Endgame, page 20
I pressed rewind and played the clip at half-speed.
‘Why doesn’t your recording start from the time Mum entered Dan’s study?’ asked Callie, interrupting my viewing.
‘I asked the same question of George. He told me the security camera must’ve been set to restart at a certain time, which turned out to be when your mum had the letter opener in her hand,’ I replied.
‘How convenient for the killer,’ said Callie.
‘Well, they couldn’t’ve known Sephy would be in the room when the recording restarted. That was just bad luck on your mum’s part,’ I replied.
I took back my phone to watch the recording again from the beginning. ‘It’s not conclusive proof of your mum’s innocence though,’ I argued.
‘Tobey, there would’ve been blood spatter from the neck wound. It would’ve been on the assailant’s hand and sleeve at the very least. I’ve defended and prosecuted enough knife-crime trials to know what I’m talking about. Mum doesn’t even have a drop of blood on her. I think she came in, saw Dan slumped over his desk with a knife in his back and – for whatever inexplicable reason – removed it and then replaced it. And, what’s more, that’s a case I could win in court. There’s enough doubt to guarantee Mum wouldn’t be convicted.’
I watched the footage yet again. Callie was right.
‘Why are you so determined to believe that Mum killed Dan?’ Callie asked, genuinely hurt.
‘I’m not. Hellsake! Everything I’ve done since I discovered the recording and the murder weapon has been to protect your mum, not drop her in it.’
Callie smiled, her gaze softening as she looked at me. She believed me – thank God.
‘And you’re right,’ I said. ‘There’s no blood anywhere on her, including her hand. I saw your mum stab Dan in the back and thought—’ I trailed off.
Callie nodded reluctantly. ‘Understandable. And your first instinct was to protect her so thank you for that,’ she said.
‘Callie, I’m sorry if I jumped to conclusions about Sephy.’
‘If?’
‘Scratch the “if”,’ I said. ‘Forgive me?’
‘Find my brother and bring him home safe and well and I’ll forgive you anything,’ she replied.
And the way she said it … More incentive, if any were needed, to bring Libby and Troy home. ‘Fair enough. Let’s go get our loved ones back.’
Just as we stood up, a ping came from Callie’s jacket pocket. A text alert by the sound of it. She took out her phone and glanced at it. I headed for the door to give her some privacy, only to stop after a step or two when I heard her gasp. I turned.
Eyes narrowed, Callie was frowning at me.
‘What now?’
‘May I see your chest, please?’ she asked.
‘Excuse me?’
Callie raised an eyebrow – and then I knew what this was about. Pulling my T-shirt out of my trousers, I rolled it up to my neck. I was doing that a lot today.
‘Oh. My. God! It’s true!’ she breathed.
The day after Callie discovered my tattoo, I’d had it taken care of. I went to see Feenix, a Cross tattoo artist of repute who had been recommended to me. I’d promised to pay her five times her usual fee if she didn’t balls up the end result. After she’d signed a non-disclosure agreement, I showed her my chest and explained what I wanted done. A true professional, Feenix hadn’t commented on my original tattoo. She’d just got down to business, listing the pros and cons of my proposed replacement.
‘The only way to make this work is to use dark inks to reinstate the word “Forever” and to overwrite the word “Nought”. The simplest way to do this would be to reinstate the red heart as the background. If I do this, there’s no going back or changing your mind,’ Feenix warned. ‘Laser surgery to remove any new tattoo I give you won’t work and will be extremely painful into the bargain.’
‘I know what I’m doing,’ I tried to reassure her. ‘And I’m not going to change my mind.’
‘If you say so,’ she said as she got to work.
Forever, the word that it had taken five painful laser treatments over the years to try and eliminate, was reinstated. Nought was replaced with a new word written in the same cursive black ink, shadowed to look like the word was three-dimensional and bursting out of my heart. Feenix was a true craftswoman and I couldn’t fault her work when she’d finished.
Unexpectedly now, fingers trailed gently across my new tattoo. I smiled behind my raised T-shirt as Callie explored each letter with her fingertips, her touch making my skin tingle. She placed her palm over the tattoo, over my heart. I stepped back.
‘Can I pull my top down now?’ I asked, lowering it slightly.
Callie nodded, her hand falling to her side. ‘I can’t believe you did that. Your next girlfriend won’t be too happy with it.’
I shrugged. ‘Shall we go?’
Callie followed me towards the door. I glanced at her to find her studying me, total bewilderment on her face. The painful reintroduction of my tattoo was worth it just for that expression. Two simple words that had definitely given the woman beside me food for thought.
Callie Forever.
I’d barely set foot outside my apartment when my private mobile vibrated yet again. There were times when being a public servant, and therefore in theory always contactable, was a considerable pain in the arse. I took it out and tapped on the screen to read the newly delivered text message – from a number I did not recognize – in its entirety.
Today 14:28
Tobias Durbridge,
I hope today finds you in a loving mood because your daughter Liberty and her Cross boyfriend are now under new management. If you’d like to see them again, you will carry out the following instructions to the letter.
