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Helena nodded. ‘Please. I’m getting a migraine. I’m going to go and sit in the car whilst you do what you have to do, but please make it stop,’ she shouted, her voice beginning to tire. Her head was swimming with a mix of the racket, and the bottle of Krug she’d consumed.
The older man nodded, and the pair headed upstairs. She grabbed the car keys, and ran outside where she was soon grateful to be cosseted by the soft leather and decent sound-proofing of the Aston.
77
‘RIGHT, WE DON’Thave long, Barney, let’s get going,’ said Max.
‘Shit, this is a noisy bastard, it’s giving me a reet bonce-ache,’ shouted Barney.
‘Leave it, it’s keeping her in the car. Straight up to his room as per the building plan, yeah?’
Barney nodded, and they ascended the double-width staircase, two steps at a time, before they arrived at the room that Frankie had assured them was his father’s. The door wasn’t locked, and when they entered, they found that the room was clearly not in use. The bed was pushed to the side of the room, and there were a number of suitcases piled up in the centre, all covered with a plastic sheet. There were several paint pots in the corner, along with a selection of brushes, rollers and a bottle of white spirit.
‘Decorating by the look of it, over by the en suite bathroom. Look a small step, just as the plan showed.’
Barney nodded, and reached into his bag, coming out with a flat-headed screwdriver. He knelt down and inserted the blade of the driver at the top of the step, where the riser was. A quick flick, and the front of the step fell down on a low recessed hinge. A flat metal surface was revealed with a digital pad and a blank readout on it. A small safe, similar to the type you’d find in a chain hotel. Barney pulled out a smaller cross-headed screwdriver, which he slotted into a grub screw at the side of the control panel, and within a second the fascia of the keypad came away in his hand, exposing a computerchip and some wiring. Working quickly, but without even a trace of haste or panic, Barney went to the side of the main unit with the flat screwdriver, and in a second had flipped out a cartridge that contained two small batteries. He pulled out two similar-sized batteries, replaced the ones in the unit and dropped them into his bag.
‘Flat as a bloody pancake, those are. Hold up.’ Barney reached into the bag again, and pulled out a small black plastic box, with a keypad on the front. He went to the wires in the open control unit on the safe, and disconnected two wires which he attached to some crocodile clips that he’d pulled from a slot at the top of his box. He pushed the buttons on his box in sequence 1-2-3-4-5-6.
The safe sprang open. Max and Barney looked at each other and smiled, and Max raised a thumb. He opened the safe door, his heart pounding in his chest as he reached his hand inside. First out came a thick roll of cash, easily five thousand, thought Max. Next came two scratched and battered mobile phones, followed by a new-looking automatic pistol. Max reached back in and pulled out a small file containing documents, and then a couple of passports. He reached in again, feeling into the almost empty space. Almost empty, but not quite. His fingers closed around a small self-seal plastic bag, which contained just one thing. A square SD card. Scrawled in pen on the outside was one word.
Ace.
Max held it up for Barney to see, and smiled.
78
FINN TOWNSEND LOOKEDpale and broken as he sat next to his solicitor Moira Dougal, who had the same easy-going look on her face as Max and Janie, who entered the interview room carrying a small file and a laptop computer.
‘I must say you’re pushing it timewise, officers. By my watch we have two and a half hours before the detention clock expires.’ Her tone wasn’t smug, but was more curious.
‘I think we’ll have plenty of time,’ said Max.
‘Well, I hope so, as I’ll be making the strongest of representations of discontinuance should the custody clock expire,’ she said, scrawling on her legal pad, before fixing them with an intense stare that was only softened by the suggestion of warmth in her eyes.
Max switched on the tape machine, and waited whilst the familiar beep stretched on, as always seemingly interminable.
‘Okay, we have a continuation of the interview of Mr Finn Townsend, same persons present as the last interview. Can you confirm this, Ms Dougal?’ said Max, sitting down as Janie opened the laptop and began to tap at the keys, her face blank and unfathomable, and possibly a little pale.
‘Yes, I can confirm that. Can I make the point that I’ve had no additional disclosure prior to this interview. Is any coming?’
‘Yes, more coming now. Mr Townsend, you’re still under caution, you don’t have to say anything, but what you do will be noted and may be given in evidence. Understand?’
‘Yes,’ Townsend said in barely a whisper.
‘Janie?’ said Max, looking at his colleague.
Janie reversed the laptop so that the screen was visible to Townsend and his solicitor.
‘What are we looking at?’ said Ms Dougal.
‘Last night we searched a property that used to belong to the Hardie family and seized an SD card. This video clip was found on it.’
The screen was frozen and filled with a female face that was ghostly white from an unseen torch. Everyone in that room knew who it was. It was Beata Dabrowski. A masked man had her held in a firm grip with a gloved hand around her shoulders. Her eyes were wide with absolute, sheer and unmitigated terror.
‘Officer, I must protest. This should have been disclosed to me …’
‘Ms Dougal. Once we’ve shown this to you, we’ll withdraw and you can consult but watch it for now, eh?’ said Max, his voice low and tight.
