Then I looked at Mark and I could tell that his mind was exactly in synch with mine and that we had reached the same conclusion. It looked as if one very big question had just been answered, but for sure, it had been replaced by a whole new set of riddles. ‘Well?’
My friend nodded. ‘I reckon my remit has just been overridden,’ he murmured. He looked at Alex. ‘Same basis?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What I’m about to tell you is between us,’ he said, ‘okay?’
The acting intendant frowned. ‘I’m a police officer, Mr Kravitz. I can’t make that promise.’
‘With respect, Mr Guinart, you’re an investigator, so you’re bound to have confidential discussions all the time, with informants and the like. Just listen to what I have to tell you and we’ll see where we go from there.’
‘Yes,’ he murmured, cautiously. ‘We’ll see.’
Alex took off his uniform hat and sat back in his chair, as Mark launched into the story of the colourful background of the man he had known as Patterson Cowling. He told it from the beginning, meticulously, ensuring that every chapter was understood before moving on to the next. He omitted only one piece of information, the background of the man whose identity Robert Palmer had been given, but that really wasn’t something that ‘local law enforcement’ needed to know.
When the tale was told, Alex took a single huge breath, then exhaled, loudly. ‘And you want me to keep this thing among the three of us,’ he said. ‘Not tell my bosses. Are you crazy?’
Mark nodded, affably. ‘Probably. But how would their being in the loop help us at this stage?’
His eyes widened, then he laughed. ‘Help “us”?’ he repeated. ‘Mr Kravitz, Mark, I hate to remind you, but this is Spain, my territory, so there is no “us”, just me, and my investigation; my double murder investigation which has just been complicated still further by a kidnapping.’
‘Sure, Alex, this is your patch. But you’re wrong; I do have a locus here. I’m working for two agencies, one of them being Interpol, of which Spain is a member; I think you’ll find that gives me a fair bit of clout. I don’t want to be rude, threatening even less, but I could make a phone call and within half an hour you would be taken out of the game. Trust me, I could, but I don’t want to; because other people would get involved and we don’t have time to wait for them, because you’re Primavera’s friend, and because from what she’s told me, you’re a damn good cop.’
‘Thanks,’ Alex said. ‘But I’m a cop with a career and a family. I don’t want to join the private sector, as a security guard in a bank, or driving an armoured car. I have a problem with this.’
‘Or an opportunity, depending on how you view it. You’re the man in charge here, yes? The senior investigator?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you call the shots?’
‘To an extent,’ he conceded, warily.
‘Then work with me on this. What I’ve just told you, about Robert Palmer; the great mystery, the secret he’s keeping, has been the identity of his partner, the man from whom he’s hiding, in fear of his life. Now, put these facts together: last Sunday, he disappeared from the viewing stand at PGA Catalunya, at the very moment that Kalu Wigwe walked into the driving range. This man, this rich and powerful man, has just flown into Spain, ostensibly to support his son’s player in the championship, but also in the wake of the murders of Ilian Genchev and Christine McGuigan, two people believed to have been hired to confirm Palmer’s identity.’
Alex raised a hand, palm out, like a traffic cop. ‘Hold on, hold on, hold on,’ he exclaimed. ‘Who the hell is Ilian Genchev?’
‘That’s not really important,’ Mark said, dismissively. ‘This is. Now, three days after Palmer fled, a man who fits his description as closely as you’d need for a provisional identification, at worst, is involved in kidnapping Wigwe from his plane. So,’ he continued, ‘Mr Senior Investigating Officer, what are we entitled to suspect from that?’
He sighed, a concession of sorts. ‘I get it,’ he murmured. ‘Mr Wigwe may well be the man Palmer’s partner, or so close to him that he will recognise him for sure, even as he is today.’
‘May be?’ I protested. ‘Alex, it’s a bloody certainty.’
‘No,’ Mark intervened. ‘It’s not; Palmer may have had other enemies. But it’s highly likely. If we ever want to know for sure, we’ll have to find Kalu fast, for I don’t believe he’ll survive this. But there are other questions, Primavera, you know that.’
‘Too right. What the hell is Uche doing snatching his father from his plane? Could we be wrong? Could Uche be Palmer’s partner?’
‘No chance, he’s too young.’
‘Then why is he hand in hand with Palmer?’
‘Yes, that one’s valid, and one more. Why did they take him off the plane at all? They had a gun on the crew; they could have flown out and taken him anywhere, but they chose to stay in Spain. Something else is going on here. Alex, if we track them down, you get all the answers and you close off all your investigations. Will you work with us, for now?’
He frowned. ‘For a very little while,’ he decided. ‘If only because I see nothing else to do. What do you need from me?’
‘Contact your office; tell them that the matter of the kidnapping is in hand, that you have new information and that you’re following it up.’
‘That’s all?’
‘Yes. While you’re doing that, I’ll make a call, and Primavera, so will you. I want to know as much as I can about Uche. Clearly there’s more to him than first impressions tell you.’
‘Do you want me to speak to Jonny?’
‘Let’s keep him out of it. I reckon that Graham Metcalfe can find out more than Jonny knows. No. Remember what I was saying about bolt-holes? Well, I want you to track down Shirley Gash, wherever she is, to see if she can help with that. Can you do that?’
I nodded. ‘With luck. She should be in Singapore just now; her cruise liner isn’t due to sail until tomorrow. If I contact the company she’s sailing with, they should be able to tell me what hotel she’s in.’
And then my common sense switched itself on. I checked my watch and realised that where Shirley was it was late afternoon. As Alex went outside to call in from his car, and Mark went inside to phone from his room, I took out my mobile and hit her entry.
There were a few more clicks that usual, but I got a dialling tone, rather than straight to voicemail, usually a good sign. She picked up a few seconds later. ‘Girl,’ she squealed, ‘you’ll never guess where I am. I’m in the bath.’
‘I didn’t think that was your “on the toilet” voice. You got company?’
‘Don’t be daft; I’ve had enough of that for a while. I’m happy because I’ve got this wonderful room with a bath that lets you see right out over the marina.’
‘Go on then; stand up and wave to the sailors.’
‘I just did, but I’m way too high for anyone to wave back. Now,’ she went on, ‘have I got news for you. You’ll never guess who I’m having dinner with tonight.’
‘Patterson.’
‘Huh. Cow. Try again.’
‘Mac Blackstone.’
There followed a couple of seconds of atypical silence. ‘How the. . How did you know that? Ah, I can guess. He’s been in touch with Jonny.’
‘Maybe he has, but not since I saw him last. That was a shot in the dark by me. I remembered that he and Mary have just been cruising, and that he was heading back there.’
‘Yes, and they’ve just got off the ship I’m on. I sail tomorrow, they go home. He’s had a great time. She looks as if she’d only enjoy an execution.’
‘Her step-grandson would agree with you. But I didn’t call you for your social diary. I need to ask you something.’
‘If it’s about him,’ she said, firmly, ‘I’ll make a point of not remembering.’
‘Shirl,’ I said, ‘hear me out. This is serious. If I tell you it could be a matter of life or death you’ll think I’m being melodramatic, but I’m not.’