Hands and ankles cuffed, I wait in the yard. A grey sky spits rain on the grey tarmac, grey stonework and the dark grey uniforms of my guards.The van arrives, equally grey, pulling up close by. Paired metal doors swing open at the back, revealing the inside, stark and gloomy, a slatted bench flush to either side. Hoops and bars project from the framework for the restraint of high-risk transportees. "In you go, Larry..." Hartwell pokes me in the ribs with his baton, playfully...Think it's funny, do you..."... I don't know what idiot thinks you belong in a low-security prison but I'll not be sorry you're not my responsibility anymore."I say nothing, all obedience, stepping up to the van. My movement is awkward in my cuffs as I grab the handle to pull myself up. Sutcliffe raises a hand, supporting me at the elbow as I rise."Leave him alone, Sutcliffe," snaps Hartwell. "Larry's a big boy now. He can get himself inside.""Yes, sir." Sutcliffe follows me up, indicating a
JAMESI try not to be obvious about it; try to treat her completely normally, but Mitch has just had her world turned over yet again. I see her sometimes, watching me; watching me with Charlotte.What's going on in her head?She's happy she has her daughter...... but still walking on eggshells...Not convinced she's safe?How much crap can get thrown into a single life?Her brother... control freak...Klempner... psycho...Conners... wife-beater...And now she walks into this... her long-lost daughter shacked up with two men...And pregnant...Is she coping??She's stronger than she looks...Charlotte's mother...In my armchair by the fire, my bad leg stretched out to bathe the ache away with the heat, I sip a finger of brandy, losing myself in the dancing flames and the reflected amber glimmer in my glass.Mitch... Strong enough to survive but still vulnerable...Klempner... Ruthless... Vengeful... Intelligent?He headed a world-wide organisa
I'm walking as I talk. Heading along the hall. First stop, the alarm system.I slam the panic button installed during the renovation. After Michael and Charlotte's last flight through the snow two Christmases ago, we built this house as a fortress.Everything on automatic, the house goes into lock-down. Motors whirr as metal shutters glide over windows. High-security bolts slam across doors, the sound echoing along the hall. I keep moving, heading for the basement.Mobile still pressed to my ear, "You think it's Charlotte he wants?" I say. "Or Mitch?""If Klempner had Charlotte, Mitch would follow. If she had the balls to go after Conners to rescue him, d'you think she'd hesitate with her own daughter? And yes, I think it's Mitch he's after. You think the timing's a coincidence? Charlotte has just found her mother and suddenly Klempner waltzes out of custody?""No, I don't..." My mind spins, whirling at speed... "... but it also suggests that he's stayed in jail because it su
JAMESI lift the latch of the door to the walkers' shelter, push and step inside...... something presses to my temple. "Don't move.""What?" I start to turn, but the something; cold, metallic, nudges at me. "I said, don't move.""Who the fuck are...?" But my words are cut short. Abruptly, the shelter is flooded with light. It shoots through my eyes, blinding me."Is that any way to speak to your father-in-law?" The voice is oh-too-familiar, and as my vision clears, I see the figure sitting on a bench; hands clasped behind his head, ankle crossed over knee. "Good to see you, James," says Klempner. "Do sit down." Then snapping his fingers to the figure beside me. "His phone."Gun-muzzle to my head, I freeze, my hands semi-raised as the gunman's hand works through my trouser pockets, first one, then the other, then slides down the zipper of my jacket to reach inside before tossing my mobile to Klempner.My heart, which had calmed to a sensible pace during my 'escape' thr
MICHAELI'm driving like an idiot, racing to reach Charlotte, Mitch and Kirstie.Why's Charlotte not answering her phone?And I'm hoping that the answer is the happy one; that she's simply distracted, talking; enjoying herself and not paying attention. Or that she has the ringer turned off. Or...My head swirls...James said Francesca's tea rooms...Already, it's nearly dark.What time do they stay open until?Friday. Late night. Probably until 9pm.My mobile screen flashes, the vibe making the dashboard rattle as the phone dances over the vinyl. It's Ben.On loudspeaker, "Ben? Where are you?""Almost there. Just letting you know, I'm pulling into the car park now, so we might lose the signal. I'll be in touch as soon as I know anything."And I return to champing and cursing at the traffic holding me trapped.James...I check my phone. No call. No message.I check my watch. He's had plenty of time to reach the shelter.Should I call him?Is he hurt?
MICHAELThe blindingly bloody obvious finally hits me between the eyes.Fuck!I bang the dashboard with a fist.Stupid. Stupid.I'm trying to drive through the City one-way system in traffic. If I go on foot...Think with your brain. Not panic and adrenalin...Spinning the steering wheel, I squeal across two lanes and a junction, cut in front of a taxi driver, then park up, two wheels on the kerb.Ignoring the screeched curses from the cabbie behind me, giving only passing thought that the car is likely to be towed, I set off at a run, abandoning car, bug and all.*****Hot, lungs heaving, heart pumping and dripping with sweat, I burst through the doors of Francesca's department store.The tearooms are on the top floor. Middle-class ladies with crimped hair and primped clothes look at me askance as I head for the elevator. One prize example makes a show of wafting the air by her face as at the last moment, I take the escalator instead, so I can scan the shop floor
JAMESMy phone rings. Richard's avatar flashes up. Klempner glances at it then passes it to me. "Answer it. Put it on loudspeaker."I talk quickly. "Richard, before you say anything, Klempner's here."There's a silence, then. "James, are you being held hostage? Has he...?""I'm not hurt if that's what you're asking, but no, I'm not exactly on top of the situation. He's listening to what we say." I cast a glance to Klempner, but he simply raises brows, folding his arms and sitting back."Have you spoken to Charlotte?" I ask.Richard pauses. "No, I've not spoken to her. I got hold of Michael, some while ago, but I couldn't get through to her. She wasn't answering her phone."So, who...?"Someone's warned her. Or so it seems. She's vanished, along with her mother and Kirstie. Is Beth okay?"Another short silence. "Yes, Elizabeth is safely out of the way."Klempner snorts, then speaking loudly, "I'm not interested in your cringing wife, Haswell."Richard's voice is au
JAMESKlempner scowls, his head jerking back. "How do you mean?""If he knows you value the women, could one of your men have taken them? Perhaps to ransom them to you?"Klempner stiffens. "If he has, he'll wish he'd traded places with Hartwell."He snatches up his own phone then, jabbing a finger at mine, "Keep him on the line. Keep him listening." He taps into his own mobile. "Marco? Where are you? And where's Guttman? What's going on down there?"A voice rises above a background sound of traffic. "I'm on the corner of Port Square, sir. It gives me a view of both the taxi rank and the entrance to the bus station. Guttman's working the restaurants. I think he's along Main Street somewhere."Klempner pokes at his screen, scissors something open and zooms in. He peers close, then repeats it. "That's fine, Marco. The women haven't been found yet, so stay alert." He disconnects. "Marco's exactly where he said he was and so's Guttman... And that description doesn't fit eithe