Agents Rutherford and Fields sat across from him and, surprisingly enough, MP Detective Tate Bianchi sat to the side of the table.
“If I’d known we were having a party, I would’ve brought snacks,” Jethro said, a rock wedged in his gut. “It’s nice to see the US federal and local police working together, isn’t it?”
Rutherford’s smile wasn’t pleasant, although he truly did have perfect teeth. “The only fight we’ll have is who gets to fry your ass once I close this case, dickhead.”
“You have a potty mouth,” Jethro said dryly.
Rutherford patted a thick case file on the table. “I believe your government would allow us to put you in prison for life here, so long as we take the death penalty off the table. I could probably live with that.”
How kind of him. “I’m fairly well-loved in the UK, gents.” Not that well-loved. “Feel free to investigate me all you want. But as a British citizen, I have some extra rights that I could but won’t employ.” He wouldn’t employ any of them, but he went with his instincts and prodded Rutherford in the right direction.
Rutherford pulled a still shot from the file folder that showed Jethro setting a box near his own front door. “This was several hours before the device detonated.” Then he removed another shot that showed Jethro and Gemma in the truck, right before the blast. “This, of course, was taken one minute before you pressed the button.”
Jethro frowned and pulled the picture across the table with one finger. He looked over at Force. “Judging by the angle, this is from a camera I do not have in place.” His gaze flicked to Fields, partly for information and partly to piss off Rutherford. “Who gave you the footage?”
Fields pulled a cough drop from his pocket and slowly unwrapped it, today wearing a worn blue suit with a red-and-yellow-striped tie from the eighties. “We found all the cameras, which I take it were yours?” When Jethro didn’t answer he continued speaking. “The cameras all fed into a control center beyond your kitchen, before the steps to the wine cellar, and we confiscated the records.” He popped the cough dropinto his mouth.
Interesting. Jethro hadn’t used very strong encryptions on those because it wasn’t necessary. It was nice to know Brigid wasn’t the only computer expert in the HDD. “The camera that caught these shots also fed into my control center?”
Rutherfordnodded. “Yeah.”
Fletcher apparently hadn’t lost any of his skills while serving jail time. Impressive really. A moment of sadness caught Jethro at the good his brother could’ve done with his brilliance. He pushed emotion away so he could get out of this without being shipped home. “Well, get your most-talented computer experts on this because I did not plant a bomb. The recordings are doctored, and I’m sure they’re very well done, butthey are fake.”
Force remained stubbornly in place. “Let Brigid Banaghan study the videos. If anybody can find an alteration, it’s her.”
Rutherford regained control of the photograph and pushed it neatly back inside the case file. “Agent Banaghan is on your team, Force. That makes her compromised.”
“I’m not on the Deep Ops team,” Jethro countered.
“You really are,” Rutherford said, his jaw so cleanly shaven it was a miracle he hadn’t cut himself.
Scott drummed his fingers on the table. “As Jethro’s attorney, I demand you turn over copies of those recordings.”
“We will,” Rutherford said. “Once we finish ourinvestigation.”
Wonderful. Just lovely. Jethro would be on the other side of the world by that time. He looked over at Tate. “Why are you here?” The time for niceties had ended.
Tate rubbed his bald head. The case file in front of him was beige-colored, unlike HDD’s blue ones. “I followed your suggestion of feeling out who wanted my three victims dead. So far I have confessions in two cases. The stepson hired a hit man to kill the first woman, hoping to inherit her millions. The wife of the man shot in the head didn’t care for the fact that he spent a lot of time at massage parlors getting happy endings, if you know what I mean.” He sat back in the chair, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Buckle and I haven’t narrowed down the suspect list in the third murder. Yet.”
“Great job,” Jethro said, meaning it. Those types of cases were difficult to break, and Tate had nailed two of them. Even so, there would be no ties to Fletcher. “So you know I didn’t commit either murder?” If Tate and Buckle were that good, they’d solve the thirdmurder as well.
Tate ticked his shoulder. “There’s the rub.”
Oh, bloody hell. “Do tell,” Jethro said.
Tate didn’t look remotely amused. “Both of the confessed killers sent one hundred thousand dollars to a Swiss bank account held by a Dr. Jethro Hanson. A connection at the HS helped me to track down the owner. It’s you, buddy.” The detective didn’t sound pleased by that fact.
Jethro sighed. “Tooeasy for you?”
“Yes,” Tate said. “It was much too easy to track the murders to you.” He crossed his arms.
“Maybe that was his intention,” Rutherfordsaid helpfully.
Jethrocut him a look.
Tate sighed. “Yeah, I thoughtof that, too.”
Scott looked from Tate to Rutherford. “My client is here voluntarily, trying to assist you in solving three murders and a bombing. If you arrest him, according to the reciprocity agreement between governments, you will have to not only notify the Crown but immediatelyturn him over.”
