Read Online Game Over by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles - Free Book Online Page B

Bob Bailey, from another stack. There were folders inside with credit-card statements neatly filed in date order, each entry on each statement with a small precise tick against it where, presumably, it had been checked against the counterfoils in the officially approved manner. Stonax’s tidy, logical methods certainly made it easier to find things. Unfortunately – if the ‘missing’ folder were indeed missing, and significant – it also made it easier for an intruder to find what he wanted.
    ‘That’s all I want for now,’ Slider said, noting how Emily Stonax was drooping with weariness as the brief, spurious excitement wore off. ‘Would you like to make your way back to the door and I’ll see about getting you some transport.’
    She retraced her steps, while Bailey bagged the credit-card folders. ‘I’ll take his chequebook and bank statements, and that big diary, too,’ Slider said. ‘And the pile of papers on the corner of the desk – that might be recent correspondence. I suppose we’ll have to get into his computer, too.’
    ‘You may be too late for that,’ Bailey said. ‘If the villain was after something documentary, now he’s got the Cyber-box he can get in there and take what he wants.’
    ‘He can?’
    ‘It uploads as well as downloads.’
    ‘Oh, bloody Nora, don’t tell me that!’
    ‘If he knows or can figure out the password, that is,’ Bailey said hastily, in an effort to comfort him.
    Slider met his eyes. ‘I was hoping the stolen Cyber-box meant it was a simple robbery from the person. But combine it with a missing file, and it starts to look more complicated. And complicated I can do without at the moment.’
    ‘We don’t know the file’s missing,’ said Bailey encouragingly. ‘And Stonax might have made those fingermarks himself – on his way out with his gloves on, say, and he suddenly remembers he needs the file for something. Dashes back in . . .’
    ‘Thanks for reminding me,’ Slider said, though not with overwhelming gratitude. ‘Now we’ve got to look through his clothes for gloves as well.’
    At the door to the flat Slider found Atherton, standing outside in the corridor and talking to Emily Stonax. Hart was also there, looking on with an expressionless face, her arms folded across her chest in what in other circumstances might have been a defensive posture. Slider took Atherton to one side and handed him the bag of papers. ‘You can take these back and start going through them. The credit-card numbers are in there.’
    ‘Do you want them stopped?’
    ‘Not immediately,’ said Slider. ‘Put an alert on them. It’s possible one of them might be used and then we’ll get a fix on the user.’
    ‘Right. Oh, and Mackay was just here. He’s managed to get the old lady next door to answer at last. Number five, the other side. A Mrs Koontz. Apparently she was out walking her dog this morning at about half past seven and she saw someone coming out of the main door downstairs.’
    ‘Half past seven? That could be all right,’ said Slider.
    ‘It’s not much help to us, though,’ said Atherton. ‘Apparently it was one of those motorbike couriers, in leathers, with the smoked-glass visor on the helmet.’
    Slider almost clicked his fingers. ‘That was it!’
    ‘What was what?’
    ‘I saw something this morning, when I was leaving here. It caught my attention, but just out of the corner of my mind, and I didn’t really take in what it was. But now you remind me, it was a man in a motorbike helmet. He was standing in the crowd.’
    Atherton cocked his head slightly. ‘Is that it?’
    ‘I just thought it was odd that someone standing watching like that shouldn’t have taken off his helmet.’
    Atherton shrugged. ‘If he’d just paused for an instant to look . . . ?’
    ‘I know. It’s probably nothing.’
    ‘What’s probably nothing?’ Hart asked, joining them.
    ‘Neighbour saw a motorbike courier leaving this morning at an interesting