BooksBarbecue
Back The Last Guests
Chapters (54)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART ONE
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. DEADLY SAS RAID IN AFGHANISTAN UNDER SCRUTINY
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. PART TWO
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. TWENTY-NINE
  37. DANIEL MOORE: ‘A SINGLE BLOKE, HAPPY-GO-LUCKY, A BIT OF A DUNCE BUT WITH A GOOD HEART,’ BEST FRIEND SAYS.
  38. THIRTY
  39. THIRTY-ONE
  40. THIRTY-TWO
  41. THIRTY-THREE
  42. THIRTY-FOUR
  43. THIRTY-FIVE
  44. BREAKING: POLICE CONFIRM DANIEL MOORE ACTED ALONE
  45. THIRTY-SIX
  46. THIRTY-SEVEN
  47. THIRTY-EIGHT
  48. THIRTY-NINE
  49. SECOND ARREST MADE IN WESTAY HIDDEN CAMERAS CASE
  50. EPILOGUE
  51. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  52. Discover More
  53. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  54. Also by J. P. Pomare

Rata walks me to my car. ‘Keep an eye on your husband, Lina,’ he says as we walk. ‘We can protect you but you need to give us something. If you have information and you withhold it, we will find out. If you are protecting someone, you will go down with them. Unless you come to us first.’

‘No,’ I say, an impulse to protect Cain taking over. ‘I’m sure this is a big misunderstanding. I don’t know anything about anyone being involved with this.’

He reaches into his coat and takes out a pen. Then he fishes in his pants pocket and produces a notebook. He tears out a page, scribbles something on it and hands it to me.

‘Keep this somewhere safe and call me if you have any other information that might help.’

‘Thanks.’

He doesn’t say anything else, he just turns to go.

‘Wait,’ I call.

‘Yes?’ He turns back, hands on hips.

‘How much can these people make? From the cameras.’

In the morning glow, I see his eyes narrow. ‘I don’t know for certain, but I would guess in the thousands, if not tens of thousands. Depends what sort of material the cameras yield.’ I ignore the suspicious instinct tugging at my consciousness like a dog at the end of its chain. The trifecta was in the tens of thousands, this mysterious injection of cash.

‘Is he a suspect for any of this?’ I say. ‘With the cameras?’

He glances around himself for a few seconds as if following a mosquito with his eyes. ‘I’m just saying be careful. If it’s not feeling right, or you’re worried things are going south, get out and call me.’

Then, before I can speak again, he’s turned on his heel and he’s heading back inside the building.

TWENTY-FIVE