The Mark of Halam Read Online Free

bed.”
    Quentin put two cups on the bench. The coffee pot bubbled away on its element. Lettering across the front of the coffee packet read ‘A Taste of Arabia’. Jeff’s nostrils agreed it must have come from that region; it smelt like camels. Jeannie Douglas told anyone who would listen she travelled the world with her coffee. Every few weeks a new blend. But this time he doubted the origin printed on the pack. The last time he had drifted through Saudi he saw no coffee plantations, only desert.
    Quentin dumped the two mugs none too carefully on the unprotected mahogany table top. Brown liquid slopped over the rim. He ripped off a paper towel from the roll on the holder above the sink and sponged up the dregs.
    “The police sergeant who phoned said they believe Mary was the target. She had been stalked and the attack planned. Ann was supposed to be away for the night only she cancelled at the last minute. They swapped rooms for some reason and so poor Ann copped it.”
    “Why do they believe Mary was stalked?”
    Quentin shook his head.
    “No idea. The sergeant didn’t say.”
    “Okay,” Jeff said, thoughtful. He lifted his mug to allow Quentin to clean under it. “Jeannie is right to be concerned if that’s the case. Mary could still be in danger.”
    “The police think not immediately. Not for a few nights anyway. Too risky they say. But who knows. The guy is clearly a psycho. He might feel his unfinished business can’t wait.”
    Jeff nodded. “I won’t disagree. But working on logic, he would need to find out where she is. That will take time. I think the police are probably right. Tonight is too soon. However, if he has been stalking Mary then he’s followed her to the office. He might also have followed you home.”
    “Jesus, I hadn’t thought of that.”
    “You need to consider it. Even if he hasn’t done so already he might now give it thought. You could be placing Jeannie and the kids in danger.”
    “Tomorrow I’ll hire twenty-four-hour security, but tonight, my friend, you’re it. I’m going to meet with the police in the morning. I know the detective sergeant in charge. We’ve run across each other in the courts. I’ll ask her how much security I need.”
    Jeff nodded. “Want me to come with you?”
    “Would you? That would be great. Thanks.”
    Jeff sipped his coffee. Quentin checked his watch.
    “Time for bed. Jeannie threw blankets and a pillow on the couch. Thanks for coming.”
    “No worries.”
    When Quentin had gone Jeff sat on the couch to remove his running shoes. It crossed his mind that if the killer had followed Quentin he might be outside right now. He switched off the lights then slowly pulled back the drape and peered into the darkness. No movements in the shadows that he could see.
    Tonight he would sleep on the floor. He needed to stay alert.

7.
    S ergeant Moana Te Kanawa leaned against the third-floor win dow frame and looked down on the city scene. She watched a patrol car cruise along Mayoral Drive until it stopped at the lights where Mayoral crossed Queen Street. When the lights changed to green the patrol car turned left and disappeared from sight. H er attention was drawn to the Sky City Tower; claimed by its owners to be one of the world’s tallest constructions but to Moana it looked like a giant syringe reaching into the sky to jab God. A view of the sea was blocked by a concrete forest of commercial and apartment buildings.
    Auckland, a two-port city, servicing both the Pacific Ocean and the Tasman Sea, had continued to expand upwards and outwards like an insatiable, gluttonous land hog. And now most of its one and a half million citizens lived across fifty kilometres of highway and on the slopes of more than forty extinct volcanoes stretching from Papakura in the south to the northern beaches town of Orewa.
    Somewhere in that impossibly large search area hid the man who had attacked Mary Sumner and Ann Lindsay.
    Moana half-turned and cast an eye over