“I’m no’ doin’ this to keep Jack’s secrets. I want to find the killer.”
“So do the police.”
“Aye, but I dinnae trust the police. The detective, Wilson, is a smug bastard, so he is. The way he spoke to Ava… There’s a leak in his office. Some fucker told the news that police think there might be a tie to drugs. Jack isnae here to defend himself—or Ava and the wee ones.”
“And you think that’s your job.”
That was one thing about Quinn. He was loyal to a fault.
“Aye.”
“How can I help?”
“If I give you his number, can you track the mobile or look at his phone records to see where he’s been and who he’s called?”
Elizabeth couldn’t have heard Quinn right. “You want me to track his phone or hack his service provider?”
She wasn’t a cryptographer, but she’d taken all the training the Agency had offered and had some skill with the computer side of intelligence work. She’d put those skills to work for Cobra on many occasions, monitoring enemy communications, tracking GPS signals, even hijacking a drone or two.
“You’ve done it many times afore.”
She laughed. “Yes—with the proper authorization. Hacking into his phone records without permission would be acrime. You know that. I want to help, Quinn, but I’m not going to spend the next twenty years in a Scottish prison.”
“But youcantrack it, aye?”
“I’d need the number associated with its SIM card or the IMEI number, but the service provider isn’t going to give them to me just because I ask nicely. If Ava has them on file somewhere, I can give it a try. If not—”
“I dinnae want to ask her. I cannae find it in me to tell her that he lied about his mobile. I dinnae think she could bear that just now.”
“Then there’s nothing I can do. I’m really sorry, Quinn.”
“I understand.” There was disappointment in his voice. She hated letting him down. “If you think of anythin’ or get any ideas, you’ll ring me, aye?”
“Of course. Just promise me you won’t do anything illegal or stupid.”
“Och, you know me.”
She did—and that’s what scared her.
* * *
Quinn lefthis hotel later that afternoon, bought a few things he’d need from a tool shop, and dropped a few quid on a supper of bangers and mash at a pub near his hotel. Knowing he’d need his wits, he kept himself to one wee pint. Then, when it was dark, he made the drive back to Jack and Ava’s house.
Och, he had to be mental to have asked Elizabeth to hack into Jack’s phone records. She wasn’t the kind of person to bend the law, much less break it. Quinn didn’t want her to end up in the nick for his sake. He would have to manage this on his own.
Aye, he’d done intelligence work in the past. After leaving the SAS, he’d gotten retrained and spent two years analyzing satellite and drone images for MI6, something he did for Cobra when needed. But he didn’t have Elizabeth’s skills with electronic gadgets—computers, phones, tablets. For that matter, he didn’t have her facility with languages or people, either. She was trained for sophisticated intelligence work, while he was little more than an expert killer.
But a well-paid killer, aye?
He turned onto Cumbernauld Road, parked down the street, then grabbed the small paper bag of tools, and started up the walk, a sense of guilt niggling at him. Ava hadn’t wanted police to search the place, and she likely wouldn’t be pleased if she learned that Quinn had broken in and poked about. But it was either this—or tell her about the phone.
That he just couldn’t do.
She need never know he was here. He would jimmy the door lock, bypass the security system, and search for records that might have the SIM or IMEI number for Jack’s mobile. If he were lucky, he might even find the phone. Then he’d leave the place just like he’d found—
A flash of light.
It had come from the upstairs bedroom.