Capital Punishment by Robert Wilson

decomposition and forever troubling the mind of the person who’d “chanced upon her remains”. I can’t imagine the sort of person that would be prepared to stick that kind of image in a mother’s mind. It’s inhuman.’
    ‘Yes, it is,’ said Boxer, worried by what he was hearing. ‘What about the demands?’
    ‘I managed to ask him what he wanted and assumed, because Chico is such a well-known businessman, that it would be money. It’s crazy, isn’t it?’ she said, momentarily diverted. ‘I was so glad when Alyshia came back from Mumbai. I’d been terrified that this sort of thing would happen to her out there, but not ... not here. Not in England. Not in London.’
    ‘It can happen anywhere in the world, Isabel,’ he said, and realised that he’d enjoyed using her name.
    ‘Jordan said it wasn’t about money. That this won’t be sorted out with “a good old bit of Asian haggling”. He wouldn’t “be so crass as to put a price on my child’s head”. He said Chico would dismiss this and I should persuade him otherwise. For some reason, that jolted me back to reality. It had all been
surreal
up until then. It made me think that Jordan knew Chico, so I asked him. He crapped on about Chico being in the media so much that everybody thinks they know him, but that I would know him better than anybody. And that again made me think he knew him personally. He also said he would only talk to me. If we tried to put anybody else on the line, he would hang up. Three strikes and you’re out, were his words. After that, somehow, I had the presence of mind to ask for proof that he was holding Alyshia. And he gave me the nickname ... the nickname I haven’t heard her use for ages. It used to make us laugh and laugh. The nickname for her grandmother ... my mother.’
    Isabel broke down again, dropped her head onto her exhusband’s shoulder.
    A phone rang somewhere in the house. Isabel went rigid, sprang out of the chair and ran upstairs. Boxer followed, stood in the doorway of the bedroom. She looked at the screen, shook her hand at him and answered it. Boxer went back downstairs to the rare sight of a billionaire slumped and deflated by something beyond his enormous powers of control. D’Cruz dragged the whisky bottle across the table, poured a finger into his glass.
    ‘If you’re happy for me to continue,’ said Boxer. ‘I’ll have to go back and pick up some equipment.’
    ‘She likes you. There’s no problem there,’ said D’Cruz. ‘You’re hired.’
    ‘While I’m away, you should think about where you want me to conduct this operation. From here? A rented flat? A hotel room? Isabel and I are going to have to be in close contact. A kidnapper’s call can come at any time and I have to be on hand to help her with negotiations,’ said Boxer. ‘You should also make up a shortlist of trusted friends who you would be happy to negotiate on your behalf. The first thing we’re going to do is try to take Isabel out of the firing line. The other thing to think about is this kidnapper knowing you and is that relevant to what happened earlier this evening? Is there someone who bears you some intense personal animosity, who would have the resources to conduct a professional kidnapping? Because with the flesh on the bones that Isabel’s just given us, that is what I believe we have here: a highly professional, well thought-out, psychologically directed kidnapping. I’ll be bringing some recording equipment back with me, but nothing that won’t fit in a small suitcase. If Isabel would rather stay here, that’s fine by me. I’ll need a room to set up the computer and the recording equipment and a place for me to sleep, that’s all.’
    ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ said Isabel, from the door. ‘That was Jo, by the way. Apologising. She sends her love, Chico.’
    ‘Bloody, fucking woman,’ said D’Cruz.
    ‘I’ve told her there’s no need for her to come back. I’ll be quite all right with