Gregory's Game (9 page)

‘Because Mason, the man I had in mind, he could keep someone alive for days. This is crude. The weight of the body on the internal organs, with it hanging like that, would have led to shock, organ failure, death, even without the rope round his neck. He would have asphyxiated.'

‘How long?'

‘Hours, maybe. At most, and depending on a lot of factors. Whoever did this was in a hurry, but they were also referencing something, sending a message. There are much simpler ways of killing and very much simpler ways of torturing someone for information; we both know that. This is theatrical, excessive.' He pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘I also get the feeling—'

‘That they enjoyed it,' Nathan finished.

T
ess's thoughts drifted to her meeting with Alec as she headed for home. She knew she had been short with him, but hoped he would understand. She was busy, involved, dealing with urgent matters, and a visit from a friend – nice though that might be – was ill timed.

But it was more than that, Tess acknowledged as she closed her car door and headed inside. It was the suddenness that made her feel so put out. Alec had had many opportunities to get in touch with her and, to be fair, they had exchanged a few texts, especially around the time of her promotion, and they had talked vaguely about getting everyone together for a drink some time. But Tess had never quite summoned the enthusiasm to make the date. Alec was someone she had known, someone she'd actually been pretty fond of at one time, but that time had passed and now … well, now she wasn't really sure what she felt about him any more. He was an ex-colleague, and probably no more than that.

But what really peeved her, she realized as she dropped her bag just inside the door and headed for the kitchen, was the obviousness of it. Alec was interested in her latest case, not in her. Tess paused at the entrance to her kitchen and bit her lip in irritation. Now, if she was so unbothered about Alec Friedman, why the hell should that bother her?

She made coffee, peered into the fridge to see if there was anything worth eating and in the end resorted to ordering a pizza. Her mother was always on at her to eat better, to take care of herself, but Tess was never domesticated and figured it was probably too late to try now.

She sat back in her favourite chair, enjoying the near silence of her little flat, disturbed only by the faint sounds of the street below and the neighbours above when they slammed their front door, grateful of the respite after a day of noise and disquiet on so many levels. Her mind wandered back to the meeting with Professor Marsh and his strange, attractive companion.

‘So what weren't you telling me?' Tess wondered. ‘And who the devil are you, Nathan Crow?'

Once the pizza arrived, she settled down with her laptop and another coffee and did a simple search: Professor Ian Marsh + Nathan Crow, not really expecting to come up with much. To her surprise, she found an article about the pair. A photograph of Ian Marsh headed a story about a peace mission in Sudan. Ian Marsh had negotiated with local elders to allow a vaccination programme to go ahead in some remote area Tess could not even pronounce. The report was from a medical journal linked to Médecins Sans Frontières, which she had at least heard of. Three medics were listed in the team; one of them was Nathan Crow.

‘A doctor?' Tess asked herself. ‘He's a medic?' How old was he, she wondered. She did a search just for the young man and then just for the professor. For Marsh there were articles he had published, a piece about his appointment as Visiting Professor and then another when he took up his current role. Both contained brief résumés of his past work. Diplomatic missions, lecture tours, papers published in what Tess assumed were prestigious journals. A lecture he gave on terrorism, and government security. Another on the role of GCHQ. Tess smiled at that one, wondering if he'd have to rewrite it in light of recent events and revelations.

Information regarding Nathan was thinner on the ground. He was mentioned a couple of times working with the Kurds on the Turkish border, but there was little concrete and Tess wasn't really in the mood to do a deep search. She was curious, that was all, she told herself as she munched pizza and finally turned her attention to anything that might be worth watching on late-night television.

One thing was certain though: both Crow and Marsh had travelled a great deal, and their destinations had not been choice holiday spots.

Across town, Alec and Naomi lay together in bed, bodies curved against one another. They had made love for the first time since Alec's accident. It had been restrained, cautious, as though the bruises of minds and hearts manifested on their bodies, but it was healing too, Naomi thought.

