involving a total of three people, the kidnappers and the doorman – four, if Jenny's father was in on it too. And if they'd gone to that much trouble to take her, and to cover up their crime, then there was a very important reason behind their actions. Which meant that, unlike Ramon, there was a possibility Jenny was still alive.
Things were different now, though. The people who'd snatched Jenny had shown me how utterly brutal they were. And how well organized. They'd found me with no trouble at all, and they knew that I'd talked to the police, which meant that if I continued on the path I'd chosen I was going to have to be a lot more careful in my approach. I also needed to make sure that no one else close to me got hurt. Yvonne and Chloe were OK for the next two weeks at least because they were away in Sweden, but Dom might not be.
I drank a glass of water, then called him on the mobile. I had to make sure he was safe, and the only way I could do that was if I stopped him worrying about Jenny.
He was out at dinner with clients, but excused himself so he could take the call. Taking a deep breath, I told him that I'd been drinking very heavily the previous night, that I'd been on medication for depression, and that my imagination had ended up playing tricks on me because I'd heard from Jenny this evening and she was fine.
At first, Dom was furious with me, not only for causing him a night of needless worry but also for getting drunk when I was on prescribed drugs. Eventually, though, he became more sympathetic, asking me how long I'd been depressed for and whether I was getting counselling. Keen to get him off the phone, I answered his questions as best I could, and he told me that we'd get together when he got back and try to sort out my problems. 'You've got to put the past behind you, Rob. Yvonne's gone. Think of the future and don't piss your life away.' I promised him I wouldn't and he signed off by saying that unless I pulled myself together I'd end up dead in a ditch somewhere. Utterly unaware how close that had already come to being a reality.
But at least he'd bought the story.
Now that I'd got rid of the only person who'd actually believed me, I was effectively on my own, and as I was an investment analyst turned writer, not a detective, this meant I needed some expert help.
I was still thinking what I was going to do about this when the landline started ringing. I sat up suddenly and my vision blacked out temporarily, taking several seconds to return. Still feeling pretty awful, I looked at my watch for the first time since Ramon had been killed, surprised to see that it was almost half past midnight. I reached for the receiver.
'Mr Fallon,' said Tina Boyd. 'Have you sobered up yet?'
I almost laughed at the sound of her voice. Even after everything that had happened, Tina Boyd still gave me confidence. But I was also aware that the man who'd come here tonight was no idiot and might have left behind some kind of bug to record any calls I made. It was time to start thinking like them.
I knew from research I'd done for Conspiracy that it was almost impossible for a private individual to bug a mobile, so right then it was my best bet.
'Can I call you back?' I said. 'Five minutes?'
'I'll be waiting,' she said, and cut the connection.
Seventeen
Tina was sitting at her desk drinking her third coffee of the night when Fallon called back.
'Where are you speaking from?' she asked him.
'I'm walking down my street.'
'Is it safe at this time of night?'
'A lot safer than my flat. I had a visit tonight.'
'What happened?'
'One of the kidnappers broke in and threatened me with a knife. He knew I'd been speaking to the police and he was the one who made me call you.'
'Which of them was it?'
'The Irish guy. The one who'd had the plastic surgery.'
'Can you give any further description of him? Something you may not have mentioned last night?'
'He had scarring round his chin. It looked a bit like someone had cut
Things were different now, though. The people who'd snatched Jenny had shown me how utterly brutal they were. And how well organized. They'd found me with no trouble at all, and they knew that I'd talked to the police, which meant that if I continued on the path I'd chosen I was going to have to be a lot more careful in my approach. I also needed to make sure that no one else close to me got hurt. Yvonne and Chloe were OK for the next two weeks at least because they were away in Sweden, but Dom might not be.
I drank a glass of water, then called him on the mobile. I had to make sure he was safe, and the only way I could do that was if I stopped him worrying about Jenny.
He was out at dinner with clients, but excused himself so he could take the call. Taking a deep breath, I told him that I'd been drinking very heavily the previous night, that I'd been on medication for depression, and that my imagination had ended up playing tricks on me because I'd heard from Jenny this evening and she was fine.
At first, Dom was furious with me, not only for causing him a night of needless worry but also for getting drunk when I was on prescribed drugs. Eventually, though, he became more sympathetic, asking me how long I'd been depressed for and whether I was getting counselling. Keen to get him off the phone, I answered his questions as best I could, and he told me that we'd get together when he got back and try to sort out my problems. 'You've got to put the past behind you, Rob. Yvonne's gone. Think of the future and don't piss your life away.' I promised him I wouldn't and he signed off by saying that unless I pulled myself together I'd end up dead in a ditch somewhere. Utterly unaware how close that had already come to being a reality.
But at least he'd bought the story.
Now that I'd got rid of the only person who'd actually believed me, I was effectively on my own, and as I was an investment analyst turned writer, not a detective, this meant I needed some expert help.
I was still thinking what I was going to do about this when the landline started ringing. I sat up suddenly and my vision blacked out temporarily, taking several seconds to return. Still feeling pretty awful, I looked at my watch for the first time since Ramon had been killed, surprised to see that it was almost half past midnight. I reached for the receiver.
'Mr Fallon,' said Tina Boyd. 'Have you sobered up yet?'
I almost laughed at the sound of her voice. Even after everything that had happened, Tina Boyd still gave me confidence. But I was also aware that the man who'd come here tonight was no idiot and might have left behind some kind of bug to record any calls I made. It was time to start thinking like them.
I knew from research I'd done for Conspiracy that it was almost impossible for a private individual to bug a mobile, so right then it was my best bet.
'Can I call you back?' I said. 'Five minutes?'
'I'll be waiting,' she said, and cut the connection.
Seventeen
Tina was sitting at her desk drinking her third coffee of the night when Fallon called back.
'Where are you speaking from?' she asked him.
'I'm walking down my street.'
'Is it safe at this time of night?'
'A lot safer than my flat. I had a visit tonight.'
'What happened?'
'One of the kidnappers broke in and threatened me with a knife. He knew I'd been speaking to the police and he was the one who made me call you.'
'Which of them was it?'
'The Irish guy. The one who'd had the plastic surgery.'
'Can you give any further description of him? Something you may not have mentioned last night?'
'He had scarring round his chin. It looked a bit like someone had cut
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