BooksBarbecue
Back The Dead Line Save as PDF
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. By the Same Author
  3. Dedication Page
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. Acknowledgements
  86. Also Available by Holly Watt
  87. The Hunt and the Kill

Casey forced herself to focus instead on those companies, so ruthless, seizing the opportunity and ramming it home. It wasn’t fair, no.

‘The passports,’ said Casey. ‘What about the passports?’

It puzzled him, she could see that at once.

‘The passports?’ he asked. ‘Passports?’

Bantham was fidgeting with a paperweight now, shifting it from hand to hand, like a magic trick. The paperweight had a pale yellow rose in it. Trapped in glass, preserved for ever, gleaming as Bantham fidgeted.

‘We know about the passports, too.’ Casey kept her face stern, but she could feel the ground slipping away.

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

Bantham put the paperweight back on the fireplace, and turned to Casey.

‘Stop it,’ Casey snapped at him, bullying now. ‘Tell us.’

‘No.’ His eyes were wide. ‘Really . . . I don’t . . .’

And she didn’t know enough to trap him, this time. Had to tread so carefully, because if he guessed her ignorance, he would surge off the back foot at once, and they might lose it all even now.

‘You do know,’ she said flatly, risking it. ‘You know about the British couples, and the babies.’

There was a long pause.

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘That.’

‘Yes.’ Casey’s confidence flooded back. ‘I need to know about that.’

‘But I don’t know,’ said Bantham. ‘I don’t know what was going on. Not really.’

‘Yes, you do.’ Casey was headmistress-firm. ‘And you’re going to tell us all about it.’

‘I don’t,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t me. I had nothing to do with any of that business.’

‘Then who?’ Hessa couldn’t contain herself. ‘Who was doing it?’

‘I don’t know,’ Bantham choked.

‘Tell me,’ Casey spat. ‘Right now.’

‘I promise it wasn’t me,’ Bantham swore. He glanced around one more time, and crumbled. ‘It was the old ambassador. It was Sir William Cavendish.’

9

9

‘Do you think he was telling the truth?’ Miranda leaned her chair back.

They were in the Post’s offices, straight from an overnight flight into Gatwick.

Casey looked across at Hessa.

‘I thought he was,’ Hessa offered. ‘He was feeling guilty about some of the visits and things. The trip to Koh Samui, and so on. But he went blank when we asked about the passports. There wasn’t any guilt there.’

‘We could check up on him,’ Casey said carefully.

Miranda raised her eyebrows.

‘How?’ asked Hessa.

‘His business card has his private email address on it,’ Casey said delicately.

‘And his first pet was Beau, and his mother’s maiden name is Kilmartin,’ Hessa realised. ‘I wondered what you were . . .’

Because with his birthday publicly available, it would only take seconds to crack into an account from some anonymous internet cafe.

Only in extremis though, that sort of thing. Only when there was no other way.

For Romida.

‘Would it help?’ asked Miranda.