Return to Atlantis: A Novel (26 page)

“Wind it back,” he said. She did so. “Okay, watch his right hand … now!”

Nina paused the recording. “Eddie, there’s … I can’t see anything.” Shadows and the camera angle, coupled with the low quality of the video, made it impossible to discern anything clearly among the pipework.

“It’s there, I tell you.” He leaned toward the laptop until his nose was almost touching the screen.

“I told you, not even Interpol found anything, and they gave it the full
CSI
treatment.”

Eddie sat back. “Buggeration. I’m fucked, then. The only way I can prove it was self-defense is showing people that gun.”

“I’m sorry.” They sat in glum silence—until a question occurred to Nina. “Where did the gun come from? You and Kit were fighting over that rifle, so presumably he didn’t have one of his own.”

“No, it was Stikes’s gun. I made him and Sophia chuck theirs over the edge. It must have landed in the …” He jerked upright. “It landed in the pipes! Wind it back to when I went up the ladder.”

His sudden hope was infectious. “What are we looking for?” Nina asked as she scrolled back through the recording.

“I climbed up the ladder—Sophia and Stikes were talking, and they didn’t see me coming.” On the laptop, past-Eddie acted out his current self’s narration. “Sophia had a bodyguard who pulled a gun, so I took him down”—muzzle flash from offscreen—“and then, and then …” He tried to remember the precise sequence of events. “Stikes dissed Mac, so I shot him—”

“You
shot
him?” exclaimed Nina, pausing the playback. “He seemed pretty spry in Tokyo for a dead man!”

“I only clipped him. Gave him a nice scar to remember me by.” Eddie tapped his forehead in the same spot as Stikes’s wound. “Kind of wishing I’d just blown his fucking head off now. Anyway, after that I told him and
Sophia to get rid of their guns. Stikes lobbed his over the side, past me …” He pointed at the shadowed pipes on the screen. “It
had
to end up where Kit could reach it. Play it.”

Nina tapped the trackpad. “How long was this after you climbed onto the catwalk?”

“Not long—a minute, maybe less.”

She glanced at the timecode. Twenty seconds passed, thirty. Her attention went back to the pipes. Any moment now …

A video glitch rippled across that part of the screen for a fraction of a second. Nina’s heart sank—anything the video might have revealed was lost in the distortion—but Eddie’s shout was one of triumph. “There! You see it?”

“No, I only saw the—”

“It’s there, it’s there,” he said excitedly. “Take it back and play it frame by frame.” He indicated a specific spot. “Right there, keep watching.”

Nina replayed the video in extreme slow motion, eyes fixed on the pipes. Each frame chugged past, the only movement the shimmer and crawl of analog video. Then—

Eddie stabbed at the trackpad to pause the recording. “That’s it!”

Nina stared at the screen. It was at the very edge of the picture, blurred by its motion and just barely catching one of the pumping station’s lights, a silvery shape among the shadows.

But that shape was instantly recognizable. A gun.

“My God,” she said quietly. “It’s there, I can see it.”

“Told you, didn’t I?” He advanced to the next frame—and the falling gun was consumed by the bolt of static. It only lasted for another three frames, less than an eighth of a second, but by the time the image cleared the gun had vanished into the darkness between the pipes. “That’s why nobody saw it. One frame’s not long enough for your brain to pick it up consciously, so the only thing anyone registered was that glitch.”

“You saw it, though.”

“I knew it was there.”

Nina looked at him, a smile spreading across her face. “Eddie, this proves your story. We’ve got to tell Beauchamp, let Interpol know what we’ve found. This’ll get you off the hook!”

“You mean
you
let Interpol know. Until this is all sorted out, I’d better keep a low profile.”

“The main thing is, we’ve got proof.” She took the recording back to the frame showing the gun. “All we have to do is give Beauchamp that timecode, and you’re in the clear!”

Lola came back into the room. “What happened? Did you find something?”

“We found something,” Nina told her happily. “We definitely found something.”

I
t wasn’t enough.

Eddie stood silently listening as Nina held an increasingly dismayed phone conversation with Renée Beauchamp at Interpol. “I don’t understand,” she said. “You’ve watched the video, you’ve seen the gun at the exact timecode I gave you—you just
told
me you saw it! Kit grabbed it, so Eddie was clearly acting in self-defense. Why doesn’t that clear him?”

