by Reah, Danuta
She nodded. ‘Is there anything I can…?’
‘No. I’ll be fine.’
As Dariusz let himself into his office, a door opened further along the corridor. He saw Krysia put her head out. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I thought I heard your voice. I thought you weren’t… I mean, Leslaw said you were on leave.’
‘I am. I just need to get some stuff I was working on.’
‘Oh. OK.’ She gave him a doubtful smile and seemed about to say something else, then she ducked back into her room. Dariusz breathed out and locked the door behind him. He could feel his hand shaking, just a little.
Everything in his room had been disconnected. The police had checked all his systems here. It took him twenty minutes to get everything back together and working. He linked the computer to the phone line, bypassing the office network. He didn’t want anyone else seeing what he was downloading. He felt hot and sweaty by the time he was finished.
He switched on his computer and went online. The office had a broadband connection – still in short supply in the city – but it wasn’t very fast or very reliable. Painstakingly he set up a second Hushmail account on this system – this way the data would remain encrypted. Once that was done, he began to download the files Strąk had sent him onto a pen drive. Encrypted or not, he didn’t want them on this machine.
They were large files and the system announced it would take ten minutes. The numbers jumped around, moving from ‘10’ to ‘40’ then back to 10 again. Then the download bar began crawling across the screen and the numbers began counting down. It seemed impossibly slow. He could feel his shoulders starting to tense as he tried to will the connection to go faster, will it not to fail.
6 minutes and 30 seconds. 29, 28, 27, 26, 25… He drummed his fingers on the desk. Come on. Come on.
It was then he heard the sound of car wheels on gravel. He looked out of the window. Leslaw Mielek was pulling up outside the door.
Chapter 54
It was midday by the time Will left the offices of Merchant Matheson. He sat behind the wheel of his car staring out of the window. The sunlight was dazzling as it reflected off the water. He wanted Ania to come and tell him he had got it right, that he was on the right track now, but there was only silence. He was on his own.
For the first time since Ania’s death, there was nothing he needed to do. He was dependent on other people. Euan Kingsley, the pathologist carrying out the second post-mortem had promised to call as soon as he had some results. The information the cassette tape carried was now in someone else’s hands. Sarah Ludlow’s contact at the university had asked for it and she had arranged to have it couriered across. All he could do was wait, and he wasn’t good at waiting.
His phone rang. He didn’t recognise the number. Maybe this was Kingsley at last. ‘Will Gillen.’
But it was DCI Cathcart. ‘Mr Gillen.’ His voice was taut with anger. ‘What’s going on?’
Will felt the blankness of incomprehension. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Why do Merchant Matheson want the machine I used to make a copy of the Haynes recording?’
Merchant Matheson? ‘I don’t know. Is there a problem?’
‘Yes, there’s a problem. We did everything by the book on that case. It was your daughter who screwed it up. My team aren’t carrying the can for that. All we did with that recording was copy it.’
‘They’re looking at the recording again, but they aren’t going after your people. That’s not what this is about.’ He hoped he was being honest. He didn’t know.
When Cathcart spoke again, he was trying to sound more moderate. ‘So what is it about?’
‘I don’t know why she wants the recorder. It’s out of my hands now. What’s happening with the case?’
‘Haynes is out, in a bail hostel. The case goes back to court in a couple of months. They’ll throw it out if I can’t get more evidence. That’s why I don’t have time to mess about with some human rights lawyer who wants to start grandstanding about my team.’
‘That’s not…’
‘Don’t bullshit me, Gillen.’ Cathcart’s courtesy had been swallowed up by his anger. ‘You know how that woman operates. It’ll be bleeding hearts about Haynes and his human rights, she’ll be all over the TV and the newspapers dumping on us. Just remember. She’s the one who drives the BMW. She’s the one with the apartment in Hale. My people don’t drive expensive cars. My people can barely pay their mortgages.’
