‘You sold them.’
Azoulay nodded glumly.
Dan checked the shipping document on his phone. ‘How much did the Indonesians pay for the machines?’
Azoulay named a price that came to a tidy half a million pounds.
‘And your cut?’
‘I didn’t get anything. I didn’t want anything.’ Misery filled his face. ‘I tried to persuade the minister to destroy the machines, not to endanger people’s lives, but he’s not that kind of man. He takes opportunities where he can find them. That’s what he said.’
Dan thought for a moment.
‘Who sold the machines to Jibran Bouzid?’
‘A British company. I don’t know its name. But I do know the owner is named after Shaitan…’ he glanced over his shoulder as though scared the djin might be behind him ‘…because of his ability to disappear. He exists on the borderline between light and darkness and is as ruthless as a crocodile and as cunning as a snake.’
‘He’s Moroccan? Or British?’
‘I do not know this.’ Azoulay shook his head. ‘Just that he is as greedy as the Atlas Mountains are high.’
Dan held up Kaitlyn’s photograph once more. ‘And you told all this to this woman?’
‘No. I didn’t tell her anything.’
Dan thought over everything Azoulay had said, the way he hadn’t backtracked or deviated in any way. It wasn’t, Dan realised, the first time he’d told the story.
‘Who did you tell?’
Azoulay looked bone tired. ‘Commissaire Hafid Khatabi.’
Things began to tumble into place. When the trail Kaitlyn had been following from the Indonesians suddenly stopped dead, she’d made her report to Commissariat Central and then gone home. Hafid Khatabi had taken up her investigation.
I love you for helping me. I love you love you xxxx
Which meant Khatabi had probably been warned off by the Defence Minister as well. No wonder he’d thrown Dan out.
Dan looked around the room, at the relatively simple furnishings. ‘What did you do with the minister’s money?’
‘It’s in the bank. I wanted to give it away, but my wife told me to keep it for the children.’
By the time Dan and Mohammed made it to the Medina, the sun had set and the streets were lit yellow, making the city glow as if it was made of gold.
‘What will you do next?’ Mohammed asked when he pulled the car over.
‘I’m not sure,’ Dan admitted. ‘I’d like to find this Shaitan, though. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s still selling fake bomb detectors.’
‘It would be good to stop him,’ Mohammed agreed.
As Dan stepped out of the car, Mohammed leaned across. ‘If you need more help, call me.’
Dan nodded. ‘Thank you.’ As he headed for his riad entrance, he half watched Mohammed’s little Toyota beetle down the street. The street was busy with people heading home, people heading out to eat, shoppers bustling, friends laughing. It felt soft and benign and later, he realised he’d made the mistake of letting tiredness get the better of him, not checking the street as he neared what he perceived to be his sanctuary, or he might have taken in the grey sedan cruising slowly behind him, slowing down and stopping, two men climbing out and falling into step behind him.
The first he knew that something was wrong was when he felt the hard nose of a gun barrel pressed into the small of his back, against his spine.
30
‘No, I haven’t told Mum yet. I’ve only just left work.’
Lucy was walking down the street, her phone pressed against her ear as she headed for the tube.
‘You’re planning to, though?’ Mac asked.
‘I don’t know.’ Her voice wobbled. Her emotions were all over the place having seen her father. She couldn’t believe how different her parents’ stories were. Neither matched up in any way. How was she going to find the truth? She didn’t want to hurt her mother, not after everything she’d done for Lucy over the years, all the sacrifices she’d made, but Mum had lied. Hadn’t she?
In her job Lucy was only too aware that some people lied to try to control people. Or to protect themselves. Or protect the people they cared about. But even if their intentions were good, lying wasn’t the solution because it was vital that people were able to make free decisions. Like Lucy wanting to be reunited with her father.
‘I wish I was there with you,’ Mac sighed. ‘I’d give you a great big hug, make you a cuppa and bring you a slice of coffee and walnut cake.’
All three were pretty much at the top of her list of favourite things but right now, she reckoned a hug followed by a double shot of vodka might be more appropriate.
‘I’ll take the hug when I get to see you. Maybe Sunday.’
‘How’s the case going?’
‘Well, now we know that Kaitlyn targeted Ricky, we’re focusing on his clients…’
She quickly filled him in. She didn’t tell him about Dan’s email, the attempt on Sergeant Mehdi’s life. He’d only worry himself senseless, and besides, she comforted herself, it had happened in Morocco, not the UK. Miles away. As she approached the tube entrance, she began to wind up their conversation.
‘Mac, sorry, I’ve only got another minute… is everything okay with you?’
‘Nothing a night of hot sex wouldn’t fix,’ he sighed. ‘God, I miss you.’
Lucy sped past an elderly woman tottering along with a walking stick. ‘What if we get too old to fulfil that side of our wedding vows?’
‘I think that’s highly unlikely.’ Amusement threaded his voice. ‘I have every intention of jumping your bones until I’m a hundred.’
‘Ewwww. What will we look like?’ She laughed.
‘I don’t know about me, but you’ll always be gorgeous.’
Lucy was still smiling as she pattered down the steps to the tube. Only a year to go until they tied the knot. She’d secretly bought a wedding magazine last week and read the list of Things To Do. Which started now. Like setting their budget, making an appointment to see the
