Panic

“Whoever did this took their time,” said the consultant, squinting closer at the deep cut. “The wound is very convincing.”

“What do you mean?” asked Mary, getting to her feet.

“Hank committing suicide is too great a coincidence, considering everything that’s happened,” said the consultant, frowning.

“Sure, I can buy that. But we’ll need more than circumstantial evidence to prove murder.”

“And there’s the rub. Whoever is leaving the trail of bodies is making them look just enough like suicides to give a jury enough reasonable doubt to throw out a murder charge.”

“There must be some evidence we can use.”.

“The blood pooling around Hank’s body is a little darker than I would have expected,” said Leopold, pointing to the stains on the carpet. “This happens when the heart isn’t pumping enough oxygen into the blood, and is usually caused when something constricts the oxygen supply.”

“Someone strangled him?” asked Jerome, from across the room.

“Not likely,” replied Leopold, “otherwise we’d see bruising around the neck. However, I do think his airways were constricted prior to death. Mostly likely something inserted into the wind pipe, which would be much harder to detect during an autopsy.”

“Why not just let him choke?” asked Mary.

“The point is to make it look like a suicide. People don’t usually dispatch themselves by sticking foreign objects into their windpipes, and if Hank had died prior to the wrists being cut we’d be able to tell. Judging by the lack of color around his face and lips, I’m certain it’s the blood loss that killed him.”

“So the killer stopped Hank breathing just long enough for him to pass out?” asked the police sergeant.

“Yes. Cutting off his oxygen for long enough beforehand would have made it far easier to arrange Hank in this position. If he’d struggled, the killer might not have been able to be so convincing.”

“Not convincing enough for you. But I’d imagine it’s convincing enough for a jury,” said Mary. “Just one question: How did the killer get out? The door was locked from the inside when we arrived.”

“Check the windows,” said Leopold.

Jerome unlatched the living room window, which opened just enough to fit his forearm through.

“The windows don’t open all the way,” he remarked. “No chance anyone could have fit their whole body through, even if they did ignore the fifty-foot drop.”

Leopold took a few minutes to examine the rest of the apartment. The tiny kitchen was littered with unopened mail that had been left on the countertop, and there was a strong smell of decomposing food coming from underneath the sink. He pulled open one of the cupboard doors and recoiled as the smell from the open garbage can hit his nose and he quickly shut the door again. He turned to leave, but noticed a letter lying open on top of the pile of junk mail. He picked it up and studied it carefully.

“Found anything?” asked Mary.

“Just a bank statement,” said Leopold. “Nothing unusual. We can use the account reference to check for any irregularities. Should save us getting a warrant, at least.”

Mary walked over and examined the piece of paper in the consultant’s hand.

“You can’t just hack in to someone’s private account.”

“Actually, I can,” said Leopold, punching Hank’s details into his cell phone. “I have a contact who can look into this sort of thing. I’ll send everything over. Shouldn’t take long.”

He hit the send button, ignoring the sergeant’s protestations, and turned his attention back to Hank’s body.

“We need to keep looking,” said Mary. “There must be something here that can explain what happened that doesn’t involve us breaking about fifty federal laws.”

“We can start with the laptop in the bedroom,” said Jerome. “There’s probably something on the hard drive we can use.”

The bodyguard led the way into the bedroom and pointed out the laptop, shoved into a corner of the bed and partially obscured by the pillows. The bedding and furniture was old, but the room itself had been recently redecorated, like the rest of the apartment. Leopold picked up the laptop and turned it on, taking a seat on the bed. The others peered in over his shoulder.

“This is definitely Christina’s laptop,” said Leopold, “judging by the number of college papers on here. Looks like she’s left her email open.”

He scrolled through the emails and noticed that among the unread messages, one sender kept jumping out.

“Cupid,” said the consultant, jabbing the screen with his index finger.

“Who?” said Mary.

“Christina has received at least a dozen emails from someone calling himself ‘Cupid.’ Looks like an anonymous sender.”

He opened up the latest message for them all to see. The message read:

I know what you did and I’m going to tell. You can’t hide from me any more. You’re going to get what’s coming to you.

Chapter 18

Senator Logan sat at the desk in his bedroom, staring intently at the bank of slim computer monitors in front of him. Stark couldn’t quite make out what the text read from where he was standing in the doorway, but it looked like a list of banking transactions.

“You asked to see me sir?” said the colonel, knocking softly on the open door.

“Yes, I need an update on Blake,” said Logan, turning off the monitors.

“They found Hank, sir. He’s dead.”

The senator turned his desk chair to face his chief security officer, a look of deep concern on his face. “This is very disturbing news,” he said. “Do they know what happened?”

“My team’s surveillance equipment picked up most of their conversation. Blake is saying Hank was murdered. They’ve also found a lead on Christina’s computer; it appears that someone was sending her threatening emails.”

“Threatening what?”

“We don’t know, sir. But we understand they’re going to try and track down the computer the messages were sent from.”

“Good,” said the senator. “Keep an eye on them. If they find anything, let me know immediately. I can’t afford any more delays.”

Stark nodded, and the senator turned back to his monitors, signaling the end of the conversation. The colonel left the room and closed the door behind him. He paced across the thick carpet and entered one of the empty guest bedrooms, a large room with an immaculately prepared king-sized bed against the far wall. Facing the fireplace on the opposite wall were two leather armchairs, arranged either side of a mahogany coffee table. Satisfied he couldn’t be overheard, Stark took a seat and patched his comms system through to Dolph’s earpiece.

“Your orders, sir?” said the blond.

“Keep an eye on Blake and don’t underestimate his bodyguard.”

“Yes, sir. Have the senator’s plans changed?”

“No, we’re still on track.”

“And if Blake finds anything?”

“If the plan is compromised, make sure you use the German. He’s in the vicinity if we need him. Don’t take any risks. We can’t have this traced back to us.”

Stark turned off his earpiece. Thanks to Blake’s bodyguard, it would be almost impossible to follow them much further without being spotted, and Dolph would have to drop back and risk losing them in the crowd. Without an audio link, it would be difficult to keep track of Blake’s progress. No matter; in a few hours the game would be over. And Stark always won.

Chapter 19

“So how do we find Cupid?” asked Mary. “I can think of a few questions I’d like to ask this guy.”

“We’ll start with an email trace,” said Leopold. “Jerome has a contract in place with the same company that handles data sniffing for the CIA, so this should be a piece of cake. I just need to log in to their database and run the program.”