He couldn’t tell Cathcart Haynes wasn’t Sarah’s client. He barely knew himself what was happening now, and he no longer had any idea of who he could trust. There had been a time when he trusted his own instincts, but ever since Birmingham, he’d begun to doubt himself. He’d decided he could trust Sarah Ludlow, even though he knew her main interest was Nadifa Akindès. Listening to Cathcart, he felt the firm ground of his decision start to shift and crumble. If he had been wrong…
He had no choice but to stand by what he had done. If the recorder was essential to the analysis of the tape then Cathcart could hold everything up if he wanted to be bloody-minded about it. ‘It isn’t your team,’ he said. ‘There’s some evidence – some – that another person was involved in Ania’s death. Merchant Matheson are following up the last lead I have.’
There was a long silence. ‘Another person?’
‘Possibly. This is not about your investigation.’
‘I should be the judge of that.’
‘I’ll make sure they send the results to you.’
He could almost see Cathcart thinking about it. ‘OK. I’ll release the recorder.’
‘If… I’d be grateful if you could do it without making a lot of noise about it.’
‘I’ll release it.’
Cathcart would follow procedures. That was the best Will could hope for.
Chapter 55
Dariusz swore out loud. As soon as Mielek came in, the receptionist would tell him Dariusz was here. Then he realised. The reason Mielek was here was because he already knew. Dariusz had no time left. He looked at the monitor. The download was close to complete. 3 minutes, the window said complacently. He reached out to stop it. He needed to unplug, switch off and hide all signs of what he had been doing. If Mielek called the police, if they found him with this material… He had no illusions about what would happen then.
He hadn’t saved the attachments online. If he stopped now, he might damage them or even lose them. Strąk wouldn’t help him again.
He stood over the desk, willing the download to complete. 2 minutes and 10 seconds, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… 1 minute and 59, 58, 57… He couldn’t lose it, not for less than two minutes
He could hear the sound of voices along the hall, the sound of Mielek’s voice and then a lighter voice he recognised as Krysia’s. Krysia. She was the one who had done it. She must have called Mielek as soon as she had seen him. He could hear them moving along the corridor towards his door. He switched off the monitor and moved away from the desk. He positioned himself by the filing cabinets as the door flew open, and pulled open a drawer as though he was going through some folders.
He looked round, letting his face show only mild surprise. He could feel his heart thumping and he was afraid his voice would give him away. Mielek was in the doorway with Krysia. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. The receptionist was just behind them. She spoke first. Her voice was nervous. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Mielek. I didn’t know…’
Dariusz smiled at her reassuringly. Mielek could be a bully with the junior staff and he didn’t want to get her in trouble. ‘Don’t worry, you haven’t done anything wrong.’ To his relief, his voice came out OK. ‘What’s the problem, Mielek?’
Mielek looked at the receptionist and said irritably, ‘Get back to your desk. You’re not doing anything useful here.’ He waited until she was gone then tried to push Dariusz to one side so he could get further into the room. Dariusz held his ground.
‘What’s the problem?’
‘What have you come in
for? I know you haven’t got any of your filth on our system. The police checked.’
Out of the corner of his eye, Dariusz could see the pen drive in the computer and the giveaway light flickering, showing that something was going on. From his perspective, it looked huge, unmissable, as if a neon sign was flashing above his desk: look what he’s doing! He scooped a couple of files out of the drawer and moved across the room, keeping between Mielek and the desk, deliberately encroaching on the other man’s space, allowing his size to intimidate. ‘I came for these. I’ve got work I need to do.’
‘Give.’ Mielek snapped his fingers and held out his hand. Dariusz was aware of Krysia looking more and more unhappy.
‘My clients, Mielek, not yours. Haven’t you heard about confidentiality? I’m taking these back and I’m going to work on them.’ He heard a muted tone that told him the download was complete and cursed himself for forgetting the sound. He quickly took his phone out of his pocket and checked the screen, nodding as if he saw something he expected. ‘I’ve got people waiting for these,’ he added, letting the files slide out of his arms and onto the desk. Using his body as a shield to obscure his actions, he switched the power off at the wall socket, then eased the pen drive out of the port and slipped it into his pocket.
