Tidal Rage by David Evans (bill gates books to read txt) 📕

was obvious to them both that the teeth would be disposed of by now, but the ring had not been claimed. There may be blood evidence on the ring.

“Once you download a picture of the ring, go to Judge Norman Freeman in Oregon. Tell him you work for me, and that we have evidence of a fatal assault; the ring could be evidence. Use the statements from the Yacoubs, who witnessed the attack. We’ve had Basmati working under the tuition of an independent crime laboratory in Miami for the last six months. He should be up to speed now, so I’ll send him with you to secure the ring and ensure that the chain of evidence will stand up in a court of law,” Cutler declared.

Immediately after the call to the MIDAS investigator he called Matt Rice, aka Basmati, and gave him his instructions. The next call was to his other investigator, Tucker Walters, the stocky ex-SAS New Zealander.

“Tuck, its Cutler.”

Several moments later, after pleasantries had been passed, Cutler continued.

“Be careful what you say, as I know Cheryl is likely to be in the office with you. It concerns the disappearance of her husband. Note down these names: Mick Hilton and Bernard Rothhelm. We know about Rothhelm already, but Hilton is new to us. Dig up what you can and try to get in their faces a little. No rough stuff but let them know they are in our sights. You know the drill.”

Tuck looked at Cheryl’s face as she sat opposite him. The large window in their office in Everglade City was sited along the banks of the Barron River, and Tuck could see a large pelican with a fish in its bill. The bird was sitting proudly on the wooden veranda.

“On it, boss,” was all Tuck replied.

Cutler returned to the hub, where Fabienne delicately removed a slice of Aargau carrot cake and quaffed it down in one movement, followed by another.

“On the private matter, Fabienne, have you managed to look at Von-Baer and Werner’s history, to identify who his political partner is?” Cutler inquired

“As you know, Herr Cutler, my German is good, but this guy has contacts all over Europe, and the translation takes time. If you let me have Ghislaine back I can get you an answer quicker,” Fabienne responded.

“No, as much as possible I want MIDAS operatives kept out of this. I only asked you because you could save me hours of research,” Cutler stated honestly.

“Well, I have several names, all delegates in the Bundestag: Guttmann, Heimlich, and Uebering. All seem to have had extensive business links with Werner,” Fabienne reported.

“Thanks, Fabienne, keep digging if you would, please. Use a freelance interpreter if required; I’ll fund this. Make sure the person is not from mainland Europe. Werner’s tentacles stretch far and wide.”

Cutler exited the hub once again to return to the desk to the phone. It took nearly twenty minutes to track down the handsome Spanish investigator, Philip Cortez, who was looking into the German connection.

“Hola, Philip, como estas?” Cutler used his more than adequate Spanish.

“Muy bien, gracias, my American friend. If you are phoning me, you must have something for me. It has been a while,” Philip Cortez stated.

“Busy setting up MIDAS, Philip. You know how in-depth any new operation can be. However, you are always in my thoughts. I know you are self-reliant and wouldn’t want me phoning you every week to catch up with you. The e-mails you send over are descriptive and informative. You’re making real progress, the news about the link with the solicitor and political ally was excellent.” Cutler continued.

“I think it may be fortuitous that you have phoned, as some information has come forward this morning which is disturbing,” Cortez said.

“What information?” Cutler asked intuitively.

“There has been a contract out for Dietmar Richter, as you well know, for the past year, posted by Werner. This morning, one of my little spies tells me the word on the street is that Richter is in the UK. By tonight, half a dozen hitmen who want to earn a small fortune will be on their way, hoping for a lucrative payday.”

Cutler was startled at the information. “Thank you for the information. I’ll look into this.”

“And what do you have for me?” Cortez asked.

“Guttmann, Heimlich, and Uebering, all delegates in the Bundestag. Mean anything to you?” Cutler probed.

“Yes, I know all three, all corrupt in their own way. But Uebering stands out. Her name has come up several times in my investigation and cross-referenced to Werner. She is certainly a person of interest and will move to the top of my list now that you have asked about her by name,” Cortez indicated.

“Look into her first, and if you don’t get anywhere, investigate the other two. Thank you for the information, Philip, and I will speak to you soon. Ciao,” Cutler signed off.

Cutler redialled.

“Twice in one day, boss; what gives?” Tuck asked.

“Is Hoagie there with you?” Cutler inquired.

“No, he met a gay hairdresser in Hooters, of all places; they’ve gone for a love-in for the weekend to Saratoga Beach. I can use the emergency phone we’ve been issued.”

“Use it, please, Tuck. Tell Hoagie to get his ass on a plane to Glasgow. Tell him I will be there in the Thistle Hotel in Sauchiehall Street. One more thing; text me his ETA,” Cutler ordered.

“On it, boss,” Tuck said, knowing the rage that would consume Hoagie, as this had been his first lover in six weeks; such was the workload Tuck had set him.

Cutler pressed ‘end’ and redialled.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’ve been up to, but you’ve been made!” Cutler spat out.

On the other end of the phone, the ex-German gang accountant Dietmar Richter began to shake.

“They know where I am,” Richter said tellingly.

“They know you’re