Contents ( 84)
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- Acknowledgements
‘Shit.’ It was the very last thing Duffy wanted to be told. Not least because it would now be for him to inform Nizar Mansour. ‘Are they sure of the ID?’
‘No, not yet. They had no idea who it could be until we contacted them. But from everything you’ve told me, it sounds like it’s her.’
‘Bollocks.’
‘It can’t be a surprise, Will. They were never going to keep that poor girl alive. It’s a miracle Nizar made it himself.’
‘I know. I know. I just wanted some good luck for the poor man. That’s all.’
‘Careful, Will. You’re in danger of becoming a nice guy.’
‘Piss off, Chief Inspector.’ Duffy was too disappointed to laugh. ‘And thanks for telling me. I’ll see you on Monday.’
He did not wait to hear Bull’s reply. Instead he placed the phone down, refilled his wine glass, sat back into his chair and looked at the ceiling as a single thought dominated his mind.
What god has Nizar pissed off to bring all this on himself?
FIFTY-EIGHT
Elizabeth Kirk glanced at her watch as she reached the main door of the Secret Service New York Field Office, situated at 335 Adams Street, Brooklyn.
7.20 p.m. Twenty minutes later than Jack Meyer had demanded.
Enough of a difference to needle. Not enough to ignite fireworks.
She opened the dark glass door, stepped into the building’s marbled reception area and headed straight for the manned front desk. The receptionist – a young black woman who sat behind a name plate that read ‘Susan’ – was the only other person in the room.
‘You must be Director Kirk.’ Susan beat Kirk to the introduction. Her tone was almost robotic. ‘Assistant Director Meyer expected you twenty minutes ago.’
‘Then Assistant Director Meyer doesn’t know much about Manhattan and Brooklyn traffic, does he?’ Kirk was ready for whatever Meyer intended to throw at her. Starting with Susan the receptionist. ‘Is he coming down or am I going up?’
‘My instructions are to bring you to him myself,’ Susan replied. She pressed a button, which audibly locked the building’s glass front doors, rose from her seat and indicated for Kirk to follow. ‘This way, Director Kirk.’
Three minutes and seven floors later, Kirk was escorted into a large, imposing office. A room designed for intimidation, it maximised distance between the entrance at one end and an oversized mahogany desk at the other.
The idea was to make the walk between them – under the eye of the desk’s occupant – an ordeal in itself.
Cod psychology, Kirk thought to herself. Why am I not surprised?
‘Sir, I have Director Kirk of the International Security Bureau for you.’
Susan’s deep, monotone voice filled the room more effectively than Kirk had expected.
‘Elizabeth.’ Jack Meyer stood up as he spoke. ‘Please, come and take a seat.’
He turned his eyes on the receptionist.
‘That’ll be all for today, Susan.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Susan spoke as she backed out, closing the door behind her. It left Kirk and Meyer alone together.