‘Probably is the nanny,’ said Famie. ‘How totally predictable.’
‘And so what?’ said Sam. ‘Even if he is shagging the nanny, even if the Lawsons’ marriage was a sham, what’s it to us?’
He had a point, Famie knew that.
‘And why have you stolen his tablet?’ said Charlie, again.
Another good point. Maybe they had the same answer.
‘There’s something here,’ said Famie, waving her arms. ‘In the tablet, in the immaculate house, in the immaculate garden, in his demeanour, his manner. Now a beautiful young woman at his side. You notice he didn’t invite us inside? Did he seem like a grieving husband to you?’
Charlie pushed herself forward, between the seats. ‘Mum, why did you steal the tablet?’
‘In case,’ said Famie. ‘In case there’s something there. Chances are there’s nothing and I can just take it back. Innocent mistake.’
Sam was uncomfortable, annoyed even. ‘“In case”?’ he said. ‘Really? That’s not good enough, Fames, and you know it. The tablet isn’t going to be Mary’s, is it? It’ll be Martin’s, or one of the kids’. So a total waste of time. And what’s your plan for the password?’
Charlie, from the back: ‘You can barely remember your own, Mum, never mind finding someone else’s.’
‘OK,’ Famie said. ‘If my idea doesn’t work, we’ll just drive back in and I’ll put it back. OK?’
‘OK,’ Charlie said after a short pause, and handed the thin screen to Famie.
She spun it over in her hands. On its polished base, Famie pointed to a small piece of adhesive plaster that had ‘LawsonFam01’ written in biro. ‘Exhibit one,’ she said, and typed the password into the on-screen box. ‘Wouldn’t have nicked it if I hadn’t seen this.’
The next screen offered four accounts: Mary’s was top left, Martin’s top right, Freddie was bottom left, Ella bottom right. Each had a jokey, face-pulling selfie for its wallpaper. They all looked so happy. Famie swallowed hard, hesitated only briefly. She touched Mary’s photo and another password box appeared. She tried ‘LawsonFam01’ again. Turned down, no entry, nothing doing. She folded her arms.
‘That’ll be the family code,’ said Charlie. ‘Ella or Freddie will have written it because one or both of their parents was incapable of remembering it. Imagine that. Now it’s just the individual code word for Mary’s account we have to guess.’
‘I’m not guessing,’ said Famie. ‘That would be dumb.’
‘You know Mary’s password?’ Sam was astonished, unbelieving.
‘No. I know Sophie’s password for the laptop. Seth gave it to her. It’s just possible Seth gave Mary the same one.’
‘Which is?’ said Sam.
‘First three words of the Egyptian national anthem.’
‘Which are?’ said Charlie.
‘No idea,’ said Famie.
Charlie Googled it first. ‘It’s “My country” three times,’ she said, ‘which in Arabic is “bilady” three times.’
She spelt it out, Famie typed it in the box.
‘No numbers? No caps?’ said Sam.
Famie hesitated, capitalized the first word, hit enter. Rejected.
‘You might have only one guess left,’ Sam said.
A small van shot past the end of their track, closely followed by another de luxe 4×4. Famie found herself holding her breath, expecting trouble, but the engines faded to nothing. For a brief moment the only sound in the car was the singing of blackbirds and thrushes.
‘I’ll call Sophie,’ said Famie, once she was sure the birds were their only company.
She answered on the second ring.
‘Sophie. The password for the laptop. Is it “bilady” three times?’
Somewhat surprised, Sophie came back with, ‘Er, yes, that’s right. Have you got the laptop back from the police?’
Famie ignored the question. ‘Any capitals or numbers or fancy shit?’
‘Just like it is on the page,’ said Sophie. ‘Capitals for all of them, commas after the first two.’
‘Thanks. See you later.’
Famie hung up, then typed with precision. Pressed enter.
‘Bingo,’ she said.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Sam.
‘Always knew you were a secret tech genius,’ said Charlie. ‘What happens now?’
Famie angled the screen so both Sam and Charlie could see. A generic blue wallpaper was scattered with icons, haphazardly spaced.
‘Messy,’ muttered Charlie.
Each icon was a newspaper app, the title of the paper typed in small letters below the logo. Famie scanned the familiar titles: Times, Telegraph, Guardian, New York Times, Daily Jang, Times of India, Le Monde, Süddeutsche Zeitung, El País, the Australian, Washington Post. The last badge was, on closer inspection, a black folder icon with ‘locals’ written underneath. She tapped the folder. A long list of web addresses appeared.
‘Huh,’ said Famie.
‘That looks like every decent local paper in the country,’ said Sam.
‘And some not so decent,’ said Famie. ‘This tablet is a reference tool. It’s all of her newspaper reading in one place.’
‘Makes sense,’ said Charlie.
‘But no help for us,’ said Famie.
‘Depends what she’s been reading,’ said Sam. ‘Browsing history?’
Charlie found it. The screen filled with links to articles and sites.
‘We need to look at those,’ said Famie. ‘All of them. There must be something in Mary’s reading which links her to what they were working on. We know her team were off-grid on this one but surely her reading material will show us something. Charlie, can you drive? I need to work on this.’
Charlie nodded, reached for her door. ‘We’re keeping the tablet?’ she said.
‘We’re keeping the tablet,’ Famie replied. ‘Crime pays. It’s my new slogan.’
54
STARTING AT THE top, Famie worked her way through Mary Lawson’s reading list. Charlie was driving, her music playing. Sam and Famie sat together in the back, the screen between them. Some of the links were to newspaper websites, others to specific articles.
‘They’ll be in chronological order,’ said Sam.
Famie tapped the first link. Her stomach flipped.
‘Christ, it’s May twenty-second,’ she said. ‘The last thing Mary read before she was killed.’ The time and date of last viewing were displayed at the top of the page. ‘Five twelve a.m. So she’s reading this first thing, before leaving the house. The Daily Jang.’
‘Where’s that from?’ said Charlie, glancing in the rearview mirror.
‘Pakistan,’ said Famie. ‘Karachi. An English translation.’ She scanned the story. ‘It’s a piece about some arrests of a terror
