Chapter Thirty-Five
Cross spun the phone on the table and frowned. The board had downloaded everything they needed from the device and returned it to him this morning. He wasn’t sure why. Probably some arcane piece of Eighth Circle lore. It would take them a while to sift through all the evidence they had, and even longer to question Valentina and Giancarlo, since he was increasingly convinced that neither held the answers needed. The evidence stacked up against them was considerable, but something felt off, he just wasn’t sure what?
The other question at the forefront of his mind: where the hell was the diamond he’d given to Verity? Her evening bag from the night before had also been returned to him, but was empty other than for a screwed up napkin containing a chewed piece of gum. He grimaced with distaste as he deposited it in the bin.
The girl they’d used as a decoy had sworn that she’d never even opened the bag, much less taken anything from it. Reluctantly, he’d been forced to accept that she was telling the truth, since he couldn’t risk admitting what he was truly looking for.
But that didn’t explain the missing items? Where was Verity’s phone and where to Christ was that fucking diamond?
Henderson’s questioning of Verity had continued until the early hours of the morning and had apparently proceeded without incident, since she returned to his apartment looking slightly wide-eyed but otherwise unharmed. He wasn’t sure exactly what she’d been asked or what she’d said but, so far, the spotlight of suspicion had not swung in his direction, so he had to assume she’d stuck to the script, for once.
His own questions remained unasked and unanswered as she’d immediately barricaded herself in the bedroom without saying a word to him. He’d been briefly tempted to shoulder the door open and demand an explanation, but was painfully aware that he was operating at a disadvantage in terms of knowledge, which would not aid any attempt at interrogation. He needed time to work through events for himself before confronting her.
Instead, he focused his attention on one single question: what had she done with the diamond?
Certain hiding places were easy to rule out. Verity’s usual handbag lay discarded on the sofa and, without a shred of guilt, he emptied it onto the floor. Careful poking through the contents and checking the pockets he ground his teeth. There was no brilliant sparkle of the gem catching the light, just the usual clutter of makeup and keys.
As he swept it all back into the bag his fingers paused over one item. A contact lens case? He’d spent enough time with Verity to know she didn’t wear contact lenses or even glasses. Why would she carry a case?
Almost holding his breath, hope flared in his chest as he unscrewed the first cap, only to find the container empty. Any remaining hope vanished entirely when he opened the second container to reveal nothing but a strange piece of latex. Moving across to the coffee table he switched on the lamp and held the curious item under the light.
At first, it seemed to be little more than it first presented, a discarded scrap of rubber, then the light caught the fine ridge detail and his eyes widened as he realised what he was looking at.
It was a fingerprint!
Once he’d moved to his office, finding the owner of the print was a simple task, and the Eighth Circle database swiftly returned the answer. Valentina. But Cross now found himself faced with even more questions. In an attempt to prompt his thoughts he laid the fingerprint, phone and empty evening bag on the desk in front of him.
One phone and a diamond had vanished, while a second phone had miraculously appeared? Cross wasn’t a big believer in miracles and in his experience nothing ever just disappeared. Either the items in question had been taken… or they had never been there in the first place.
He paused at that thought and returned to his computer to open a different search. He had taken the precaution of downloading a GPS tracking programme onto the phone he’d given to Verity; a safeguard in case she decided to make a run for it. He stared at the beeping light on the map. Apparently, it was the second option. Her phone was currently located in her flat and had clearly never been anywhere near the party last night.
He picked up Giancarlo’s device. One phone in, one phone out. Verity had it before the party, which meant she must have stolen it from him at some point… but when? Had Giancarlo merely tossed it into a bin once the exchange had been completed and Verity had collected it? A crime of opportunity? Or were they working together? Cross immediately dismissed that idea. Verity might have the skills to conceal that level of subterfuge from him, but he doubted Giancarlo had either the wit or intelligence.
In frustration he ran a hand through his hair. He felt as though he now had all the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle, but still no idea what the final picture should look like.
