“When?”
“Very soon—a matter of days.”
They ended the call and bin Shahd turned to Hamasalih. “Make sure Amir is informed. Send our American friend the details of Amir’s identity as soon as you know.”
Hamasalih’s face showed concern that he failed to hide quickly enough.
Bin Shahd read it. He said, “Mustang is a serpent, but even a serpent does not bite its own head off. There is too much at stake for the American to use the information against us. However, you should ensure Amir is fully prepared. I have no doubt that the American will involve his own resources. In fact, I count on it.”
Hamasalih inclined his head. “He hasn’t hesitated to do this in the past.”
“No. And it is best that we know what and who.” He ended the conversation with a wave of the hand and Hamasalih left. Bin Shahd stepped through the patio doors and watched the two young women swimming in the pool. As he admired their brown bodies glistening with oil and water, he felt something stir. Anticipation made his blood rise. He smiled. Was it desire for the nubile young things? Perhaps. But equally it was the expectancy—retribution for the death of his son.
FORTY-FIVE
Kate didn’t sleep. All night she tossed and turned wondering if going to the police was the right thing to do. Would Sarah still be alive if she had gone to the police? She replayed the events of Prague and meeting Sarah at the arts cinema café. How much did the police know about that? Was Kate the last person to see Sarah alive? That made her wonder whether the Arab was there, trailing her. Had Kate led him to Sarah?
She also thought about Stephanie. If only she hadn’t originally lied about recognizing the code. If she’d been open about it, they wouldn’t now be looking at Stephanie’s phone records to realize Kate was probably the last person to be in touch with her too. Because of the message she’d left it would also look like she’d been to Stephanie’s house. Of course, one good thing about being arrested would be safety. The police might not be very helpful but, if she was in a cell, then the Arab couldn’t get her. On the other hand, if she was in custody, she couldn’t make progress finding Joe.
Kate must have cycled through these thoughts about ten times when her mobile phone buzzed. She looked at the clock. It was 3:17. She groaned. It was probably junk mail, and she wished she’d turned her phone off.
She picked it up to check the message before switching off. Yes, it looked like spam. The address was just a series of numbers. In fact, it didn’t look like a proper email address because even the domain was a series of digits.
She was about to delete it when the subject made her stop. It said:
Re ur D Force inquiry
Delta Force.
Kate clicked on the message and read it.
Who are you and why are you looking for me? Danny
She immediately responded with:
I’m Kate Blakemore. I’m trying to find Joe Rossini. I think he wanted me to contact you to find him.
Danny replied:
If you are genuine, you will be able to access the following webmail.There was then a secure web address, again all digits. Use this email address. The password is a twelve-digit number you should know. Enter this and check the Draft email folder.
Barely containing her excitement, Kate booted up Darcy’s laptop and connected to the internet. She typed in the domain and a sign-in box appeared asking for a DomainUsername and Password. In the first box she typed the strange email address, but when she got to the second she realized there were no twelve digits that seemed special. She tried her six-digit birthday followed by Joe’s and then reversed it. She tried his birthday as eight digits followed by his credit card PIN, then reversed it. Then she stared at the screen, eyes glazed trying to think of numbers that Joe might have mentioned. “No!” she shouted and slapped the bed with frustration. Then she held her breath realizing it was the middle of the night and there were other people staying at the inn. She breathed again—no shouts of complaint.
There was only one thing to do. She emailed Danny back.
Help! I am genuine! I have no idea what the numbers are. I’ve tried all I can think of. Can you help at all?
The reply:
Maybe he gave you a locket or ring with the numbers engraved?
Joe had never given her any jewellery.
No
After a few minutes another email popped up.
On something else. A dog tag maybe?
Not a dog tag!
She called Andrew.
He answered after four rings, worried. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Sorry to disturb you but I need your help. I need to know what Tolkien’s name tag has engraved on it. I’m specifically after a twelve-digit code.”
Andrew grunted. She heard what sounded like him getting out of bed. “I’ll text you back with what’s on there. If you don’t get anything within thirty minutes, call me back, because I’ll have fallen asleep. Let’s hope he’s not out!”
Less than ten minutes later, Andrew’s text arrived.
611089680119. Hope this is it. Tell me about it tomorrow. Now go to sleep! Ax
Kate keyed the number into the password field and was immediately rewarded by access to a mail server. She clicked on the Drafts folder. There was a single email.
To communicate, type an email and then save it to Drafts. When you have read an email, delete it from this and the Deleted Items folder so there is no record. Are you in danger?
She deleted the email from the folder and Deleted Items. She typed an email.
I found the code. Yes, I’m in danger. My friend is dead. So are two others. The killer is an Arab. Should I let the police arrest me? I think I’m safe at the moment but for how long I don’t know. What should I do?
She saved it and waited. Moments later the email disappeared and a few minutes after that a new one replaced it.
Do not go home. Do not use your computer. If you can, use one in an internet café and never the same one twice. Do not use your cell. Take what cash you need then stop using your credit card or accessing your bank account. Can you get an airline ticket and fly to the US?
