‘Why don’t you just tell Ben the way you feel about him?’
She shook her head.
‘We’re all grown ups. What’s the worst that can happen?’
‘That I’d lose his friendship, scare him away,’ she said. ‘I’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all. You can’t force someone to love you.’
Jeff raised his eyebrows. ‘Whoa. Did you just use the L-word?’
Brooke closed her eyes and sank her head into her hands.
‘You’re actually in love with him?’
‘For a long time,’ she muttered, not looking up.
‘Shit.’
‘Don’t I know it.’
‘I didn’t think it was that serious. I thought it was just – you know.’
‘It wasn’t always. But after a while I realised I wasn’t just flirting with him.’
Jeff looked confused. ‘So wait a minute. You’re in love with Ben … but you’re going out with Shannon?’
‘Don’t go there, Jeff, all right?’
He shrugged. ‘I think it’s great, though. You and Ben. I can see it. Really.’
‘Apart from the fact that he doesn’t seem to know I even exist.’
‘You’ve got that all wrong. He loves spending time with you. I can always see he’s looking forward to your visits. He really likes you.’
‘But not in that way.’
Jeff didn’t reply.
She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘What a situation. Here we are in the hospital because my boyfriend’s been injured and I’m more concerned about the guy who put him there. I shouldn’t even have come with Rupert. I just wanted to see Ben.’ She sighed.
Jeff paused a moment. ‘I think Ben cares for you a lot more than you think. He just doesn’t know it yet, because that’s the kind of guy he is. But one day he’s going to wake up and see it.’
‘You’re not going to say anything, are you?’
‘Would I?’
‘You’d better swear to that, Jeff Dekker. One word and—’
Brooke was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the vinyl floor of the corridor. She and Jeff turned to see the doctor walking towards them. Brooke stood up, looking at him with a mixture of expectation and worry.
The doctor smiled. ‘No need for alarm,’ he said. ‘There’s no serious damage.’
‘But he must be in a lot of pain, yeah?’ Jeff asked hopefully, smiling back.
The doctor rubbed his chin pensively, glanced down at his clipboard and spent the next minute or so gravely reeling off a long list of medical terminology.
‘Ben did all that to him?’ Jeff said, eyes wide.
‘Monsieur Shannon is also complaining about severe back pain, and although there’s nothing showing up in the X-ray, it would be prudent to keep him under observation for a few days.’
‘Are you saying he can start work again soon?’ Brooke asked.
The doctor shook his head. ‘Certainly not. Complete rest will be essential for at least three weeks.’
‘Shit,’ Jeff said to Brooke as the doctor walked away. ‘There goes Switzerland,’ she muttered. ‘I was afraid of that.’
‘Guess we’d better go and break the news to Ben.’
‘You go. I ought to stay here with Rupert. It’s probably for the best.’
Adam sat on the edge of an armchair in the living room at Teach na Loch, head in hands. He reached out for the tumbler in front of him and knocked back the inch of Bushmills malt that was still in it, then grabbed the bottle and swilled some more into it. His head was spinning with shock, the taste of vomit still on his lips from when he’d thrown up earlier on. He’d thought he was never going to stop.
Now he just felt numb. It was unreal. Lenny Salt had been right. The old weirdo hadn’t imagined it after all.
The kidnappers’ instructions had been simple. He was to get all his Kammler material together and get on a flight to Graz. He checked the atlas: it was in Austria, near the Hungarian border. They’d given him the name of a hotel in the city, where a reservation had been made for him, and he was to check in there no later than 10 p.m., local time, the following evening. The orders were to sit in his room, speak to no one, and wait to be contacted.
Adam suddenly felt hot tears welling up out of his eyes. He thought of Rory. What were they doing to him? Where was he? Would he ever see him again? He could imagine the look of terror on the boy’s face when they took him, could hear his screams of protest.
If only Salt hadn’t turned up at the presentation. I’d have been here. I could have done something.
A thought suddenly crossed his mind. Had Salt had something to do with it? Had he been deliberately planted there to delay him?
He stood up from the armchair, unsteady on his feet. Walked over to the bookcase across the room and picked up the framed black and white photo of Rory. Sabrina had taken that one, just after he’d turned twelve. They’d gone to London for a weekend and visited her photography studio there. It was such a beautiful shot of the kid. He was smiling and looked so happy in it. Sabrina had a giant blow-up of the same picture on her studio wall. Adam knew his younger sister doted on her nephew – he was the only real reason they stayed in touch.
Sabrina. What was he going to tell her when she got here? Adam glanced at his watch and winced. Any time now. His hand was trembling as he replaced the picture frame on the bookcase. Another acid lurch in his throat, and he turned and stumbled towards the downstairs bathroom.
He was bent over the toilet bowl, retching vomit and whiskey, when a smooth female electronic voice announced through the hidden speakers: ‘You have a visitor.’
Sabrina Connor paid the taxi driver, got her bags from the back and watched as the car turned and disappeared out of the gates. She looked up at the house, shielded her eyes from the bright afternoon sunshine, and smiled. She was looking forward to this break. Seven whole days away from London, the hustle and humidity and bad air, her capricious celebrity clients. Perfect. And it was great to be able to spend some time with Rory – she hadn’t seen him since Christmas. This time she might actually beat the little smartass at chess.
The door opened. Adam stepped out to greet her. When he came up and hugged her, it was more tightly than usual. She could smell the sharp tang of mouthwash on him, and when she broke the embrace and looked up at her elder brother, she could see his eyes were a little pink.
‘You changed your hair again,’ he said.
She ran her fingers through the spiky red highlights. ‘I like it like this. You OK? You look a little wired.’
‘I’m fine. Just working hard.’ He smiled weakly. ‘Come inside. It’s good to see you. Want a drink?’ He picked up her bags and ushered her inside.
‘Coffee would be great. Oh, here. I got you something.’ She unzipped one of her bags and took out a little package. ‘Happy birthday. Forty-five.’
He took it. ‘Forty-six. And it was nearly two months ago.’
‘What a close-knit little