Hearing the soft ding of the lift being summoned to the apartment above, he switched off the lamp and settled back into the natural shadow of the room. Moments later, a second chime announced its return journey and the doors slid silently open. He let her get halfway across the room before he switched on the light and Verity spun round giving a yelp of shock.
“Off out?” he asked, his tone deceptively casual as he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.
Verity gave a guilty jerk and backed up against the wall. “I-I… just a walk… some fresh air…” she mumbled.
He tilted his head, eyes fixed on the bag slung over her shoulder. “Looks like a lot of stuff, just for a walk?”
Her fingers tightened on the strap and she rolled her eyes. “Look, it’s over now. I did what you wanted. I think it’s safe to assume you won’t be having any further trouble from your Italian friends. I thought I’d get the hell out of here before anyone decided to shoot the messenger.” She winced. “Knowing this place, that would probably be taken literally.”
“Are you sure you’ve got everything?”
She edged towards the door, not taking her eyes from him, “Yeah, I’m good, thanks.”
Cross could feel his smile lowering the temperature of the room. “I think you should check again, just to be sure you haven’t left anything ‘incriminating’ behind.”
A puzzled frown creased her brow. “I don’t know what you’re–”
She broke off as he held up the contact lens case between two fingers and he was amused to see her pale visibly.
“You should have ditched the print as soon as you’d used it to send that message from Valentina’s phone.”
Verity closed her eyes briefly. “Coulda, woulda, shoulda,” she muttered.
“Italian was a nice touch. I thought you didn’t speak it?”
She pulled a face. “Google translate.”
“Ahhh, clever.” Moving to the desk, he placed the case next to the other items. “The one thing I don’t understand is how you got hold of Giancarlo’s phone?” Not giving her the chance to react he lunged across the space and pinned her against the wall by her throat.
Verity dropped the bag, both hands clawing at his grip.
He leaned forward until his lips were almost touching her ear and whispered, “Care to explain?”
Verity drew in a ragged lungful of air and managed one word. “Diamond!”
Cross released his grip and she dropped into a crouch, rubbing her throat.
“What about the diamond?” he demanded, “Where is it?”
A smirk twitched the corner of Verity’s lips. “Safely hidden.”
Grabbing her by the shoulders he hauled her to her feet and slammed her against the wall once again. “Where!”
“I don’t know!! I didn’t hide it.” Her voice had risen to an alarmed squeak as his fingers tightened. “Chris did. I dropped it into the bin last night with a note telling him to hide it somewhere in the club. He’ll be watching the exit, and if I haven’t walked out of here by eight, with a big smile on my face, he’s going to share that information.”
Cross gave a snort of amusement. “You think I can’t handle a little police visit?” He gave her a rough shake for emphasis. “I own the fucking police!”
She lifted her chin in challenge. “Oh, he won’t be calling the Police. He’s calling Frank O’Dell.”
That name gave him pause and Cross released his hold, backing up a pace. If Frank thought he was in any way involved in the death of his son, he wouldn’t even bother with questions.
Gathering herself, Verity retrieved her bag and opened the door. “I’ll be on my way then.
Cross moved faster than she could react, slamming the door closed and spinning her round. “I don’t think so,” he snarled.
Verity visibly quailed beneath his tone. “B-but the diamond…” she trailed off as his expression darkened.
“Ah yes, the diamond. But you see, you made one mistake.” The smile he gave her would have made ice shiver. “You told me the deadline.” He glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Eight o’clock you said, which means I have twenty-five minutes before Chris even thinks about making a phone call. Do you have any idea how much damage I can inflict in that time?”
Not waiting for her to respond, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out of the office, into the lift and back to the apartment.
Choosing the kitchen as the best location for his interrogation, he forced the side of her face against the marble worktop and leaned closer, pinning her in place. Eyes focussed on her face, watching for every reaction, he reached out, switched on the gas hob and selected a blade from the knife block.
