towards her, whispered in her ear.
“I promised, didn’t I, sweetie?” Simone said as the bus came to a stop. She twisted in her seat as the bus slowed, and said casually over her shoulder, “We’ll get off here, Charlie. Ella wants a walk in the park.” And before I had a chance to object, they were on their feet and moving towards the doorway.
I hurried after them, trying to clamp down on my irritation. I had time briefly to wonder what part of the possibility of the increased danger Simone and I had discussed the night before she was having difficulty taking on board.
Boston Common was surprisingly quiet. Apart from the skaters on the frozen Frog Pond, who were all progressing in a slow clockwise crawl, I think the squirrels outnumbered the people. Ella quickly wore the novelty out of the huge white carpet that covered the grass, and it wasn’t until her mother suggested building a snowman that she perked up.
Ella was an enthusiastic but not very scientific snowman builder. Si-mone ended up being the one who scooped together enough snow to make a rounded body, while Ella ran round chucking wild fistfuls of the stuff at both of us and shrieking whenever she thought we were going to retaliate.
Simone just grinned at her and flicked me a reproachful little side ways look, as if to say,
How could you want to deprive her of this?
I picked up a handful of snow myself and molded it absently into a ball, but apart from dodging Ella’s less inaccurate throws, I didn’t join in the fun and games. Boston Common was open enough for nobody to be able to creep up on us without my being aware of it, but we seemed a long way from the surrounding streets and any passersby who might help to deter any attempt as well. Neagley’s warning went round and round in my head. Why hadn’t anyone asked more questions right from the start about Simone’s mystery father?
Without any activity to keep my circulation going, it was bitterly cold. I was glad I had a hat pulled down over my ears, but my cheeks were going numb. I huddled down farther inside my coat and tried not to shiver as I did yet another sweep of the area surrounding us, as I’d been doing every minute or so since we’d got off the trolleybus, without spotting anything that set any alarm bells ringing.
This time, though, there was a man walking along one of the pathways towards us. A big guy in a tweed flat hat and a three-quarter-length tweed coat, unbuttoned. It was too cold to be wearing a coat that way and I didn’t like the way his eyes never shifted away from Simone and Ella as he moved. Surely Tweed had seen a kid and her mother building a snowman before? I checked around me, looking for a second prong before I edged sideways so I was directly in his line of sight, blocking his view of my principals.
Not for the first time, I missed the weight of a 9mm SIG SAUER P226 on my hip. There were a lot of countries around the world where accredited UK bodyguards were allowed to carry a concealed weapon while they were on the job. The U.S., sadly, wasn’t one of them.
Tweed flicked his gaze onto me. Our eyes held for a second, and it was
only
then that I realized where I’d seen him before. It was the man from the Aquarium who’d lured Simone away from her daughter and me by the sea lion enclosure.
A nice, normal guy, huh?
I wheeled away and scooped up Ella, ignoring her wail of protest.
“We’re leaving,” I said sharply to Simone. She had just finished rolling a snowball the size of a watermelon for the snowman’s head and was halfway through lifting it onto the larger sphere of his body. She gave me a startled look but must have caught enough of what was in my face to quell any arguments she’d been about to make. She dropped the snowman’s head, which broke in two on the frozen earth. I thrust Ella into her arms and hurried the pair of them back towards Beacon Hill, which ran along the north side of the Common.
“What?” Simone demanded, breathless,
“I promised, didn’t I, sweetie?” Simone said as the bus came to a stop. She twisted in her seat as the bus slowed, and said casually over her shoulder, “We’ll get off here, Charlie. Ella wants a walk in the park.” And before I had a chance to object, they were on their feet and moving towards the doorway.
I hurried after them, trying to clamp down on my irritation. I had time briefly to wonder what part of the possibility of the increased danger Simone and I had discussed the night before she was having difficulty taking on board.
Boston Common was surprisingly quiet. Apart from the skaters on the frozen Frog Pond, who were all progressing in a slow clockwise crawl, I think the squirrels outnumbered the people. Ella quickly wore the novelty out of the huge white carpet that covered the grass, and it wasn’t until her mother suggested building a snowman that she perked up.
Ella was an enthusiastic but not very scientific snowman builder. Si-mone ended up being the one who scooped together enough snow to make a rounded body, while Ella ran round chucking wild fistfuls of the stuff at both of us and shrieking whenever she thought we were going to retaliate.
Simone just grinned at her and flicked me a reproachful little side ways look, as if to say,
How could you want to deprive her of this?
I picked up a handful of snow myself and molded it absently into a ball, but apart from dodging Ella’s less inaccurate throws, I didn’t join in the fun and games. Boston Common was open enough for nobody to be able to creep up on us without my being aware of it, but we seemed a long way from the surrounding streets and any passersby who might help to deter any attempt as well. Neagley’s warning went round and round in my head. Why hadn’t anyone asked more questions right from the start about Simone’s mystery father?
Without any activity to keep my circulation going, it was bitterly cold. I was glad I had a hat pulled down over my ears, but my cheeks were going numb. I huddled down farther inside my coat and tried not to shiver as I did yet another sweep of the area surrounding us, as I’d been doing every minute or so since we’d got off the trolleybus, without spotting anything that set any alarm bells ringing.
This time, though, there was a man walking along one of the pathways towards us. A big guy in a tweed flat hat and a three-quarter-length tweed coat, unbuttoned. It was too cold to be wearing a coat that way and I didn’t like the way his eyes never shifted away from Simone and Ella as he moved. Surely Tweed had seen a kid and her mother building a snowman before? I checked around me, looking for a second prong before I edged sideways so I was directly in his line of sight, blocking his view of my principals.
Not for the first time, I missed the weight of a 9mm SIG SAUER P226 on my hip. There were a lot of countries around the world where accredited UK bodyguards were allowed to carry a concealed weapon while they were on the job. The U.S., sadly, wasn’t one of them.
Tweed flicked his gaze onto me. Our eyes held for a second, and it was
only
then that I realized where I’d seen him before. It was the man from the Aquarium who’d lured Simone away from her daughter and me by the sea lion enclosure.
A nice, normal guy, huh?
I wheeled away and scooped up Ella, ignoring her wail of protest.
“We’re leaving,” I said sharply to Simone. She had just finished rolling a snowball the size of a watermelon for the snowman’s head and was halfway through lifting it onto the larger sphere of his body. She gave me a startled look but must have caught enough of what was in my face to quell any arguments she’d been about to make. She dropped the snowman’s head, which broke in two on the frozen earth. I thrust Ella into her arms and hurried the pair of them back towards Beacon Hill, which ran along the north side of the Common.
“What?” Simone demanded, breathless,
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