day.
‘E-mail me everything you’ve got on Harrow.’
‘Sure.’
‘And we’ll need to work out what we’re going to do about Geyerson. I doubt Dylan will want us going to Morocco.’
‘Do you want us going to Morocco?’ asked Haynes, opening the door.
‘No, not really. We’ll need to get someone to speak to him. I’ll look into it. Leave it open, please.’
Haynes left, pushing the door wide open. The breath of warm air from the window started flowing through Jericho’s office.
*
J ericho spent the next hour immersed in the expedition and the climbing life of Harrow. Harrow, it quickly transpired, was a nickname, given to him at the University of Sussex, as he was the only one in his year to have attended Harrow. That he had ended up at the University of Sussex, rather than at his father’s Oxford College, was likely to be a sore point in the family.
Real name, Thomas Ninkovich. Another one who, like Carter, had given his life over to being a full-time climber. Another life where chasing the next mountain alternated with chasing the next cheque from Gatorade.
The expedition had ended on the seventh of May. That was the day they walked back into the hotel in Sikkim, from where they had started out two-and-a-half months previously. Jericho suddenly wondered if he would have to go to Sikkim as well. Certainly, this had all the hallmarks of an international investigation and as such was likely to go beyond the jurisdiction, and the capacity, of a small police station in Somerset.
Maybe we won’t have this for very long, he thought to himself. The idea that he might be handing over his work at some point made him want to do the job all the more thoroughly, rather than think that, in the end, it probably wouldn’t matter what he did.
Harrow proved hard to track. He had stayed in India for a while, and then nothing. No one knew where he had gone. His parents were dead, one brother in Vancouver, another in Stoke-on-Trent. Jericho couldn’t get hold of the second brother. The one in Canada, whom Jericho had caught on his way out the door, hadn’t heard from Harrow in eighteen months.
Jericho knew he would have to get into tracking Harrow’s passport and had no idea how easy or useful it would prove to be to contact India. He’d need to do it through the Foreign Office, he presumed, but a look at the clock said that it was likely already too late in the day.
Whichever way you looked at it, he was beginning to think, this was going to end up beyond the control of Wells Police Station. Given the Kangchenjunga connection, that may well have been for the best.
*
H aynes knocked on the door and walked in. Jericho was standing at the window, looking out across the new houses and the fields. The sun was lower in the sky, the day coming to an end, but nothing of the heat had left it. Nevertheless, he’d put his jacket on, ready for the walk home. His house, at least, was likely to be a little cooler than the station.
‘So, this thing just got ramped up. Might be getting out of our league.’
Jericho turned.
‘What?’
‘Connolly got murdered in Switzerland yesterday.’
Jericho held his gaze for a moment, then turned away.
‘Shot from a distance of three feet?’
‘Hundreds of feet, from across the valley. This time, a perfect sniper shot to the head.’
Jericho put his hands in his pockets and looked down on the cars backing up on the road outside, the endless building works still impacting on the flow of traffic.
‘Any contact or news from the other three?’
‘Can’t get hold of them.’
‘So it’s possible they’re already dead.’
‘Entirely,’ said Haynes.
‘Or two of them are dead, and the one with the grudge has taken care of business. Crap.’
He continued to look sadly down on the road outside. When he spoke again, his voice was a little heavier than before.
‘Come on, we should go and see the boss.’
11
––––––––
‘W ell, there’s some confirmation
‘E-mail me everything you’ve got on Harrow.’
‘Sure.’
‘And we’ll need to work out what we’re going to do about Geyerson. I doubt Dylan will want us going to Morocco.’
‘Do you want us going to Morocco?’ asked Haynes, opening the door.
‘No, not really. We’ll need to get someone to speak to him. I’ll look into it. Leave it open, please.’
Haynes left, pushing the door wide open. The breath of warm air from the window started flowing through Jericho’s office.
*
J ericho spent the next hour immersed in the expedition and the climbing life of Harrow. Harrow, it quickly transpired, was a nickname, given to him at the University of Sussex, as he was the only one in his year to have attended Harrow. That he had ended up at the University of Sussex, rather than at his father’s Oxford College, was likely to be a sore point in the family.
Real name, Thomas Ninkovich. Another one who, like Carter, had given his life over to being a full-time climber. Another life where chasing the next mountain alternated with chasing the next cheque from Gatorade.
The expedition had ended on the seventh of May. That was the day they walked back into the hotel in Sikkim, from where they had started out two-and-a-half months previously. Jericho suddenly wondered if he would have to go to Sikkim as well. Certainly, this had all the hallmarks of an international investigation and as such was likely to go beyond the jurisdiction, and the capacity, of a small police station in Somerset.
Maybe we won’t have this for very long, he thought to himself. The idea that he might be handing over his work at some point made him want to do the job all the more thoroughly, rather than think that, in the end, it probably wouldn’t matter what he did.
Harrow proved hard to track. He had stayed in India for a while, and then nothing. No one knew where he had gone. His parents were dead, one brother in Vancouver, another in Stoke-on-Trent. Jericho couldn’t get hold of the second brother. The one in Canada, whom Jericho had caught on his way out the door, hadn’t heard from Harrow in eighteen months.
Jericho knew he would have to get into tracking Harrow’s passport and had no idea how easy or useful it would prove to be to contact India. He’d need to do it through the Foreign Office, he presumed, but a look at the clock said that it was likely already too late in the day.
Whichever way you looked at it, he was beginning to think, this was going to end up beyond the control of Wells Police Station. Given the Kangchenjunga connection, that may well have been for the best.
*
H aynes knocked on the door and walked in. Jericho was standing at the window, looking out across the new houses and the fields. The sun was lower in the sky, the day coming to an end, but nothing of the heat had left it. Nevertheless, he’d put his jacket on, ready for the walk home. His house, at least, was likely to be a little cooler than the station.
‘So, this thing just got ramped up. Might be getting out of our league.’
Jericho turned.
‘What?’
‘Connolly got murdered in Switzerland yesterday.’
Jericho held his gaze for a moment, then turned away.
‘Shot from a distance of three feet?’
‘Hundreds of feet, from across the valley. This time, a perfect sniper shot to the head.’
Jericho put his hands in his pockets and looked down on the cars backing up on the road outside, the endless building works still impacting on the flow of traffic.
‘Any contact or news from the other three?’
‘Can’t get hold of them.’
‘So it’s possible they’re already dead.’
‘Entirely,’ said Haynes.
‘Or two of them are dead, and the one with the grudge has taken care of business. Crap.’
He continued to look sadly down on the road outside. When he spoke again, his voice was a little heavier than before.
‘Come on, we should go and see the boss.’
11
––––––––
‘W ell, there’s some confirmation
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