Gaffney had been verging on obesity before his hospitalization. A new diet and a healthier attitude toward exercise had seen him shed the excess weight. Rachel had begged him to join her on the ice for a game of scrimmage, but he’d taken up snowshoeing instead. He’d told her it was safer on his knees, and he had a cottage in Huntsville at the gateway to Algonquin. Now his sharp blue eyes twinkled down at her as he hefted himself onto her desk.
“It’s good to have you back, Gaff.”
“Wasn’t expecting a parliamentary welcome, was I?”
Gaffney wore the uniform he wanted to wear, in his case a pair of slacks and a decidedly ugly Christmas sweater, topped by a navy blue Maple Leafs ball cap that Rachel thoroughly approved of.
“Not so bad for a man in your line of work. Rideau Hall and a lovely lady on your arm.”
“I’ll have you know that lady was my wife.”
Rachel grinned. She knew Gaffney’s diminutive wife, Meera, quite well. They’d kept each other company in the cardiac unit during Gaffney’s operation. She was every bit as bossy as Gaff was laid-back and slapdash. Meera had convinced her conservative Indian parents to allow her to marry Gaffney when she was only nineteen. He freely admitted to anyone who would listen that Meera was his whole life.
“Do you want to take a look?” Gaffney dropped a pile of stapled-together papers on her desk. Rachel moved her cup of coffee to make sure it didn’t spill on the printouts.
Nate had given them unfettered access to his e-mail account. Khattak had asked Gaff to separate out the e-mails that dealt with three subjects: Audrey’s discussions with Shukri Danner, any reference to the young man from Syria or any allusion to the Interpol agent from France.
Nate had supplied them with the relevant names: the boy was Sami al-Nuri, the woman Aude Bertin. The rest of Nate’s correspondence with Audrey needed to be read in chronological order, dating from her departure to Lesvos. The search had taken Gaff less than five minutes. Now, while Rachel sorted through his findings, he’d trace the origin of each of Audrey’s e-mails.
Khattak wasn’t in, he was driving down after his meeting at the prime minister’s, so Rachel settled in for a long read, munching the chocolate-dip donut she’d collected on her way to work, while Gaffney tut-tutted her breakfast choices. Rachel ignored him: there was nothing worse than a reformed junk food addict.
She felt a little guilty about reading Nate’s private e-mails, but as she made her first scan through the printed material, she saw that though the Clare siblings had written each other most days, their e-mails were short and to the point, primarily occupied with the business of their NGO. At his most affectionate, Nate called his sister “sprite,” and Rachel now remembered that the first time she’d met Audrey Clare in a bar as the prelude to an uncomfortable scene between Khattak and his friends, Khattak had called Audrey by the same nickname.
She was a little startled to discover that most of the e-mails were about money. When Audrey had first arrived on Chios, she’d taken stock of the efficacy of Woman to Woman’s work, and promptly decided they were short of everything: staff, supplies, interpreters, and the basics for making it through the winter. She’d sent an itemized list of her requirements to the NGO’s accountant, and copied Nate on the e-mail. He’d signed off on the request the same day, transferring additional funds into the NGO’s account.
Rachel read the list closely. It included winterized tents and camping equipment; generators; portable printers, copiers, and fax machines; a surprisingly large order of flashlights and batteries; blankets; winter clothes and shoes; a sundry list of office supplies; and a catalog of pharmaceutical drugs. There was also a request for two hundred mobile phones, with the pay-as-you-go cards to supply them.
Rachel pondered this. She knew the NGO had minimal staff on the islands, too few to make use of Audrey’s inventory. A follow-up e-mail confirmed her hunch. The supplies were given to refugees. As the new year came and went, Nate continued to accept requests for additional stores. His casualness made Rachel wonder at the extent of the Clares’ wealth. Over the course of a few months, he’d authorized spending to the tune of three hundred thousand dollars. That kind of money led to complications.
Sure enough, Rachel came across a tense exchange between the siblings in February. Audrey had asked Nate to approve a single large expenditure, the cost of a forty-thousand-dollar motorboat. Nate had responded that such a purchase could not be attributed to the NGO’s work, or registered as a legitimate expense. Rachel read through the transcript, highlighting certain passages.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday, February 12, 2016 at 9:12 a.m.
Subject: Island cruise
Hey big brother, I’m still waiting on approval for the speedboat requisition. I don’t have the money, and I don’t want to divert the funds we spend on intake. Please approve by tonight.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday, February 12, 2016 at 9:15 a.m.
Subject: Re: Island cruise
Why do you need it, sprite?
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday, February 12, 2016 at 9:20 a.m.
Subject: Re: Island cruise
I’ve told you. I need to get around the islands. What is the issue? So we’ll do a little creative accounting. What does that matter when lives are at stake?
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday, February 12, 2016 at 9:22 a.m.
