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Gardener’s mood was part defeat but mostly annoyance. Robbie Crater had slipped the net, making that a cold case. He certainly didn’t want another. “I can’t believe we’ve drawn a complete blank.”
“It’s not a complete blank, boss. We know a lot more than we did three weeks ago. We know who they are, where they live – or lived, some of what they’ve been up to. But we just can’t find them, at the moment.”
Gardener shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. “The trouble is, we know so much but so little. We know they exist but proof of their existence is only in cyberspace.”
“Apart from James Henshaw and Anthony Palmer,” offered Reilly.
Gardener nodded. “We’ve found out what they’ve been up to, and where they are supposed to have operated from. Is it possible for four people to completely disappear?”
“You wouldn’t have thought so, in this day and age, but people do it all the time.”
“They do, but there’s usually a trace of some kind. All online presence has ceased. Their phone numbers have ceased to exist. Two homes have been cleared of everything – incriminating or otherwise. And they have all disappeared from planet Earth. How is that possible?”
“Maybe not all,” said Reilly. “Palmer’s house isn’t empty. Maybe we only need to find him.”
The silence said it all. Gardener and Reilly rose in unison and headed for the door, turning out the lights as they left.
Part Two
Chapter Eighteen
Three months after the hit and run.
The plane touched down and taxied to the terminal. Despite being in first class the procedure was still the same but within seconds of the aircraft hitting the tarmac, a succession of clicks on seat belts signalled the impatience of the passengers waiting to leave.
Two of them stood up, reaching overhead, when a stewardess reminded them to sit back down and fasten their seat belts.
Anthony wondered why; why did you have to keep your seat belt fastened when the plane was trundling along at ten miles per hour on its way to a safe destination to dock? What the hell did they think would happen?
Nevertheless, he cooperated.
When it finally stopped almost everyone was standing. Somehow they always managed to beat him. One passenger was even at the door to leave, case in hand.
Within seconds of departing they were rushing down empty corridors to the carousel. The conversations around him were of frustrating and unnecessary business trips and holidays from hell – although how anyone could have a bad holiday in the Bahamas was beyond Anthony.
The queue at the passport booth was relatively short but judging by the jobsworths inside the glass cabins it was set to grow longer. Why did they make you feel so uncomfortable? Was it a trait of the job when you attended the interview? Give us your most aggressive stare; see if you can cause someone to wither without uttering a word.
Anthony moved forward, presenting his passport. The woman took it. She had short black hair clinging to her scalp, a severe expression, and an attitude that said, whatever it is you’re thinking of saying – don’t! He was reminded of Zoe.
“How long have you been away, sir?” she asked.
“A few weeks,” replied Anthony.
“Business or pleasure?”
“Both.”
What the hell was she doing? wondered Anthony. All she had to do was check the picture and let him through.
“No personal baggage?”
“No, it’s not worth the aggro these days, might as well put it all in the suitcase.”
She handed the passport back. “Have a safe journey, sir.”
Anthony was surprised. He’d have laid odds he’d end up being dragged to one side, left to wait for hours before being strip-searched in a private room.
What an imagination, thought Anthony. That’s what comes of working with those three.