She replied:
I think so. Where and when?
Washington, Dulles International as soon as possible. Let me know the flight and I’ll meet you at the airport. Another thing. Was there a photograph of you and Joe with writing on the back?
She looked in her bag. The three photos were still there. She removed each one from its frame and checked the reverse. Her favourite one, of the two of them on the bridge, had an odd phrase. She replied:
Yes there is
What are the words?
Dare or truth
He wrote:
That’s it. Bring it with
Thanks. Very relieved!
It felt a little foolish but she saved the final message to the Drafts folder anyway.
Why did he want the photograph? Did he not know what Joe looked like? Thank goodness she had salvaged the photos from the box at Andrew’s. Why was it important that there was writing on it?
She fell asleep. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see the time was after 10am. She called Darcy straight away.
“I need you to do something for me. I need you to get a flight to Washington, Dulles.”
“Why would I…?”
“Sorry. I want you to buy the ticket in your name, for me.” She paused to let it sink in and then added, “And let me have your passport.” She held her breath.
“So you aren’t going to the police?”
“No. Boomer—Danny Guice—has been in touch. He’s going to help me find Joe. I think he knows where he is.”
“Oh, Kate.” Real concern.
“Please. I have to do this.”
A long painful silence, then: “OK, I’ll do it. I hope you know what you are doing. I should tell you there’s a police car parked up the road. I’m sure they’re waiting for you.”
Not far away,
Amir was listening. The girl had used the hotel phone but the bug in her iPhone had picked up her conversation. So she had been in touch with someone in America and would fly out as soon as possible. She would be travelling under her sister’s name.
Heathrow was the closest UK airport. It made sense for her to fly from there. He checked the internet for flights to Dulles. From her excitement, Amir predicted she would get a ticket on the earliest flight. He also predicted she would fly BA. Given time, Brits shopped for the best price. Under time pressure, he judged the girl’s sister would automatically choose British Airways. The next realistic flight for her to catch was at 10:50 the next morning.
He bought a ticket for the flight using the name Emile Brassante, a businessman who worked for Mastercard in Brussels.
Once confirmed, he dialled the usual number.
“Speak.”
Amir provided a brief update. He added, “I presume there will be no problems.”
“No. Our friend will provide assistance.”
“You mean with access and goods.” By goods he meant a weapon.
“Also manpower.”
“I work alone.”
“Not this time you don’t,” the other man said and ended the call.
FORTY-SIX
Three hours later a knock on Kate’s door made her jump.
“It’s me—Tim,” a voice called from the other side.
Kate opened the door and was surprised to see Tim in his cycling gear. His face was flushed red, his hair flattened. He slung a rucksack onto the bed and asked for a glass of water.
“You cycled,” Kate said, stating the obvious.
After a few gulps, Tim said, “Twenty-five miles in under an hour.” He grinned. “Not as bad as I thought I’d be. Yes, I cycled. Not much option really, since I couldn’t see Darcy doing the ride.”
“But—”
“The police. Didn’t seem a good idea to lead them to you, so we needed to distract them. Darcy took my car with the girls. The police followed them.” He opened the rucksack. “Here’s her passport and driving licence.”
As he handed the items over, there was a look on his face that Kate read. “I’ll take good care of them.”
“And a credit card,” he said, handing over a Visa card.
Kate shook her head. “No, you can’t give me a credit card too!”
“You’ll need ID—and who travels without a credit card these days? And you certainly can’t carry anything with your real name.”
“All right. Thank you—both of you. I won’t use the card.”
“There’s also two hundred pounds in cash. That’s all I could take out at short notice. Seriously, if you need more, do use the credit card. Anyway, you’ll probably spend less than Darcy, so it’ll be a saving!”
Tim’s feeble attempt at humour made her smile and then cry.
He hugged her. After a moment she pulled away and brushed tears from her cheeks. “Phew, you smell of sweat!”
He laughed. “That’s more like it. So… there are a couple of changes of clothes in the rucksack. Hope you’re not staying more than a couple of days!”
“I’ll get some clothes out there… and pay you back.”
From a side pocket he pulled a piece of paper. “Here’s the e-ticket in the name Darcy Roberts. One-way, 10:50 tomorrow morning. You’ll get in at 13:40, same day. Are you OK getting a taxi to the airport? Darcy really needs the car tomorrow. We need to get the girls to—”
“Yes. Yes, not a problem. Take the car now. A taxi won’t be a problem.” She handed him the car keys. Then she put the laptop in the case and gave him that too.
“Ring when you get there so we know you’re OK,” he said.
She shook her head. “I can’t use my phone.” She explained what Danny had said.
Tim frowned then said, “Just take the SIM card out. Get a SIM-only account in the US. Send us a cryptic text… you know, something like spam. We’ll guess it’s from you.” He thought for a moment, running his hands through his hair as he did. Then he raised his eyebrows, an impish look on his face. “Tell you what, if everything is going well, use one of the twins’ names in the text. If there’s a problem put my name in the message. If there was a problem, but it’s now all right, use Darcy’s.”