Subject: Re: Island cruise
That’s precisely what I’m worried about. There are smugglers out there on those waters. I don’t want you intercepting them, or doing the work of the Coast Guard. I know you. You’ll use the boat to pull people out of the water. That’s not what you’re there to do.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday, February 12, 2016 at 9:30 a.m.
Subject: Re: Island cruise
Nate, I’m 30 years old, I’m not a child. You have no idea what I’m down here to do. I need the boat. Having my own boat increases my independence and my safety. You’ve never been miserly before. If you won’t release the money, I’ll take it out of my trust fund.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday, February 12, 2016 at 9:33 a.m.
Subject: Re: Island cruise
You know me better than that, so I won’t take offense. You need my permission to access money from your trust fund–I’m sorry but I’m not giving it. You’re all I have left in this world, I won’t let you risk your life. You don’t deny my suspicions: you do intend to go out there like the Coast Guard. You should be pushing cases for the people who’ve made the crossing.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday, February 12, 2016 at 9:41 a.m.
Subject: Re: Island cruise
I hate when you get like this. Ruksh and I both do. How long do you and Esa think you can keep sheltering us from the world? You have no idea what I’ve seen. I need the boat to help Sami, I promise that’s all I’m doing. His situation is desperate. You wouldn’t understand because you didn’t come, you didn’t want to leave Rachel. Don’t think you can guilt me by making me think you’re alone. I need the money, you have to let me have it. Otherwise, I’ll ask Ruksh.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday, February 12, 2016 at 9:42 a.m.
Subject: Re: Island cruise
Ruksh won’t have it to give you. I’m sorry, but my answer is final. I don’t want you out on the water. You need to be at headquarters, supervising Shukri. Have you resolved your issue
s with her? Tell me about Sami, I’ll do what I can to help.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday, February 12, 2016 at 10:01 a.m.
Subject: Re: Island cruise
Forget it. I’ll figure out another way. I’ll talk to you later.
Rachel found it all very interesting, not least the mention of her name. It sounded as if the Clare siblings had talked about her, and though the thought made her squirm, she couldn’t deny a twinge of pleasure. Nate hadn’t responded to his sister’s provocation, but she wondered if her name would crop up again. She admired Nate for having the openness to share these e-mails, knowing Rachel would read them.
She swallowed the last bite of her donut, her sense of contentment dimming. Perhaps he’d felt able to do so because he hadn’t mentioned her at all. She knew it was selfish to think of these things, when Nate was worried about Audrey. She hadn’t forgotten her search for Zach, but Zach lived with her now, their relationship improving by the day. There was no point in revisiting the agony of that bleak period before she’d been recruited to work with Khattak.
Rachel grinned to herself. She hadn’t made the best first impression, but one of the nice things about Khattak was that he seldom lost his temper; when he did, he inclined more to quiet displeasure. Her childhood had been defined by her father’s anger. Khattak’s manner was different: thoughtful, courteous, slow-burning. She’d never heard him raise his voice.
She brought her attention back to the e-mails. That couldn’t have been the first mention of the boy Sami, could it? The way Audrey referred to him made it clear he’d been the subject of previous discussions.
His situation is desperate.
Of course it was. The situation of anyone who risked crossing the sea in a raft was desperate. But how did Sami stand out from the thousands of refugees who struggled to get to the islands, in hopes of reaching the European continent? There had to be something more to it, something linked to Sami’s death.
She didn’t dismiss the possibility of Audrey’s guilt—she knew Khattak wouldn’t want her to. Their different perspectives on a case were the key to their partnership’s success.
She set aside the e-mail in question for further discussion with Nate. She went through and read the rest of his correspondence with single-minded focus. There were no earlier or later mentions of Sami, though Nate persisted in asking questions that Audrey chose to ignore. She didn’t raise the issue of the boat again, but ten days later there was another query from Nate.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Thursday, February 22, 2016 at 4:16 p.m.
Subject: Bank withdrawal
Have you been getting some rest? It’s been a few days, and your phone goes straight to voicemail. I received a notice from your bank. You’ve withdrawn $3000 from your personal account. Why? I hope to God you haven’t done something crazy and found yourself a secondhand boat. I’d give you the money for something top of the line if I thought you’d do anything so foolish. Please reassure me. Is Sami ok? You still haven’t told me.
There was no corresponding reply from Audrey. Her next few e-mails resumed her updates on the progress of her work. No reference was made to other refugees or to Aude Bertin.
Rachel made a note to ask about Nate’s banking arrangements. Why, for example, had he received notification about Audrey’s bank withdrawal? It suggested there was a more controlling side of Nate she hadn’t been exposed to. She didn’t like the thought of it, because it struck too close to home. Audrey was right. She was perfectly capable of making her own decisions, including decisions on how to spend her money.
Rachel scribbled on her notepad again. It was worth exploring whether Audrey received a salary for her work at the NGO, and how much that salary was. If she didn’t, Nate likely held the purse strings to Audrey’s trust fund, and possibly to the bulk of the Clare wealth. She wondered how such wealth had been acquired—through his own fame as a writer, or through their parents’ estate? How much wealth were they talking, when it wasn’t the cost of the boat Nate had balked at, but the uses his sister might have put it to?
