based on past experience, when billionaires start making plans for the entire world I get a bit nervous.’ She gazed into her drink. ‘They knew what would happen when I brought the statues together. Part of that they got from the Brotherhood . . . but what about the other part? Where did that come from? Popadopoulos said that some governments have their own secret archives, and you said Dalton told you that the Group has influence over governments . . .’ She looked up at her husband. ‘Maybe that’s how they got the rest of their information.’
‘Dalton might know,’ Eddie suggested. ‘I could have another little chat.’
Nina shook her head. ‘It’s too risky. Hell, you’re taking a huge risk just coming back to New York – back to the States, even. All it takes is one cop to recognise you from a watch list . . .’ She sat up, determination entering her voice. ‘We’ve got to clear your name – prove that you were acting in self-defence when you killed Kit. Otherwise you’ll be spending the rest of your life running. And I’m not going to let that happen.’
‘I like the thought, love,’ Eddie said gloomily, ‘but fuck knows how we’ll do it. We’ve got a video that doesn’t show the important bit, those numbers I found in Kit’s flat in Delhi that don’t mean anything without solving some puzzle . . .’
‘What did it say again?’
‘Something like “and the best of the greatest”. Alderley thinks that if you add the answer to the original number, you’ll get whatever Kit was trying to hide.’
‘So all we have to do is figure out what Kit thought was the greatest. Or who.’
‘He was a Hindu,’ suggested Eddie. ‘Who’s the greatest Hindu god?’
‘Shiva, I think. Although actually he’s considered to be one of a triumvirate – Brahma and Vishnu are equally powerful. But . . .’ Another shake of her head. ‘It’ll probably be something more personal, something only Kit would know. The clue isn’t a riddle – it’s more like an aide-memoire. The answer must be something he would immediately know, a significant number. A date, a time, an address . . .’
‘A score,’ said Eddie quietly.
Nina could tell that he thought he was on to something. ‘What kind of score?’
‘A cricket score. Kit was mad keen on cricket, remember? Him and Mac were always banging on about it.’ The thought of Kit’s murderous betrayal of the Scot caused a flare of anger inside him, but he suppressed it. ‘They were once arguing about who was the greatest player of all time – Kit thought it was an Indian guy. Can’t remember his name, though.’
Nina took out her iPhone. ‘Well, that’s why we have the Internet. Let’s have a look . . .’
A brief search produced an answer. ‘Sachin Tendulkar,’ Eddie read. ‘Best score in a test match, two hundred and forty-eight runs. So if we add two hundred and forty-eight to the number I found . . .’ He took the phone from her and switched to its calculator, tapping in a figure.
Nina looked at the screen. ‘You remember the number?’
‘Something that important, I burned it into my fucking mind. Okay, so add two hundred and forty-eight . . .’
‘The last three numbers are six-zero-nine,’ she said, before his finger reached the ‘equals’ key.
‘Smart-arse.’ But she was correct. ‘Okay, Alderley said it might be a Greek phone number. Let’s give it a try.’
He entered the new number and made the call, switching the phone to speaker. But to their disappointment, the only result was a flat, continuous tone: number unobtainable. ‘Well, cock,’ Eddie muttered.
‘Maybe there’s a different score we could have used,’ said Nina, taking back the phone.
‘No, I don’t think so. Kit thought Tendulkar was the greatest player, and two hundred and forty-eight was his best score. Maybe it isn’t a phone number at all.’
‘Then what is it?’
‘No idea.’ He swilled the last dregs of beer around in his glass before downing them. ‘Let’s go back to that video for now. Where is it?’
‘On my laptop at the UN.’
‘Probably not the best idea for me to stroll in and watch it there,’ Eddie said with resigned amusement.
‘Well, we probably can’t risk going to the apartment either. But we need somewhere private. Who is there in the city that we can trust not to run screaming to the police the moment they see you?’ She thought for a moment, then smiled. ‘I think I know . . .’