Kate shook her head. Tim seemed to be enjoying the cloak-and-dagger side of this. She knew she couldn’t send a message that hinted at something being wrong. Imagine the worry! She’d find a better way to communicate. Danny was sure to know what to do. She said, “OK, that’s a plan. Now get going before I change my mind and make you cycle home!”
Tim gave her a kiss and said, “Take care of yourself.”
After he left, Kate realized she could only access the internet using her iPhone. Would that be all right? She decided not to risk it. She went down to the bar and chatted to the landlady over a glass of lager-shandy. She casually asked whether there was an internet café locally.
The lady thought it amusing that Kate would expect a small village to have an internet café. “You’re not in Reading, you know, pet,” she chuckled.
It was a long day for Kate. Waiting, watching TV, wondering what Danny Guice would tell her, whether he knew where Joe was. She decided against using the mobile phone to email Danny the flight details. Instead, she decided there must be internet access at Heathrow. She’d do it from there.
In the evening she ordered ham and cheese sandwiches in the room. The landlady brought them up. “Do you still need to send an email, pet?” she asked. “Because I have a computer in the office. You can use that if it’s not for long, mind.”
Kate thanked her and ate the sandwiches in the office—a small room cluttered with half-completed paperwork and unfiled invoices. Kate signed into the secure site and left a message for Danny. Along with the flight number and arrival time, she told him her sister’s name—the name she was travelling under.
Minutes later, another message appeared in the Drafts folder:
Excellent. Remember, ditch the credit cards and cell. Bring the photo. Have a good flight. Danny
FORTY-SEVEN
Kate sat in Economy and looked out of the window as the plane climbed over Windsor.
When the stewardess offered drinks, she took two gin and tonics. She knocked them back hoping they would calm her trembling heart and shaking hands.
“Nervous flier?” the young man in the middle seat next to her asked.
She smiled weakly. “Something like that.”
The scariest moment had been going through passport control although checking in had been awkward. The lady at the check-in desk had asked Kate a series of questions. They were innocent questions, but under the circumstances it seemed like an interrogation to Kate.
“How many bags are you checking in today?”
“None.” Kate held up the rucksack.
“There’s only one piece of cabin luggage allowed.” The woman indicated Kate’s handbag slung on her shoulder. She smiled. “Can you put it inside your rucksack?”
Kate nodded.
“I see this is a one-way ticket. When will you be returning?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Do you hold a US entry visa?”
Kate was surprised. “We don’t need a visa for the US, do we? I thought…” A lump caught in her throat.
“It’s OK. There’s the DS 160 Visa Waiver Form. You haven’t applied then?”
“No. I, er…”
The check-in lady said, “Oh dear.” She glanced at the queue. It was short. “I can do it now for you.” She asked a bunch of questions and Kate had to keep reminding herself that she should answer as Darcy, a married woman, two years younger and with two kids. The questions were all fine, until she was asked: “Where will you be staying.”
“Er… I don’t know.”
Wrong answer. Alarm briefly flashed on the lady’s face.
“You need an address otherwise immigration won’t let you in.”
Kate felt the need to
explain. “I’m meeting someone at the airport. I’m staying with him. I don’t know his address.” She stopped herself abruptly. Guilty people say too much don’t they? She smiled her best what-can-I-do? smile at the check-in lady.
“Unusual,” the woman said.
Kate’s head momentarily cleared. “I’m staying the first night at the Radisson,” she said trying to sound convincing.
The check-in woman searched on her computer. “Let’s see. Radisson, Washington. Which one?”
“The airport?” Too much like a question.
“OK, I’ve got it. If immigration ask you, make sure this is the address you give them.” She wrote it on a piece of paper. Underneath she wrote a code. “Your visa waiver has been accepted. You shouldn’t need this reference, but just in case…” She handed the paper to Kate and then printed the boarding card.
Kate thanked the lady—a little too profusely—and headed for the washrooms. She splashed her face with cold water, dried and applied her make-up in Darcy’s style. She retied her hair in a severe pony tail and looked at herself. Not bad. Surely she looked similar enough to pass for her sister. OK, so she was almost two inches taller, but the thought of a passport control officer measuring her made her smile.
She was ready.
The passport control queue moved tortuously slowly. Kate’s momentary relaxation in the washroom had evaporated. Sweat prickled her clammy skin. She became aware of excessive blinking, tried to stop it, but only exacerbated the problem.
At the front of the queue the passport control man looked at her impassively. Looked at the boarding card. Looked at her. Looked at the boarding card. He turned to the man on the stool next to him. They both looked at the boarding card.
An eternity passed. Kate noted two heavily armed policemen to her right. She rotated her body away from them. How guilty did she look? What was wrong?
Then the second man said, “It’s fine.”
The first man turned back to her with a shrug. “Your boarding card isn’t complete. Just go to the desk when your gate is announced and have them check your seat allocation.” He smiled, handed the boarding card and passport back.
I Dare You: A gripping thriller that will keep you guessing (A Kate Blakemore Crime Thriller Book 1) Page 17
