The Death Messenger (Matthew Ryan Book 2)(100)

‘This is DS Matthew Ryan. Welcome back.’

‘Finally.’ Spielberg sounded pissed off. ‘I was beginning to think that you weren’t speaking to me.’

‘Funny lady,’ Ryan said. ‘Shame you’re not as patient. I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you last time. Someone important was on the line. You could have waited, instead you hung up on me.’

The team had decided he should use the same acerbic tone with her, exactly as before. Clearly, he’d made a connection. Why else would she call? Ryan was finding it hard to shake the image that played out in his head a moment ago. He was conversing with a killer – that was a given – but was it the voice of Sophia Montgomery? A child murderer was hard to get your head round . . . even for a cop.

‘Foxtrot 3 has the eyeball – both targets fishing off the narrowboat. They’re chatting, Gold. Photographic evidence on way to you.’

‘Keep filming,’ Grace said. ‘I want continuous timed evidence until I say otherwise. Is either target near a mobile or landline?’

‘Negative on the landline.’ He paused. ‘It’s hard to tell from here whether either of them has a mobile.’

‘Make an approach. I want both targets in conversation with a Foxtrot ASAP.’

‘Stand by.’

The surveillance leader spoke into his radio, a shutter repeatedly going off over his left shoulder. ‘Foxtrot 3, break cover. Engage targets overtly. I repeat, engage targets overtly. I want confirmation that neither Clark nor Mitchell is on the phone. Keep talking until I ask you to disengage.’

‘Affirmative.’

Within seconds, Foxtrot 3 appeared on the tow path in a drenched waterproof and muddy boots, trundling along as if he’d been walking for miles. The surveillance commander grinned. ‘Gold, Foxtrot 3 now in position. Target 1 giving him a light. Target 2 appears to be participating in friendly banter. Camera still rolling. Over.’

Spielberg had made no comment. Ryan was still baiting her. ‘I’d have rung if you’d left your number. Are you going to give me a name this time? You know mine. It’s common courtesy to reciprocate.’

‘Nice try, Ryan.’

‘I didn’t mean your own, silly. Make one up. Everyone needs a handle. Even you.’

There was a pause. ‘You can call me Marge.’

‘As in Simpson?’ Ryan forced a laugh. ‘C’mon! You can do better than that. She has a beehive hairstyle. I hear yours is much more glamorous. What colour is it this week?’ She made no reply.

‘Caught much?’ Foxtrot 3 was leaning against the houseboat talking to Clark.

She smiled. ‘Just a tiddler. My guest has done rather better.’

Foxtrot 3 took a long drag of his cigarette. ‘I used to fish.’

‘Oh yeah,’ Mitchell was obviously bored stiff.

‘You’d rather be in the Big Smoke, eh?’ The surveillance officer smiled. ‘Don’t blame you. There’s not a lot else to do but fish around here.’

Ryan forced himself on. ‘Not playing? OK. Maybe Marge does suit you. She’s from a dysfunctional family, a gambler too, you have that in common, I suppose.’

‘Call me what the fuck you like.’

Aggressive. ‘How about Spielberg?’

The line was cut.

‘Gold to surveillance commander. Your team can stand down. Targets no longer relevant. I repeat, targets no longer relevant. Good job!’

‘That’s received, Gold. We’ll send you the evidence when we return to base.’

Having seen Ryan put down the phone, Newman gave him a round of applause and high-fived Grace. ‘Result!’ he said.

O’Neil glowered at the screen. ‘This is not a game show, Frank.’

Newman turned to face her. ‘You can’t have it both ways, Eloise. We all agreed that Ryan should deal with her as he saw fit. What he did was well worth a punt. It’s the first time we’ve had the opportunity and angle with which to provoke a response, and we got it. He handled it perfectly because now she knows we’re on to her.’

‘That’s exactly my point. She might leg it.’

‘Oh, c’mon!’ Grace said. ‘She’s shown her hand and lost control.’

‘Except we don’t know for sure who she is,’ O’Neil was saying.

‘We have a pretty good idea, thanks to Ryan. Cutting that call validates our belief that the case is somehow connected to cinematography. What’s more, Spielberg knows we know and she won’t like it.’ Grace eyeballed her former DS. ‘You did good, Ryan. We had sod all before. Now we’re coasting. I’m proud of you, even if Eloise isn’t. Clark and Mitchell are in the clear. They were under close observation throughout your call.’

That information alone was cause for celebration.





56


In the past few hours, suspicion had shifted seismically from Clark and Mitchell to Nichol and A.N. Other. The big money was now firmly on the Montgomery pair. Knowing how close he was to Caroline had Ryan wondering about the existence of criminally minded siblings. It was rare to find such a combination prepared to collaborate in the ultimate crime.

Not unprecedented though . . .

Ryan recalled a book by John Pearson – The Cult of Violence: The Untold Story of the Krays – in which they were described as having worked together, almost telepathically, as if they were one. A shocking thought. If it turned out that Spielberg was Montgomery, her brother Mark under her control, might they be the exception that proved the rule?