Another member of the party who appeared equally bored chipped in, ‘Got his hand deep in Saudi pockets. Which ain’t right.’

At this point a third man, the only one of the party who looked like he might have actually built anything, waded in. ‘Hey, give the guy a break. He’s spending his dough here, not on guns for A-rabs.’ He drawled the ‘a’ so it came out as ‘Ayrab’. He waved in the direction of a cluster of men erecting a crane. ‘They’re all American workers too.’

‘Guy’s a refugee, came here with nothing.’

‘Yeah, so did my granddaddy, but then they start sending for their families an’ all.’

‘I heard it’s gonna be dedicated to his daughter.’

‘What happened to her?’ Tom asked.

The third man shrugged. ‘Guess she didn’t make it. They got all kinds of trouble in Syria now, ain’t they?’

They moved towards the scaffolding where the dome would be. Another man with a well-scuffed hat came forward and was introduced as the site manager.

Tom tried to listen but his attention was caught by the purple folder under the man’s arm and the logo in the corner. It was the same castle design and the same colour as the one in Stutz’s apartment. He turned to the BlackBerry woman. ‘D’you know that logo at all?’

‘New to me. Some construction outfit, I guess.’

Chapter 67

67

The Tijuana Motel had seen better days. A low, L-shaped structure, it had been painted a lurid orange, evidently some years past, perhaps in an attempt to attract the attention of passing trade. But time and the seasons had not been kind to it: so much of the orange had flaked away that the mottled surface now looked more like some misconceived kind of camouflage than the outside of anywhere people would choose to stay.

There was no reply to his text so he waited another ten minutes. He chose not to call Beth’s mobile in case Carter was still with her. But after half an hour he began to get impatient. Her pick-up was still there, and the only other car in the lot, a beaten-up Ford, didn’t look like it was going anywhere. He decided to take a closer look at room forty-five.

There was a do-not-disturb sign on the door. The curtains were closed and there was no light on, except from the blaring TV. He knocked once, then again. He tried the door. It was open.