‘I felt like I was nothing,' Alec said, remembering his meeting with Tess. ‘Kept out in the hall like a random visitor, treated like …'

‘I know,' she said softly. ‘It's hard to go back and be like an outsider. A pariah. I tried it a time or two after I finished, but … People were nice enough, but I didn't belong any more and so I stopped going anywhere near the place. I knew I didn't belong.'

Alec raised himself up on one elbow and gazed down at his wife. ‘I didn't know,' he said. ‘I never thought.'

‘Alec, I went through all this five years ago,' she said. ‘I know what it's like. Believe me, I know.'

‘So, everyone is in position?'

Mae nodded. ‘Both teams are set. Look, I can't believe—'

‘He's a hard man, your old friend. You'd be surprised at what he'll do.'

‘With you pushing him into it.'

‘Encouraging, my dear. He owes me. He knows that.'

‘But
they
don't. What sort of man risks his wife and kid like this?'

He laughed. ‘Are you getting sentimental, Mae, my dear? I never thought I'd be able to make that accusation.' He laid a hand almost tenderly against her cheek.
Almost
tenderly; possessively, she thought.

She moved away from him, brushing the blonde hair back from her face and tucking it behind an ear. ‘I'd better go,' she said. ‘It's a long drive.' Her coat lay across the arm of the chair and she picked it up, slipping her arms through the sleeves and then adjusting the scarf at her throat. ‘I'll call you from the hotel and we'll do a final equipment test.'

He touched her cheek again and turned her face towards him. ‘Don't go soft, Mae. Not after all this time. It doesn't suit you.'

She scowled at him. ‘I've never let you down. Not you or anyone else that employed me. I won't now.'

‘I'd like to think of you as more than an employee,' he said.

‘Don't kid yourself.'

She heard him laughing as she left the room. The sooner she was out of here the better, Mae thought. The sooner she was done with this, the better. The sense of unease, of something being wrong was growing again. She'd managed to suppress it for a few days, telling herself that this was just another job and that she'd done worse – both of which facts were true – but she'd rarely felt as though the walls were closing in on her. Not like this.

Reaching the front door, she glanced back towards his study. She could hear him faintly, speaking on the phone. Mae glanced at her watch and then let herself out. A couple more days and she'd be done. She could leave. But no matter how she reasoned with herself, the feeling of dread would not be cast aside or pushed away. It sat, solemn and judgemental at the edge of her consciousness and told her she was a damned fool.

And I can't argue, Mae thought. I'm a fool and this is all wrong and I don't think any of us are going to make it through unscathed. It'll be a bloody miracle if any of us make it out alive.

K
at was up early on the Wednesday morning. Desiree had woken at five and wanted to play so rather than wake the whole house, Kat had taken her out into the garden after breakfast and they had tossed a ball around for a while on the dew-soaked lawn. Autumn was really taking hold. The first leaves had fallen from the willow and the horse chestnut had begun to turn golden. This would be the first year that Desiree could kick her way through the crispy leaves. The first year she might actually appreciate snow. The first Christmas she'd really take notice of.

Kat was looking forward to all of that with an intensity she hadn't realized she possessed, not until her baby came along.

‘We're going home today,' she told her little girl as she swung her up into the air, enjoying the baby giggles. ‘Going to see Daddy.'

‘Daddy,' Desi said and looked around expectantly.

‘No, he's not here. We've got to go and drive in the car.'

‘In the car.'

‘Yes, in the car.'

Returning to the house, Kat found that her aunt and uncle were up and bustling about the kitchen. Cousin Sarah lurched down the stairs in her dressing gown, still bleary-eyed. Kat accepted tea, tugged the pink wellingtons from Desi's feet and took off her coat before setting her loose on a still-sleepy cousin Sarah.

‘I thought I'd make an early start,' she said. ‘I can be back by lunch, do some shopping and get sorted before Ian gets home.' She saw the faint flicker of relief in her aunt's eyes. They loved Desiree, but it had been a long time since they'd had a child in the house and the strain was staring to show.

