taking her eyes off me, Eddi reached under a settee cushion and pulled out the newspaper.
‘Bring it here,’ I told her.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘I don’t want –’
‘Bring it to me.’
She got up slowly and brought the paper over to me. I took it from her outstretched hand.
‘Sit down,’ I told her.
She backed across the room and sat down rigidly on the settee. I stared at her for a moment, then unfolded the newspaper and placed it on the table. I kept the pistol levelled at Eddi, glanced at her again, then turned my eyes to the front page.
They’d used the same photograph as the Daily Express , the one that made me look shadowy and gaunt.
The caption beneath the photo said:
ROBERT SMITH : £50,000 REWARD
I stared at the words for a while – ROBERT SMITH: £50,000 REWARD – and then, with the same sinking feeling I’d felt in the hotel, I forced myself to read the story.
There was a phone number at the end of the article. A London number. I took Ryan’s wallet out of my pocket, found his business card and checked the number against the one in the newspaper.
They weren’t the same.
I looked over at Eddi. She was just sitting there, staring at me. Her eyes were still shocked and her face was rigid with fear, but she didn’t look out of control. She wasn’t terrified.
‘You’ve seen this?’ I said, showing her the newspaper.
She nodded.
‘Have you told anyone?’
She shook her head.
‘You’d better not be lying.’
‘I’m not lying,’ she said. ‘How could I have told anyone? You’ve only just got here.’
‘Why did you hide the paper?’
‘Why do you think? It says you killed someone –’
‘I didn’t.’
She shrugged.
‘It’s a set up,’ I told her. ‘I haven’t killed anyone.’
‘You’ve got a gun,’ she said. ‘You took a shot at me, for Christ’s sake. What am I supposed to think?’
I was coming back to myself now. I was beginning to feel like Robert Smith again.
‘It’s not what it seems,’ I said.
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘What is it, then?’
I didn’t say anything. What could I say? How could I explain anything? I didn’t know anything. And even if I did, it wouldn’t have made any difference. She’d never have believed me.
‘What are you going to do?’ she asked me.
‘What?’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘What are you going to do?’
She smiled warily. ‘Look, Robert,’ she said. ‘I was frightened, OK? I saw the thing in the newspaper about you, and I remembered who you were, that’s all. I wasn’t going to do anything about it. What could I do? I didn’t know where you were until you turned up here. And then I didn’t know what to do. It was just a bit of a shock, you know? I mean, what would you do if I came round to your place and you’d just seen a story in the newspaper saying that I was a murderer?’ She lit another cigarette. ‘I panicked, that’s all. I didn’t know what to do.’
‘I didn’t kill anyone,’ I told her again.
‘OK,’ she said, ‘if you say so. But I don’t really care what you’ve done. I’m not going to grass you up, am I?’
‘Why not? £50,000 is a lot of money.’
She laughed. ‘You think I want anything to do with the police? Come on, Robert… you know what I do.’ She looked at me. ‘I mean, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?’
She was right. I was there because of what she did. Because what Eddi did was fake ID. That’s how she made her living – producing, providing and selling fake ID. That’s what all the equipment was for – the scanners and the cameras and all the rest of it. Fake ID. Passports, driving licences, birth certificates, medical cards. Anything and everything. If you had the right money, Eddi Ray could give you a brand-new life.
The trouble was, I didn’t have the right money.
And now there was this £50,000 reward to think about too.
Eddi was smart. She had to be in her business. And I was pretty sure she
‘Bring it here,’ I told her.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘I don’t want –’
‘Bring it to me.’
She got up slowly and brought the paper over to me. I took it from her outstretched hand.
‘Sit down,’ I told her.
She backed across the room and sat down rigidly on the settee. I stared at her for a moment, then unfolded the newspaper and placed it on the table. I kept the pistol levelled at Eddi, glanced at her again, then turned my eyes to the front page.
They’d used the same photograph as the Daily Express , the one that made me look shadowy and gaunt.
The caption beneath the photo said:
ROBERT SMITH : £50,000 REWARD
I stared at the words for a while – ROBERT SMITH: £50,000 REWARD – and then, with the same sinking feeling I’d felt in the hotel, I forced myself to read the story.
There was a phone number at the end of the article. A London number. I took Ryan’s wallet out of my pocket, found his business card and checked the number against the one in the newspaper.
They weren’t the same.
I looked over at Eddi. She was just sitting there, staring at me. Her eyes were still shocked and her face was rigid with fear, but she didn’t look out of control. She wasn’t terrified.
‘You’ve seen this?’ I said, showing her the newspaper.
She nodded.
‘Have you told anyone?’
She shook her head.
‘You’d better not be lying.’
‘I’m not lying,’ she said. ‘How could I have told anyone? You’ve only just got here.’
‘Why did you hide the paper?’
‘Why do you think? It says you killed someone –’
‘I didn’t.’
She shrugged.
‘It’s a set up,’ I told her. ‘I haven’t killed anyone.’
‘You’ve got a gun,’ she said. ‘You took a shot at me, for Christ’s sake. What am I supposed to think?’
I was coming back to myself now. I was beginning to feel like Robert Smith again.
‘It’s not what it seems,’ I said.
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘What is it, then?’
I didn’t say anything. What could I say? How could I explain anything? I didn’t know anything. And even if I did, it wouldn’t have made any difference. She’d never have believed me.
‘What are you going to do?’ she asked me.
‘What?’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘What are you going to do?’
She smiled warily. ‘Look, Robert,’ she said. ‘I was frightened, OK? I saw the thing in the newspaper about you, and I remembered who you were, that’s all. I wasn’t going to do anything about it. What could I do? I didn’t know where you were until you turned up here. And then I didn’t know what to do. It was just a bit of a shock, you know? I mean, what would you do if I came round to your place and you’d just seen a story in the newspaper saying that I was a murderer?’ She lit another cigarette. ‘I panicked, that’s all. I didn’t know what to do.’
‘I didn’t kill anyone,’ I told her again.
‘OK,’ she said, ‘if you say so. But I don’t really care what you’ve done. I’m not going to grass you up, am I?’
‘Why not? £50,000 is a lot of money.’
She laughed. ‘You think I want anything to do with the police? Come on, Robert… you know what I do.’ She looked at me. ‘I mean, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?’
She was right. I was there because of what she did. Because what Eddi did was fake ID. That’s how she made her living – producing, providing and selling fake ID. That’s what all the equipment was for – the scanners and the cameras and all the rest of it. Fake ID. Passports, driving licences, birth certificates, medical cards. Anything and everything. If you had the right money, Eddi Ray could give you a brand-new life.
The trouble was, I didn’t have the right money.
And now there was this £50,000 reward to think about too.
Eddi was smart. She had to be in her business. And I was pretty sure she
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