windows pulling up next to them with a squeal of tyres.
Four men jumping out and running up to them.
Four men putting black hoods over their heads and dragging them off.
CHAPTER 12
Darkness.
The vaguely mildewed smell of the cloth enclosing her head. The swerving of the vehicle as it accelerated through the streets of Rome. The noise of the wheels in a paved area. Tape had been tied round her wrists, and any attempt to scream had been frustrated by the gag that held the rough material of the hood over her mouth. Any struggle at all on her part had been put paid to by a voice in a slight foreign accent that had whispered in her ear, ‘Don’t move or your boyfriend dies.’
As confirmation of the threat, Maureen had felt the sharp point of a knife against her throat. She assumed that someone else had said and done the same thing to Connor, and the fear of his fear had filled her with despair, a despair darker than the darkness in which she was imprisoned.
She was motionless and silent throughout the journey. Encouraged by her lack of reaction, the man beside her eased the pressure of the knife after a while. At first, Maureen tried to remain aware of anything that could identify the route they were taking, but the drive had lasted so long, it was pointless trying to memorize any of it.
One thing she had been able to surmise was that, as they were stopping less frequently, they were moving away from the centre of the city. Then, when even these few stops were replaced by a long uninterrupted stretch, she assumed that they had left Rome completely.
At last, the Voyager made an abrupt turn and then came to a complete halt. Maureen heard the doors open, and sturdy arms pulled her up out of her sitting position. The same strong, pitiless arms almost lifted her from the ground as she took a few blind steps. The gag was removed, and then the hood. She breathed in the cool evening air. The first thing that struck her eyes, after all that darkness, were the colours: the red of the earth, the green of the vegetation. Then she saw three cars, arranged in a circle, their headlamps on, surrounding a large area of open ground, with two wide entrances through the bushes on opposite sides. Above, the trees leaned into the middle to form a kind of vault. Right at the top, through an opening, a few faded stars could be glimpsed.
On the opposite side of the circle, Connor was kneeling, his face and shirt soiled with earth. Maureen assumed that the man standing behind him had shoved him to the ground.
Between her and Connor, in the middle of the clearing, stood a man with his back to her.
He was tall and solid, but not fat. His hair was cut very short, and from under the collar of his leather jacket a tattoo rose from his neck towards his right ear like ivy on a wall. He lit a cigarette and Maureen saw the smoke floating in the light of the headlamps.
He stood like that, motionless, for a while, then, as if he had only just remembered that she was there, he turned towards her. He had sharp features and an unkempt beard.
His cold, deep-set eyes were perfectly in keeping with the cruel cut of his mouth. From his left ear hung a strange earring, a stylized cross with a tiny diamond in the middle that glittered in the light as he moved his head, which he kept doing, as if nodding in reply to words that only he could hear. When at last he spoke, he had the same accent as the man who had held a knife to her throat in the Voyager.
‘Well, here we are, Chief Inspector Martini. I hope my friends didn’t mistreat you too much during the trip.’
‘Who are you?’
‘All in good time, Chief Inspector. Or can I call you Maureen?’
‘I repeat, who are you and what do you want?’
The man ignored her question. ‘Do you know where we are?’
‘No.’
‘Strange. I thought you might have recognized the place.’
The man gestured towards one of the entrances to the clearing.
‘A few hundred yards in that direction, a few weeks
Four men jumping out and running up to them.
Four men putting black hoods over their heads and dragging them off.
CHAPTER 12
Darkness.
The vaguely mildewed smell of the cloth enclosing her head. The swerving of the vehicle as it accelerated through the streets of Rome. The noise of the wheels in a paved area. Tape had been tied round her wrists, and any attempt to scream had been frustrated by the gag that held the rough material of the hood over her mouth. Any struggle at all on her part had been put paid to by a voice in a slight foreign accent that had whispered in her ear, ‘Don’t move or your boyfriend dies.’
As confirmation of the threat, Maureen had felt the sharp point of a knife against her throat. She assumed that someone else had said and done the same thing to Connor, and the fear of his fear had filled her with despair, a despair darker than the darkness in which she was imprisoned.
She was motionless and silent throughout the journey. Encouraged by her lack of reaction, the man beside her eased the pressure of the knife after a while. At first, Maureen tried to remain aware of anything that could identify the route they were taking, but the drive had lasted so long, it was pointless trying to memorize any of it.
One thing she had been able to surmise was that, as they were stopping less frequently, they were moving away from the centre of the city. Then, when even these few stops were replaced by a long uninterrupted stretch, she assumed that they had left Rome completely.
At last, the Voyager made an abrupt turn and then came to a complete halt. Maureen heard the doors open, and sturdy arms pulled her up out of her sitting position. The same strong, pitiless arms almost lifted her from the ground as she took a few blind steps. The gag was removed, and then the hood. She breathed in the cool evening air. The first thing that struck her eyes, after all that darkness, were the colours: the red of the earth, the green of the vegetation. Then she saw three cars, arranged in a circle, their headlamps on, surrounding a large area of open ground, with two wide entrances through the bushes on opposite sides. Above, the trees leaned into the middle to form a kind of vault. Right at the top, through an opening, a few faded stars could be glimpsed.
On the opposite side of the circle, Connor was kneeling, his face and shirt soiled with earth. Maureen assumed that the man standing behind him had shoved him to the ground.
Between her and Connor, in the middle of the clearing, stood a man with his back to her.
He was tall and solid, but not fat. His hair was cut very short, and from under the collar of his leather jacket a tattoo rose from his neck towards his right ear like ivy on a wall. He lit a cigarette and Maureen saw the smoke floating in the light of the headlamps.
He stood like that, motionless, for a while, then, as if he had only just remembered that she was there, he turned towards her. He had sharp features and an unkempt beard.
His cold, deep-set eyes were perfectly in keeping with the cruel cut of his mouth. From his left ear hung a strange earring, a stylized cross with a tiny diamond in the middle that glittered in the light as he moved his head, which he kept doing, as if nodding in reply to words that only he could hear. When at last he spoke, he had the same accent as the man who had held a knife to her throat in the Voyager.
‘Well, here we are, Chief Inspector Martini. I hope my friends didn’t mistreat you too much during the trip.’
‘Who are you?’
‘All in good time, Chief Inspector. Or can I call you Maureen?’
‘I repeat, who are you and what do you want?’
The man ignored her question. ‘Do you know where we are?’
‘No.’
‘Strange. I thought you might have recognized the place.’
The man gestured towards one of the entrances to the clearing.
‘A few hundred yards in that direction, a few weeks
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