The Empress Holds The Key Jack Rogan Mysteries Book 2 Gabriel Farago

9
‘Good evening, Horst,’ said the housekeeper, ‘your father’s waiting in the study.’
‘I am curious,’ Newman said, adjusting his dressing gown. ‘You told me it was urgent.’
‘It is ...’
‘Well?’
‘I don’t quite know how to tell you this ...’ Horst began. ‘I did something foolish the
other day, something I know you won’t approve of.’ Newman walked to the sideboard
and poured two whiskies. ‘I arranged a ... um, well ... a search, yes a search of ...’
‘You sound just like our Mr Farim this morning. Do try to get to the point. Here, have
this, it might help.’ Newman handed Horst a scotch.
‘That journalist’s house – you know that chap Rogan ...’ Horst gulped down his drink.
Newman looked at him without touching his glass. ‘There’s more, I’m afraid. Can I have
another one?’
‘Help yourself.’
‘I just wanted to find out what he knew ... with the float coming up, you see, and teach
him a lesson.’
‘What kind of lesson?’
‘You know, persuade him to drop the story, make him see sense ...’
‘Sense? Let me get this straight. Are you telling me that you hired someone to break
into the journalist’s home, search the house, and rough him up a little to make him see
sense?’ Horst nodded sheepishly, and gulped down his second scotch.
‘I know it sounds bad.’
‘You cannot be serious. Who did you use?’
‘Cramer.’ At least that was good news, thought Newman. Cramer was a Vietnam
veteran turned private investigator who could be trusted.
‘You must have been out of your mind. Do you realise what this could mean? Do you?
If this is in some way linked to us, and that inspector, that crazy policewoman, gets wind
of it ...’ hissed Newman.
‘Not a chance!’ protested Horst. ‘You know Cramer, we can rely on him.’ Horst did not