coffee and nicotine.
‘Good, you’re here,’ Karim said. ‘I was thinking, this information you recovered — ’
‘You want Miss White to analyse the data I recovered from the company laptop while you and I sort through the scanned documents. It will save time, and possibly allow us to identify our shooter before the plane lands in Chicago.’
‘Either you’ve developed psychic abilities, or I need to develop a better poker face.’
‘You intended to use her from the very start, Ali. That’s why you brought her along.’
‘I’ve come to rely heavily on M’s talents.’
‘That is, of course, your choice. But I won’t be joining you on the return flight.’
Karim’s expression turned stoic. ‘After all our time together, do you honestly believe I’d bring someone into the fold who would put your freedom in danger?’
‘No, I don’t. But you’re not living under the sword of Damocles. A man in my position has to be careful.’
‘I know this woman, Malcolm. I trust her as much as I trust you, which is considerably.’
‘Be that as it may, the three-million-dollar bounty on my head might change her mind.’
‘Your fears are unwarranted. Even if she knew who you really are — and she doesn’t — M would never do such a thing. She’s incapable of it.’
‘ “Passion persuades me one way, reason another.” ’
‘I’m sorry, but I forgot to bring along my copy of Bartlett’s Familiar Quotes.’
‘Clearly this woman has cast some sort of spell on you. You should see the way you simper in her presence.’
Karim chuckled as he dropped the last of his cigarette.
‘I’m not judging you,’ Fletcher said. ‘In addition to being attractive, she projects a rather intense magnetism. Your choice of paramours is your business, but I would suggest you exercise caution.’
‘Oh, and why’s that?’
‘Ali, the woman is young enough to be your daughter.’
‘That she is,’ Karim said, stubbing out the cigarette butt with his heel. ‘She is, in fact, my daughter.’
25
‘My adopted daughter,’ Karim said, fetching the crumpled cigarette pack from his shirt pocket. ‘My simpering, as you called it, is nothing more than the expression of a proud father.’
Fletcher, taken aback by Karim’s admission, said nothing.
During the course of their professional relationship, Karim had made it abundantly clear that he would never remarry, let alone have another child. Burying his son and having to endure the painful mental disintegration of his former wife had banished Karim to a private hell from which few emerged. When he had finally managed to claw his way back to the demands of the living, Karim made the conscious decision to conduct his emotional life from within a fortified prison. He kept people at a distance, and in his private life the handful of women who had aroused his interest had been amputated like a necrotic limb the instant they expressed the wish for a serious emotional connection. Fletcher knew this was partly a coping mechanism but even more an act of self-flagellation. Karim refused to forgive himself for having failed to protect his child.
‘When did this happen?’
‘The adoption? Officially, when she turned sixteen.’ Karim lit his cigarette. ‘No one knows about it. Not even Boyd. I took some rather elaborate and extensive measures to make sure no one could find out. You’re not the only one with powerful enemies, Malcolm.’
Clearly there was more to the adoption story, and Karim’s connection to a woman who had been born and raised on the other side of the pond. Fletcher’s natural investigative instincts prompted him to delve further, but this matter was none of his business, and counter-productive to the issue at hand.
‘How long has she been working with you?’
‘Since she graduated from university,’ Karim said. ‘M came to the States and went to work in my IT department. She lasted about a year. She found the work mundane and tedious, and so asked if she could work directly with me. I hired her as my personal assistant. During that time, I noticed that she possessed a certain unique set of skills, which could be invaluable to my… side projects.’
‘How long?’
‘The last two years. M performs all the computer work so it can’t be traced back to my company.’
‘What’s this “M” business?’
Karim shrugged. ‘That’s what she likes to be called.’
‘And she’s aware of what you and I do?’
‘She’s aware of what I do, yes. That’s how much I trust her, Malcolm. But she doesn’t know about you. I would never betray our confidence.’
Fletcher knew this to be true. Karim was a man of his word.
‘And I would certainly never do anything that might jeopardize your freedom — our freedom, as I’m the one who’s aiding and abetting a known fugitive. I have no doubts concerning M. That being said, I should have told you when we were in Chicago. I know the value you put on your privacy. My apologies.’
‘How much does she know about the case?’
‘She did the data mining on the Herrera family,’ Karim said. ‘At the moment, her knowledge is limited to the information she recovered from the Internet and various databases. She knows I was in contact with Theresa Herrera regarding her missing son. She also knows about the bombing, but I didn’t tell her about your involvement or about the shooter.
‘If you allow M to work with us on this — and I think you should, Malcolm — you can control the flow of information, the extent to which she’s involved. Or you can work this privately and report back to me. Your choice.’
Fletcher didn’t need to think it over; he had already made up his mind. He indicated his intentions by motioning to the airport building, curious as to what made the mysterious M so special — and how the young woman had penetrated Karim’s ironclad, wounded heart.
Fletcher preferred reading to be a tactile experience. He didn’t want to read the scanned order forms from Sacred Ashes on his netbook computer screen. When he boarded the plane, he headed to the back and plugged the scanner’s micro-SD card into Karim’s high-speed laser printer. M, seated in the rear of the plane and hunkered over a MacBook Pro laptop, paid him no attention.
That changed when he stepped beside her. She stared intently at him over the top of her MacBook, her body rigid. He noticed her hands gripping the edges of her seat.
Fletcher placed the portable hard drive on the table. She listened attentively as he explained the data he’d collected from the company laptop, what information she should focus on and the tasks he needed her to perform. She punctuated each of his requests with a nod. She didn’t speak. When he finished, she didn’t have any questions for him.
Inside the bathroom Fletcher took off his sunglasses. He put in his contacts and washed his face and hands. When he returned, he removed a thick stack of papers from the printer tray. There
were two copies. He handed one to Karim, who was seated across the aisle from M.
The table where Karim sat held a cheese tray and a pair of long-stemmed glasses set around an opened 1998 bottle of Chateau Latour a Pomerol. Fletcher offered M a glass. She politely declined without looking up from her MacBook.
Fletcher settled himself in the spacious leather seat across from Karim. As the plane taxied to the runway, Fletcher started reading, slowly, studying the information printed on each sheet. When he reached the last page, he returned to the beginning of the stack. He didn’t look up until he had finished his third and final review.
Fletcher grabbed a fresh sheet of paper. He wrote down his instructions and, reaching across the aisle, slid the sheet on to M’s table. She glanced at it, nodded once, and then switched her gaze back to her MacBook.
Fletcher glanced at the cockpit door. It was closed.
‘It’s safe to talk,’ Karim said.
