‘So, how is sunny Stirling?’
He had been expecting the call. There had been something in the caller’s voice when he’d told him about Matt Evans that had intimated this was not over. The contract might have been fulfilled, but the caller was obviously a man who enjoyed his work.
‘How do you think it is?’ he replied, surprised by the anger that rose in him. He had set this in motion, but to have the caller play with him, treat him like an amusement, phone whenever the whim took him? It was outrageous.
‘I think it’s giving you the perfect opportunity to polish your credentials and show yourself to be the man to take charge at a time of crisis,’ the reply came, the voice dry with threat. ‘I also believe it was a chance to reassure yourself that the investigation has no way to lead back to you.’
He tightened his grip on the phone. ‘I’ve still to speak to Ford, the first detective to handle the case, but they know there’s a probable link between the murders. Your little flourish with Evans tipped them to that, so, no, I’m not reassured. Why the fuck did you have to make the murders so public in the first place? Would quiet little accidents not have done?’
‘I have my reasons. They don’t concern you. You need to relax. Three people are dead in two days. Of course the police are going to look for a connection between the victims. And I’ve given them one. The manner of death means they’re looking for one killer, one deranged lunatic, behind all this. And I assure you that the last thing I am is deranged. I took every precaution. There is no evidence linking me to the murders, or you for that matter. Unless, of course, there is some detail you failed to tell me when you first came to me.’
Sudden panic turned his guts watery. The caller had been meticulous in his questioning on his possible links to the victims. He had told him everything, ensuring that all possible links to him or, more accurately, the man he had once been, were severed. The caller had checked, made arrangements, assured him there was nothing left to link him to this. But, still, the thought tormented him. Had he missed something? Some small trace of the past that could lead back to him?
‘No,’ he said finally, his voice more convincing this time. ‘There is nothing to lead back to me. Not now.’
‘Well, then, you have nothing to worry about. You’ve shown you’re in charge of the situation, found the investigation is going nowhere anywhere close to you. I understand you’ve got a press conference shortly. I suggest you enjoy your moment in the sun. And don’t worry, I’ll be watching you.’
The phone died before he could reply. He stared dumbly at it for a moment, resisted the urge to reach out and support himself against the wall of the building. He looked out across the manicured expanse of lawn that surrounded the station like a green ocean. Felt panic claw in his throat. What had he done? He’d had no choice but to silence those who would do him harm. But at what cost? He’d invited a madman into his life. A madman who knew who he really was, what he had truly done. A killer who could expose him at any time, who could enforce his will over him with a single call.
He smiled, little more than a baring of his teeth. He had swapped one blackmail for another, inviting in a monster at the same time. What could he do? No, what would he do?
He stood, forced himself to become the man he was. Straightened his tie, took long, steadying breaths.
The answer was simple. The caller had said it himself. He would shine in front of the press. He would show them he was in control.
He just hoped he could believe the lie.