Mielek jabbed a rigid finger at Dariusz from his stance by the door. ‘You don’t get it. You don’t work here any more. I tried to do this the right way, let you take leave, gave you a chance to resign. As of now, you are suspended. You don’t get to take files out of here. Do you understand me? Do you?’
‘That’s not your decision, Mielek.’
‘Mr Mielek,’ Krysia intervened. He ignored her.
‘I’ve always thought you were no more than a thug. This country’s moved on since the days your father was playing heroes down by the docks. Does he like kids as well? Is that what happened to you?’
A moment of wild joy surged through Dariusz as he pictured his fist smashing into Mielek’s face. He forced the impulse away. Mielek wanted an excuse, and Dariusz was not going to give it to him. He looked Mielek in the eye. ‘Don’t make me do something I wouldn’t regret anyway.’ He tucked the files under his arm and headed for the door.
He heard footsteps behind him as he walked along the corridor, the brisk tap of heels that brought Ania back to him for a painful, blinding moment. ‘Dariusz. Dariusz!’ It was Krysia. ‘I didn’t realise he was going to… I had to call him.’
He didn’t turn round. He strode past the reception desk, aware of the receptionist’s eyes following him, and left the building.
Beneath his anger and frustration, an idea was forming in his head.
Chapter 56
Will left a message at Merchant Matheson for Sarah Ludlow to call him as soon as she was free. He was at a loose end. He had nothing to do. He didn’t want to go back to Ania’s flat and spend the afternoon alternately brooding and worrying. He decided to drive to the FLS offices. He owed Oz Karzac a visit.
Despite Sarah Ludlow’s reservations, he had nothing against Karzac. Ania’s boss had had faith in her and publicly at least, had given her as much support as he could. He phoned from his car and when Karzac’s secretary assured him that Karzac was there and would be able to see him, he headed back towards Manchester centre.
The traffic was bad. He had got out of the habit of urban roads, living in the remote borders, and he found it wearing to keep up the level of concentration this driving needed.
When he pulled up outside the old school where FLS was based, he could see that the place was undergoing change. There was scaffolding running up one wall, a skip in the car park, and removal van was being loaded outside the main gate. Will went to the main entrance and passed under the half-obscured sign, Infants. A harried receptionist looked up and said, ‘I’m sorry, the offices are closed today. You need to… Oh. Mr Milosz. Mr Gillen. I’m sorry.’
‘Professor Karzac is expecting me. You look busy.’
‘Yes. We’re moving this weekend. We’re starting in the new offices on Monday. We’ve had to do most of it on our own. I don’t know how we’re going to be ready.’
‘I’ll get out from under your feet. Where can I find Professor Karzac?’
‘He’s in his office. Can you find your own way? The door isn’t locked.’
All the sensitive material must be off the premises as the security he had been so aware of last time had gone. He pushed open the door leading into the offices and went through, following the corridor round to the room he remembered from before.
This time, it looked more spacious as most of the furniture had been removed. Karzac, who was sitting at his desk, a laptop in front of him, looked as if he had been washed up on some empty shore, the detritus after a storm. He saw Will and pushed himself out of his chair. ‘Will. Take a seat. I’ll just go and…’ He wandered off before Will could respond and came back a minute later carrying a stacking chair. He gestured Will towards the desk.
Will took the chair off him. ‘I’ll sit here. I won’t keep you. You’ve got a lot on.’
Karzac didn’t look busy. Will had got the impression as he came through the office door of someone filling in time, someone who, like him, had lost his role. Karzac’s face sagged and the beard that Will remembered as neatly-trimmed was bushy and uneven.
Karzac shrugged. ‘There’s not much for me to do, to be honest. I’m just keeping out of the way. I’m catching up on a book review I should have completed a month ago. How are you?’
Will treated the question as rhetorical. He imagined the answer was written clearly enough on his face. ‘Is there any more news about the case?’