“Did you know, if the knife is hot enough it will cauterise the wound as it goes through the flesh? Reduces the mess enormously.” He smiled, holding the blade to the flame. “But not the pain.”
Verity’s eyes were wide, her panicked gaze fixed on the blade as it began to blacken and then glow. “W-what do you want to know?” she stammered.
He increased the pressure holding her in place. “I want to know everything that you’ve been up to in my club.”
She swallowed hard as he moved the knife towards her face. “I-I told you, we were waiting for Valentina. But she never came. It had been months. We were just waiting and watching and listening to gossip. Then we heard that an Italian group was in town and I thought that, maybe, if we messed with them, then Valentina would have to come over.”
“Messed with them? How?” He held the point of the blade in front of her eyes.
“We knew about the phones!” she said, with a yelp of alarm, as the glowing knife moved closer. “We knew that they were given out when a deal was going down, but we didn’t know how secure they were, so we stole one. Just for practice. Lifted it straight out of his pocket as he left the club at the end of the night.”
Cross frowned; she was talking about the first phone Giancarlo had been given, the one that had been lost.
Moving the knife towards her cheekbone he held it close enough that she would be able to feel the heat and asked, “What did you do with it?”
“Nothing!” The answer came out as a shriek or a plea. “Nothing to begin with,” she amended.
Cross moved the blade closer, almost caressing her cheek, watching as the skin beneath it started to redden.
Words tumbling faster and faster, Verity raced to explain. “We wanted to know if you could trace it, so we spent a couple of days moving it about London to see if anyone turned up to retrieve it. When they didn’t, we assumed gps must be switched off. When we got it back, we realised you’d restored it to factory settings and then we were able to take a closer look.”
That surprised him and he released his grip on her, stepping back. “But it was wiped, there was nothing on it.”
Verity pushed herself up onto her elbows and took a shaky breath. “True, but that let us reset the fingerprint log in.”
Cross waited for her to turn around to face him and then gestured to her to continue. He watched as her eyes followed the sweep of the blade. It wasn’t glowing anymore but they both knew its edge was just as sharp.
“To whom?” he asked.
“Giancarlo.”
Now they were getting closer to the answers he’d been missing and Cross took a step towards, the knife raised, ready to strike. “How?” he asked, his voice a low growl.
She flinched back from him, her gaze flicked briefly across the room, clearly searching for a way out, then her shoulders slumped and she raised a defeated hand. “We swiped a glass with Giancarlo’s print, made a copy and set him up as the user.”
“Why?”
“Because we needed him to be able to use it. When you gave him the replacement phone, I swapped it out for the original. All your phones look the same and he was still the recognised user, so he never noticed.”
Cross nodded, the puzzle pieces starting to fall into place. “So then you had the new phone, the one we would use to set up the exchange and the finger print needed to access it.”
Verity nodded. Pushing herself away from the counter, she raised her hands to show she wasn’t about to make a sudden dash for freedom and gave a tired sounding, “Yes.”
“Which means you received the location text and then forwarded it onto the original phone. The one that was now in Giancarlo’s possession?”
She nodded again. “Yes. He got the message he was expecting, so no concerns would be raised.”
“But you also forwarded the location on to another interested party who were happy to relieve Mr O’Dell of his newly acquired diamonds.”
She gave a heavy shrug. “Well yes, that was the whole point. We needed the exchange to go badly wrong, or Valentina would have no reason to intervene.”
His grip tightened on the knife at her casual admission. “His son was killed!”
Her face fell and she shook her head. “That wasn’t part of the plan. I don’t know what went wrong.”
But Cross wasn’t listening. His thoughts were jumping ahead. “And you pulled the same fingerprint stunt on Valentina’s phone, to send the incriminating message from her?”
“Yes. That one was harder. Getting prints needed someone at the top table, but also someone in the main kitchen, ready to grab the glass. With both me and Chris working upstairs, it was almost impossible to steal a glass without anyone noticing.”
“Until I switched his duties.” Cross gave a harsh laugh. “I thought he was getting a little too fond of you and it would be safer to get him out of range.”
