Page 99 of Mann Hunt
“Do you really think it could help?” Katherine asked Declan.
“I’m learning that my partner’s a good judge of human nature, and I think we should take his intuition seriously,” Declan replied.
Katherine put the photos into an envelope and handed it to Charlie.
Declan thanked Katherine and said, “We’ll be in touch as soon as we find out more.”
As soon as they got back into the van, Charlie said excitedly, “You’re not going to believe what I found when I went upstairs. Ian’s office was almost empty. Itwas like someone had cleaned it out. But look what I found hidden under the desk lamp.” Charlie pulled out the USB stick.
“You stole that from Ian’s office?”
“Well, maybe it contains something that relates to the case…”
“Charlie Watts, I could kiss you. Let’s get back to the office and see what you’ve found.”
Declan drove quickly and, as soon as they got through the door, he said, “You check the USB stick, and I’m going to have another look at the CCTV footage and see if the other cameras picked anything else up.”
Charlie ran to his desk and pulled the USB stick from his pocket, then waited for his computer to come to life. As soon as he got through the login, he slid the key into the USB port. When the file manager opened, there were two files. One was a still shot showing a man. It was difficult to make out any details as he was back-lit by a window. He seemed to have a muscular build and short-cut hair.
The other file was a Quicktime video. The date stamp on the video was July seventh. The timestamp was 4:05 p.m.
Charlie hit ‘Play’.
The video had been taken in a bar. Charlie figured it was the same bar as in the still image. Ian had obviously hit ‘Record’ then placed it on the table. The phone was pointed at an odd angle, showing mainly the ceiling and the occasional person squeezing by the table.
Charlie listened to the full conversation.
A voice said, “Ian? Thank you for meeting me. You know why I’m here, but before you reject the offer, please just listen to what I have to say.”
Ian replied, “I’m listening.”
The other voice continued, “These are the facts—your property is sitting vacant and costing you money. Just to remind you, this spreadsheet has the figures for the last ten years highlighting your costs.”
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to reveal the name of the thief who provided you with these?”
“Look, Ian, it’s a purpose-built chemical production facility—a nitrogen fertiliser plant to be precise—and we all saw what happened with one of those in Beirut—”
“That,” Ian interrupted, “was a fully filled, unventilated fertiliser storage barn, and you know it. There hasn’t been a scrap of nitrogen phosphate in my building for over fifty years.”
“Still, it’s in an area that’s an up-and-coming part of town,” the other man added, “and fears are harder to wash out of people’s minds than fertiliser out of a building. That aside, it’s an industrial facility that can’t easily be converted to any other use given the structural configuration and rumoured lingering chemical contamination. The floors are wood, Ian. It absorbs. If you converted it into condos, who would want to move into it? Besides, the cost of remediation would bankrupt you. Any other guy would bulldoze the property and turn it into a parking lot. The taxes would be a tenth of what you’re paying now.”
The fellow continued with his pitch. “The company is aware of the sentimental attachment that you have to that building. It’s the last remnant of your family’s empire, isn’t it?”
There was a pause in the conversation, then the man continued, “They’re having new plans for the development drawn up as we speak, plans that will maintain the beautiful steel façade of the building—restore it, actually, to its original state—and, now here’s the topper—the company is offering to name the new place the Mann Building in honour of your family. So do we have a deal?”
Ian responded, “I must politely decline. I don’t do business with mobsters.”
The other man pressed, “I’m going to ask you one more time, and if the answer’s the same, I can’t say what will happen.”
Ian said coolly, “I think this meeting has come to an end.”
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with here, Mann. A decision like that can get you fucking killed.”
Ian replied, “The answer’s still no.”
There was a loud slam. Charlie figured the man had hit the table with his fist. It was hard enough for the phone to bounce and land at an angle. It was now focused clearly on the face of the other man.
“Oh, shit. Declan!” Charlie yelled.