‘Just as you like, love. Need any help with your packing?'

‘No, I'm fine. There's not a lot. It's been lovely catching up, though.'

‘It has. It's a pity Ian couldn't have stopped over for longer.'

Kat nodded, though she knew that neither her aunt nor her husband could really have coped with that any more than Ian could. He did his best, but he wasn't cut out to be sociable.

She finished her tea and scooped up her little girl. ‘Come and help me pack, Desi doo?' She felt her uncle wince. He hated baby talk – which was why she indulged, Kat admitted. She smiled to herself and hugged the toddler tightly and headed up the stairs.

They were on the road by eight forty-five, making good time through the little villages and narrow country lanes. Desiree had fallen asleep almost as soon as the car started to move and Kat, angling her rear-view mirror, smiled at the sleepy, slightly grumpy face. Her hair had really started to grow now and at thirteen months, just toddling and with blonde curls, Desiree was, in Kat's opinion, the most beautiful thing on God's earth – even accounting for the fact that Kat was not a bit religious.

Even if her attention had been fully on the road, it is doubtful that Kat could have reacted differently. She had been driving cautiously, but not slowly on roads she knew well, had slowed for the last bend, but just accelerated again, so that when the tyre blew out, the car was travelling at almost fifty miles an hour.

Kat screamed and slammed on the brakes. She felt the skid begin and desperately tried to pull out of it. Then the sudden shock as the air bag deployed. Stunned and scared and feeling the car begin to tilt, Kat heard her baby begin to cry.

N
athan had called Ian that morning and been told that Kat was on her way home. They had arranged to meet for lunch.

‘Is that still on?' Nathan wanted to know.

‘Yes, she won't be back until after that, I don't expect. Anyway, I've got to be in work this afternoon. If it's OK with you I'll pick something up and we'll eat at my place. I need to do a bit of tidying before she gets back.'

Nathan laughed. ‘I'll pick you up from the uni,' he said.

Ian was waiting on the pavement when Nathan pulled up on the double yellow lines. Ian nipped into the car and dropped his bag of shopping down between his feet. ‘She left early,' he said. ‘So there's a chance she might turn up early. You can see Daisy.' He grinned at Nathan, deliberately using his friend's pet name for Desiree.

‘That will be good. She's growing like a weed and every time I see her she knows new words.' He glanced over at his friend, who nodded, satisfied and happy. It was good to see Ian look so contented, Nathan thought. He wondered if he'd ever manage it himself.

The drive to Ian's house was fifteen minutes and they talked about nothing in particular. Old friends catching up, chatting about a documentary Ian had watched on the television the night before.

While I looked at crime-scene photographs, Nathan thought.

He pulled up outside Ian's house and cut the engine. Ian got out. Nathan didn't know what it was that told him something was wrong. Some small sign, some small change, perhaps, but it was there before they walked down the short path to the front door. As the door swung wide, Nathan's sense of wrongness was confirmed. Whoever had been there, whatever they had been looking for, they wanted Ian to know it had happened. Books and papers had been strewn across the hall. The desk in the study had been overturned. Light fittings ripped from the wall. Ian stood on the threshold and stared, unable to move.

‘Oh, my God. My God.' The house phone lay broken on the floor. He groped in his pocket for his mobile. ‘I'll call the police. Call the police.'

Nathan was already moving through the house, checking the living room, then the kitchen. The same level of devastation in both rooms. But there was something else: lying on the kitchen table was an eight-by-ten photograph, two corners held down by salt and pepper pots. The rest of the table was bare, a strange oasis of calm in the midst of chaos. But the image was anything but calm. Kat's face, bruised and scared, stared back at him and she clutched little Desiree close to her breast, her arms wrapped defensively around her child.

Nathan felt his insides freeze. It was a moment before he realized there was something more. A small slip of paper partly tucked beneath the edge of the picture. With the back of his finger, only his nail touching the paper, Nathan slid it out. He could hear Ian's voice on the phone, touched with panic. He looked up as Ian stood in the doorway.