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Thirty-Five

Thursday 8am

There was no kettle or coffee maker in Charlie’s hotel room but he remembered there was one in the lobby. He dressed quickly and went to collect the strongest brew he could get. There were muffins too and he helped himself. There would be time for real food later. Back in his room he got out Tom’s sketchbook opened to the pages of scribbled names and arrows. It wasn’t his beloved Llanfair whiteboard, but it was the best substitute he had. It had shown him a pattern last night. Did it still show a pattern? He decided that it did, or possibly it showed more than one. If he was wrong, he would be putting himself in the line of fire — again — but he didn’t think he was wrong. He picked up his phone and sent a text to Mal Kent.

Charlie Rees: Could you call me, please?

Then he took a deep breath and waited. Less than a minute later the phone rang.

“Thank you for ringing, sir.” Charlie took another deep breath. “I was wondering if you could get a message to the FBI? I’m certain I can get a confession from Kaylan’s killer, but I need them to witness it so I’m off the hook.”

“I’m listening, Charlie. Even though I’m still dealing with your last request. But first, how’s Tom?”

“Awake. I think he’ll be out of intensive care soon. But the doctors have warned me off. Say the police are waiting for me to show up. So, I have to get this warrant dropped. Because I want to see him.” The last words came out in a rush. Charlie knew that Kent had contacts everywhere. He went to conferences, led training sessions, welcomed visitors and still managed to ensure Clwyd Police had the best clear-up rate in Wales. But Charlie had to convince him that setting himself up like a sacrificial lamb would work.

“It’s all about money, sir. Kaylan has been stealing right, left and centre. I think he’s stolen from his uncle, Andrew Dwyer, and Dwyer wants his money back. Dwyer is a gangster with political ambitions, and some legitimate businesses.”

“You know this, how?”

Not a question Charlie wanted to answer. “Easy to find out about Dwyer. He doesn’t hide his ambitions.”

There was a short pause.

“If I am understanding you, Charlie, you are going to tell Dwyer you can get his money back from the now sadly deceased Kaylan, and you want me to ensure the FBI are there when he confesses to murder? Even though you can’t in fact, give Dwyer his money back, and you have no reason to suppose Dwyer will confess anyway.”

That was a horribly accurate summary of Charlie’s plan. Or mostly.

But Kent hadn’t finished. “Just because Dwyer wants his money back doesn’t mean he killed Kaylan. Surely, he’s less likely to get the money with Kaylan dead?”

“Kaylan doesn’t work by normal rules, sir. Sorry, didn’t. He stole from people he’d finished with, or who he was angry with. Sure, he spent the money — he bought a million-dollar apartment here. But he stole as a kind of punishment. He was never going to give Dwyer his money back, and he could easily have done more damage. His father’s business collapsed because of him. Kaylan was a liability. And the whole family is gun-crazy. Kaylan managed to get a gun in the UK and shoot me. If I was Andrew Dwyer and I’d pissed Kaylan off, I wouldn’t be feeling very safe. Maybe Kaylan had threatened to start stealing from Dwyers’s political cronies.” It was possible, and exactly the sort of thing Kaylan would do. “He was impulsive, and he never much cared what damage he did. He got obsessed with an idea and nothing else mattered until — as he saw it — he got let down. And he’s only twenty. Not exactly mature.”

“Where’s the evidence that Dwyer fitted this pattern?”

“He’s part of Kaylan’s family. Everything I know about Kaylan says he hates his family and will do anything to hurt them. That’s why he came to Wales. The reputational damage Kaylan did to his dad’s firm meant his mother had to move, and depend on Dwyer for financial support. Robbing Dwyer would hurt his mother too. Like I said, he’s a kid acting out. Thinking things through isn’t— wasn’t something he did.”

Charlie was clenching his jaw in his effort to persuade Kent to see it. Kaylan had watched his friend die and done nothing to help. Once you knew that about Kaylan, you stopped expecting him to behave in any way that made sense.

“Okay then. Suppose I’m with you thus far. Why haven’t US law enforcement reached the same conclusion as you?”

“Because US law enforcement brought a psychopath out of a British jail so he could, I dunno, hack into Russian government computers. And if that tidbit of information was widely shared, US law enforcement wouldn’t look very good in the media. Alternatively, the FBI thought they could control Kaylan, and the reality turned out to be less than optimal. Like trying to control a toddler by asking nicely.”

“It’s possible that they don’t want any light shining on Kaylan. You think they started off with the hate-crime stuff to divert attention—but you were making too much noise, so they started harassing you?” Kent asked. “I did tell you to leave it alone.”

“Yes, sir, you did.” More than once.

“And if I somehow manage to get a message to the people who are trying to arrest you for murder, what will you do?”

“Then I will get a message to Andrew Dwyer, inviting him to collect information about how to get his money back.”

“Do you have that information, Charlie?” Kent asked, though Charlie suspected he knew the answer.

“No, sir, but I have searched Kaylan’s flat, and Dwyer doesn’t know I didn’t find anything. And Dwyer probably knows that Kaylan stole from the art college, so I think I can convince him we’re on the same side. Or at least for long enough that he doesn’t kill me.”

“I’ll ring you back,” Kent said and ended the call.