Rachel’s resources were adequate for her needs. She wasn’t struggling, but neither was she anything close to well-off. And now she was supporting Zachary as well, until he made some headway as an artist.
She felt a secret kinship to Nathan Clare: even if Zach failed at his chosen profession, she would never kick him out. She suspected that if Nate was the source of Audrey’s financial independence, he felt the same way about his sister.
He hadn’t batted an eyelid at the increasing demands for funds related to Audrey’s pet project. Though the money was being used for a worthwhile cause, and was doubtlessly tax deductible, not everyone would have agreed to these expenses.
So she’d have to ask questions, nosy, intrusive questions, but she’d better run them by Khattak first, in case he knew the answers. She didn’t much like the idea of Nate being involved in this mess—her line of questioning would make him feel like a suspect.
She sighed to herself, drawing Gaffney’s attention from his work. He had his feet propped up on his desk, his keyboard in his lap, and he was scrolling through a long line of numbers that made no sense to Rachel.
“What’s the matter? Man trouble?”
Rachel narrowed her eyes at him in warning.
“Why do men think that if a woman’s a little preoccupied, it’s always about a man? I could be thinking of a woman or I could be thinking like a police officer, which is how I spend most of my time.”
Gaffney’s blue eyes sparkled with humor. “I’ve read the e-mails, remember? I know about you and Nathan Clare.”
“There is no me and Nathan Clare.”
“That’s what you think.” Gaff tapped his keyboard. “What makes you think I gave you all the e-mails?”
Rachel paused. Then she realized she was being teased. She’d fallen for it.
Her face flushed bright red.
“You wouldn’t be a very good detective if you didn’t.”
“I’m not a detective,” he assured her. “I’m the guy who knows everyone’s secrets, remember? The tech guy.”
“Hardly,” Rachel scoffed. “The tech guy is that guy in the Geek Squad who helps recover your hard drive. You’re this under-the-radar genius the RCMP loans out.”
“Exactly.” Gaff tapped his keyboard again. This time the gesture contained a wealth of meaning. “I didn’t just look at the e-mails our friend Mr. Clare volunteered. He seems to think that if you delete your e-mails, they vanish from the Internet for good. He gave his account a pretty thorough cleaning before he granted us access. Or at least, he tried to.”
Rachel pushed back her chair. She walked over to Gaffney’s desk.
“You’re saying he deleted e-mails to Audrey? E-mails related to our case?”
Gaffney rubbed his hand over his chin. “I don’t know if they’re related to the case, but yes, he deleted a fair bit of his correspondence, most of it to do with financials, some of it to do with you.”
“With me?” Rachel was stalling for time.
“Do you want to take a look at it?”
“Don’t we need a warrant? Seems a bit tricky if we’re going beyond the parameters of consent.”
Part of her leapt at the opportunity to read Nate’s private thoughts. That part she squelched, disgusted with herself. The other part knew that if Nate had deleted some of his e-mails to Audrey, that was relevant to their case.
It made her a little frightened for him. He was hiding something.
It might have to do with the gun.
Or it might cast a suspicious light on Audrey’s involvement in the deaths of Sami and Agent Bertin.
She was about to cross a line.
“Yes,” Gaff said. “We’d need a warrant or consent. That’s why I didn’t hand them over. This chat we’re having is off the
record. So. Do you want to know about your boyfriend?”
Rachel shot him an exasperated look. “No, I don’t, Gaff. I want to know about the gun.”
Gaff stretched his hands behind his head, balancing his keyboard on his lap. “There’s some administrative correspondence with the Greek authorities about firearm permits. Did you want to see that?”
Rachel thought about this. Her first boss had had no problem with cutting corners or coloring outside the lines; as a result, his unit had acquired a reputation for corruption. Some of the mud had stuck to Rachel; it had taken time to wash off. She knew Gaff would show her the e-mails without mentioning it to anyone else, but she took a certain pride in her own integrity.
“Just collect the e-mails in a folder: all correspondence between Nate and Audrey since December. We’ll get consent.” She bit her lip, seeing the pitfalls ahead. “Or we’ll get a warrant.”
5
Ottawa, Canada
Esa’s meeting at the prime minister’s office ended up taking place with a senior advisor who clearly had better things to do. A dynamic young Quebecois who introduced himself as Jean Cordeau and responded to Khattak with an air of inattention, he paged through several folders on a delicate desk as he spoke. He ushered Khattak to a seat, finally allowing his eyes to come to rest on Khattak’s face. Khattak waited to speak until Cordeau passed him the folder in his hands.
“Is this everything I need?”
“Everything: names, dates, contact information for all relevant authorities. I’m sure I don’t need to impress upon you the need for discretion in this matter. There are so many potential pitfalls, I’m not sure we shouldn’t leave the matter alone.”
A Dangerous Crossing--A Novel Page 3