Spider - Michael Morley [99]
‘Mr L, at times like this I wish I was fifty years older,’ said Fernandez, planting a kiss on the top of his head.
Suddenly, all the hunches and gut instincts were justified. At last, they had positive proof, hopefully proof strong enough to one day put before a jury, that there hadn’t been two killers at work. Just the one. The Black River Killer had indeed crossed continents and killed in Italy.
65
Pan Arabia News Channel, New York
Jack and Howie had no time to waste on pleasantries. Howie shoved his FBI shield in the face of the security guards at Pan Arabia’s reception and made it brutally clear that he and his colleague were going straight to el Daher’s office, whether they liked it or not.
They rode the elevator, both visualizing how the coming scene would play out. The metal doors slid open, revealing a busy open-plan office with another reception area. Howie flashed his badge again. ‘FBI. Where’s Tariq el Daher’s office?’
A young woman in her mid-twenties almost held her nerve and thought about stalling them, but caved in and said, ‘At the bottom on the left. Shall I call his secretary and say –’
Jack and Howie were gone before she finished. They strode past journalists pounding computer keyboards and secretaries running off multi-coloured copies of scripts. Tariq el Daher was sitting watching TV with another man, when they pushed open the door to his glass-fronted office.
‘I didn’t know you had an appointment, Mr Baumguard,’ said the journalist, his eyes never leaving the screen.
‘Do I need one?’ said Howie, jabbing his finger on the set’s off button. ‘I thought yesterday that we had an understanding. Then I drive into work and listen to a pile of bullshit on the radio that upsets me so badly I have to come straight round here.’
Tariq looked at Howie. ‘Be good enough to turn the television back on and I’ll show you something of interest to you.’
Howie shot him a searching look, then switched on the set.
Jack sat down on a couch next to Tariq’s companion and sprawled out his giant frame. ‘Hi there,’ he said, in a way that sounded more intimidating than courteous. The man, a professional type in his late fifties, looked back at him but said nothing.
Tariq hit a remote control and rewound some footage. ‘This morning I received a telephone call from someone who rang our reception and asked to speak to me. Anonymous callers don’t usually get put through, but he asked reception to tell me the numbers 898989. I took the call and he told me that the hyperlink I clicked yesterday would be reactivated in five minutes’ time and would then be inoperable again within another five minutes. He added that unless I disconnected the police trace it would not work.’
‘What did he sound like?’ asked Jack.
Tariq frowned at him. ‘And you are?’
Jack frowned back. ‘I’m the guy asking you the question. What did he sound like?’
‘His voice was disguised,’ said Tariq. He waved a hand towards his glass-topped desk. ‘I recorded it on my phone. I will have a copy made for you.’
‘Gee, thanks,’ said Howie. ‘What’d he say?’
Tariq yawned, as though it was a big effort to answer their questions. ‘That was it. He just said I had five minutes to access the site. I think we missed thirty seconds, maybe one minute of it. When you came in, I was reviewing the footage.’
‘The same footage that you screened on this morning’s eight o’clock bulletin?’ asked Howie.
‘Yes,’ confirmed Tariq. ‘But I presume if you only heard about it on the radio, then you haven’t seen the material?’
‘You presume right,’ said Howie.
Tariq hit play on the remote and as the first picture came on screen he paused it. ‘I will show you, but please understand we did not screen this version in its entirety. We selected only the least disturbing part of the