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Back The Dead Line
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

‘Did you always want to do this?’ Hessa asked.

‘I don’t remember.’

‘And why do you do it now?’

‘So that’ – Casey was watching the sun disappear – ‘no one can ever say, “I didn’t know.”’

There was a sudden howl of sirens to the north, unfamiliar on this holiday island. A few minutes later, a waiter hurried across, filled with the excitement of news. He refilled the peanut bowl, wiped the table and hovered until Casey asked the question he wanted: ‘What’s going on up there?’

‘The old man . . .’ he said. ‘They have called all the fishermen to come and search for him out in the sea . . .’

‘Why?’ asked Hessa, her face suddenly taut. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Old Sir Cavendish.’ The waiter’s eyes were wide. ‘He fell . . . He fell right from the top of the cliffs.’

11

11

Hessa cried on the flight, all the way home. The tears came suddenly, in Corfu airport, as she stood next to a huge red I-heart-Kavos sign.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Casey, not quite meaning it. ‘We don’t know what happened though, Hessa. He might have tripped.’

‘Do you believe that?’

‘I don’t know. We’ll never know.’

A fisherman, bobbing past, had seen the old man, high up on the cliff. Alone, staring out at the sea. There was something that made me keep watching him, he had told the police, with a certain relish, enjoying the circle of fascinated eyes. I don’t know what exactly. And then I saw him fall.

‘He was living such a peaceful, beautiful life,’ said Hessa. ‘And we destroyed it, just like that. In a few words. Like smashing an antique vase.’

‘Sort of,’ said Casey. Then: ‘You don’t have to do this, you know, Hessa. There is a choice.’

‘Is it always like this?’

‘No,’ said Casey. Thinking: sometimes, it’s worse. ‘But you don’t have to do it at all. Tillie’s desperate to work with us. You can go back to the newsroom. No one would blame you.’

It sounded more brutal than she meant.

For Romida.

‘We didn’t,’ Hessa’s eyes were puffy, ‘even get anything out of it. He took all his secrets with him.’

‘Yes.’ Casey’s thoughts were stuck in a groove, going over the conversation, and over and over. Because something didn’t quite fit. ‘But if he did jump, he made a choice, Hessa. He’d spent years in the Foreign Office. He knew how this all works. He could have told us what he knew, been a source. We’d have looked after him.’

Off the record, deep background, all the old codes.

‘But he didn’t.’

‘No.’

‘He wasn’t doing any harm to anyone out there on the island,’ said Hessa. ‘No matter what he might have done before.’

‘No.’

‘Has anything like this happened to you before?’

‘Not like this, no.’