“Are you sitting comfortably?”
“Do I need to be?”
“I have the diamonds, the mask and the USB.”
“Then bring them in.”
“I think someone is pretty keen on ensuring that doesn’t happen.”
“Ah. You have something to report?”
“Two armed men broke into my house early this morning.” It seemed a lot longer ago than that.
“I take it that they’ve moved on?”
“Correct.”
“Did you take pictures?”
“Yes.”
“Send them.”
“I’d prefer to show you while I’m looking at your face.”
Henry gave a quiet chuckle. “I’m famous for my poker face.”
Delaney frowned. That was true.
“Why the hell would I send anyone to kill you?”
“At a guess because whatever is on that USB is so sensitive that no one can be allowed to know the contents. Or someone wants to get their hands on several million pounds worth of diamonds. Possibly both.”
“Have you looked at the information?”
“What do you think?”
“Ah.”
“Not all of it. There’s a lot.”
“I didn’t send anyone to kill you. I don’t even know where you live. I assume you have several places you call home.”
“There was a tracker in my bag. I inadvertently led someone straight to me.”
“And you’re unsure where you might have picked it up?”
“Four possibilities. Either before I went to Harborne House, while I was there, on the way back from there or when I was doing the Chason job. It was a make of tracker that I’ve been supplied with before.”
“That we use the same type means nothing.”
“Or something.”
“Who exactly had access to your bag?”
“I would know if anyone had got into my London flat, so I’ve more or less ruled that out. But the bag was left in my room at Harborne House. Any of Norbury’s staff could have had access. I gave one of the guests a ride back to London. A Saudi. Hassan Fayad. He reached over to get an inhaler from his bag at one point in the journey, and could have put the tracker in place then. From that point, the bag was always with me until I put it in the driver’s car on Monday morning. He was alone with it when I went to do the job.”
“What sort of feel did you get for this Hassan Fayad?”