Jeff is speeding down back roads, away from the cameras. He has to get rid of his phone, though not before this one final call. He lets it ring and ring, but Amy is not answering. Jeff hopes this isn’t bad news. Her voicemail cuts in. What information does he need her to have?
Amy, it’s me.
Loubet’s been using our clients to smuggle money. I called him out on it, and he threatened to kill me, and two gunmen just tried to kill me in Bruno’s. So this will be our last communication for a while. I need to go completely off-grid.
I don’t understand how you’re involved in all this, but it looks like you are, so run.
We both need to keep our heads down and work out what’s going on.
I’m going somewhere safe, and you should too.
He’s working with someone we know. Someone connected to Maximum Impact. The name I mentioned, “Joe Blow.” Don’t trust anyone. Get rid of your phone.
I’m going to do what I can to find out what’s going on. I suggest you do the same if you can.
This is a bad one, Ames, even for me. Take care and good luck.
Jeff ends the call, takes the SIM card from his phone, and snaps it in two. He then throws the SIM and the phone out of his window and drives on.
21
From the Desk of François Loubet
ChatGPT, rewrite in the style of a friendly English gentleman, please.
Another unwelcome email arrived a little after luncheon. What have I done to deserve this, I wonder? Have my sins found me out!!!
It was from Rob Kenna, my murder-broker. Now, if you don’t have a murder-broker, you should get one, as it is most inconvenient to have to arrange these things yourself. Get yourself a good dentist, a good plumber, and a good murder-broker, and you won’t go too far wrong in life.
Mr. Loubet,
Amy Wheeler has escaped, but situation under control. I have people tracking her on the ground in South Carolina. She won’t get far. Will advise further.
Hmm. Situation under control? Well, I’ll be the judge of that, won’t I?
Rob Kenna has not let me down before, but I await developments with some interest. Certainly if this were my dentist or plumber, I would be making a complaint.
You know, it’s funny, I realize I don’t even know what Amy Wheeler looks like. I know the name, of course, and that she is blonde, but other than that nothing. She must be wondering what on earth is going on, mustn’t she?
Oh, and I know her blood type! Mustn’t forget that!
22
“I’m just saying, Amy,” says Rosie, reasonably in her view. “Another dead body, and look who’s nearby? You.”
Amy ignores her. She learned to do that impressively early in their relationship. Rosie cannot resist someone who ignores her. Amy leans toward the computer screen.
“Locked.”
“Then perhaps it might be a good time to leave?” suggests Rosie, looking back at the hanging corpse of Justin Scroggie. “Unless you’re a computer hacker too?”
Amy keeps looking at the screen. “Cut him down for me. Keep your gloves on.”
Rosie looks at the corpse again. “I’ve had to free a few men from ceilings in my time, but they’ve almost all been alive. Where are we taking him?”
“I just need him for a moment,” says Amy.
Rosie stands on a small cabinet and spots a ceremonial sword mounted on Scroggie’s wall. She cuts through the rope and Scroggie’s body falls to the floor. Amy steps over to the corpse.
“Help me drag him.”
“You’ve gone from I can’t possibly let you off the island, Rosie to Help me drag a corpse, Rosie ever so quickly you know?”
“Get him onto this office chair,” says Amy, and the two women manage to manhandle Scroggie into place. Dead people are always so much heavier than you think they’re going to be. “Do you have a makeup wipe?”
“I have clarifying wipes,” says Rosie. “But extremely expensive ones.”
“So long as they’re good with blood, I’ll take one,” says Amy.
Rosie reaches into her bag, pulls one out, and hands it to Amy.
Amy feels it. “It’s so soft. Where do you even buy these?”
“Tibet,” says Rosie. “I’ll order you some.”
Amy grasps the index finger of Scroggie’s right hand and wipes it clean of blood. She then places the index finger onto the keyboard’s touch sensor.
“Oh, that’s clever,” says Rosie. “Fingerprint recognition. Can I use that in a book? The Corpse Hacker.”
