a fixed memory of those papers with their lists of names) then it was the duty of right-thinking men to ensure that they didn’t get it, or so Harlan and Paul told themselves in an effort to make some small recompense for their larceny.
But neither were they so naive as to believe that their theft of the money might be allowed to go unpunished, that, if they revealed what they knew of the plane’s location to Darina Flores or someone like her, the truth would be enough to buy them peace in their final years. Even the knowledge that the plane existed might be enough to damn them because they’d both examined that list, and some of those names were fused in Harlan’s brain. He could recite them, if he had to. Not many of them, but enough. Enough to see him dead.
Then again, if the man was here, it was probably because of the money. The money would have drawn him. Perhaps Harlan and Paul had not been as careful as they thought.
‘What are you doing in my wife’s room?’ he asked. ‘You’re not supposed to be here. It’s for family and friends only.’
The man wandered over to where Harlan’s wife lay, and stroked her face and hair. His fingertips trailed across her lips, then parted them obscenely. Angeline mumbled in her sleep, and tried to move her head. A pair of pale fingers entered her mouth, and Harlan saw the tendons flexing in the man’s hand.
‘I told you to sit down, Mr Vetters. If you don’t, I’ll tear out your wife’s tongue.’
Harlan sat.
‘Who are you?’ he asked.
‘My name is Brightwell.’
‘What do you want with us?’
‘I think you know.’
‘Well, sir, I don’t. I want you gone from here, so I’ll do my best to answer any questions you might have, but you’ll have had a wasted trip by the end.’
The sleeve of Brightwell’s coat fell back from his arm as he continued to stroke Angeline’s hair, and Harlan saw the mark upon the man’s wrist. It looked like a trident.
‘I understand that your wife has Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s?’
‘That’s right.’
‘It must be very difficult for you.’
There was no trace of sympathy in his voice.
‘Not as difficult as it is for her.’
‘Oh, I don’t believe that’s true.’
Brightwell glanced down at the sleeping woman. He removed his fingers from her mouth, sniffed them, then licked at their tips with a tongue that was almost pointed. In texture and color it reminded Harlan of a piece of raw liver The man allowed his other hand to rest on Angeline’s brow. Her mutterings grew louder, as though the pressure of his hand troubled her, yet still she did not wake.
‘Look at her: she barely knows who she is anymore, and I guess that, most of the time, she doesn’t know who you are either. Whatever you loved about her once is long gone. She’s just a shell, a hollow burden. It would be a mercy for you both if she simply . . . slipped away.’
‘That’s not true,’ said Harlan.
Brightwell smiled, and his hard, dark eyes looked at and into Harlan, and they found the place where Harlan hid his worst thoughts, and even though Brightwell’s lips did not move, Harlan heard the word ‘liar’ whispered. He could not hold Brightwell’s gaze, and he felt shame as he bent his face to the floor.
‘I could make it happen,’ said Brightwell. ‘A pillow over the face, a little compression on the nose and mouth. Nobody would ever know, and then you’d be free.’
‘You stop talking like that, mister. You don’t dare say that again.’
Brightwell tittered. It was a strangely effeminate sound. He even covered his mouth with his free hand while he did so.
‘I’m just playing with you, Mr Vetters. To tell you the truth, somebody would find out if she died under, um, unusual circumstances. It’s easy to murder, but it’s harder to get away with murder. That, of course, is true of most crimes, but particularly so with killing. You know why that is?’
Harlan was keeping his head down, and his focus fixed on his shoes. He was afraid that this man might stare into his eyes again, and see his guilt. Then he began to feel concerned that this might be taken as the aspect of a guilty man, that he was, in effect, admitting the crime before he had even been accused of it. He composed himself, and forced himself to look up at this loathsome intruder.