Dan agreed. ‘If he’s holding Cate hostage he’s hardly going to reveal his true identity.’
‘No, but I wonder ...’ Robbie picked up his phone, found the number and called it back.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I want to see who answers.’
Nobody did. Robbie endured Dan’s disapproving gaze for half a minute and finally gave up.
‘How did he leave it with you?’ Dan asked.
‘Told me to wait for his call.’
‘So he wants to demonstrate that he’s in charge. He won’t do that by answering when you phone him. Have you got the documents ready?’
Absently, Robbie shook his head. ‘They’re hidden.’
‘You’d better get them. Where are they, at the flat?’
Robbie tried a grin; not one of his better attempts to charm.
‘Ah,’ he said.
‘My house? You hid them at
my
fucking house?’
‘I knew they’d be safe there. Nobody knows about you.’
‘And what if you were wrong about that, like all the other things you’ve been wrong about?’
Robbie shrugged, sulky and unrepentant. ‘You haven’t noticed anyone following you, have you?’
‘No, but that’s not the point.’ Dan found himself wondering if he would have picked up on it, until a more important consideration struck him. ‘Have
you
, then?’
‘Once or twice, maybe. I was never certain.’
Dan buried his face in his hands. He heard the groan of a chair as Robbie stood up.
‘Come on. We ought to go and get the stuff.’
****
They took both cars. Dan pulled up first, intercepting Robbie as he opened his door.
‘You stay here. Where will I find them?’
‘In a cabin bag, stashed in an old laundry basket. In your brother’s room.’
‘Louis’s ...?’
‘Sorry, mate. He did it as a favour. But I also told him the drugs thing was over—’
Dan slammed Robbie’s door and strode away. He had to keep his temper in check, at least until he knew that Cate was safe.
Joan greeted him as he opened the front door. ‘You’re home early.’
‘Decided to take the afternoon off to sort a few things. Is Louis here?’
‘He’s in his room. Why?’ She stepped in front of him as he shook his head; gently she grasped his arms and made him look at her. ‘What’s wrong?’
Dan forced a smile. ‘Nothing much, I promise.’
He kissed her cheek, feeling worse than crummy for a week of relentless lies, then hurried upstairs. The music playing in Louis’s room was a beautiful, melancholy piece from Morricone’s
The Mission
soundtrack, another favourite of their parents.
‘Louis, can I come in?’
Dan opened the door. His brother was lying flat out on the bed, hands laced behind his head. His eyes not exactly tearful, but filmy.
‘You okay?’
‘Not really. What I need right now is a joint.’
‘Yeah, well. I’ve come for Robbie’s stuff.’
‘The suitcase?’ Louis twisted his foot towards the old laundry basket. ‘It’s in there.’
He didn’t move while Dan opened the basket and pulled out a couple of spare pillows.
‘Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?’
‘I can’t.’
‘You’re in some serious trouble, then?’
****
Dan turned and examined his brother, who was still staring at the ceiling. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘How you’ve been acting lately. No way this is just about Hayley. Is Robbie part of it?’
Dan couldn’t see any point in lying, so he nodded. ‘Yeah.’
‘And Cate?’
‘Why’d you think she would be involved?’
Louis shrugged. ‘I heard her ex-husband got murdered on Saturday. Is that true?’
‘Yes. And Cate’s—’ Dan stopped himself in time.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. She’s ... well, suffering a bit, that’s all. I’m trying to help her.’
‘Right.’ A loaded tone.
Dan removed the case and refilled the laundry basket. As he stood up to leave he had a sudden conviction that he would never see his brother again. The thought left him rooted to the spot, staring at Louis as though they were at opposite ends of a long, dark tunnel.
Louis sat up, offering a conciliatory smile. ‘I wasn’t taking the piss. I just mean, you’ve always fancied her, haven’t you? I reckon you’d make a great couple.’
‘Thanks.’ Dan set the case down. ‘Give us a hug, Louis.’
‘What?’
‘Please.’
Bemused and a little embarrassed, Louis stood up and they embraced. It was the first such contact they’d had in a long time, and Dan was struck by how tall Louis was, how strong.
