Read Online The Mercy Seat by Martyn Waites - Free Book Online

Donovan’s turn to blush. ‘Sorry. I didn’t … I was, er, miles away.’
    ‘Right.’
    Silence hung between them. Neither looked into the other’s eyes.
    ‘I could get it sent to you,’ Maria said eventually. ‘The contents of Gary Myers’ computer. I’ll get a couple of techies to strip it down, get the disks and print-outs sent to you.’
    ‘I don’t have a computer. Not any more.’
    Maria sighed. ‘Then I’ll get one sent to you.’
    Donovan smiled. ‘Ambassador, you are spoiling us.’
    Maria laughed. ‘You have been out of circulation a long time.’
    The silence returned. And with it the awkwardness. He noticed her looking around the room. Probably looking for the gun, he thought. She wouldn’t find it. He had hidden it away.
    ‘Have you … seen Annie recently?’ Maria asked eventually, her voice hushed and sombre, riding the awkwardness.
    ‘No. I … not for a while. I used to, but …’ He sighed. ‘Abigail. It was uncomfortable. Rowing, sulking, practising to be a teenager … In the end Annie told me to just stay away. Better for both of them.’
    ‘Until they’ve worked it out?’
    Donovan shrugged. ‘Whatever. Whenever.’ He stood up, crossed the room, looked out of the window, his back to Maria. ‘Annie and me just couldn’t stay together after … afterwards. And Abigail, poor soul. It wasn’t her fault. Imean, he was her brother …’
    Donovan broke off, allowed his eyes to follow the seagulls. Swooping. Cawing. Scavenging for scraps. Not giving up hope of finding something.
    Maria sat in silence.
    ‘I can’t blame her for what she thinks of me,’ said Donovan. ‘If I was in her position I’d be exactly the same. I still love her, though. I doubt she realizes it or believes me, but I do. She probably thinks I care more for him than I do for her, but I don’t. Course I don’t. And I suppose she thinks I should have stayed with them, looked after her, but …’ He sighed. ‘I can’t explain. It’s … you can’t let go. You can’t stay either. And the longer you stay away, the harder it is to go back.’
    He turned to face her.
    ‘I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear this.’
    ‘No, no …’ Maria stood up, crossed to him.
    ‘It’s ages since I’ve … It’s not fair on you to …’
    ‘It’s all right.’ Maria stood right next to him.
    ‘Sorry.’
    ‘You’ve nothing to be sorry for.’ Maria looked at his face, into his eyes. The emotion there was naked and raw, vulnerable.
    Donovan looked back at her.
    Each could feel the other’s breath lightly stroke their cheeks. Naked. Raw. Vulnerable.
    Donovan turned away.
    ‘Anyway,’ he said, voice too loud, ‘this isn’t getting Gary Myers found.’
    ‘No,’ said Maria, her voice tightly modulated. ‘We’ve got work to do.’
    She had been as good as her word. One phone call to the
Herald’s
IT department had resulted in Gary Myers’ hard drive being stripped and the contents being sent to Donovan along with a laptop to play them on and anything they couldfind on paper.
    ‘His diary would be handy, too,’ said Donovan.
    ‘On his laptop, I think,’ said Maria.
    ‘Which, of course, he had with him.’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘I don’t hold out much hope. Reckon he probably had most of his stuff on his laptop.’ Donovan ran his hands through his hair. ‘When’s the kid phoning back?’
    ‘Tomorrow. We’ll get a mobile to you, give him that number so he can talk directly with you.’
    ‘How much am I authorized to go up to?’
    ‘Five grand. If he’s got what he says he has. But try not to. And, of course, there’s your payment. To come.’
    ‘Did Sharkey OK that?’
    Maria shook her head. ‘John Greene.’
    Donovan laughed. ‘John Greene? I thought he’d retired.’
    ‘Executive editor.’
    ‘Meaning?’
    ‘A weekly column and boring the arse off the staff with old Fleet Street war stories.’
    Donovan smiled, taken back in time for a second or two. A happier, simpler time. ‘So,’