‘Haynes? We aren’t dealing with it any more.’
‘Of course. I just wondered if you’d heard anything.’
‘I’m right out of the loop.’ Karzac looked resigned. ‘I’m trying to keep our other contracts going. I’m gutted about Ania, but I have to think about the business. I’ve got a responsibility to everyone here.’
‘I understand.’
‘Have you had the results from the second post-mortem?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Will you let me know if…’
‘Of course.’
Karzac nodded and was silent for a moment, then he reached into his desk drawer. ‘I wanted to give you this. Here.’ It was a receipt and a thank-you note from the charity ChildLine, for a donation of £2,000 given in the memory of Ania Milosz. ‘Everyone wanted to give something, even the police who’d worked with her.’
Will didn’t know what to say. He was afraid to trust his voice. ‘Thank you.’ He pushed the receipt back at Karzac. ‘You should keep it. Put it somewhere where people can see it so they’ll remember her.’
Karzac didn’t take it. ‘I don’t know. Maybe her name shouldn’t be here. It’ll just remind everyone…’ His eyes were red-rimmed. Karzac’s world had been turned upside down by this. ‘She was the best, you know. That’s why I recruited her. And she cared about what we do here. That’s why it’s been so hard.’ He rubbed his hand over his face. ‘That’s why it’s been so hard.’
Chapter 57
After his meeting with Karzac, Will drove back to Ania’s flat. He didn’t have the heart for anything else. Karzac’s battered, defeated look had left Will feeling angry and caged. He wanted to do something and there was nothing he could do. He had tried calling Sarah Ludlow again, but she wasn’t available. He felt uneasy. The call from Cathcart had unnerved him
‘Miss Ludlow’s in a meeting,’ the secretary said, and again when he called later, and again, then at six she said, ‘Miss Ludlow’s gone home, Mr Gillen.’
He swore under his breath. ‘She was supposed to call me.’
‘I gave her your message. I’m sure she’ll contact you tomorrow.’
I need to talk to her now! He’d get nowhere by losing his temper. ‘Can you give me a number where I can contact her?’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Gillen. I’ll ask her to call you when she comes in tomo
rrow, first thing.’
He wanted to hurl his phone through the window. He’d had it, he’d had the tape in his hands and he’d let it go. All he had now was a copy that Sarah Ludlow had made, and something told him that a copy would be useless. For some reason it was the original that was important.
He’d made a decision to trust her, but now that it came to it, he didn’t. Somewhere in the story she had told him, there was a hole, and all his instincts were telling him – too late – to be wary of her.
***
Dariusz turned his car in the direction of his flat, his mind working as he drove. He’d taken a gamble on finding something in the files Strąk had sent him, and now he couldn’t view them. After he left the office, he’d gone back into town and tried to buy a new laptop before the shops closed for the day, but the joint account he shared with Ania was frozen and he couldn’t access the funds. His personal account was empty and his credit card was maxed out. He’d been letting things drift in the aftermath of Ania’s death and now it was all catching up with him. He could probably get his bank to give him more credit, but that was useless now. The stores were shut. He couldn’t do anything until tomorrow.
The pen drive was in his pocket, small, featureless, with nothing to identify what it contained. He remembered the photographs of the little girl dancing, with her innocent, coquettish smile, the video with its as yet undisclosed images. He couldn’t face going back to his flat, not now. He wanted to walk, to think things through. He had decisions to make about his life, about his work, about his future. ‘I’ve been putting it off too long, kiciu.’ All the plans he had made were for a world in which Ania was alive, in which he and Ania were together. He was in a different world now.
As he turned down a dimly lit street, he realised he was on Aleja Chryzantem, Chrysanthemum Walk, the road that ran by the Zmienna gate into the Jewish cemetery. This was the place where he had first seen Ania walking among the graves. He wondered what had drawn him here. Memories? There was no more Ania. He could walk along these paths for a year, and he wouldn’t see her again. She was gone, but the shadows among the trees drew him in.
