As Mitch and Ellen walked by his office, John Windsor motioned them in.
“What have you got?”
Ellen sat in a chair in front of John’s desk as Mitch paced.
“Confirmation.” Mitch handed him the paper.
John motioned for him to sit down. “Stop pacing.”
Mitch dropped into a chair next to Ellen.
“Good.” John handed the paper back to Mitch. “What else?”
Mitch looked at his phone. “Sam and Nick are following the three men now to find out where they are staying so we can bug their accommodation. I need the dialog translated daily ASAP. There’s also a hell of a lot of sea gazing go on so I need to keep Nick and Sam on observation.”
John nodded and jotted down a few words.
Mitch kept thinking out loud. “I need someone on the water looking back, looking around, trying to see what they are looking at … I’d like to keep surveillance going at Mrs. Ying’s house to see who else might be coming and going but we don’t have the resources. Mrs. Kinaird—she’s the widow of Joseph Kinaird who died a day after the gallery event—rang to say she has his diary if we wanted to look at it. I’m keen to get that before someone else hears about it, but she’s in Boston. And since half of the class is either in Cape Hatteras or on their way there until class resumes for their final week on Monday, I wouldn’t mind getting there to do some serious surveillance on them.”
Mitch stopped.
“So, a bit on?” John said.
Mitch smiled. “Yeah, why? Did you want your car washed?”
“Please!” John grinned.
“I’ve got some interesting surveillance photos from the night William Ying disappeared,” Ellen added. “I haven’t had time to show you, they’re pretty grainy but Amy did a good job sourcing them from CCTV footage. You can see Jessica Wu and Joseph Kinaird watching William Ying leave and there is someone in the car with William. Hard to make it out but if we knew what Rodney Lam looked like, it could be him,” Ellen said.
“Rodney Lam’s the other victim who disappeared that night,” Mitch reminded John, “the head of the student paper.”
“It can’t be a coincidence that the last three people to see William Ying alive are all dead or missing,” John said.
“And what did Jessica and Joseph see or photograph that was enough to get them killed? What the hell is William Ying up to? What are the chances of getting the Ying household phone tapped?” Mitch asked.
John sighed. “Can you provide me probable cause that the wiretap will provide evidence of a felony? Remember he was an ambassador with immunity and it is officially his widow’s house. On what grounds … because we think we’ve seen him or a person who shouldn’t be in the country going there?”
“Works for me,” Mitch said.
John gave him a wry look. “It was hard enough getting permission for Sam to bug their rooms, when she finds them in Cape Hatteras, so don’t push it.”
“Right then.” Mitch rose. “Ellie, come walk with me and let’s brainstorm,” he said, heading to the door.
“Good luck.” John smiled at Ellen.
Mitch’s phone rang. “Nick?”
“We’ve lost them,” Nick told Mitch as Mitch and Ellen brainstormed on the roof garden of the work cafeteria.
“No, really?” Mitch stopped, closed his eyes and put his head back, feeling the sun on his face.
“They are definitely not staying near the beach. We were following at a safe distance and then they were just gone,” Nick said.
“Right.” Mitch sighed. “OK, well stay on it. Back to square one. Head to the beach and the village because they might come back for another test or supplies.” Mitch hung up and looked at Ellen. “Boston would be nice this time of year,” he said.
It was after ten p.m. when Mitch left Mrs. Ying’s house that evening and began the drive home to where he still lived with Charlotte, not sure what he would find there. He chose to do surveillance by himself, keen to see if anything was happening at the Ying household and even keener not to be in the house with Charlotte. They hadn’t spoken since she made it quite clear it was over and she wanted him gone by the weekend if he could manage it. His phone rang and he glanced with trepidation at the screen.
“Sam,” he said with relief.
“Hey Mitch, we’re really sorry about before … about losing them.”
“It happens,” he said. “Any sighting since?”
“No,” she said.
“What are you doing now?”
“We’ve been hanging around the pub, having dinner, talking to locals, waiting to see or overhear anything. We will begin on the beach again first thing in the morning,” she said.
“Thanks, talk tomorrow then,” Mitch said.
“Are you all right? You sound flat; where are you?” Samantha asked.
“Just heading home from surveillance. No action tonight at the Ying household, but yeah, I’m fine.”
“What about this water surveillance—did you want one of us to start it?”
“No, I need you two on the ground and I need to work out how we do the water surveillance without drawing attention to ourselves. Leave it with me. I’ll call you first thing in the morning with our next step. Thanks for checking in.” He hung up and turned his Audi into the driveway of his and Charlotte’s residence. The lights were on and Charlotte’s car was there. He turned off the ignition, took a deep breath and went in.
Sally and Charlotte were sitting on the couch with empty tea cups in front of them. He hadn’t noticed Sally’s car. Charlotte had been crying.
“Hi Mitch, well look at the time, I must be off,” Sally said, jumping up. She grabbed her bag and squeezed his arm as she passed.
He watched Sally get to her car safely before closing the door. Turning, he studied Charlotte huddled in the corner of the couch in her sweat pants and top. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail and she looked vulnerable, good enough to hold, he thought.
“Charlie,” he greeted her.
“Mitch, I was wondering when you would show up.”
“Here I am,” he said removing his already loose tie. “I was on surveillance.”
“Of course you were,” she said.
Mitch continued, “I’ve got some fallback accommodation organized. Nick’s away and he is fine with me crashing at his place. I’ll take that up from tomorrow rather than wait for the weekend if that works for you? Might be better for both of us.”
Charlotte didn’t respond.
“Just let me know what I owe you for power etc when you get the bills,” Mitch said.
“You know some people give up jobs, more across the country, make sacrifices for love …” she started.
Mitch nodded. “Some people love their partner enough not to ask sacrifices of them.”
She studied him. “So that’s it?”
Exhausted from lack of sleep and the day’s dramas, he leaned on the door frame to his room and looked at her. A thousand scenarios ran through his head … do I want to fight for this relationship? Would it change? Do I want to be like her last ex, Lachlan, always on-and-off? How long until she’d be asking me to give up my work? Do I need someone more easy-going? Do I need anyone? I love her, don’t I? Could I give her what she needs if I’m an ‘emotional wasteland’? I waited all that time for her and now …
“Nothing to say?” she prodded.
Mitch shook his head. “No, that’s it.” He turned, walked into his room and closed the door.