Irrefutable Evidence: A Crime Thriller by David George Clarke Read Free Book Online Page A

the Henry Silk who owns the Nissan is Henry Silk the actor, but, to answer your question, the driver’s face was obscured. He had the visor down, which must have been deliberate since it’s not the sort of thing you’d normally do at night.”
    Another of the civilian intelligence officers had been tapping furiously on his mobile phone. He raised his hand and waited until Hurst saw him.
    “Yes … Pete, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, sir. I’ve checked the Theatre Royal’s website and it says that the play that Henry Silk was in finished on Saturday night, so he has presumably left the city. However, he’s in another play here in July.”
    Hurst thanked him. “That’s interesting. What we need to know now is whether the Nissan owner from Hampstead is the same Silk and whether his vehicle has been reported stolen. Could someone get onto that immediately, Rob?”
    “Certainly,” answered McPherson. He nodded to Derek Thyme who got up and headed to his computer in the adjacent main operations office.
    “I also think it would be useful if, Cotton, you called the Theatre Royal to find out where Silk was staying and what they can tell us about him,” added McPherson.
    Jennifer followed Derek out of the room and sat at her computer. She entered her password, called up the Theatre Royal’s number and punched it into her desk’s landline. While the number was ringing, she heard Derek exclaim, ‘Got it!’ as he rushed over to a printer and waited impatiently for a sheet of information to emerge.
    “Is this him?” he said, brandishing a copy of Henry Silk’s driving licence under Jennifer’s nose.
    Jennifer nodded. “That’s him, yes. Is it the same address?”
    “Checking now,” said Derek as he tapped some keys. Jennifer saw his eyes scanning the information on the screen.
    “Yes,” he said, “It’s him all right. Any answer from the Theatre Royal?”
    “No, probably too early for them; it’s not yet eight thirty. I’ll try the various hotels within walking distance of the theatre. I reckon the actors will have their favourites that are not far from the theatre so they can have a few post-performance drinks and not worry about driving.”
    Ten minutes later, Jennifer walked back into the main incident room to find it buzzing with activity. With the confirmation of Henry Silk as the owner of the vehicle and the information that he had been in Nottingham, Hurst and McPherson were busy allocating more tasks. One intelligence officer had already confirmed that there was no record of the Nissan being reported stolen, another had somehow obtained the name of Silk’s insurance company and discovered that his vehicle insurance named him as his car’s only driver.
    Jennifer caught Hurst’s eye. “Boss, he was staying at the Old Nottingham Hotel on Standard Hill. According to the receptionist I spoke to, it’s his regular haunt when he’s in a play here.”
    “OK, Cotton, get over there now with Thyme and talk to the staff. See what CCTV coverage they’ve got.”
    He turned to McPherson. “Right, Rob, let’s get as many people as we can checking through every frame of the footage from traffic. There has to be one shot with Silk’s face in it. Put him in the car and we’ve got him. Game over.”

 
    C hapter 8
    Saturday 31 May, 1 a.m.
    S hortly before one in the morning, Amelia left her room carrying a single holdall. Dressed in Henry Silk’s clothing and now wearing a pair of thin leather gloves over the disposable gloves, she walked down the corridor to the lift, altering her stance and stride to match Henry’s. She pressed the call button and waited, her head down. Once inside the lift, she continued looking down at her feet so that all the CCTV camera could really see clearly was the top of Henry’s baseball cap.
    To her surprise, the doors opened at the reception level and four tipsy Korean businessmen started to bustle their way into the lift. On seeing her, they immediately backed away with a chorus