Chapter 30
Sandy stared at her phone. She acknowledged the number. It was the same one again.
Furious, she decided to answer it and deal with it once and for all, for the last time.
‘What?’ she answered.
‘Sandy?’
‘What do you want?’
‘You. I’m coming for you.’
The voice cracked. He sounded unhinged. Dangerous. But she was still tempted.
She was tired. Weary. Ready to walk away from it all and leave the fuckers to their own demise. Without her.
This man was the only person who had any hope of helping her yet still she was reserved.
‘Give me five minutes, that’s all, I promise. No recordings, no threats, no lies, just time. I’m still here, at the hotel. Meet me by the lake and nobody will know who you are talking to,’ the caller said.
His voice recovered and returned to its masterful confidence she knew so well.
‘Do you think I was born yesterday? Your disguise is shockingly bad. My seven-year-old nephew could do better.’
She liked playing games with him.
‘Acid tongue like your acid rain, as always,’ he toyed with her.
‘Fuck off,’ she said.
‘Whatever, I’ll explain everything when I see you.’
He hung up.
Sandy stared at the handset.
Her heart raced. She needed a cigarette, but she’d just put one out.
Her smoking had got out of hand this week.
No wonder, she thought. She tucked her phone into her jeans pocket and left her room, looking up and down the corridor.
She should have gone to Dow Bank House with Hank and the others.
There they were safe. It was a slice of US territory tucked away from the rest of the world. Nobody could touch them there.
But first she had something important to do.
One more week wouldn’t hurt, then she was officially retired. One more trip into the wilderness wasn’t going to kill her, though drinking anything made by FairGro might. The things she knew could sink them and they all knew it.
She could be bought. She had a price. Everyone did. She’d been doing it all her life. But her priorities had changed. Money no longer interested her. It was helpful, sexy even, and she’d rather have it than not, but it no longer sent her heart racing. Her fees were different now.
Anonymity.
Peace.
Safety.
Who knows, she even might just run away with Lee Lovett.
Happy there was nobody around, she went downstairs.
There were less people in the foyer now, and the police were nowhere to be seen except guarding the hotel entrance.
She assured herself it was to keep nosy journalists from getting in rather than to keep them caged in here.
They were free to leave anytime they wanted, and the company lawyers were on standby to represent anyone who had hassle from the police.
It was the way business was done. Jamie might be dead, but reputation and profit were everything, not necessarily in that order.
And Angelina was dead too. So, it was true.
Jamie knew the risks. It was a shame because his sister’s paintings were beautiful.
Sandy recalled Angelina’s ethereal vulnerability and the way Hank looked at her when she came to reveal the Rydal Caves piece in New York.
She headed down to the lake, where she saw a lone figure sitting under a tree near the pebble beach, watching her. She stared at him, and he raised a hand slowly and waved at her. She looked around, checking for company.
She was quite alone.
She gazed up at the hotel and saw no one checking on her from the windows of the grand suites, and no VIPs stalking her from the upper floors. The thuggish bodyguards had gone to Dow Bank House. The detectives seemed to have cleared out.
By the time she got closer to the beach, she realised that this part of the garden was entirely private, and she could no longer see any hotel doors or windows.
The awareness was a double-edged sword because if she couldn’t see anybody then they couldn’t see her either.
And she had yet to decide if she could trust this man entirely.
He’d been useful, for sure, but he played a good long game, and Sandy didn’t know where it would end.
As she got closer, she took in his disguise.
It had been superbly convincing to everyone but her and she admired his balls.
He’d been at the conference all along, recording conversations, taking notes and stealing samples.
He’d fooled them all, except her.
Sandy recalled his face when Jamie fell from the upper floor.
It was unforgettable.
Regretful. Woeful.
They were close.
She greeted him by clapping. In praise of his performance. High praise indeed. He’d fooled them all.
‘Nice outfit. Shit disguise, but you had them eating out of your hand. I saw you.’
He bowed. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said, lifting his lanyard. ‘I had to gain access to the snake pit somehow.’
‘You’ve got balls. Given what’s happened to Jamie and his sister.’
At this, the young man flinched and Sandy realised that he must know Angelina. There was something else. Grief.
‘You knew her?’
He nodded.
‘Will you at least walk with me?’ he asked. He made it clear he didn’t want to discuss Angie.
‘No. I’m close enough.’
‘Fair enough,’ he said, wiping sand off his jeans. He faced her and kept his distance.
‘People know where I am,’ she warned him.
‘I doubt that. I know the kind of people you work for. I imagine you do too.’
‘Get on with it.’
‘Jamie gave me your personal number before he died. In fact, it was last week. He was scared.’
‘Scared? I know he trusted you.’
Joe nodded. ‘I’m trying to keep this brief. He thought you’d be open to talking to me.’
‘Really?’ Sandy side-eyed him and smiled. ‘Well, well.’
‘His story was that five years ago, when he first had the idea for YouthBlast, he approached some industry reps who promised to represent him at fairs and suchlike. Long story short, they didn’t.
They stole his idea, however. Tilda Dent being the terrier she is, once she poked around in Jamie’s business and saw the potential, she called off all competitors and undercut them. With me so far?’
Sandy nodded.
‘Her funding came with certain conditions.’
‘I know.’
‘But do you know which ones?’
Sandy shrugged. ‘I think so. Jamie told me his worries.’
‘Really?’ Joe asked.
She looked at the pebbles under her feet.
‘He was under contract to develop three more products to sell by next year. He withdrew from two of them and the third was ready for market last week. So, he was in breach of a very watertight contract with one of the richest companies on earth.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know, Joe. Surprise me.’
‘You already know every move Hank Hampton makes.’
Slowly, she smiled. ‘And this is what you want to tell your followers on your podcast? You think I’m going to help you? You really are a nutcase.’
She began to walk away but he grabbed her arm.
‘Get off me!’ She shrugged. He let his hand fall. She hesitated. ‘I’m going to report you to security. Have you seen Hank’s bodyguards?’
‘I have; they look thoroughly decent and friendly chaps.’ He grinned. ‘And they’re not here, are they?’
‘But the detective is.’
‘She’s gone too,’ Joe said. ‘I watched her leave. She looked so fed up but so would I if I’d been amongst your lot all morning.’
‘They know who you are.’
‘I know; why else would Jamie have been murdered?’
‘They’ll ruin you if they don’t kill you. You’ll be ridiculed and blacklisted from all mainstream media. Your reputation is in tatters.’
‘It already is. Good job I don’t care about the mainstream media. You know what they say about conspiracy theorists?’
She didn’t answer.
‘We’re just a year ahead of the news.’ He grinned again. ‘If the mainstream hates me, then isn’t that the perfect reason to trust me? Aren’t you a scientist? Jamie said you were a believer in truth once upon a time.’
‘I find money pays the bills better than truth,’ she said.
He grinned at her and she knew she wouldn’t be here at the lake talking to him if she wasn’t interested in blowing the lid off.
‘I used to think this was all about the Neurohydroxy, but it’s not, is it? That’s just a primer. It’s about the electronic messaging Jamie told me about.’
‘Ah, the infamous nanotechnology injected into the subject. Fascinating. There were rumours that mRNA vaccines were capable of it but papers on it are, understandably, suppressed. Nobody will believe you,’ she said.
‘They won’t have to because I know where the asset is.’
‘You’re bluffing.’
‘Now I know I’m close.’
She walked away.
‘So, it’s true?’ he asked her.
He didn’t follow her. Instead, he sank into the shadows behind the treeline and headed for the road. The buses to Chapel Stile were like rocking-horse shit and he was late already.