Verity gave a humourless laugh. “Yes, thanks for that, it made life much easier.”
“And when I kindly let you go home for your clothing, you switched out your phone for Giancarlo’s.”
Verity shrugged.
Cross ground his teeth. “Michaels was meant to keep a damn eye on you. I’ll–”
“Don’t be too hard on him. It only took a second to make the switch. And he did check my bag as I was packing, but it was one phone in, one phone out. How could he have known?” She gave a tired shake of her head. “It’s really not a good idea for all Eighth Circle phones to look the same. It can lead to all kinds of confusion.” She raised her chin. “So, that’s it. I’ve told you everything. What now?”
Cross pulled out his phone and held it out to her. “Now you’re going to call Chris and tell him to bring the diamond up here.”
She gave a humourless laugh. “No way!”
“Then you can stay here and get ready to make that same confession to Frank O’Dell.”
Her eyes narrowed and she raised her chin. “Frank’s crew don’t harm women.”
“I think he might make an exception. Given what he’s lost.”
“Not without letting me explain first, and I can be very convincing. You know that.” Her eyes widened, and she shifted her weight, a subtle alteration to her posture, making her seem smaller, more vulnerable. “I-I was just an employee, doing what I was told. You have full control over this establishment and everyone in it, don’t you? There’s no way someone could work here for a year and then pull a stunt like that without you knowing...” The innocent expression vanished and she raised her eyebrows in challenge.
“He wouldn’t believe you,” he snapped, but his words didn’t have the ring of finality he’d been aiming for.
She tilted her head, expression as hard as the diamond they were discussing. “Prepared to bet your life on it?”
Cross hesitated. He knew exactly how convincing she could be. And if she was given the opportunity to start spinning her story, there was no telling what people might choose to believe. But if he delivered up nothing more than a dead body and an unsubstantiated story of third party involvement, it would look like he was simply tying up loose ends.
It didn’t help that he’d switched her shifts to the top table almost as soon as the incident had occurred nor that the intimate nature of their relationship might already be the subject of gossip among the members.
Even if Frank O’Dell saw through her act, the Eighth Circle would be far from impressed that he’d allowed such a fiasco to happen on his watch. Right under his bloody nose! He’d be considered either complicit or incompetent. And neither boded well for his future career or life expectancy.”
Possibly sensing the chink in his armour, Verity wet her lips and her expression became more calculating. “I do have another suggestion...”
Cross inclined his head. “Really? And what might that be?”
She hesitated for a moment and then said, “I can get you the rest of the diamonds!”
He felt his eyes widened in surprise. “You still have them?”
“Yes, we still have them. And I can get them.”
Cross stepped back, tapping the still warm blade lightly against his chin as he thought. “You can’t shift them, can you? They’re too hot.”
Verity shrugged. “We haven’t tried. You can always sell diamonds. We might not get the full value, but they can be reset into jewellery and no one will ask where they came from.”
“So why haven’t you?”
The first hint of a smile appeared as she said, “We thought you’d pay more.”
“Did you now?”
Straightening her shoulders, she met his gaze. “We want five million.”
Cross almost laughed at that ridiculous suggestion. “That’s more than they’re worth.”
Verity’s smile grew wider. “Not to you.”
Any amusement vanishing, Cross glared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I hear your club is under a lot of scrutiny over the theft. Very bad for the Eighth Circle image and you, as the owner, must be feeling the pressure. I imagine, if you were able to recover the stolen items, it would go a long way to repairing that damage.”
Cross gave a snort as he shook his head. “I don’t have access to that kind of money.”
She took a step forward, her gaze never leaving his. “Yes you do.”
Cross almost gaped at the unspoken suggestion. “You expect me to dip into the central account?”
“It’s an Eighth Circle problem, seems only fair it has an Eighth Circle solution,” she said.
“They’d never agree.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you ask permission. Rumour has it, there’s a ten million pound slush fund that all owners can access as needed. I’m not greedy, I’m only asking for half.”
