I cried for days.”

  Anne blanched, and suddenly felt faint.

  Moira looked alarmed and moved toward her just as Anne felt her stomach seize into a tight cramp and her knees buckle. Frederick caught her and took her over to one of the sofas.

  Moira’s hand was on Anne’s forehead. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, of course.” Anne forced herself to smile. “Just a little dizzy for some reason. You two go on. I’ll just lay here a moment, then I’ll go back up to my room.” She needed them to leave so she could return the key to its hiding place.

  “I’ll help you upstairs.” Frederick’s face had softened, and his voice was now solicitous.

  “No, really, I feel so foolish. I’ll be fine. I’ll just lay here and rest.”

  “Let me bring you a brandy.” Moira moved over to the drinks cabinet and poured a small snifter, and brought it over. Even though Anne knew that one drink wouldn’t damage her baby, she couldn’t bring herself to take the chance. She pretended to take a sip, then handed the glass back to Moira.

  “I think I just need to get some sleep. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  Frederick, now insistent, led Anne out of the room and upstairs, flanked by a concerned Moira.

  Later, in the middle of the night, Anne padded downstairs in her socks and replaced the key under the statue’s foot just as she’d found it. She would make another attempt to get into the office later, but she just wasn’t up to it again tonight.

  Chapter 73

  DARBY COULDN’T BREATHE when she realized what Anne had said. Pausing the recording, she absorbed what she thought she’d heard, then hit the rewind button and listened again. She wanted to dance, to laugh, to shout. This was momentous.

  If it were anyone other than Anne, Darby would want to kiss her. Maybe the woman wasn’t brainless. At least she seemed to have the sense to realize that the dinner being planned for those clients of Von Zandt was important.

  Darby took off her headphones. The universe didn’t hate her after all. Fuck John Stirling and his Greek island cruise. Fuck John Stirling and his London barrister. Fuck him to hell. She didn’t need him. She was going to be the one to get Von Zandt.

  Her mind started making lists. They would need the names of the guests, and a description. She hoped Anne could figure that out herself since Darby had no way to contact her. The ban on Anne using her cell phone or having any phone contact at all had been a slight flaw in Darby’s plan, but she’d wanted to make sure Anne didn’t contact Terrence. Calling Anne now could risk the operation. If anyone checked Anne’s mobile phone’s call log, everything would be ruined. Darby considered sending Anne an email, but there was no way to make sure that wasn’t seen either.

  Until now, they’d believed all of Von Zandt’s interactions with the terrorists and their financial backers were done through electronic transmissions. Who would have thought the man would have the temerity to have a meeting with them at his house? If that was actually what was happening. If it wasn’t just ordinary business clients coming to dinner. If Anne didn’t have it all backarsewards. No, she couldn’t. This was just too perfect.

  Ideally, they should set up surveillance of the house to see who arrived for the dinner and be ready to follow them as they left. Unfortunately, however, Darby on her own did not have the authority to order that kind of surveillance, and her superiors at Interpol would refuse to interfere to that extent without being invited by the authorities. For a fleeting moment Darby considered telling Terrence. No, thought Darby, he’d be furious. Besides, if she did it alone, she’d get all the credit. She deserved it; she’d planned everything and done all the work.

  With Anne’s wire running during the dinner, Darby would be able to figure out what exactly was going on. If it turned out the guests actually were the people involved in planning and financing the terrorist attacks, then she’d tell Terrence. They could still get the surveillance in place in time to follow the guests on their way out.

  Then it would be Darby’s operation, her success. She wasn’t just Terrence’s little sister any more.

  As Stirling had said, she was all grown up.

  MONDAY, APRIL 20

  Chapter 74

  ANNE HIT the alarm clock next to the bed, cursing its obnoxiously strident tone. Four a.m. Still dark outside, but she knew she needed to try again to get into the office before people got up and started moving around the house. This time she couldn’t let herself be caught. She’d have no good explanation for wandering around the house this time of day. She gingerly touched her abdomen. The cramps seemed to have stopped. She breathed a sigh of deep relief. All was well, then.

  She saw no one on the way to the library. Once inside, she closed the door behind her, ran to get the key, and quickly opened the office door. Then she locked it behind her. At least if someone tried to come in while she was there, she’d have some warning.

  The room was totally dark and she realized she was going to have to turn on at least one light. She wondered if there was anyone outside watching the house who would notice. Finding the switch for the desk light, she hit it, illuminating the desktop.

  The empty desktop. Walter’s computer was gone.

  She wanted to kick herself. How stupid of her. Of course he’d taken his laptop with him. She pulled at the top desk drawer handle but it didn’t budge. Locked. Then she tried the bottom drawer, and although it opened, it contained nothing more interesting than paper and other supplies. She pursed her lips, thinking. Where would the key be? Walter didn’t seem to be good with hiding keys if the office key was any indication. She looked under the desk blotter but found nothing.

