A couple of visitors came. First, Guy.
‘Jesus, you look a mess,’ he said when he saw me.
‘Thanks.’
He sat on the chair by my bed. ‘I’m sorry about Owen.’
‘So am I.’
‘He should never have done that to you.’
‘It was partly my fault. He barged in and pushed me around, so I hit him. Then he hit me.’
‘Are you going to press charges?’
I shook my head. ‘The police wanted me to, but I said no. He is your brother. And I did hit him first, after all. But I tell you, Guy, one of us has to go. It’s either him or me.’
Guy’s eyes searched mine. He saw that I was serious, then he looked down. ‘We’ll see.’
‘We’d better see.’
‘Stupid bugger,’ he said. ‘Look, I really am sorry.’
‘I know. Don’t worry. I’ll mend. I’ll be back at work in a couple of days.’
The other visitor was Ingrid. I had been hoping she would come, but I was surprised by how pleased I was to see her. I felt better the moment she walked in. She was shocked by Owen’s behaviour. I told her about my ultimatum to Guy and she supported me. The hour she spent by my bedside passed very quickly.
The next day I went home under doctor’s orders to stay there. But it was boring and there was so much that needed doing at Ninetyminutes. So that afternoon, despite the continuing headache, I went in to the office.
Everyone was pleased to see me. Everyone was sympathetic. Guy smiled and seemed to be genuinely happy that I was back.
Owen was packing up his stuff.
‘So he’s going?’ I asked Guy.
‘Yes,’ Guy said. ‘It was his decision. I think he realizes his position here is going to be difficult from now on.’
‘Well, I’m glad,’ I said. ‘If he had stayed, I was going to leave.’
‘I know.’
I took it slowly. Concentration was difficult with my head, and I couldn’t read for more than a few minutes at a time. After a couple of hours I gave up and left for home.
I passed Owen in the corridor.
‘David!’
I stopped. ‘Yes?’
He scanned my face and must have seen the still visible signs of our previous meeting. ‘It’s because of Guy I’m going. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with you. Ninetyminutes means everything to Guy and I don’t want to screw it up for him.’
‘OK,’ I said neutrally.
‘You know I’d do anything for my brother. Anything.’ He stepped closer. I tensed. This time if he tried to touch me I’d run. ‘If you harm him in any way, or harm Ninetyminutes, I’m coming after you. Understand?’
I nodded. I’d had enough of standing up to Owen.
‘Cool.’ He stepped past me and returned to his desk.
As I walked to the tube I marvelled at Owen’s loyalty to Guy. I also felt a little afraid. Owen meant what he said, that much was clear. And I had no idea to what lengths he was capable of going to protect his brother.
29
I was soon dragged back into the Ninetyminutes maelstrom. Guy and I went to Munich to interview a couple of key people for the operation there, which now consisted of two men, a woman, an office and lots of computers. We had a successful day. Rolf, the man we had hired to set things up, was good. He was efficient, competent and above all quick. Germany would be on-line by March.
I was silent on the plane back, looking down at the lights of nameless German towns flickering through the darkness and wisps of cloud. Guy was in the seat next to me absorbed in some papers on the new French operation.
The time was coming. The time when I would have to satisfy myself once and for all of Guy’s innocence. The time was now.
‘Guy?’
‘Yes?’ He put aside his documents.
‘What’s the connection between France and your father’s death?’
‘Jesus Christ, Davo! Can’t you think about anything else? You’ve got to focus. There’s too much going on at Ninetyminutes. If you keep worrying about all that you’ll miss something. We can’t afford another screw-up.’
I wasn’t going to be put off this time. ‘Before Owen kicked the shit out of me he warned me off asking any more questions about your father’s death. And about Dominique.’
‘So?’
‘So, if there’s nothing to hide, why should he care?’
‘Who knows? Owen’s crazy.’
‘I checked at Hydra. You weren’t there the night your father died.’
‘Yes I was. It’s a big place. Whoever you spoke to just didn’t see me.’
‘It was closed that week. For refurbishment.’
Guy didn’t answer.
I went on. ‘How did that footprint get outside Dominique’s window?’ Guy was about to protest, but I stopped him. ‘Before you say anything, I know it’s twelve years ago, and I know what you told the police. But that night is etched in my brain just as it is in yours. I can remember every detail of it. And we went to the guest cottage together. The garden had been watered late that afternoon, which means that your footprint got there between the time we went to bed and the time the police started nosing around the next morning.’
‘Can I get you a drink, sir?’
It was the flight attendant with the trolley. Guy was obviously grateful for the interruption. ‘Gin and tonic, please. A large one.’
I waited while she prepared his drink. He took a gulp.
‘Another thing. When did you take the jewellery box from Dominique’s room? The one you gave to Abdulatif. The police cordoned off her bedroom as soon as your father called them. So you must have taken it before then. When?’
Guy drank some more gin.
‘I’m waiting,’ I said.
He turned to face me. ‘I didn’t kill Dad. And I didn’t kill Dominique.’
‘Then who did?’
Guy swallowed. ‘I don’t know.’
Now he was hiding something. He was hiding it well, but he was hiding it. ‘I don’t believe you.’
He shrugged.
‘Guy. I’ve been thinking about this long and hard. I don’t want to believe that you killed Dominique. Or your father. I really don’t. But there’s something going on, something that I think you know about. And until I know what it is, I can’t trust you and I can’t work with you. When we get to London I will get off this plane and never go into Ninetyminutes again.’
Guy studied my face. I knew he didn’t want to tell me. Although my departure from Ninetyminutes would be a blow, it wouldn’t be an insurmountable one. But he needed me just like I needed him. At that moment I realized that. And so, I think, did he.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘I will tell you. But only if you give me your word not to tell anyone else. Not Mel, not Ingrid. And not the police.’
I thought before I answered. I had no idea what he was going to admit to, or confess. What if he had murdered his father? I certainly wouldn’t work with him any more. And I’d have to tell the police.
Guy saw my doubt. ‘If you do tell anyone, I’ll deny it. And there’s no proof of what I’m about to say one way or the other. Now, do you give me your word?’
He knew that I would take giving my word seriously. He had known me as a well-brought-up public schoolboy and I hadn’t changed as much as I would have liked.
‘OK,’ I said.
Guy breathed in. ‘All right. First, let me say I didn’t kill my father, and I have no idea who did. No idea whatsoever.’