The Angel Falls by Colin Youngman

Author:Colin Youngman [Youngman, Colin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SprintS Publications
Published: 2020-01-26T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

As the City and County police discussed the merits of the lead, across the city in The Mercury offices Molly Uzumba and Megan Wolfe sat at their desks, Molly engrossed in a telephone conversation while Megan stared at a split-screen image on her desktop PC. One displayed her research material, the other the contents of a rival publication. Along the bottom, a further tab remained minimised. It read ‘Marcus Vorster’.

Nearby, the Tyneside Tyrant scanned a draft copy of the morning’s second edition. When he realised features editor Luke Padwell had excluded Roadhouse’s latest claptrap from publication, he lost interest. He switched his attention to the women.

The man lumbered over, laid a hand on Uzumba’s shoulder and took a seat next to Megan. ‘Things ok, girls?’

Molly signalled for him to hush and continued her conversation. Megan replied without shifting her attention from the screen. ‘Good, thanks.’

‘A bit formal, aren’t we?’

Megan smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry. I’m in the middle of this,’ she explained by way of explanation.

The man leant in close. ‘What you working on?’

Megan closed down her monitor screen. Tapped the side of her nose with a forefinger. ‘That’s for me to know. I’m working alone, remember.’ She flashed him a smile. ‘Nothing important, really. Just checking a few things out.’

He returned her grin. ‘Ok, I’ll leave you to it. I have to be somewhere, anyway.’ The man grabbed his coat. ‘See you later, girls.’

‘Yeah, see you,’ Megan said, while Molly waved a hand in his direction.

The man’s smile turned to a scowl the moment his back was turned.

**

Lyall Parker spoke so softly, Ryan had to lean forward to hear. So, too, did everyone else in the room.

‘Clever,’ Ryan thought. Parker’s gentle Scottish accent, reminiscent of a commentator describing a golfer hunched over the decisive put of The Open Championship, meant everyone had to concentrate hard on his words.

‘…very early days,’ Parker was saying. ‘The guys doing the background research have found a mine of information on this set-up already. Give us time, and we’ll get to the bottom of this.’

‘Thing is, Lyall,’ Danskin interjected, ‘Time is the one thing we mightn’t have. Who knows when we’ll see the next letter, and whether that’ll be a one to trigger the Tyneside Tyrant into action.’

Lyall agreed. ‘Ok, Stephen, I get it. I’ll get the squad digging up more on the key players once we’re finished. What I will say right now, we’ve got a lot to do. From what I can tell, The Mercury’s a tawdry set-up from top to bottom.’

‘Howay, Lyall, man. Just get on with it.’

Parker clicked the mouse. A composite picture appeared on screen. Top left, Leeward Milton. Centre, Raymond Carpenter. Right, David Woods. Beneath them, from left to right, Molly Uzumba, Mike Cash, and Megan Wolfe.

Right in the centre, between the two rows, the grinning face of Marcus Vorster.

Believe me,’ Lyall Parker said, ‘It could be any one of the buggers.’

The detectives in the auditorium studied the lean, angular face in the centre of the screen while Parker spoke.

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