  Under the desk lamp. That’s where she’d hide the key. She lifted it up and smiled to herself. There it was. Apparently, she wasn’t too good at hiding keys either. Carefully turning the key in the desk drawer, she heard the snick of the lock release and pulled the drawer open. A checkbook and stamps. Perusing the checkbook, she saw that it appeared to be the household account; both Elisa’s and Walter’s names were on it, but most of the handwriting in the ledger looked feminine. This office was not where Walter kept his any of his illicit business stuff. No wonder he was so lackadaisical about hiding the key.

  She scanned the room, but didn’t see anywhere else where anything that she was looking for could be hidden. Disgusted, she locked the desk drawer and replaced the key, then slipped out of the office, locking that door as well and again replacing the key under the statue’s foot.

  What now? Where should she look next? Walter’s room, perhaps? She wasn’t sure where it was, but thought it was in the same wing as her own. How to find it? She couldn’t just open every door. Moira would be in one room and Frederick in another. What if she chose the wrong door?

  Anne pondered her dilemma as she went up the stairs back to her own room. This was crazy. No way was she going to search for Walter’s room without a clue as to what she was doing. That would just be plain stupid. Doing any of this with so little guidance was stupid. This whole idea was beginning to strike Anne as incredibly stupid. She wouldn’t even plant an herb garden with so little planning. It was amazing Terrence ever got anything done if this is the way he operated.

  There was nothing she could do without more information. Despite it not having been any help so far, she was going to have to try communicating through the wire again. Back in her room, Anne got into bed and dictated into her wire everything she’d done and what she needed to
know. After adding again that the dinner tonight might be important, she placed her hand on her tummy, gave it a pat, and went back to sleep.

  Chapter 75

  HARRY LOOKED AT ALLISON, considering. The little bird was acting strange, no doubt about it. There was something going on. He needed to find out what it was, and he needed to find out quick. Difficult though, with Allison following the snooty Darby Reid around like she was the bleeding Queen. So he bided his time. When Darby received a call and left the building saying she would be back after lunch, Harry pounced.

  “Allison, my pet, let’s get lunch ourselves. No need to starve if our betters are eating. And we need to talk about your firearms training.”

  She studied him, faintly suspicious. “No, I can’t. I’ve no time right now.”

  “Come on, ten minutes. We can get a killer Indian curry. If you’re nice to me, I’ll even buy you a pint to go with it.”

  He could tell she was hungry and interested. Allison loved Indian food, and this place his brother-in-law’s family owned was super.

  “Ten minutes? All right. But I can’t do the pint, that’ll just make me sleepy. I have work to do.”

  “Ten minutes, I promise.” He grinned. “The best lamb, I promise you. So tender it will have your mouth praising its mum for giving it birth. And we really can’t dally on getting your shooting up to par.”

  She caught up her jacket, smiling. “All right, then. I am a bit peckish. I could eat.”

  He smiled back. What are you up, luv?

  While she headed for a table, Harry had a quick word with the proprietor, laying out exactly what he wanted, then followed behind her.

  He pulled out his chair, sat down and signaled for the waiter. “I’ll have a pint of Kingfisher and the lady will have?” He looked at Allison for an answer.

  “A Coke.”

  The waiter went to get their drinks.

  “I’ll let you have a taste of my lager.”

  She tilted her face into a little smile. “I’ll not say no to a little taste.”

  The waiter came with her Coke and Harry’s pint, then left.

  “Aren’t we going to order our food?”

  “I ordered for us when we came in. One of my sister’s husband’s family owns this place. We’re getting a sampler menu.” He drank his ale. “Ah, perfect. And it’s all on the house. Even better.”

  Allison rolled her eyes. “I should have known you weren’t really paying.”

  “Don’t look a free lunch in the mouth.” Harry wasn’t ashamed of his reputation for being thrifty. He had plans for his money. “The food here is great.”

  He pushed his glass toward her. She took a sip, then nodded in approval.

  “Want one?”

  She hesitated, then smiled. “Maybe a little one.”

  He got the waiter’s attention and pointed to his glass.

  “Harry, no. Only a half. I can’t drink a whole pint at lunch.”

  “I’ll finish what you don’t want.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  “I’m always nice to you. So let’s get down to business. I’m thinking we start your firearms training next week. I can get time at the range evenings between six and seven.”

  “I can do that.” She took a drink of her Coke, and Harry could sense her excitement. “Will I get my gun issued to me right away, then?”

  “Next week, I’m guessing. I’ll check with Frank.”

  The waiter arrived with the pint for Allison, and Harry handed him the Coke to take away.

  She gave a slight frown. “I could have still used the Coke.”

  “Doesn’t go with the lager.” Harry pulled out his pocket diary and scribbled in the training times. He pointed to her with his pen. “You’d better write down the times as well. I don’t want to stand around waiting with my gun all ready to go and no one to play with.”