“Because it still does not establish any motive for Kit to do what Eddie accused him of,” the French officer replied.

“But you know he was doing
something
. He lied about his reason for meeting Stikes.”

“That is not proof of wrongdoing. If we had any evidence of that, it would help Eddie’s case, perhaps even clear him outright, but we have found nothing. All we know is that he and Kit were fighting, and that Kit found a gun and was apparently about to use it when he was killed. You say Eddie was acting in self-defense, but Kit may have gone for the gun for the same reason. Your husband has, ah … a reputation for violence, after all.”

“So what
would
count as proof?”

“Something that links Kit to illegal activities. Falsifying evidence, accepting bribes, passing classified information to outside parties, abuse of power …” Beauchamp sighed. “But we have found none of these. There is nothing to suggest that Kit was anything except an exemplary police officer who was dedicated to the pursuit of order.”

“So even though you’ve got new evidence, it doesn’t help Eddie at all?”

“It would help his case if he turned himself in. But does it clear his name? No, I’m afraid not.”

“Well, that’s great,” said Nina, struggling to contain her angry disappointment. “Thanks anyway, Renée.” She put down the phone with more force than she intended.

“That didn’t sound like it went well,” said Eddie.

“It did not.”

“Bollocks. I really thought it’d be enough.”

“So did I. Oh God.” She slumped back in her chair, looking out of her study window at the midmorning Manhattan street scene outside. They had left Lola’s and returned to their apartment after midnight, Nina surreptitiously letting Eddie in through a fire exit to avoid the attention of the doorman. “I don’t know what else we can do.”

“There isn’t anything else we can do. But there’s something
I
can do.”

“Which is what?”

“Leave.” He walked out.

Nina jumped up and followed him into the lounge. “What? Wait a minute, what do you mean
leave
?”

“You know, go out through the front door and don’t come back.”

“Why?” she cried.

“Same reason I didn’t call you while I was on the run. For Christ’s sake, Nina, I’m wanted by bloody Interpol for murder! If I’d talked to you on the phone that would have been bad enough, but if I’m found here, that makes you an accessory for harboring a fugitive, or whatever
it’s called.” He started for the bedroom to collect his belongings.

“So what are you going to do?” she demanded, moving to block him. “Just run off around the world again and try not to get arrested? Or killed?”

“I
have
to.”

“No! No, you don’t! We found Kit’s gun on the recording, we can work out his code as well. Beauchamp said if we found evidence that proved Kit was doing something illegal, it’d clear your name. All we need is time.”

“The longer I hang around here, the more chance there is of us both getting caught. And I’m not going to let you get dragged into this. Come on, let me past.” He tried to move around her.

“It’s a bit late for that, Eddie. Someone blew the top off a skyscraper trying to kill me, remember? And if you leave, then what? You want them to come after me again?”

That stopped him in his tracks. “Of course I bloody don’t!”

“It’s what’ll happen. For God’s sake, I would probably have died in Tokyo if you hadn’t been there—never mind what happened at JFK! And from what Dalton told you, Glas won’t give up. I
need
you, Eddie.”

“You could hire a bodyguard. I’ve still got Charlie’s number; he’s got a couple of guys I’d trust to keep you safe.”

“I don’t mean I need you as a bodyguard.” She stepped closer, looking into his eyes. “I need you as a
husband
. You know: best friend, soul mate … lover?” She held his hands. “I want you back, Eddie. I want my husband back. Not on the run in God knows what part of the world.”

“Christ, believe me, that’s what I want more than anything!” Eddie replied desperately. “But I don’t have any choice. I’ve got to go. Otherwise—”

He broke off at the sound of someone knocking at the
door. Nina jumped. “Shit!” she whispered. “What if it’s the cops?”

“They’d be knocking with a battering ram.” He moved her aside. “Get rid of them. I’ll hide in the bedroom.”

“Don’t you
dare
pack your things,” Nina warned as she went to the door, waiting for Eddie to get out of sight before looking through the peephole.

It wasn’t the police. But she was still startled by who she saw.

The visitor was Larry Chase.

“It’s your dad!” she hissed to Eddie.

