No Going Back by Lyndon Stacey Page B

glancing at them and then across at Daniel.
    â€˜Come on,’ he said with a touch of impatience. ‘If it is the right house, the last thing we want is for you to be recognized. You look pretty boyish already with your hair cut short like that, we might as well go the whole hog.’
    She frowned. ‘The whole . . . ?’
    â€˜Hog. Complete the look. Finish the job.’
    Dipping into the bag once more, he produced a navy-blue boiler suit and a bag containing a number of embroidered patches. Getting out of the car, he stepped into the overalls, zipped them up and then slid back behind the wheel.
    Katya had put the hoodie on, its size swamping her slim figure, and was sifting through the patches.
    â€˜What are all these?’
    â€˜These,’ Daniel said, lifting them from her grasp, ‘are my passports to all sorts of places.’
    He could see that she still didn’t understand and picked out one of the patches, fixing it with its Velcro pad to the breast pocket of the overalls. Then, putting on a cockney accent, he said cheerfully, ‘Good afternoon, love. Come to look at your boiler. Doing a spot check on carbon-monoxide emissions. Won’t take a minute and won’t cost you anything. You don’t get much for free these days, do you?’
    Changing the patch for another and his accent for a Scouse one, he said, ‘Afternoon, sir. Telephone engineer. Had reports of an intermittent fault on the line. Have you had any trouble? No? Well, I’ll just take a quick look while I’m here, shall I?
    â€˜That’s a good one because you can lift a few numbers from the caller display if they don’t watch too closely,’ he added. ‘See who’s been ringing them.’
    Katya was frowning again. ‘You’ve done this before.’
    â€˜Once or twice.’
    â€˜I don’t understand. Who are you?’
    â€˜I’m probably your only hope of getting your sister back, if you really won’t tell the police,’ Daniel said, sidestepping the question. ‘Why won’t you? What are you so afraid of?’
    Katya stared at her hands, and after looking at her troubled profile for a long moment, Daniel sighed.
    â€˜All right. Put the cap and shades on and let’s get going. And when we get there, you stay in the car, d’you hear me? Whatever happens. This is just a fact-finding exercise, so don’t get any ideas about launching a one-woman rescue mission, whatever or who ever you might see, OK?’
    Katya nodded, her eyes still downcast, but Daniel wasn’t satisfied. She had a habit of avoiding his gaze when she was lying.
    â€˜Katya, look at me and promise.’
    Her head came up. ‘All right! I promise,’ she said, her manner so much that of a sulky teenager that he was reminded she was only fifteen.
    Daniel made another sortie into the holdall and came up with a grey beanie and a small plastic case from which he took two golden-coloured rings. Moments later, with the aid of the rear-view mirror, he wore one ring in his ear and the other apparently through the left side of his upper lip.
    Katya’s eyes were growing rounder by the minute. ‘Is that . . . ?’
    â€˜The earring is real; the other’s fake, and bloody uncomfortable, too, but facial piercings are great. People can’t take their eyes off them – it’s all they tend to remember.’
    He pushed his hair back off his face and pulled the beanie on low over his eyes, assuming a ‘whatever’ attitude. Putting a stick of chewing gum in his mouth, he turned to Kat.
    â€˜What are you staring at?’ he demanded, and she shook her head in disbelief.
    â€˜I wouldn’t know you!’
    â€˜Well, that’s the general idea,’ he said with a broad wink. ‘Right, we’re ready to go.’
    Swinging the old Mercedes between the gates of Moorside House, Daniel felt a quickening of awareness that was