Читать книгу The Courier - Ava McCarthy - Страница 18

‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’

Harry winced at Hunter’s tone. She wedged the receiver against her shoulder, her fingers working the keyboard. ‘I don’t play games, Detective.’

‘I could haul you in for this.’ His teeth sounded glued together. ‘You’re being deliberately obstructive.’

‘I’ve told you the truth.’ She browsed through the first of Garvin’s hidden files, VW-Stock.tmp. It looked like another stock-take of stones.

Hunter snorted. ‘From what I’ve heard, you and the truth don’t exactly hit it off.’

Harry breathed through her nose, trying to tune him out. She pecked through the data: numbers, customers, colours, weights. She frowned, backtracking a little. Could that be right?

‘You intentionally removed evidence from a murder investigation.’

Harry jerked her gaze away from the screen. She didn’t hold the moral high ground on much right now, but he wasn’t getting away with that one.

‘If you’re talking about Garvin Oliver’s laptop, then it was your officer who made the mistake, not me.’

‘You withheld evidence.’

‘I gave you the keys of my car.’

Hunter was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘I want the laptop.’

‘Come and get it anytime you want.’

‘I want it now. We’re right outside.’

Dammit. ‘All right, I’ll come and buzz you in.’

She slammed down the phone, her eyes straying back to the numbers on the screen. Then she snapped the file shut. That would have to keep for a while.

Imogen hovered behind her. ‘Everything okay?’

Harry got to her feet. ‘Not exactly. I’ll explain in a minute, but right now, I’ve a pissed-off detective to talk to.’ She gave her friend a direct look. ‘Promise me you’ll stay out of things for the next few minutes? No matter what you hear me say?’

Imogen’s eyes lit up for a second, then she frowned. ‘What are you getting into, Harry?’

‘Just promise me?’

Imogen pursed her lips. ‘Okay. But that explanation better be good.’

Harry gave her an attagirl pat on the arm, then headed out to reception where Hunter was waiting behind the glass security doors. His shoulders were hunched, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

She took a deep breath, wondering how to compose her face for the ten-yard walk to the door. In the end, she settled for a self-righteous glare, which Hunter seemed to have no trouble returning.

She strode across the empty reception and punched the door-release button on the wall. Hunter swung in past her, a gust of cool, yeast-scented air riding in behind him. He wheeled round to face her, his cropped hair spiky from the wind.

‘Next time, I’d appreciate it if you would answer your mobile.’

Harry shot him a look. So that was one caller identified. No reason to think the other was a killer with a gun, but then, nothing today had exactly been rational.

He looked past her to the door. ‘You remember Detective Inspector Lynne, don’t you?’

Harry whipped round. A lean, dark-haired man was standing in the doorway. Forty-ish, neat grey suit, penetrating eyes. He stepped inside. She remembered how silently he’d always moved. Like a cat.

Lynne inclined his head, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘Ms Martinez.’

Harry managed a stiff nod. Then she turned on her heel and led them back through reception, her spine tingling with awareness of being watched from behind. Resisting the urge to accelerate like a fugitive, she coached herself to stay calm: Nice and easy, keep it steady, just give them the laptop and they’ll go. The diamond burned a hole in her side.

The last time she’d tangled with Lynne had been in a hospital corridor four months earlier. Her father had lain dying in the next room, eking out his last days on life-support machines. By then, his helpless body was as thin as a child’s, kept alive by tubes hissing air into his lungs. Lynne’s questions had been the same as always: What happened to the money from Sal’s insider trading? Did you help him to hide it? Why did you visit a bank in the Bahamas? Where’s the money now?

More persistent than his questions were the silences he waited for her to fill. But she never did. She never told him she still had the money, or some of it, anyway. She’d stolen it to protect herself, but afterwards, she’d kept it for her father. She’d wanted to give him something to wake up to. But then the doctors had told her that her father was going to die.

Harry squared her shoulders, warding the memory off. She snapped her security pass against the card-reader on the wall and marched into the Blackjack office. Maybe a brisk pace would make her look as if she was in control.

She gestured at the safe. ‘It’s in here.’

Imogen swivelled in her chair, eyes wide, mouth shut. Harry fixed her attention on Hunter as he stepped towards the safe. Up close, she could see that he needed a shave, the bristles glinting like iron filings on his face. He snapped a pair of latex gloves up to his wrists, his eyes trained on hers.

‘You’ve had the laptop for hours, why didn’t you say anything?’

Harry shrugged, avoiding Imogen’s gaze. ‘I didn’t notice until now. I’ve only just got here.’

‘How do we know it hasn’t been tampered with?’

‘I secured it in the safe the minute I realized your mistake.’ She drilled him with a look. ‘This is a computer forensics lab. Preserving evidence is a priority around here.’

Hunter raised an eyebrow, scanning the room. ‘Looks like an ordinary office to me.’

Harry began checking things off on her fingers. ‘You can’t get in here without a security pass, and there’s a CCTV camera pointed at the safe, which, by the way, you can’t open without the access code and swipe card. There’s no way anyone could have tampered with it.’

Lynne spoke quietly from the doorway. ‘Nobody except you.’

Harry locked eyes with him for a moment. She could sense Imogen’s open-mouthed stare, and even Hunter seemed unwilling to break the silence. She spun towards the safe, swiped her card and punched in the access code. When the door clicked open, she pointed at the laptop, motioning for Hunter to help himself.

