‘In which case, they’ll be in the hard drive.’
‘Yeah, but there isn’t time to access that now.’
I suppressed a smile. ‘Did you take voice coaching from a New Yorker?’
She ignored that. After several more minutes, her fingers stopped moving.
‘Shit,’ she said, chewing her bottom lip. I remembered her doing that when she had a deadline from her editor on the newspaper. Our evenings together had often been interrupted by urgent stories and updates. We often ended up having wild sex after she filed. That was an unwelcome recollection. Why was it more lucid than visions of Karen?
‘Wait a minute.’
I watched as her fingers hit the keys again.
‘Bastard,’ she said, her eyes wide. ‘The fucking snake.’ She sat back, her face suddenly damp with sweat.
‘What is it?’ Talking to her was painful, but necessary. The only way I was going to survive was by softening her attitude toward me. Pretending to care about what she was going through was one way of achieving that. I imagined the ones I had lost covering their eyes and shunning me.
‘My fucking broker, Havi,’ Sara said. ‘Abaddon had his email address buried in a maintenance file.’
‘What does that mean?’
She gave me a stare that was marginally less empty. ‘It means he was screwing with me.’
‘Playing you off against Abaddon?’
‘Maybe. I’ve been picking up rumors that I was the so-called Hitler’s Hitman. You hear about those murders?’
‘Greenwich Village, Michigan, Boston and Philadelphia,’ I said, trying not to sound too much like a Rothmann-conditioned robot.
She raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re very well informed.’
‘What do you expect? The FBI reckoned that Rothmann was behind them and I was their main link to him.’
She laughed emptily. ‘But, of course, Rothmann had nothing to do with the killings.’
For a moment I thought she really was the murderer-messing with me had been her modus operandi since she’d gone on the run after the White Devil’s death. Then I saw the anger on her face.
‘That piece of shit,’ she said, spittle flying. ‘I think Abaddon did those murders and Havi set up the deal. Since then, he’s been trying to pin them on me.’
‘Why?’
She looked at me as if I were a small child. ‘Jesus, Matt, use your novelist’s imagination. If you were my broker, would you get a nice warm feeling every time I got in touch?’
She was right there. No doubt she was brilliant at her work, but she was a naked flame that attracted insects and then burned them up-I had personal experience of that. I could imagine this Havi guy might have thought he’d live longer working for other principals.
‘Then again,’ I said, rubbing my wrists together to restore the circulation, ‘if Abaddon killed those people, she was even worse than-’ I broke off.
‘Even worse than me? Oh, Matt, say it ain’t so.’
I remembered what she’d done to my friend Dave Cummings. She had also almost killed my mother, my ex- wife and my daughter Lucy, as well as numerous others. No matter how bad Abaddon had been, she could never have matched my ex-lover.
‘Don’t worry, Matt, you might still be saved. Abaddon’s brother Apollyon has got an even worse reputation for savagery. Maybe he’ll get me before I get him.’
I didn’t find that very comforting. Apollyon was hardly likely to let me go with a pat on the back if he disposed of the Soul Collector. Besides, there was another factor.
‘What about Rothmann, Sara? You’ve been contracted to kill him. Doesn’t he take priority over Apollyon?’
She gave me a dark look. ‘That deal was fixed by the scumbag Havi.’ She raised a finger. ‘Wait. If he’s transferred my share of the advance, he’s in the clear.’
I watched as she tapped away. Even though we were in what seemed to be an underpopulated part of Texas, the laptop’s wireless connection was good. No doubt Abaddon had earned enough to buy the best technology.
Sara scowled. ‘The fucking bastard. Not only has he not sent anything for the Rothmann job, but he hasn’t paid the balance on my last contract.’
‘Whose death did that involve?’ I asked, hoping she might come clean without thinking.
‘Good try, Matt. Do I look like I’ve lost it completely?’
I was thinking about the hit-and-run incident in Florida, the one that had killed Gordy Lister’s brother. If she had been hired to kill Rothmann, it wasn’t unlikely that the same employer would have wanted to put Rothmann’s number two under pressure. But who was that employer?
‘They’re on the road again,’ Sara said, shutting down the laptop.
The flashing cross on the monitor had started to move.
I watched this former lover of mine as she drove on. I was thinking about the question she had asked-‘Do I look like I’ve lost it completely?’ Until she’d said that, I hadn’t thought anything of the sort. But now I had begun to wonder about the sweat on her face and the tension around her eyes. Could it be that the invincible Soul Collector was finally beginning to come apart at the seams?
‘I wish to see my lawyer immediately.’
Peter Sebastian was sitting across the table in the interview room from Sir Andrew Frogget, Arthur Bimsdale by his side. He looked down at the photographs that had been taken on their entry to the apartment in Adams- Morgan.
‘I’ve already outlined the law pertaining to sexual acts with minors,’ Sebastian said. ‘Would you like me to send these photographs to your lawyer?’
Sir Andrew stared back, but there was less fire in his gaze than before.
‘Since you’ve spent weekends with Mr. Mallinson at his place in the Northern Neck, you’ll know his daughters Molly and Kirsten.’ He glanced at his assistant.
‘Molly is thirteen and Kirsten eleven,’ Bimsdale supplied.
Sebastian watched as the Englishman looked away. He bided his time. The guy had medals from the Gulf War; he wasn’t going to crack so easily. After several minutes, he picked up one of the photos and examined it. Frogget was in the fore as he stood over the girl, who was naked on the sofa. She had just registered the sound of the FBI team’s entry to the apartment, but it looked like she was turning from Sir Andrew in revulsion.
‘I imagine Lady Annabel would be interested in this,’ Sebastian said. ‘Have you got a fax machine at home?’
Sir Andrew smiled frostily. ‘If you think that my wife will be in the least bit disturbed, you know even less about the British upper classes than your fat-arsed countrymen who hang around outside Buckingham Palace.’
Sebastian knew the investment banker’s marriage was under strain, but he didn’t come back on that. He wanted to see how much punishment Frogget could take.
‘All right,’ he said impassively. ‘So you won’t mind if we send the images to your old regiment?’
The Englishman blanched, but attempted to rally. ‘Surely you don’t believe all that crap about officers and gentlemen, Mr. Sebastian.’
‘What I believe is not germane to this interview.’ The senior FBI man looked at his notes. ‘We can also send them over to the British ambassador. I believe you knew him at Cambridge?’
There were spots of red on Sir Andrew’s cheeks now. ‘I-’
Sebastian raised a hand to cut him off. ‘Of course, we will have to provide your board of directors with the images. We also have the fax numbers of the London Times and BBC News.’
The knight’s shoulders dropped.
Peter Sebastian had one last lance to pierce the bull’s hide. ‘We would be sure to send the photos to your London club, as well.’
All the fight had gone out of the old soldier. ‘Enough,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘What is it you want from
