The Final Reckoning by Sam Bourne

Author:Sam Bourne
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Suspense, Fiction
ISBN: 9780061875786
Publisher: HarperCollins UK
Published: 2009-04-30T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

The place was still not tidied up as they sat next to each other, in the dead of night, on the slashed remains of Gerald Merton's couch, both staring at the small, brightly lit device cradled between Tom's hands. It was his BlackBerry, though they were not using it for email. The machine also had an internet browser, even if it did move with painful sloth. They were trying to navigate their way around the online archive of The Jewish Chronicle, searching past editions of the paper's personal announcements. Tom was struggling to concentrate against the noise of the TV set. Turning it on had been his idea: if someone was eavesdropping on their conversations, as he was convinced they had at Goldman's Canary Wharf office, then at least they could make the eavesdroppers' job a little more difficult. It was a low-tech form of counter-surveillance but he couldn't think of anything better.

At Rebecca's suggestion, he had typed in the single word ‘Steiner’ and the website had come up with hundreds. They scrolled through looking for Sids and, to Rebecca's dismay, they had found a Sid Steiner easily, dated six years ago:

STEINER. Sid. Passed away peacefully, aged 89, after much suffering. A much loved and special gentleman who will be sadly missed by wife Beryl, son David and daughter-in-law Gaby, grandchildren, Josh, Daniel, Richard, Simon and sister-in-law Helen. May he rest in peace.

‘OK, that's not him. Wife wasn't called Beryl.’

‘You sure?’

‘I'm sure. Hold on, here's another one.’ This was more recent, just two years ago.

STEINER. Sid. Our dear dad who is now at peace and reunited with his Ada. A strong, supportive and wonderful father who will remain in our hearts forever. May his soul rest in peace. Ruth and Jack.

Tom looked at Rebecca, next to him on the couch, with an eyebrow raised. She shook her head. ‘Kids didn't have those names.’

‘How can you be sure? You didn't remember his last name a minute ago.’

‘They had a son called Daniel. Dan. I remember because I had a crush on him.’ Absurdly, Tom felt a stab of jealousy. Then, remembering their kiss just a few hours earlier, it turned into a pang of desire. He looked at her for a second or two longer, fighting the urge to touch her: he couldn't make a pass at her here, in the trashed apartment of her dead father, even if he desperately wanted to. He forced his gaze back to the machine: he could see no more Sid Steiners.

‘OK, I think that's our lot,’ he said.

‘You haven't tried Social and Personal.’

‘Those were the personal ads. That's what we've been looking through.’

‘No, those were the classified personal ads. There's also Social and Personal; different column. Bigger type, different page. Costs more.’

‘Two different classes of death announcement? You're kidding.’

‘I'm not.’

‘So death is not the great leveller after all.’

‘Not in The Jewish Chronicle. There it is, Social and Personal. Enter Sid Steiner there.’

He did and three came back. Tributes to a ‘Dear brother, now

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