He shook his head. “No. I may not need permission, but I would need to account for the sum afterwards and the Board would never accept that price.”
Verity’s smile grew darker. “What if I had an additional sweetener?”
“And what might that be?”
“I can give you the name of the lad who accidentally shot the O’Dell boy.”
Cross considered it and then shook his head. “A name isn’t enough.”
Her voice dropped to a dark whisper. “No? Then how about the gun he used, with his prints still on it, and CCTV footage of him fleeing the scene, covered in blood and holding the gun? Would that be enough?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw as Cross thought rapidly. That offer was tempting. The club might even consider it a fair price to be able to put this incident to rest.
“Tick tick tick,” Verity said, her eyes fixed on the clock. “Time’s almost up. What’s it going to be? You can kill me, or wait for Frank O’Dell to get here and hope he kills me before he starts on you, or you can let me walk out here.”
His gaze narrowed. “How do I know you’ll come back?”
“Agree the deal and I’ll have five million reasons to return. I find that number highly motivating.”
Cross lowered himself into a chair and made a show of thinking it over. Being able to return the diamonds and the information on the killer would not only go a long way to repairing the damage done, but might actually help strengthen the Eighth Circle reputation. And he had no doubt the partners had the resources to see their money recovered swiftly. Verity might think she had the upper hand, but she clearly had no idea who she was playing with.
“I’ll need a couple of hours,” he said, “our bank is highly accommodating but a sum that size will require a personal conversation with someone in a position of authority.”
Verity grinned and said, “No problem. I’ll see you at ten.” She raised her hand. “Don’t bother getting up, I can see myself out.”
He watched her leave and then got to his feet. The call to the bank would only take him a few minutes, but there were other arrangements to put in place before she returned. Once he was sure she’d left the building he summoned his head of security.
***
At ten on the dot, there was a polite knock on his office door. Cross waited thirty seconds, just to be petty, and then pressed the button to allow her to enter.
He glanced up as she closed the door behind her and asked, “You have what you promised?”
Verity nodded and opened her duffle. Slowly, she extracted three clear plastic bags and laid them in a perfect row on his desk. A gun, a CD - which he assumed was the recording from the CCTV camera - and a black velvet jeweller’s pouch. “Everything we agreed. Is the money ready for transfer?”
Cross gave a soft laugh and waved his hand dismissively over the items. “I’ll need to check their authenticity first. You didn’t imagine I’d just take your word for it, did you?”
He’d expected her to react angrily to the delaying tactic, but to his surprise she looked slightly confused.
“Why bother?” she asked, her eyebrows pulling together in puzzlement. “It’s not like you’re ever going to show them to anyone.”
There was a moment of silence and Cross felt the first stirring of alarm. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice tight.
Verity slapped a hand to her forehead, “Oh god, I’ve buried the lead, haven’t I? Hang on.” She fumbled through her pockets and pulled out a scrap of paper.
Cross frowned at the scrawled numbers. “What is this?”
“It’s the meeting ID and password for a video call.” She made a shooing gesture with her hands. “Hurry up, he’s waiting.”
“Who’s waiting?”
A grin kicking up the corner of her mouth, she shook her head. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
Cross didn’t like the expression she was wearing, but he kept his concerns hidden as he accessed the website and typed the meeting number.
The blurred background gave no clue as to the location of the other party but then a familiar voice greeted him with a cheery, “‘ello mate!” And Cross froze as Mickey Barnes leaned into shot, smiling broadly.
“You two have met right?” Verity asked, “or do I need to do introductions?”
Cross shook off the stunned shock and turned his gaze on Verity. “You work for Mickey Barnes?”
“Not for me, with me,” Mickey said, before Verity could reply. “Family business, you understand.”
“Family?” His gaze flickered between the screen and the girl. “You mean he’s–”
“Dear old dad,” Verity replied.
Mickey grinned broadly and spread his arms. “Ain’t she just a chip off the old block.”