  She looked at him suspiciously, as if trying to ascertain if he’d meant that as a double entendre. He kept his face innocent and her face relaxed into a smile. “I won’t forget. I can’t wait.”

  “You might not like it.”

  “I’ll like it,” she said.

  Another waiter came with a small plate of lamb vindaloo for each of them. Allison ate a few bites, then took a drink of lager. “Spicy.”

  Harry nodded. “A little.” He ate, watching her. They both cleaned their plates. By that time Allison’s pint was half empty.

  She waved her hand in front of her mouth, as if trying to put out flames. “That was the hottest bloody vindaloo I’ve ever had.”

  “Good, though?”

  “Good.”

  The waiter took their plates away, replacing them with two small plates of shrimp curry.

  Harry gestured to the curry. “This is milder. It might seem spicy at first bite, but eat quickly and it mellows out.”

  “Really?” She took another gulp of lager.

  “Really. Some kind of odd cooking voodoo.”

  “I’ll try it. Mild would be good.” She picked up her fork. “You’ve hardly drank anything. Isn’t your mouth on fire? I can hardly feel my lips.” She put a finger to her lips. “They’re numb.”

  He considered her lips, considered feeling her lips, considered. The thought made him uncomfortable. She was practically a baby. Besides, she was up to something.

  “It’s maybe a little hot. But this curry will calm your mouth down. You’ll see. I’ve gotten expert on eating Indian food since Marla got married.” He watched as Allison took his advice, taking quick bites of shrimp curry. He ate his own more slowly, though he didn’t have to worry. He’d given instructions for Allison’s dishes to be prepared differently than his, using the hottest spices they had.

  Allison’s eyes got huge and she drained her pint as if trying to extinguish a raging fire, then put her glass down and reached for his. He held it away. She waved frantically to the waiter who pretended not to see her.

  “Harry, get me something to drink. I’m dying.”

  Harry shook his head, then took a slow drink of his lager. “Not until you tell me what you’re up to.”

  “What? Give me a drink.” Her hand went to her throat.

  “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a secret.” Her words came choking out through hoarse coughs.

  “A secret from who exactly? Or should I say with who?”

  She reached for his glass. “Please, Harry.”

  He held it away from her. “Tell me?”

  She nodded and he put his glass it to her mouth, allowing her one small sip, then jerked it away again.

  “Who?”

  “Darby. And the Super.”

  He gave her one more sip. “No, Allison. Whatever she’s doing, Darby’s doing it on her own.”

  “No.” Allison’s tone was incredulous. “She’d never do that.”

  “Yes, she would. You know very well that the Super doesn’t have secrets from me about work.”

  Realization seemed to hit Allison in a rush. “Oh, shite.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Get me a Coke, Harry. Please. I’ll tell you.”

  “Everything?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  He waved to the waiter. By the time Allison was halfway through the Coke, he had the story. He hid his fury long enough to put some money on the table. Then he yanked her arm up, grabbed the glass away, and slammed it down on the table.

  “We’re off to see the guv, darling. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

  * * * * *

  Reid shook his head and looked at her with disappointment.

  “Allison, did you forget to whom you report?”

  “Sir, I thought you knew. Darby said that this was your idea but that you just didn’t want to talk about it . . .” and here she had the grace to blush, “with what was going on with you and your wife.”

  “You should know better.
I do not give orders like that. My wife is not a police officer. She’s a garden designer. Garden designers have no training for this kind of work. Do you understand the kind of danger my wife is in now with this hare-brained scheme of Darby’s? A harebrained scheme in which you assisted?”

  Allison was crying and nodding, but Reid had little sympathy for her at this point. He planned worse for Darby when he got his hands on her.

  “DC Muirhead, you may leave. I’ll consider what to do about your role in this when my wife is safe.”

  The young woman went white. “I’m so sorry, guv. I’ll do whatever I can to make this up.”

  “Right now we need to get my wife out of Von Zandt’s house unharmed.” Reid motioned with his head toward Harry who took the cue.

  Harry took Allison by the elbow gently, leading her out of Reid’s office. “Tell us exactly what happened, luv, so we can do what we can to help Lady Anne get out of there safely.”

  Chapter 76

  REID WATCHED through the glass that surrounded his office for Darby to return from her lunch. When she waltzed in through the vestibule, he got up, went to his office door, and opened it. “Darby, a word.”

  She went toward him, and he motioned for her to come in.

  At first, she seemed unconcerned and her manner was breezy. But when he closed the door, he saw her start to hesitate, as if finally registering the fury vibrating through him.

  Darby tried to act casual. “Something wrong?” Her eyes flickered over to Harry who stared back at her.

  Reid nodded. “Aye. Something’s wrong.”

  “What?”

  “Think about it. You know.”

  “I do? Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t.”

  He eyed her coldly. “Anne.”

  She jutted out her chin. “What about her?”

  “You had her go into Van Zandt’s house? Wear a fucking wire.”

  She flinched, but in typical Darby fashion, refused to be contrite.