‘Teresa. Tess.’
‘You got a picture of him or his lady?’
‘Not yet. We’re pulling some from licensing and Homeland Security.’
‘Rap sheets?’
‘None. Not so much as a write-up for speeding.’
Beam goes back to the root of what he guesses sparked her interest. ‘Why would someone hire a sedan and an RV?’
‘Unusual but not unheard of,’ answers Helena. ‘RVs are good accommodation but only crawl and are hell to park. Sedans get you around faster and more comfortably. What’s strange, though, is that they have no kids, so you’d think motels or hotels would be more to their liking. On top of that, Wilkins rented them both separately and from different firms. It’s not the kind of thing most people do. Folks want to strike a deal, get a two-vehicle discount.’
‘Maybe the sedan was an afterthought and perhaps the wife can’t drive?’
Helena gives a knowing smile. ‘Oh but she can.’
‘She can?’
‘Both the RV and sedan went over the Oakland Bay Bridge around ten p.m., which is about the same time Ruth Everett was regaining consciousness on the floor of her kitchen.’
148
The covert cab parks in the dark adjacent to the SSOA barge and less than five hundred metres from the development block where Mitzi is held.
Owain Gwyn’s cell phone rings. ‘Yes?’
‘It’s done.’ Gareth Madoc sounds deflated. ‘I’ve told my NIA contact and he’s on his way over here. He already has a team meeting with Lanza and they’re circling al-Shibh as we speak. I guess before dawn all our targets will be closed down, though I suspect it’ll be tough to stick them with charges.’
‘Don’t be depressed. We had to choose between trying to catch everyone red-handed or ensuring no one gets hurt.’
‘I know. I just wanted this to be one of those times we managed both.’
‘We saved lives. Hang on to that.’
‘I will. My guy’s here, so I’ve got to go. Before you ask, I’ve nothing new on the Fallon girls but I promise I’ll call you the instant I have.’
‘Thanks. Let’s talk later.’ Owain hangs up and turns to Dalton.
The consul updates him. ‘We’ve got a two-man team on the roof. They’ve heat-scanned the surface and she’s being held in a top-floor room on the western side.’
Owain casts his eyes up into the darkness. ‘Are you thinking of going in from the roof?’
‘Not unless we have to. I want to get a listening device on the window; the feed from the parabolic microphones isn’t as good as I hoped. We’re going to lower an invisible camera as well, a fibre optic one that won’t be seen in this light.’
‘Do we know what Marchetti is doing?’
Dalton covers his earpiece and listens. ‘I don’t think he’s in the room at the moment. I’ve picked up three voices. Fallon’s, a woman’s and a man’s.’
The ambassador glances at his watch. ‘I’m going to have to leave you. The Vatican hasn’t returned my messages and even when they do, I’m sure I know what the answer will be.’
‘They’re not going to call off tomorrow.’
‘No, of course not, it’s too late. Which means I have to get to Cardigan and re-examine the security.’
‘I’m fine here, don’t worry.’ He taps the computer monitor. ‘We’ve got all our best men on this job; we’ll get Fallon out safely.’
‘I know you will.’ Owain leaves his seat and opens the cab door. His private car is just a few hundred yards away. ‘Try not to kill Marchetti. I really want some quality time with our old friend.’
149
Beneath the pitch-black sky Angelo Marchetti stares out at the bright lights of the city. In front of him lies the watery vista of the Thames Barrier and to his right the glass-and-steel forest of Canary Wharf.
When the penthouse he’s in is completed, Mardrid will sell it for millions, no doubt to some rich Russian or Arab. Right now, the whole development is nothing more than bare floors, walls and ceilings.
In his jacket pocket is a rolled up cloth that contains a hypodermic, some clean needles and enough heroin and cocaine to keep any decent rock band high for a month. The temptation to shoot it all into a big juicy vein is almost irresistible.
On a wad of paper towels is the memory stick his team just recovered from the Californian cop.
She’s been lying to him.
The stick isn’t his. It’s smaller, thinner, lighter and empty.
The question now is what to do with her.
Fortunately, Mardrid is not yet on his back. But within a day or two, he will be. And Marchetti knows that if he can’t deliver the details of the knights’ graves, then he might as well dig his own.
He grabs the wad and useless file and strolls into the other room.
As per his orders, the woman’s out of the closet, cleaned up and sat down.
Marchetti grabs another fold-up metal chair and settles opposite her. He holds the memory stick in front of her red and battered eyes.
‘Where’s the real one?’
Mitzi focuses on her girls. Imagines them running to her as toddlers, sweeping them off their feet, holding them tight.
Marchetti shouts this time. ‘Where — the — fuck — is — it?’
She finds just enough saliva for her lips to work. ‘Get Amber to a hospital and I’ll tell you.’
He shakes his head in amazement. After everything he’s done to her, how can she not be broken? What more has to happen for her to simply give in?
He knows the answer. She won’t. He’s seen people like her before: iron-willed, unflinching. Not so very long ago he had been such a person.
Through the window opposite, the sky starts to lighten. He knows dawn will come within the hour and with it intensified efforts in the US to find the girls.
‘All right.’ He sounds exasperated. ‘I’ll release one of your little bitches. I’ll fix it. But I promise you this.’ He steps closer, his eyes wide with rage. ‘If you fuck with me — if you don’t instantly give me what I want, then I will make you watch your other daughter die and it will not be a merciful death. It will be a slow and painful scream-for-mommy death, worse than anything you have ever seen or imagined.’
150
Chris Wilkins honks his car horn as he approaches the hideout, knowing that forgetting to do so could result in a face full of lead.
Tess opens up. A Glock 29 dangles from her right hand; an assault rifle is only a grab away. From his face, she knows something is eating him. ‘Everything okay?’
He takes one long look at the girls. They’re still bound, gagged and hooded but are now separated. One is sat in a chair, her feet tied to the legs and her hands to the back. The other — the injured one — is on the floor, her legs raised and hand bandaged.
‘In the back.’ He nods to the kitchen.
Tess bolts the door and follows him into the adjoining room.
He lets out an anguished sigh. ‘He wants us to free one of the girls.’
‘He what?’
‘The cut one. Says we have to take her to a hospital as far away as possible and leave her there with instructions to call her mom’s cell phone straight away.’
She shrugs. ‘We can get her to call from anywhere. It doesn’t have to be a hospital.’
‘I didn’t tell it right. She has to call from the hospital, so her mother can check she’s there.’
‘Okay. I get it. Smart bitch.’