He poked his head around the door frame. “What the fuck’s
he
doing here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then get rid of him!”

Eddie retreated, leaving the bedroom door fractionally open so he could listen as Nina let the unexpected visitor in. “Larry, hi. This is, uh, kind of a surprise.” He was alone. “Where’s Julie?”

“Shopping,” Larry replied. “She’s on a pilgrimage to Bloomingdale’s, so I thought I’d leave her to it.”

“When are you flying back to England?”

“Tonight. Not trying to get rid of me, are you?”

“It’s kind of an awkward time.”

“That’s okay, this won’t take long.” He looked around the apartment. “Nice place you’ve got. Very tasteful.” He spotted one of Eddie’s possessions on a shelf, a pottery cigar-box holder in the shape of a smiling Fidel Castro. “Well, mostly.”

“So what can I do for you, Larry?” Nina asked, moving around the room so that by facing her, Larry would have his back to the bedroom door.

“I wanted to fix things up between us. When we had dinner, it didn’t end well. Which made it two out of two, and I’d like dinner number three to at least reach the dessert course without any fireworks!” He laughed a little, but stopped when he saw Nina’s stony expression.
“That’s assuming that you’re willing for there to
be
a dinner number three, of course.”

“It’s not something I’d given a great deal of thought, to be honest. Look, Larry, this really isn’t a good time—”

“Please, it’ll just take a minute!” He was silent for a moment, composing himself. “I wanted to apologize. For what happened in South America. I’ve been thinking about what you told me, and … you were right. I shouldn’t have talked to Stikes.”

“No,” said Nina coldly. “You shouldn’t.”

“But I didn’t know, I didn’t
know
!” Larry protested, hands spread wide. “Yes, Callas and de Quesada weren’t the kind of clients I’d actively seek out, but I didn’t know what they were planning. When Edward turned up in Bogotá afterward and started threatening to tie me in with their attempted coup, I … well, I admit it, I panicked. I needed reassurances that I wasn’t going to end up embroiled in the whole mess—and Stikes was the only person who could provide them, since de Quesada and Callas were both dead.”

“And because you called him—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “And I’m sorry, I really, really am
sorry
about it, and I know that if I hadn’t spoken to Stikes none of it would have happened. If I’d known, if there had been any possible way I
could
have known, I wouldn’t have done it.”

“That doesn’t change what happened, though,” said Eddie, stepping out of the bedroom behind him.

Larry whirled, face a mixture of shock, relief—and nervousness. “Edward? Oh my God! You’re all right!”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Eddie said with a shrug, before fixing his father with a cold gaze. “So, did I just hear that right? You actually apologized to someone?”

“If I make a mistake, I own up to it,” his father replied stiffly.

“So I guess that must have been the first mistake you ever made in your life, seeing as I don’t remember you doing that before.”

“Eddie, for God’s sake,” said Nina, stepping between
the two men to prevent yet another family argument. “The point is, he
did
come here to apologize. Maybe now that you’re here too …” She gave the elder Chase a pointed look.

“Well?” said Eddie, folding his arms and regarding his father expectantly.

It took considerably more effort for the words to emerge this time. “Okay. Edward. What I wanted to say was … I made a mistake, and I regret it. I’m sorry.”

A sarcastic smile split his son’s face. “Well, fuck me. I can die happy now that I’ve finally heard that.”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie!” Nina snapped. “Will you just listen to him, please? For me, if nothing else?”

“I’m sorry, I’m
sorry
,” Larry repeated, with growing emotion. “Look, I’m …” He paced in agitation across the room, then turned back to Eddie. “I’m not a soldier like you. I’ve never been in any situation where people’s lives were in the balance. How do you think I feel about learning that something I did ended up getting people killed? It’s—it’s appalling! I don’t know how to deal with something that huge. I really don’t.” He went to a chair and sat staring miserably down at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t bring back Mac,” Eddie rumbled. “Or any of the other people who died.”

“No, it doesn’t. But …” He looked up, meeting his son’s icy gaze. “I did what I did because I was trying to save my own arse. I admit that. And now I completely understand why you took a swing at me in England.” He shrugged—not disdain, but a kind of acceptance. “To be honest, I can’t help thinking now that you showed remarkable restraint.”