My boy’s become a man
. Isn’t that what a father would say at a moment like this?
Slowly they broke away, and Louis wasn’t so immature that he didn’t appreciate the significance of this occasion, even though he had no idea
why
it mattered so much.
‘An unhappy accident,’ he murmured.
‘Sorry?’
‘The reason I’m so screwed up.’ Louis scraped a tear from his eye with the edge of his hand. ‘I remember what Joan used to tell me, about how Mum and Dad were so overjoyed when I came along, all those years after you. I was their “happy accident”.’
Dan nodded. That phrase had always been Joan’s way of conveying to Louis how important he’d been to the parents he had barely known.
‘I was the happy accident. Two years later came the
un
happy accident. Because life finds a way to balance out.’
‘Oh, Louis, you can’t think like that.’
‘I know it’s not rational. But that’s how it feels. Like I was a curse on them.’
‘No.’ Dan held his brother by the arms. ‘You represent what was best about Mum and Dad. You carry them into the future. Don’t ever forget that.’
Louis nodded, sheepish again. ‘This is getting too heavy. You’d better piss off before I start blubbing or something.’
‘Yeah, me too.’ Dan slapped Louis on the shoulder. ‘Love you.’
‘Where you going, anyway?’
Dan shrugged, and found the fuel for one more lie. ‘Nowhere, really.’
****
He trotted downstairs and heard laughter. Robbie was deep in conversation with Joan, who was giggling at a joke he’d made. She saw Dan and tutted.
‘You didn’t say Robbie was with you. Why didn’t you invite him in?’
‘It’s just a flying visit.’
‘Forgetting your manners, Dan,’ Robbie said with mock severity.
‘He is, you’re right,’ Joan said. ‘I wish you could stay longer.’
‘Me too. Next time, yeah?’ Robbie gave Joan a hug, then turned and made his exit without catching Dan’s eye.
‘And you’re off as well?’ Joan noticed the small suitcase and frowned.
‘It’s a long story.’ Dan kissed her and was gone, knowing he trailed all kinds of fear and anxiety in his wake. He wondered if he would ever have a chance to explain.
****
He carried the case to the BMW and put it in the boot. Robbie had fetched an old road atlas from his glove compartment, which he handed to Dan.
‘Look up Brockham, near Box Hill. That’s where the Blakes live. 8 Gadbrook Lane.’
‘Okay. But why, exactly?’
‘Because it’s likely that Jerry is based somewhere close by, don’t you think? He had to go to the Blakes to get their phone.’
Dan shrugged. It was credible enough. But he was conscious of a mutual reluctance to discuss what might have happened to the Blakes themselves.
While Dan studied the map, Robbie punched in the combination and opened the case, gazing at the contents as if unwilling to part with them.
‘I’d say we should head up that way, so we’re in the area when he calls me again.’
‘In one car, or both?’
‘Both. I want you to follow at a bit of a distance. We can keep in touch by phone. Don’t suppose you’ve got a hands-free kit?’
Dan snorted:
as if
. Robbie sighed, then consulted the map.
‘Let’s head for Kingsfold on the A24. There’s a pub that we can make our base till we hear from him.’
He handed Dan the road atlas – Robbie had satnav, of course – and shut the boot. He took a step towards the driver’s door and then realised that Dan hadn’t moved.
‘Dan ...’
‘I’m just thinking about last week, when you talked me out of phoning the police. We both know that was the wrong thing then. Aren’t we making the same mistake again?’
For once, Robbie displayed none of his usual bravado. He ran a hand through his hair and admitted that Dan had a valid point.
‘Whether you believe it or not, I want to do what’s best for my sister. If I thought that meant going to the cops and giving them a full confession, I’d do it. But, first, we don’t have a clue where she is, or who this “Jerry” really is. Second, any conversation with the authorities will have to include the background to all this, and as soon as we mention the hit-and-run it’ll be the two of us getting thrown into a cell. And then how are we gonna help Cate?’
‘Okay.’ Dan had reached a similar conclusion himself, but he’d wanted to hear Robbie lay it out for him.