Lynne cleared his throat. ‘Make sure you take the right one this time, Hunter.’

Hunter froze, his mouth fixed in a tight line. Then he grasped the laptop with both hands.

‘What about my laptop?’ Harry said. ‘You still have it.’

Hunter’s eyes flicked sideways at Lynne. ‘We need to hold on to that for a while. You’ll get it back eventually.’

A muffled ring tone sounded nearby, and Lynne stepped out of the room to take the call. Harry clicked the safe shut, glancing over at Hunter. She wondered about the friction between the two officers, and whether it might be worth tapping into. She cocked her chin in the direction of the door.

‘Isn’t it a little unusual for Fraud to tag along on a murder investigation?’

Hunter shrugged. ‘Not necessarily. Fraud, Customs, they’re all piling in on this one.’

‘Really? Lynne doesn’t exactly strike me as a team player.’

Hunter snorted, but didn’t answer. He busied himself with a chain of custody form, filling out the details. She wondered how far she could push him.

‘Is he your boss?’

For a second, his pen froze. ‘No.’

‘He certainly acts like it.’

Hunter glared at her. ‘This is my investigation. I’m in charge, and don’t you forget it.’

Sweat glinted on his upper lip in between the stubble, and she took it as a sign that she’d pushed enough. She perched against a desk, arms folded, while he finished off the form. When he finally looked up, his eyes were hard to read.

‘We’ve been watching Garvin Oliver for some time.’ He wrestled the laptop into a silver anti-static bag. ‘His diamond operation isn’t entirely legit, but then you probably know that.’

Harry thought of Garvin’s hidden files, then blanked the knowledge out in case it showed on her face.

Hunter drilled her with a look. ‘Illicit diamond trading is one thing, but do you really want to get yourself involved in murder?’

Illicit diamonds. Africa’s finest, Beth had said. Harry’s mouth felt dry.

‘Look, you’re really wasting your time with me,’ she said. ‘I’m not involved in all of this.’

Hunter held her gaze. The hazel eyes looked muddy and tired. Then he nodded and sighed, and for the first time seemed to loosen the tight rein that he kept on himself. He held up his hands.

‘Okay. It’s possible you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It happens.’ He sneaked a glance at the door, then lowered his voice. ‘But if not, I’m warning you, we’ll soon find out.’

His eyes locked on to hers, his expression an odd mix of threat and empathy. Then Lynne slipped back into the room and clicked his fingers.

‘Let’s go.’

Hunter stiffened, and Harry could have sworn she saw his fists clench. Then he snatched up the laptop and strode to the door. Harry didn’t know what kind of politics Hunter was up against, but it looked as though Lynne was pulling rank.

She watched them go, her eyes falling on the silver evidence bag tucked under Hunter’s arm. Suddenly her breathing stalled. The notion of the police getting hold of Garvin’s data started an inexplicable hum in her throat, and she felt an overwhelming urge to snatch the laptop back.

‘Harry?’

Imogen was staring at her. Harry gave herself a mental shake. What was the matter with her? There was nothing on Garvin’s laptop that could get her into trouble. She wheeled round and scampered back to her desk, Imogen close behind.

‘What’s going on, Harry?’

‘I’ll explain in a minute.’

Something in Garvin’s hidden inventory file had snagged her attention and she needed to check it out. First, she pulled up the original inventory that Garvin had left in plain view: ‘Stock Inventory October 2009’. The familiar set of images flicked across the screen: the cloudy pebbles weighing 0.25 carats, each the size of a match head; metallic specks, 0.03 carats, no bigger than sugar crystals. The largest on the list was a yellow, 4-carat octahedron the size of a raisin. According to his records, Garvin had sold it for €10,000.

Then she switched back to the hidden file, VW-Stock.tmp. Many of the stones were christened, just like before: Yellow Mist, Helios, Pink Heart. There were almost three hundred stones in all, with dates going back over a year.

She homed in on the images. Most incorporated ordinary objects to lend the diamonds scale, and her eyes widened at the numbers. A gleaming, metallic stone, the size of a gobstopper: 100 carats. Another the colour of weak camomile tea and bigger than a jumbo marble: 175 carats. But most of them were as big as hen’s eggs and weighed in at over 200 carats. The last on the list was the largest of them all, a silvery crystal of 270 carats. It had been sold over a year ago to someone called Fischer for almost five million euros.

Harry let out a long breath. Was that what this was about? Was Garvin smuggling large stones, and trying to cover his tracks? She checked the file again. Whoever Fischer was, he’d only bought one stone. The rest had been sold exclusively to a buyer called Gray.

Harry’s brain hummed with questions, and she almost forgot about VW-Cargo.tmp, the second hidden file. She clicked it open, her mind preoccupied. Where did Beth fit into all of this? Another array of names flashed up on the screen. At the top was an obscure twelve-digit number: 881677273934. Harry doodled it down on her pad, her eyes travelling over the column of names: Excelsior, Artemis, Dawn Light.

Harry frowned. Dawn Light. The name seemed familiar. Dim memories floated like ghosts. Frosty mornings, bright colours. She shook her head. It wouldn’t come.

She checked the name again, and her whole body went still. Her breathing stopped, her fingers froze; the only part of her that moved was the pulse pounding in her jugular. She swallowed, and stared at the screen.

Recorded against the entry for Dawn Light, was the name HARRY MARTINEZ.