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Selling him short indeed. "That's right."
"I looked for that name, Don Bruns. You said it was a cover."
"Yes."
"There was nothing in any of our records here. Customs, Passport Control, hotel registers. He could easily have slipped onto the island, though, unseen. It's not difficult. But there are two things that might help you. I will say I didn't neglect the case entirely. I interviewed witnesses, as I said. A desk clerk at the South Cove Inn told me that someone called the front desk two days before Robert Moreno arrived to confirm his reservation. A male caller, an American accent. But the clerk thought this was odd because Moreno's guard had called just an hour or so before, also to check on the reservation. Who was the second caller--the one in or from America--and why was he so interested in Moreno's arrival?"
"Did you get the number?"
"I was told it was an American area code. But the full number was not available. Or, to be frank, I was told not to dig further to find the number. Now, the second thing is that the day before the shooting, someone was at the inn, asking questions. This man spoke to a maid about the suite where Senor Moreno was staying, if there were groundskeepers regularly outside, did the suite have curtains, where did his guard stay, about the men's comings and goings. I'm assuming this was the man who called, but I don't know, of course."
"Did you get a description?"
"Male, Caucasian, mid-thirty years of age, short-cut hair, light brown. American accent too. Thin but athletic, the maid said. She said too he seemed military."
"That's our man. First, he called to make sure Moreno was still arriving. Then he showed up the day before the shooting to check out the target zone. Any car? Other details?"
"No, I'm afraid not."
Beep.
Rhyme heard the sound over the line and he thought: Shit, NIOS's tapping us.
But Poitier said, "I only have a few minutes left. That's the tone warning me the time on my card is expiring."
"I'll call you back--"
"I must go anyway. I hope this--"
Rhyme said urgently, "Please, wait. Tell me about the crime scene. I asked you earlier about the bullet."
That's key to the case...
A pause. "The sniper fired three times from a very far distance, more than a mile. Two shots missed and those bullets disintegrated on the concrete wall outside the room. The one that killed Moreno was recovered largely intact."
"One bullet?" Rhyme was confused. "But the other victims?"
"Oh, they were not shot. The round was very powerful. It hit the windows and showered everyone with glass. The guard and the reporter interviewing Moreno were badly cut and bled to death before they got to the hospital."
The million-dollar bullet.
"And the brass? The cartridges?"
"I asked a crime scene team to go search where the sniper had to shoot from. But..." His voice dimmed. "I was, of course, very junior and they told me they didn't want to bother."
"They didn't want to bother?"
"The area was rugged, they said, a rocky shoreline that would be hard to search. I protested but by then the decision had been made not to pursue the case."
"You yourself can search it, Corporal. I can tell you how to find the place he shot from," Rhyme said.
"Well, the case is suspended, as I said."
Beep.
"There are simple things to look for. Snipers leave a great deal of trace, however careful they are. It won't take much time."
Beep, beep...
