Читать книгу Death Trip - Lee Weeks - Страница 17

‘The Golden Triangle is merely a name for an area that spans four countries: Burma, Laos, Vietnam and Thailand.’ Katrien’s facial expression didn’t change.

‘Tell that to the heroin addicts of the world. Next to Afghanistan, it’s the world’s largest supplier of illicit opium.’

‘The Burmese government have done what they can to eradicate it.’

‘Bullshit. It’s their biggest export. The money from it is laundered into hotels, utilities, banks. The whole of the Burmese army is funded by it.’

She rose from her chair. She was clearly agitated. ‘I cannot answer any more of your questions. I simply don’t have the answers. We are cooperating all we can. We hope it will be resolved soon.’ Mann guessed that meant his time was up. He stayed where he was.

‘Okay.’ He eyeballed her. ‘Let’s understand one another. I want an exact—an exact—printout of their itinerary before I leave these offices. I want to know where they were going at every stage of their journey and who they were going to meet. I want numbers, addresses—everything you have. And I mean everything.’

She stared back at him, her eyes getting colder by the second.

‘Is that understood?’

He knew she would have loved to lean over the desk and roar in his face. He was intrigued to see if she would snap. For a few seconds he watched her—he could see her contemplating whether to tell him to fuck off, but instead she picked up the phone and asked the receptionist to print off the itinerary. When she put the phone down she picked up Mann’s card from the desk. She held it in her square-edged acrylic talons and studied it. Then she looked up. She could scoop out a lot of flesh with those claws, thought Mann.

‘Of course, Inspector. We are very keen to cooperate with the police…’ She held his card in the air and gave a one-sided, sarcastic smile. ‘…Even those who are not directly involved…The itinerary you require will be ready now. I am sorry I can be of no more help.’

Mann took his time getting to his feet. He was still trying to see how much it would take to make her snap. As she click-clacked ahead along the corridor he dawdled, stopping to get a good look at some of the expedition photos up on the walls. There was one of a group of children crowded round a family of volunteers.

‘You in any of these photos?’ he called to her as she marched ahead. ‘What about this one?’

He read the title: Orphans of the conflict. She turned sharply on her heels, her patience exhausted.

‘Were you ever a volunteer? You ever part of an expedition?’

‘No. I am not in the photos and, no, I have never been on an expedition. Follow me, please.’

They walked back through the line of desks and the receptionist handed him the file in a kittenish fashion. Mann noticed that she’d reapplied her makeup and brushed her hair. He gave her an appreciative smile.

Katrien walked him to the door. Mann stopped just short of it. A group of eager-faced teenagers and their nervous-looking parents were waiting in the lobby.

‘Are you still planning to send kids on expeditions?’

‘Yes, of course. We have commitments. We believe the crisis will be over soon.’

‘Do you? Let’s hope you’re right.’ He looked around him at the plush office—the latest Macs, the freshly brewing coffee. ‘You’re a charity, right?’ She nodded. ‘You must charge a lot to send kids into war zones.’

‘We do not send any of our volunteers into an area which is…’

‘So you said—but that’s exactly what you did. And—by the way—you keep people in camps, policed and without citizenship, dignity, work or proper respect, you are creating a problem the exact problem that we have now. There are always people willing to die for a cause.’

He was about to leave when Dorothy appeared in front of them.

‘Excuse me, sir. Mrs Cremer—Magda—is she okay?’ Dorothy kept her eyes fixed on Mann. She wasn’t going to risk looking at Katrien stood next to him. He could imagine she’d be glaring at Dorothy right now with those beady black eyes set to stun.

‘Just about.’

‘Please tell her that we are all praying for Jake…’

‘Thank you. I will pass that on.’ Mann was about to walk away but Dorothy still hovered.

‘It must be especially hard, coming so soon after the last time…’

‘The last time?’ Mann could feel Katrien breathing down his neck. Something was making his stomach churn; he felt a terrible weight in the pit of it. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s barely a year since her other son was killed.’