Something in the Water(87)

The screen flares to life. Text messages ping up on the phone. Two messages.





THE OFFER STILL STANDS


CONTACT ME


From the same number as before. The number that knows someone has the bag.

But I don’t understand what the message means. What offer? I scroll up for more but I see only the old messages I read in Bora Bora. Then I notice a small red circle over the call icon. I check the missed call log. There have been two missed calls from the same number since we have been in possession of the bag, since I sent that ridiculous text message in Bora Bora. Two missed calls…and one voicemail.

I sit down on a bench, hit the voicemail icon, and lift the phone to my ear.

The first voice I hear is the voice of the network carrier’s automated system. It’s female, but in a language I don’t understand. Eastern European? Russian. Then silence, followed by a long beep.

It connects. I hear the closed-in silence of a room, someone waiting close to the receiver to speak.

Then the voice comes thick and calm. It’s male. The language is English but with an accent that’s hard to distinguish.

“You received the previous message. The offer stands. Contact us.”

The message ends. I have no idea what it’s referring to. What previous message? What offer? The system voice prattles on in Russian. And then the man’s voice returns. A saved message. The previous message.

“You have something that belongs to us. We would like it returned.”

I feel my breath catch in my throat.

“I’m not sure how you came into contact with it. It’s not important at this stage but it will be in your interests to return it to us,” he says.

It suddenly occurs to me that someone has already listened to this voicemail; that’s why it didn’t show up as new. Someone has heard it. I think of our back door standing ajar, I think of Patrick’s cold hand in my warm one, I think of SO15, I think of Simon and Eddie. Has someone been in our attic? Who? But then I realize there’s only really one other person who could have listened to this. Because why would the man on the phone right now, if he really was searching for us, break into our house and listen to his own message? And if it was DCI Foster and SO15, why would they not have immediately seized everything they found as evidence? And if it had been someone to do with Eddie who heard this, then why would Eddie still have paid us two million pounds if he could have just taken everything? The truth—the truth is that no one else has been in our attic. Which must mean that I’m not the only one who’s been keeping secrets. Mark has already listened to this voicemail.

“We will reimburse you. A finder’s fee for your troubles.”

I glance around the square, heart pounding through my chest. It’s crazy, I know, but all at once I’m certain that someone is watching me again. I scan the faces in the crowd, but no one seems interested in me, no one is looking. I suddenly feel utterly alone, alone in a sea of strangers. I snap back to the voice.

“If you have the flash drive, contact me. On this number. The offer is two million euros.”

Euros. That means he’s in Europe, right? Or he knows we are. Does he know we’re in the UK? He’ll have traced this phone’s signal whenever Mark last accessed it. He’ll know we’re in London by now.

“The amount is nonnegotiable. If you can supply this, we will make the exchange. We are not interested in pursuing you; we require only the USB. Whether you choose to assist us in retrieving it or not, however, is up to you. Contact me.”

The message ends.

The flash drive? I had completely forgotten about the USB. No mention of the bag money? No mention of the diamonds. They just want the USB? More than the diamonds, more than the money. What the fuck is on the USB? I can’t catch my breath. Do I even want to know? Holy shit.

I turn off the phone. Just in case. You never know.

Why didn’t Mark tell me about this? Why did he turn the phone on in the first place? And where did he turn it on? Of course, he’s far more cautious than I am. He’d have gone to a crowded area too. He’s a clever guy. But why? Why look? And then I realize. He too was worried about them coming for us. Of course he was worried. After the Sharpes’ accident, he felt responsible, in a way, for what happened to them. He knew that it was deliberate and it scared him. So he pretended, for me. Mark’s very convincing when he wants to be. So he checked the phone. He checked to see if they were still looking for us. And they were and he kept it to himself. To protect me. To keep me from being terrified. The guilt makes my chest ache. I can’t believe Mark’s been going through all of this alone. And with me running around so recklessly.

But then I realize that’s probably why he didn’t tell me, isn’t it? He wanted to stop me finding out about this offer. He knew I’d want to do it, to make the exchange, and now that I think about it, yes, yes, I do want to do it. Because if we can play it right, if we can just play this last situation right, we’ll win it all. We can’t stop now anyway; it’s not safe to stop. If we don’t give them back what they want, they’ll never stop looking for us.

And I know Mark didn’t tell me about the voicemail because it’s clearly a stupid idea. And I know it’s stupid because they don’t really know where we are or they’d have just taken the USB already. And it’s stupid because we don’t need any more money. And I’m stupid because I have been driving this whole thing from the very beginning, and now that I’ve heard this voice message all I want in the whole world is to make that deal. They might not know where we are now, but they will keep looking and I want them to stop. And I want that extra two million euros.