1. Inform your bank that you will be transferring a considerable sum of money later tonight. You will instruct them not to block or query the transfer.
2. This evening, I will send you an account name, number, sort code and amount. You will have exactly ten minutes to transfer all the money requested.
3. The amount of money to be transferred will consist of eight digits. I know it’s only a fraction of what you’re worth, but I’m not greedy.
4. Once the money has been successfully transferred, I will provide the location of your daughter and her friend. Then we’ll all have what we want.
You have one chance to get this right. If you don’t answer your phone, if you hang up, if the police are listening at your end, if you try to trace this text or tonight’s call, if you refuse to follow any of these instructions, there will be no second chances. This is your opportunity to prove your daughter means more to you than your money.
My blood ran icy-cold as I read the text again. Under new management—What did that mean? I had questions. Like how the hell did this new person get my phone number for one? And how did they know I had anything like eight digits in my bank account?
‘Is everything all right, Tobey?’ asked Callie.
‘Yes, everything’s fine,’ I replied, ushering her into the lift. I turned to the two protection officers who were already making moves to accompany us. ‘Michael, Deli, thanks, but I’ll be out with Callie for the rest of the day incognito so your services won’t be required.’
Deli and Michael exchanged worried looks.
‘But, sir—’ Michael began.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I reassured them as I pressed the button for the basement level. ‘I want to be alone with Miss Hadley, and four would definitely be a crowd. If I need you, I’ll phone, OK?’
‘Sir, I really think—’ The lift doors shut, cutting off Deli’s thought.
‘That was rude,’ Callie informed me dryly.
‘But necessary,’ I replied.
After a moment’s further deliberation, I showed the text to Callie. She needed to know that I wouldn’t hold anything back nor hide anything from her, even though that had been my first instinct when I initially got the text. I would do whatever it took to get her to truly trust me.
She read the message and handed back my phone, her expression stony. ‘Whoever sent it could be one of the kidnapper’s associates or just someone who’s heard rumours. Or it could be someone who knows about the kidnapping, but who doesn’t have Libby and Troy and is just trying their luck for a huge payout.’
‘Yeah, I’d thought of that myself. I’m not handing over a damned thing without real-time proof that they’re both still alive.’
‘Do you have that kind of money?’ asked Callie.
‘I can get it,’ I said carefully, adding, ‘This one transfer could well wipe me out, but that’s not my primary concern. The thought of giving in to this blackmailing filth doesn’t sit well with me.’
Callie studied me speculatively, then nodded. ‘Thanks for showing me. How did the sender get your phone number?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine.’ Something else I was wondering. The number of people who had my personal digits could be counted on the fingers of two hands excluding the thumbs: Callie, of course, as my lawyer, members of my family and a very few friends and trusted colleagues. And all those who did were under strict instructions not to pass my number on without my express permission. I wasn’t into this ‘so-and-so gave me your phone number, I hope you don’t mind’ bullshit. Yes, I did mind – very much.
‘Oh God! Troy and Libby must be so scared. I can’t bear it.’ Turning her head, Callie wiped a swift hand over each eye. I moved to stand before her, carefully brushing away any remaining tears with my fingertips.
‘Callie, we’re not beaten yet,’ I told her. ‘They are still alive. I refuse to believe otherwise and so should you.’
She graced me with a tentative smile, before leaning forward to kiss me, her lips so soft against mine. I wrapped my arms round her, returning her kiss with interest. All I wanted to do was hold her tight and reassure her that everything was going to be all right. I tried to tell her as much with my lips on hers, loving the way she felt in my arms, loving the way her tongue felt playing against mine.
Yet, with each moment that passed, I couldn’t shake the impression that we weren’t going to see out the night unscathed. I’d never been one to value feelings over rational thought, but this mood was gripping me tighter and tighter with each passing minute.
This time tomorrow, would any of us be the same? Somehow I doubted it. When at last we both came up for air, the lift doors were on the verge of closing again. I reached out a hand to halt their progress.
‘Are you OK, Callie?’ I asked tentatively.
She smiled. ‘Yeah. I’m just grateful for you, that’s all.’
Damn it. It was those sorts of declarations that had me – and kept me – wrapped round her little finger. We stepped out into the underground car park where I kept my three private cars – a compact, a luxury saloon and an SUV, all black, of course. I led the way to the SUV. The sender of the ransom note was right about one thing. I’d give anything and everything I had to get Liberty and Troy safely home again, even if the cost was great. Even if the cost was everything. But we still had a few hours before the deadline.
Time enough to put a plan of my own into motion.
Daily Shouter Online
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BREAKING NEWS. Prime Minister reveals all after being accused of having an NF tattoo
Prime Minister Tobias Durbridge today revealed his chest to the world after being accused by an ex-girlfriend of having a Nought Forever tattoo over his heart. Nought Forever are a banned militant group who have been responsible for a number of atrocities over the last few decades, though their popularity and influence have declined in recent years.
