The Mark of Halam Read Online Free PDF Page A

moving back into her apartment and if she stays any longer at my house, well . . . I have a family to consider. I hate that I might be putting them in danger,” Quentin said. “However you’ve pretty much answered my question. I guess for the moment keep Mary at my house and beef up security.”
    Moana was about to respond but Cunningham interrupted.
    “Unfortunately, Quentin, I can say for certain that he will try again. He’ll know the two women will be protected for the immediate future. If he can’t get at Mary he will choose another target.”
    Jeff raised an eyebrow. “Really? How can you know that?”
    “Call it copper instinct,” Cunningham said.
    “Come on, Brian, you can do better than that.”
    “What Inspector Cunningham means is that we have reason to believe this man is determined to murder Mary. Let’s say he is obsessed,” Moana said.
    “Bloody hell,” Quentin said. “How can you possibly know that?”
    Jeff said, “If he has been hanging around Quentin’s office do you think either of us might have seen him?”
    “Interesting point; and that’s a very real possibility. Mary helped us put together an identikit picture.” Moana opened a manila folder on her desk and pushed the identikit towards Quentin.
    “No I don’t know him,” Quentin said and passed the picture to Jeff. Jeff studied it for a few moments and then gave it back to Moana.
    “I don’t recognise him either.”
    Moana shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”
    Cunningham kept his eyes on Jeff. The intensity of his stare had Quentin second guessing. He had spent enough time in courtrooms and considered himself a fair student of body language. In Cunningham he saw expectation. He had seen it enough times in the faces of prisoners in the dock about to hear the foreman of the jury read the verdict. What the hell was going on? Moana pushed a second document across the table. A photograph of a piece of paper with scrawled words across it.
    “Jeff, this is for you to look at,” Moana said.
    Jeff rose from his seat and quickly scanned the document then stepped back and spun on Cunningham.
    Cunningham smiled.
    “What the fuck is this?” Jeff said, stabbing his finger onto the document, eyes narrowed, voice ice cold.
    “I think you know exactly what it is, Jeff. And what it means.”

9.
    S enior Sergeant Te Kanawa’s mouth opened, but she shut it when Cunningham caught her eye and gave a slight shake of the head. The message from the Inspector was clear; let this play out, see where it takes us. Jeff caught the exchange between the two and ignored it. Cunningham had always played games, so why the hell would he change now.
    The bile in Jeff’s stomach commenced a series of small eruptions. His shoulders sagged and he reached out to the wall to balance himself, fearful he was about to topple.
    Cunningham said, “As you can see, Jeff, the message from the killer is addressed to you. It was taped to the kitchen cupboard in Mary Sumner’s apartment. She hasn’t been told yet but eventually she will need to know.”
    Quentin read the words out loud. “ ‘Jeff Bradley, you killed someone close to me and now I will kill those close to you and then I will cut your throat.’ Bloody hell,” he whispered.
    Jeff rubbed the bridge of his nose, quickly recalling his time with the SAS. Had he assassinated anyone? No. Not ever with the squadron. What then? The only conflicts he could recall in recent times were in Kosovo. The Akbar brothers: but Halam was dead and Zahar in the custody of the Americans. They would never have released him. Could he have escaped? No. Not possible. And yet . . . All the troubles he had experienced during his trip to Kosovo came flooding back.
    Jeff turned away from the table, now composed, his stomach no longer threatening to throw up. Cunningham started to speak but Jeff held up his hand. He needed time. Cunningham returned to leaning against the wall. Jeff could have as much time as he wanted. Moana