“Just be as quick as you can.”
“We’ll try sir.”
Left alone again, Oscar told himself to calm the fuck down. It was obvious what they were doing, and it wasn’t going to work. He was surprised it had come to this, they obviously hadn’t completely disregarded what Billy had told them, which was a surprise. But at the same time, it was understandable, they had to follow it up. Otherwise it would be a problem in trial. Billy’s defense lawyer would be able to claim he had a defense that was never investigated. So this was nothing. Just the FBI acting like jerks because they could. Stay calm. Answer the damn questions, and then think about suing their asses off for the way they were doing this.
Another hour later, they finally came to speak to him.
It was Agent West and Black who came in, the former carrying a pile of papers in a plastic folder, with a tablet computer on top. Black had acquired a toothpick, which poked out from between his lips.
“I apologize for the wait Mr Magnuson, I believe my colleague Agent Black explained our need to interview yourself and Mr Richards separately.”
“Sure.”
“Have you been offered a drink? Coffee? Iced tea?”
Oscar considered. It wouldn’t hurt to be alert. “Coffee.”
Agent Black went to get it, while West sat down opposite, placing the papers and computer on the table between them. She said nothing, until Black came back with the coffee, plus sachets of milk and sugar.
“You understand you’re not under arrest, but we are recording this interview. You have the right to an attorney present, if you want one, and you do not have to answer any questions if you don’t want to. Do you understand?”
“Yeah I understand.”
“How well do you know Billy Wheatley?”
Bang straight in. Oscar gave himself a moment before answering. This was the most difficult question he and James had discussed, back when they were putting this plan together. On the one hand very few people had seen them together – but some clearly had. He shifted a little in his chair.
“We met a few times. He became friends with Lily.”
“Lily Bellafonte?”
“Yes.”
“When was this?”
“A few months back. Maybe six months?”
“What did you think of him?”
Oscar looked at Agent West, then slid his eyes sideways to Black. Both of the agents were looking at him, but not intently. They looked almost bored, he realized. Going through the motions. He relaxed a little.
“I didn’t think much of him. I mean, I didn’t think about him much.”
“OK”. West paused for a moment.
“What do you think he was doing?”
“Honestly? I thought he liked Lily, that he was trying to break her and James apart.”
“He claims that’s what happened. That he and Lily Bellafonte were dating?”
“I don’t know about dating. She and James have a kind of on-off relationship. It’s not unusual for them to take a break. Wheatley just got lucky for a few weeks, and thought it was more than that.”
West didn’t speak for a while. Instead she tapped her fingers thoughtfully on the table top.
“Mr Wheatley claims that was your motive. For setting him up as the bomber on Lornea Island. That James was jealous of him and Miss Bellafonte.” She met his eyes and gazed at him, more interested now.
“That’s completely ridiculous. That’s crazy. He’s crazy. I’ve never been to Lornea Island. I was here when it happened and I can prove it. I have witnesses. I was with James and my girlfriend Jennifer…” he touched a hand to his forehead, reminding himself to stay calm, not to overdo it. “Agent West – you must be able to… I don’t know, check my cellphone records. I was here. We were all here.”
“Mr Magnuson, I’d like to play you a clip from our interview with James Richards, if I may?”
Oscar frowned, not understanding. He felt a line of tension form in his back. James better not have fucked this up.
“Sure.” He shrugged. “No problem.”
“Thank you.” West picked up the tablet, and fiddled with it a while, holding the screen where he couldn’t see it. Then she folded its case into a stand, and set it on the table. The screen now showed an interview room very similar to this, with James sitting, obviously facing the camera. West leaned around and hit the arrow in the center, to make the video begin playing. At once there was the sound of the microphone picking up a hum of background noise. Then a voice began – West’s – off camera.
“Mr Richards, Mr Wheatley has accused you of framing him for the bombing of the Fonchem chemical site on Lornea Island, and the murder of the security guard, Keith Waterhouse. What do you say to that?”
On the screen James answered at once. “It’s rubbish.”
“Do you know why he would say that?”
James shrugged, elaborately. With such unmistakable arrogance, that Oscar found himself smiling too. Or perhaps it was closer to a sneer. The video played on.
“Mr Richards. I want to show you something. Could you look at this?”
On the screen, James appeared to lean forward and look at a photograph, or a document that was being held up for him to see. There was a weird moment, when his face changed. It went from relaxed arrogance to one of shock.
“Where did you get that?” James asked, on the screen.
“Never mind about that, Mr Richards.” It was West’s voice again. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Did you set out to frame Billy Wheatley for the bombing of the Fonchem chemical plant on Lornea Island, and for the murder of Keith Waterhouse?”
On the screen James didn’t answer. His face – filmed in high resolution – had gone white. He glanced at the camera, then back at whatever it was he was being shown.
“Shit.”
“Mr Richards?”
“Shit. Look I don’t know where you got this, but it wasn’t me. None of it. The whole thing was Oscar’s idea. I was just going along with it, but I didn’t know what
