He’d arrived early this morning, just after six, to play catch-up with his filing. A minute after he got there he was summoned by Simon Crozier. He was convinced the man never slept, yet he always seemed so alert, so unruffled. Martin walked along the corridor to Crozier’s office, stuffing the remnants of a bacon sandwich — his breakfast — into his mouth, and clutching a plastic cup filled with hot, sweet tea.
Crozier was sitting behind his desk, tapping away at his laptop, a look of fierce concentration etched into his brow. As Martin closed the door behind him Crozier looked up, noticed the plastic cup in his hand and frowned.
Martin raised the cup. ‘Breakfast,’ he said.
‘Come and sit down,’ Crozier said. ‘I’ve a job for you.’
Martin took the seat opposite him and was about to set his cup down on the desk, but Crozier gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Martin lowered the cup to the floor, but visions of tipping the tea over the pristine cream carpet prevented him from setting it down. Instead he raised the cup to his lips and drained it, wincing as the scalding liquid burned its way down his throat. Crozier reached down and produced a chrome wastepaper bin from under the desk. Martin dropped the cup in the bin and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Then he wiped his brow. The hot tea had made him sweat.
Crozier scribbled something on the pad in front of him. Then he folded the page carefully and took a paperknife from a drawer, carefully cutting along the crease. He slid the thin sliver of paper across the desk. ‘Mean anything to you?’
Martin picked it up and read the words, The Sorority. He shook his head. ‘No.’
‘What about the name Celeste Toland?’
Martin shook his head again. ‘Likewise.’
‘Damn!’ Crozier said. ‘Okay. See what you can dig up on them.’
‘But I’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through,’ Martin said. ‘Can’t I put one of the girls on it?’
‘If I wanted one of the girls doing the job I would have called one of them in. Instead I called you. What does that tell you?’
Martin feigned a second of thought as if considering a quiz question. ‘You’d rather I do it myself?’
Crozier gave a perfunctory smile. ‘Precisely.’
‘And should I know what this is all about?’
‘Celeste Toland is a member of a group of fairly high-profile and wealthy women in America who call themselves The Sorority. Other than that you know as much as I do. Apart from the fact that this Celeste Toland is, shall we say, rather friendly with Jessica Anderson.’
‘And you want to know if this woman and her group have any interest in Kulsay,’ Martin said. He preferred to have the terms of reference before he began his researches. It sometimes helped rather than going in with one arm figuratively tied behind his back and a blindfold over his eyes.
‘Yes.’
‘What makes you think they might?’ It was always best to go into a research request from Crozier as well informed as possible.
‘I’ve heard whispers.’ Crozier loved to play up the perceived man-about-town image he had of himself.
‘Dangerous things, whispers.’ Martin found his boss amusing and scary at the same time, but most of all he pitied him on a human level.
‘Not when they’re from a reliable source.’ The way Crozier said it left Martin in no doubt that the subject was at an end.
Martin got to his feet. ‘Priority then.’
‘Top priority.’
He walked to the door. ‘When you say, rather friendly, I take it you’re speaking euphemistically.’
Crozier smiled. ‘I’ve been led to believe that’s the case.’ Though he knew precisely how the relationship worked.
‘How did you find this out?’ Martin tried not to sound incredulous; and certainly didn’t want to sound in any way admiring.
‘I have a mole in the Anderson court,’ Crozier said. ‘No one’s private life is very private anymore.’
‘More’s the pity,’ Martin said under his breath. The intelligence gathering part of the Department role was still something he felt uncomfortable about.
‘Sorry?’ Crozier had already turned his attention back to his computer screen.
Martin had the door open. ‘I said, “another day in the city.” I’ll get straight on it.’
‘Good. Get back to me the moment you have something I can get my teeth into.’
‘Will do.’
‘Oh, and Martin…this is strictly between you and me. Understood?’
‘Understood.’ Yet Martin knew this was a brief he didn’t fully understand. Why was Crozier interested in a group of American women with too much money and time on their hands? The Anderson connection was the obvious answer, but if so, how did that affect Jane and the others who were already on an investigation, which had the full involvement of the Andersons behind it?
Nick Bayliss had settled himself in the chair by the fireplace; totally relaxed, legs crossed, mug of coffee clenched in his fist.
‘We’re waiting,’ Jane said. Conversation had stalled while they all waited for Kirby to return with the drinks.
‘Waiting?’ Bayliss was enjoying his moment, the might of the Department waiting for him to speak.
‘For you to tell us why you’re here,’ Raj said. ‘As you are well aware.’
Bayliss sipped his coffee, glanced across at Kirby, and winked at her again. ‘Great coffee. Cardamom?’
Kirby flushed slightly and nodded.
‘Thought so.’ He turned back to Jane and the others. ‘You’re here to find out why those people disappeared. Am I right? Your masters think there might be a paranormal explanation for it.’
‘Are you here to tell us there isn’t?’ Jane said.
‘The Ministry of Defense was here two months ago. They thought they were dealing with a mass kidnapping by a foreign power. Idiots! But lucky idiots. They were only here twenty-four hours, then they buggered off again. Had they been here longer they may have discovered firsthand what’s really going on.’
‘I’m losing patience, Mr. Bayliss,’ Jane said. ‘Either you tell us why you’re here or I’ll make a phone call and have you removed.’
‘I think you’ll find that rather difficult,’ Bayliss said with a smile. ‘I checked my cell phone before I came here. There’s no signal. I suspect yours will be the same.’
‘That’s ridiculous. I was using mine last night,’ Jane said, and pulled her phone from her pocket. The NO NETWORK message on the screen told its own story. ‘Everybody, check your phones.’
‘Nothing.’
‘Dead.’
‘No signal.’
Carter walked across to the landline phone and lifted the receiver. No dial tone, just a harsh continuous whistle. He shook his head.
‘We’ve a radio transmitter,’ Jane said. Doubt was clouding her mind like a gathering storm.
‘I wouldn’t waste your time,’ Bayliss said. ‘That’ll be blocked too. It’s started.’
McKinley was on his feet. He grabbed Bayliss by the front of his shirt, hauled him out of his seat, coffee slopping over onto the parquet, and brought his face to within inches of the smaller man. ‘I’ve had a bellyful of this, man,’ he said. ‘Stop pissing us around and tell us what you know.’
‘Let him go, John!’ Jane said, steel in her voice.
McKinley held onto Bayliss for a few seconds more, and then dropped him back into his seat. Bayliss took a moment to recover. ‘They’ll use that as well. Any form of negative energy is sustenance to them.’
‘ To whom?’ Jane said, her voice rising.
‘The ones controlling what’s happening on the island,’ Bayliss said. The Scottish accent gave a local flavor and only added to the menace in the words.