Bella Monroe stated this morning that the Prime Minister used to be a member of Nought Forever and had a tattoo to commemorate and celebrate that fact. Tobey Durbridge showed his chest to Daily Shouter reporters earlier today to disprove that claim. Indeed, he does have a tattoo on his chest, but the writing inside a red heart reads Callie Forever. Who is this mysterious Callie? Sources close to the PM have suggested that it may be Callie Rose Hadley, barrister and granddaughter of the late Kamal Hadley, MP, though this has yet to be confirmed.
The Daily Shouter has reached out to Bella Monroe for a comment.
Do you know who Callie is? Phone or email us using the contact details below. We pay!
forty-one. Sephy
* * *
‘George, thanks for letting me do this.’
The butler nodded as he led the way to Dan’s study. I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but the place was immaculate and the sweet, distinctive smell of leather polish and vanilla hung in the air.
‘The police have gathered all the evidence they can so there’s no reason not to let you look around,’ said George.
‘Did the police leave everything as they found it?’ I asked, glancing about me as we walked.
George’s snort of derision was immediate. He instantly looked contrite. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Ealing. That was very unprofessional of me.’
‘But human.’ I smiled. ‘And please call me Sephy.’
‘That wouldn’t be appropriate, Mrs Ealing,’ he said.
I didn’t push it. I wasn’t sure what to make of the middle-aged man before me with his irregular smile and his cool, watchful, hazel-brown eyes. I suspected George didn’t miss much – if anything. Crow’s feet crinkled the corners of his eyes and furrowed frown lines had taken up permanent residence on his forehead. The creases cupping his mouth spoke of a man who knew how to laugh, but who also knew how to cry. His moustache was carefully groomed and discreet, his black hair short and precision-cut, framing his face.
‘Is there something wrong, Mrs Ealing?’ George asked, his eyebrows raised at my undisguised scrutiny. Embarrassed, I quickly shook my head. He opened the study door and ushered me inside.
I guess I’d kept my eyes trained on him just a tad too long. ‘Er, George, I was just wondering why you became a butler in the first place. You strike me as the type of person who could do anything you put your mind to.’
George nodded. ‘It’s kind of you to say so, Mrs Ealing. After my wife died, I needed a job that would provide for me and my daughter, Chima. When a friend told me how much butlers could earn and what the job entailed, I decided that would suit me down to the ground. After my training, I was lucky enough to find a position with Mr Jeavons and I’ve been with him ever since.’
‘I’m sorry about your wife. How did she die – if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘Cancer.’
‘I’m so sorry. My sincere condolences.’
‘Thank you.’ George held himself rigid with remembered pain.
‘How did you come to work for Dan Jeavons?’ I couldn’t help asking.
‘Mr Jeavons contacted the agency I work for. He wanted a butler rather than a housekeeper to manage his household. He had rather old-fashioned ideas like that.’
‘Is there much call for butlers these days?’ I wondered.
‘You’d be surprised. To the very rich, we’re a fashion accessory like the latest sports car and the best schools. If you have money, your home is not properly dressed without a butler.’ The tone may have been neutral, but the words most certainly were not.
‘How long had you worked for Dan?’
‘Eight years,’ George replied. ‘He had one butler before me, a Nought, but he proved to be unsuitable. Mr Jeavons specifically requested a Cross butler and I was happy to be interviewed where some of my colleagues were not.’
A Cross butler? George was clearly dual heritage. I guess that made him Cross enough in Dan’s eyes.
‘Really? Did Dan’s reputation precede him even then?’
‘Oh, nothing like that,’ George dismissed with a wave of his hand. ‘But some of my Cross colleagues were most insistent that they didn’t wish to work for Noughts.’
‘Ah, I see. But you didn’t mind?’
‘I was prepared to work for anyone who would pay me what I’m worth and treat me with respect.’
‘And Dan did that?’
A slight pause. ‘Yes, he did. I’m a single parent who wanted the best for his daughter and Mr Jeavons helped with that.’
‘How old is your daughter?’
‘Chima was seventeen yesterday.’ George’s hazel-brown eyes softened at the mention of his child. ‘She’s going to study medicine at university. One day she’ll be a world-famous neurosurgeon and save countless lives. She’s so smart …’
George’s voice trailed off, his gaze cloudy and withdrawn. His lips thinned as if painful memories were washing over him. He was hurting, but I couldn’t be sure if it was for himself or someone else.
‘Where is Chima now?’ I asked softly.
‘She’s been staying with me for the last year. She used to board at her school, but … anyway, she’s here with me.’
‘I thought you were a live-in butler?’ I said.
‘I am. I mean, I was. Mr Jeavons’ apartment suite occupies the whole top floor of this building including the annexe apartment through the kitchen which is where I live. Mr Jeavons wanted me to be available at all times. My apartment has two bedrooms with en-suite bathrooms, an open-plan sitting room and a kitchen-diner. It’s not huge, but it was all I needed.’
George spoke like he was being interviewed, pleasant enough but very formal; he didn’t let his guard down for a moment. ‘Anyway, that’s all academic now. Mr Jeavons owns … owned this building and left it to his brother, Tom. Mrs Foxton, who is administering the estate until Tom comes of age, has already served me with one month’s notice. Chima and I will be leaving on Friday.’
