The Death Messenger (Matthew Ryan Book 2)(73)

‘What time was this?’ Ryan asked.

‘Three o’clock or thereabouts, maybe a few minutes after – a Friday afternoon. It occurred to me that embassy guards were being lazy, that questioning the couple might delay an early finish for the weekend. I’m sure you have the same type in your country.’

‘Fortalte De mine kollegaer det?’ ?lgaard interrupted. Her words needed no translation. Her tone was enough of a hint that she was royally pissed off. The Dane turned to Ryan and O’Neil. ‘This is the first I’ve heard of the two security guards from the embassy. She never mentioned them before. I would have questioned them earlier, had I known.’

‘The detective I spoke to never asked me.’ Anja said in English. She didn’t flinch when ?lgaard got up and left the room, practically taking the door off its hinges as she yanked it open. The librarian rolled her eyes. ‘I guess someone is in serious trouble.’

Ryan suspected that the security detail – if that’s what it was – had seen the couple from inside the building and were now keeping shtum because they should have investigated. They would want nothing to do with a foreign national going missing on their watch, especially one as important as the British ambassador they were employed to protect. He made a mental note to follow it up. With any luck – they were certainly due some – there would be CCTV to verify Pedersen’s account.

‘What made you link the two events?’ Ryan asked.

‘The Ambassador’s death was reported on TV and in the newspaper. It reminded me of the suspicious couple I’d seen just days before.’ Her eyes had grown dark. ‘I feel very guilty now. Maybe if I’d challenged them.’

‘Given what we suspect, that would’ve been unwise.’

‘I could’ve approached the patrol.’

Ryan reassured her. ‘You weren’t to know what was going to happen.’

‘Lisbeth Salander would’ve done something.’

Reference to the fictitious character of Swedish author Stieg Larsson threw Ryan. He was suddenly on the back foot, wondering if the librarian was herself a bit of a fruitcake, overly influenced by the books she read. It was just as well ?lgaard had left the room.

O’Neil was getting restless and was, Ryan suspected, similarly astonished by Pedersen’s lapse into a fabricated universe during a police interview. Checking her watch, O’Neil chanced a brief glance at Ryan, a gesture, if one were needed, to push on.

‘What was the woman like?’ he asked. ‘More or less anxious than him?’

‘Much less.’ There was no hesitation. ‘She was keeping her distance from him, but they were definitely together. There was no doubt in my mind. They were . . .’ She linked hands tightly to demonstrate her point. ‘More than close if you know what I mean. I’m not sure how to describe it.’

‘Man and wife?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Pedersen screwed up her face. ‘More like brother and sister.’

‘What gave you that impression?’

?lgaard was back, her mood no better for her trip outside.

‘She was protective of him, not the other way round,’ Anja said. ‘Looking out for him, if you know what I mean. She was acting oddly too, sketching on a notepad when there wasn’t anything interesting in the street to draw.’

That artistic bent again.

Photographer or sketch artist, Ryan was certain that the woman Pedersen was describing was half of the couple he was after, the woman O’Neil had nicknamed Spielberg. Her voice echoed in his head now, snippets of their brief telephone conversation and the chilling dialogue from the DVDs she’d sent. If Pedersen’s account could be believed – and that was currently under review – Spielberg was the driving force, not her male accomplice, just as Caroline had suspected when she fed back her thoughts on the DVDs.

Ryan focused on the witness. ‘Can you give a good description of either of them?’

‘Not him,’ She struggled for the right words, lapsing into her mother tongue, her attention on her countrywoman. ‘Han havde en hat p?, der skyggede for hans ansigt.’

?lgaard responded in the same way. ‘Hvilken slags hat var det?’

‘Amerikansk, den slags man har p? til baseball.’

‘His face was in shade.’ ?lgaard translated. ‘He was wearing a baseball cap.’

‘Yeah, we gathered that.’ Ryan turned to Pedersen. ‘Is there anything about him you haven’t already mentioned to me or Politikommis?r ?lgaard?’

‘He needed something to eat.’

‘Excuse me?’ Ryan didn’t understand.

?lgaard was about to ask for clarification when Pedersen spoke up. ‘I’m not a doctor, but my sister is painfully thin. She has a disease—’

‘Anorexia?’

‘Yes, the man with the phone looked like her.’

‘And the woman?’

‘She was older, more confident – definitely in control – attractive too . . . with hair like your boss.’

Ryan glanced at O’Neil. Pedersen’s description of this couple was strikingly similar to the one given by Trevathan’s housekeeper – a thin man; a glamorous woman – but the two who took the briefcase had since been ruled out as MI5 operatives. It was important not to confuse the couples. The librarian was their sole eyewitness.