This time round, Robbie was right. They had to do this themselves. They had to find Cate, and bring her back safely.
‘Let’s go,’ he said.
Befriend your captor
. That had been Cate’s objective. That was why she obediently supplied the message to her brother. In return he agreed not to gag her again, which not only eased her discomfort but meant she could speak. First she asked his name.
‘Jerry.’ The question didn’t seem to anger him; he wasn’t amused, intrigued or anything else. And with no verbal or visual cues, establishing a rapport was impossible.
‘I don’t understand what’s happening. Please can you explain it to me?’
‘No.’
‘I don’t mean a lot of detail. Even just—’
‘I can replace the gag, if you’d prefer?’ He sounded distant, almost bored.
Cate gave up. He left the room and was gone for what felt like a couple of hours, though it might have been much less. At times she heard movements from within the house, and gathered that he was at work in some way.
Then he was back, and a revolting smell accompanied him into the room: the stench of human waste.
‘We’re leaving. I take it you need to use the toilet?’
Cate hadn’t realised her desperation was so visible. Her bladder ached to the point where she had been negotiating away the shame of letting it go on the mattress. Her body was enveloped in a cold, foul sweat, and she shivered as he untied her legs.
He let her sit up and wait for her circulation to recover. She set her injured foot down on the floor, testing whether it could bear her weight. She thought it would be okay, so long as she angled it slightly, keeping her little toe off the ground.
He untied the blindfold and replaced it with the hood. Then prodded his gun in her back.
‘I’m going to release your hands. If you’ve any thoughts of rebellion, look down as you cross the landing and you’ll get a taste of the consequences.’
Cate stood up, crying out as her limbs protested after hours of enforced immobility. She hobbled across the room, and by gazing at her feet she was able to see a small section of the floor.
Once out of the bedroom the source of the smell became clear. A woman’s body, slumped and twisted in death, the face a mess of dark sticky blood.
‘What happened?’
‘It doesn’t concern you,’ he said. ‘In here.’
He guided her to the bathroom and insisted on staying while she sat on the toilet. By now the need was so urgent that she hardly cared what he saw. Unlike the other man – who she presumed was also dead – there was nothing lecherous in his demeanour.
When Cate was done he tied her hands, manoeuvred her down the stairs and out to the same car that had brought her here. Once again she was made to lie along the back seat, but in addition he looped the rope around the base of the driver’s seat, making it impossible for her to rise more than a few inches.
Then he was gone for perhaps another half an hour. Apart from the occasional rumble of a car, there was no other human activity. Calling for help was futile, but she tried it anyway.
She managed to rub her head back and forth until a little of her face was exposed beneath the hood, allowing her to breathe more freely. Despite this, the panic returned in waves, sending her heartbeat into a frenzy and leaving her to wonder if her ordeal would be cut short by a cardiac arrest.
He returned and covered her with a rough blanket. To passing traffic she would be only a formless lump.
One more try
, she decided as he got into the car. Because Cate had always believed she was tougher than this; a fighter.
‘Have you spoken to Robbie?’
He shifted in his seat, which she took as a sign of irritation. ‘I played him the message.’
‘And has he agreed ... to do what you want?’
He subjected her to a few seconds of agony before replying. This time there was a trace of grim humour: ‘Did you doubt that he’d be prepared to save you?’
Cate mumbled a non-committal response. Her prize, at least, was confirmation that Robbie was still alive. She prayed that he’d have the good sense to talk to Dan, and that between them they could figure out a way to end this without more bloodshed.
****
When Jerry phoned, Robbie had just skirted Horsham on the A24, Dan trailing some four or five cars back. It was ten to six. The roads were busy, hindering their progress, but that didn’t worry Robbie.
In fact, he felt intensely relaxed: just as he’d demonstrated on Tuesday night, he was at his best in a crisis. He’d hooked up his iPod and was playing a selection of classic soul: Sam and Dave, Jackie Wilson, Marvin Gaye. Music to make you feel alive and potent and formidable.
He switched it off and took the call. ‘Jerry.’
‘Where are you?’