I got back to the villa at two minutes to two and found Virgilio, Marco and Diana Dini in a huddle in the small lounge. Virgilio looked up as I came in and beckoned to me to join them.
I wasted no time before telling them what Billy had told me about Archer and Angel’s ex-wife and the in-fighting in thecompany over the move towards selling to less desirable and downright illegal organisations. All three officers received the information with interest, and Virgilio told me what had happened here in my absence.
‘Tech have finally managed to get into Angel’s laptop. That’s the good news. The bad news is that all of the files on there are in some kind of unbelievable encrypted security set-up that they’re struggling to crack. However, they have been able to get into his email, and that makes very interesting reading.’ He handed me over several sheets of paper on which somebody had printed off a series of emails toMr Tristan, TXA, from an anonymous-looking email address that looked as though the sender had simply run his fingers randomly across the keyboard.
I settled down in an armchair and read my way through the messages. The first was dated April of this year, and the last had arrived as recently as this Monday night. It was clear to see that the writer of the emails was not a native English speaker as there were numerous errors in both grammar and spelling, but the content was perfectly comprehensible – or at least it would have been comprehensible if I had known what on earth half of the items mentioned in what was clearly a long and detailed wish list really were. As far as I could work out, the sender of the emails, who signed himself simply as Shabah, was interested in acquiring several thousand automatic weapons and a load of ammunition, along with numerous ancillary items ranging from steel helmets and body armour to other more sinister-sounding items that could have been anything from poison gas to nuclear warheads as far as I was concerned, but whose names meant nothing to me. This looked very much like somebody trying to raise and equip a private army.
In response, Tristan Angel had provided detailed costing for different makes and models of weapon and assortedmateriel. After considerable to-ing and fro-ing, Shabah had placed an initial order for a total cost of just under ten million US dollars, with delivery details to be confirmed in due course. For his part, Angel had insisted upon payment of 20 per cent of the total in advance, with the balance payable prior to delivery. Apart from the nature of the items and the astronomical costs involved, these looked like pretty standard commercial dealings. What was certainly not standard commercial practice was the agreement that the two-million-dollar deposit was to have been handed over in Florence on Tuesday morning – in cash.
The most recent email, received at ten-seventeen on Monday night, was the most interesting of all, quite comprehensible in spite of its grammatical and spelling mistakes.
You go the Doumo in Florence at 10.00 tomorow, 17 August. Halfway on left side, you find wood conffessing box with Not on Service sign. Go in. Close door. I come to you with money. You not see my face. Nobody don’t see my face. No tricks. Shabah
I let the papers drop onto my lap and looked up at the three officers.
‘Well, that answers one question. Now we know why Angel went into the confessional. However, if this is what happened, it looks very much as though Angel wasn’t killed by somebody from within the company after all, but by this Shabah character.’ I stopped to reflect that this had broader implications beyond a simple murder investigation. ‘Billy Nelson is secret service, I’m sure of it, even if he wasn’t prepared to confirm or deny. I’m sure he would be very interested in this information and he might be able to help. He gave me his phone number. If it’s all right withyou, I can give him a call and ask him if he knows anything about this guy Shabah?’
Virgilio nodded and I dialled the number Billy had given me. He answered almost immediately, and I explained why I was calling but, before I could read him a selection of the messages including the last, he murmured, ‘Give me a moment.’ I heard him moving through the train to somewhere away from prying ears.
‘Dan, are you still there? The train’s pretty crowded, but I’m okay to talk now. Let’s hear the messages.’
I read them out to him and when he responded, he sounded intrigued. ‘Those emails are fascinating. We know Shabah – or at least we know of him. That isn’t his real name, by the way.Shabahin Arabic means “ghost” and that’s all he ever calls himself. We think he might originally be Iraqi, but he operates across several countries in that part of the world. He’s a dyed-in-the-wool jihadi with links to any number of Islamist organisations, and the militia he heads up has an appalling reputation for atrocities.’ I heard him give a little sigh of frustration. ‘To think that he might even have been there in Florence only yesterday is infuriating. He’s one of the most wanted men in the world.’
‘If he’s on the most-wanted list, that means he’s considered a terrorist, and so, by selling him arms, Angel would have been breaking international law.’
‘And how! If the deal had gone through, and if it had ever become public knowledge, TXA would have been closed down overnight, and Angel and his cronies would have ended up spending the rest of their years in a high-security jail.’ There was silence for a couple of seconds before he went on. ‘It’s probably safe to assume that Hicks was in on the deal as well, so if you’re looking for a motive for their murders, look no further. Vincent Archer, to name just one, was probably faced with a three-waychoice of either leaving the company and everything he’s worked for, committing murder to stop the deal going through or risking spending the rest of his life behind bars. I didn’t speak to the others, but you can bet Archer wasn’t the only one to feel that way.’
I thanked him warmly, and he repeated his promise to see what dirt he could dig up on any of the residents of the villa.
When the call ended, I repeated what he’d told me to the others and Virgilio rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
‘Right, Dini, please ask Mr Archer to join us, will you?’
16
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON
Vincent Archer came in looking apprehensive and, after what I had heard from Billy Nelson, he had every right to be nervous. Virgilio didn’t waste any time.
‘Mr Archer, would I be right in thinking that you are now the most senior person in the TXA Supplies company?’
‘That’s correct, I am now.’ He sounded weary.
‘As I understand it, Mr Archer, you are on the board of directors of the company.’
‘That’s correct.’
‘Can you confirm that there is only one other director on the TXA board still alive after the deaths of Angel and Hicks?’
‘Yes. The former Mrs Angel, Jane Taylor-Mead, is the other board member. She occupies a non-executive role – hence that’s why I’m now in charge.’
‘Did you know that she is currently in Florence?’
Archer shook his head, but not quite as convincingly as he might have done. My mind started racing. What if Archer and Angel’s ex-wife had got together to take the radical step of murdering the two top people in the company so as to avoidthem breaking international law and potentially sending all of them to jail? Clearly, Virgilio’s mind was running along the same lines, as he immediately repeated the question.
‘Are you absolutely sure of that, Mr Archer? I would remind you that this is a murder investigation, a double-murder investigation, and we expect you to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. If you don’t, you could be charged with attempting to pervert the course of justice. I’ll ask you again, did you know that Jane Taylor-Mead was here in Florence?’
After a pregnant pause, Archer nodded his head. ‘I knew she was coming to see Tristan some time this week, but I didn’t know whether she had already arrived.’
