Stephen Leather - The Bombmaker

'Do you know their names?'

Martin shook his head. 'The secretary at Katie's school got in touch with them. Mrs O'Mara, her name is. She's disappeared. That's what the police say, anyway.'

'Disappeared?'

'They said she hadn't turned up for work and there was no sign of her at her house. That's why they came to see me in the first place. She'd telephoned me to see why Katie wasn't at school, and I guess she'd spoken to the headmistress.'

Patsy looked across at Denham and raised an eyebrow. Denham nodded. Martin had the feeling that each knew what the other was thinking.

Patsy looked back at Martin. 'Anyone else?'

'I told my partner what had happened. Padraig. Padraig Martin.'

Patsy wrote down the names. 'So your first name's Martin, and so's his surname?'

'Yeah. That's how we became friends at school.' He shrugged. 'It's a long story. We ended up as business partners. We called the firm Martin and Martin. Sort of a joke.'

'What exactly did you tell your partner?' asked Denham.

Martin massaged his temples as he tried to remember the conversation he'd had with Padraig while he was driving him up to Belfast. 'I think I pretty much told him everything. I told him that Katie had been kidnapped. And that the kidnappers told Andy to go to London.'

'That's just wonderful,' said Denham under his breath. Patsy gave him a cold look and he held up his palms apologetically.

'I had to tell him something,' said Martin. 'He's my partner. He was nearly killed.'

'Killed? What do you mean, killed?' asked Patsy.

Martin realised he hadn't told them about the man with the gun, the man who'd shot at the BMW outside the hospital. He quickly explained what had happened.

'This man, what did he look like?' asked Patsy.

'I didn't see his face, not really,' said Martin. 'He was average height. Medium build. He was wearing a leather jacket. Black or brown. And jeans, maybe.' He shook his head. 'It all happened really quickly. He shot twice, I think. Hit the window and the door. I didn't hear the shots, just the window going and then a thud against the door. I had my head down most of the time.'

'What colour hair did he have?' asked Denham.

Martin shrugged. He didn't know.

'Moustache? Facial hair? A scar? Anything that made him stick out?'

Martin shook his head. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'It was dark, and I just wanted to get away.'

Patsy and Denham exchanged looks of frustration but said nothing.

'That's okay, Mr Hayes,' said Patsy.

'What do you think they'll do to Katie?' asked Martin. 'The guy who shot at me was presumably one of the kidnappers – he must know I've spoken to the Dublin police. What if they…' He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

'I don't think they'll do anything to hurt your daughter,' said Patsy. 'Not so long as they need your wife's cooperation. Katie is the leverage they need to get your wife to do what they want.'

'God, I hope you're right.'

Patsy smiled reassuringly at Martin. 'We know what we're doing, Mr Hayes. Trust us. Or at least, have faith in us.'

Martin closed his eyes and nodded. 'It doesn't look as if I've any alternative.'

Denham toyed with his packet of cigarettes. He tapped one side against the table. Then turned it through ninety degrees and tapped it again. Turn. Tap. Turn. Tap. 'The note that the kidnappers left,' he said. 'Do you still have it?'

'No. Andy took it with her.' He reached into his trouser pocket and took out the sheet of paper he'd found behind the hotel painting. 'This is the note she left for me in the Strand Palace.' He gave it to Denham, who read it and passed it over to Patsy.

'The phone conversation you told me about,' said Patsy. 'When your wife told you about this. Where were you?'

'At home. In Dublin.'

'And she called on the land line? Or your mobile?'

'The land line.'

'And she only made one call?'

Martin nodded.

'When she called you, did it sound like she was using a call-box?'

Martin shrugged. 'It sounded like a regular phone. I think there was somebody listening, checking that she didn't say the wrong thing.'

'But could you hear any traffic? People walking by? Any sounds that might suggest she was outside? Or in a public place?'

Martin rubbed his face with both hands. 'I don't remember any,' he said.

'Did you get any sense that she was calling from a land line? Or a mobile?'

Martin shook his head. 'I'm sorry.'

Patsy smiled reassuringly, the smile of a parent consoling a child who'd just come second. 'You're doing just fine, Mr Hayes. Now, can you run through everything your wife said to you when she called.'

'She was only on the line for a few seconds. She made me promise not to go to the police. And she said they didn't want money. That they wouldn't hurt Katie so long as I didn't go to the police. Then she said that after it was all over, we'd go back to Venice. I didn't know what she meant – it was only when I saw the picture that I realised what she was trying to say. And that was it.'

'You're sure?'

'Yes, damn it, I'm sure.'

Patsy looked across at Denham. He raised an eyebrow. Martin had no idea what the gesture meant.

'Did I do something wrong?'

Patsy put down her gold pen. 'No, you didn't, Mr Hayes. But they might have done. We're going to need your help. If she calls again.'

'You think she might?'

'It was obviously your wife who initiated the call,' said Patsy. 'It was unstructured. Unrehearsed. And the only information imparted was that which your wife wanted to give you. It wasn't a message from the kidnappers. If she managed to get them to allow her one phone call, she might be able to persuade them to let her make another. And the closer she gets to completion, the more leverage she'll have.'

'But if she calls, I won't be there.' Martin stood up. 'God, I've got to get back.'

Patsy gestured for him to sit down. 'We can handle that from here.' She looked across at Denham. 'I'll get the number transferred to Thames House.'

'You can do that?' asked Martin.

Patsy nodded. 'It's not a problem.'

'Where's this Thames House?'

'It's an office. Near Whitehall. We can use it as a base.'

'And if they call, they'll think I'm still in the house?'

'That's the idea.'

Martin scratched his chin. 'The machine's on. The answering machine. I left a message saying that anyone who calls should try me on my mobile.'

'You still have the mobile?'

Martin shook his head. 'It was in my hotel room. In my case. I don't know if your goons brought it with me.'

Patsy looked pained. 'I'll get it for you. But it's best she doesn't call the mobile. I'll get the answering machine turned off.' She looked at her watch. 'No time like the present.' She stood up. 'I'll make a couple of calls.'

Martin fished his house keys out and slid them across the table.

Patsy smiled and shook her head. 'The people I'll be using won't be needing keys, Mr Hayes.'

– «»-«»-«»Andy stole glances at Green-eyes as she packed Tupperware containers into a black rubbish bag. It was hard to judge her age because she'd never seen her without her ski mask, but she guessed the woman was in her early thirties, probably about the same age as herself. They were pretty much the same height and build, and seemed to have the same taste in clothes. Under different circumstances it was perfectly possible that they could have been friends.

The conversation they'd had in the office had disturbed Andy. She hadn't realised before that Green-eyes was driven by revenge, that her motives were personal rather than political. Andy had been clinging to the hope that the bomb she was helping to build wasn't intended to be used, but after speaking to Green-eyes she was certain that the woman intended to detonate the device once it was finished.