The Vanishing (23 page)

As she had just reported it to Tom, her father was panicking. She’d never heard him like that before. He had been expecting her off the Eurostar, and had sent people there to get her. Now he told her that there were security problems, that she shouldn’t come to the Surrey place until he could get to her. He had asked her where she was, so that he could arrange something alternative, but she wouldn’t tell him. ‘Just somewhere,’ she had said. ‘Call me when you can, when we can come to you.’ Tom had heard that very clearly. The call had ended abruptly after that.

‘Why not tell him where we are?’ Tom asked at once. ‘We could use his help.’

She stared at him, frowning hard. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, slowly. She seemed confused by her reactions, as if she’d done it without thinking.

‘Call him now. Tell him.’

She shook her head. He frowned at her.

‘Phones aren’t secure,’ she muttered. ‘It’s happened more than once that we’ve had problems – a newspaper did it one time – bugged all our phones. Daddy had to give evidence to an inquiry about it all …’

‘That’s why you wouldn’t say?’

She shook her head again. ‘I don’t know …’

Something else was bothering her. ‘Did he say
anything
about why we couldn’t go to him?’ he asked. ‘Any clue about what he meant?’

‘No. He sounded frightened. As if he wanted to say more, but couldn’t. As if someone might be listening.’

‘The newspapers, you mean?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I had a feeling about it …’

‘So what now? We go somewhere else until he contacts you again?’

‘Yes.’

She was frightened. And confused. He could see that. She had her phone out already and was trying to think of somewhere they could disappear to, someone she could call to arrange it. Wherever it was, they should get there under their own steam, Tom thought. He didn’t like relying on Lastenouse. They needed to be less predictable. The present plan meant that Lastenouse and his staff knew every step of their itinerary.

He felt the phone in his pocket start to buzz. He took it out quickly, standing up from the bed. ‘It’s working,’ he said, amazed. He’d tried to fire up the SIM card several times, without success. He pressed the button and put it to his ear. To his complete surprise the voice he heard was his father’s: ‘Tom? Is that you?’

‘Dad?’ He felt a sudden mix of emotions.

‘This will have to be quick, Tom. I’ve been trying this number for an hour …’

‘How did you get it? Did I give you it?’

‘No. I spoke to Sally …’

‘But she’s in Spain …’

‘They have phones in Spain … listen …’

‘You called Sally in Spain …?’

‘Shut up, son. Listen. There’s an All Ports Alert out for you. You get that?’

Tom closed his mouth.

‘That’s why I’m calling …’

‘Did you say anything to Sally about it?’

‘Obviously not. I’m saying it to you and I don’t want to be on this mobile any longer than I have to be. Just in case. Don’t tell me where you are. Ring on some public landline if you want the detail. Got it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good.’ The line went dead.

He stood in the room, listening to his heart, then turned back to Sara. ‘That was my father,’ he said, feeling stunned.

‘I thought you didn’t speak?’

‘He was warning me. There’s an alert out for me.’ He felt a little surge of pride, unexpectedly, that his father had actually done that, had actually broken the rules, warned him.

‘An alert?’

‘At UK entry points – ports, airports, et cetera.’

‘To do what? Arrest you?’

‘Yes. He didn’t give me any detail other than that. He wanted me to call back on a public phone.’

‘There won’t be any checks here,’ she said. ‘Roland knows the people here. That’s why he brought us this far.’

‘Good. But it’s a bigger problem than that, I think.’

‘Is it? Why do they want you? I mean, why you, and not me?’

‘I don’t know without ringing him back.’

‘So what do we do?’

He moved round the bed and sat down beside her. She immediately reached over and touched his hand. He remembered what they had just done. Suddenly it seemed very far away.

‘I’ve got you into trouble,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. You’ll regret you ever set eyes on me.’

‘I don’t think so,’ he said. He leaned into her and kissed her quickly, on the lips. ‘What we did was just the start of something,’ he whispered. ‘OK? It’s on hold, but we’ll get back there.’

‘Yes,’ she said, putting a hand on his leg. ‘It was a start.’ She smiled half-heartedly.

He took a breath. ‘I’ve been thinking about what’s going on. Your mother died and no one told you. That meant you were on the island when the kidnap attempt went down. If they’d told you about her dying then you wouldn’t have been there at all and it couldn’t have happened.’ She frowned. ‘I’m just joining the dots,’ he continued. ‘I’m thinking that maybe your father tried to tell you, but something intervened. We’ve been acting like the two things are a coincidence. But maybe they’re not. They were saying something about your birthday – the kidnappers. Remember?’ She nodded. ‘So maybe something more complex is going on,’ he said. ‘More complex than a bunch of armed men trying to kidnap you, then –
as it happens
– your mum being dead …’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but I think we need to be more cautious than we have been. Until we really can join the dots. I’m hoping your father will fill in the gaps. There must be a good reason for not telling you about the death – perhaps a security reason. Or maybe he knew something was going to happen, but got the detail wrong. Or – like I said – maybe he tried to tell you and someone interfered. He’s your father, though – so there will be an explanation.’ He paused, thinking through the options. ‘At the end of the day I’m probably going to end up sitting in a police station talking to the police, hoping they’ll believe me. It won’t be the first time. But once you’re with your father you have a world of resources at your disposal. You don’t have to sit around and talk to anyone. Not if it doesn’t look safe, or favourable.’

‘You mean I can just leave you? That’s out of the question. Certainly now, after what just happened. I hope you realise that.’

He nodded.
Depends on the stakes
, he thought. What they had just done had felt like the real thing, like a connection being made. It hadn’t been like that often in his life. Once or twice only. So easy to think there was something special there, the beginning of something that could grow and deepen, if given the chance. Right now, all the time, sitting next to her, he could feel the thrill in his blood still, feel the overpowering need between them, the desire to be closer, to touch each other. But he shouldn’t kid himself. The circumstances were unnatural, their sense of reality stretched to breaking point. They were bound to feel something from that, from what they had survived together. It might be nothing more than fear throwing them together, tricking them. And even if there were more, at the end of the day she lived in a completely different world. What could he
really
expect from her?

‘I have a friend called Alex Renton,’ he said. ‘I’ve known him since I was eight years old. I can trust him. I can call him and he will come and get us, or send someone. He can put us somewhere off radar until your father gets back to you.’

Two hours later they were in the back of someone’s car driving through deserted country roads. Back in England. In a car Tom’s friend had sent for them. Sara sat with her face against the window, her eyes on the dark hedges and silhouettes, her attention completely absorbed by her confusion. She felt Tom touching her arm and looked up. He was at the other side of the long back seat. She had wanted him to be closer as they had got in, had wanted to sit with her head on his shoulder, his arms around her, hugging her, but he had made some sign to her, mouthing something silently, so that the driver didn’t get it, then sat far away from her, as if they weren’t connected at all. Clearly, he didn’t want the driver to know about them, about the link between them. She didn’t know why.

‘You’ll be OK, Sara,’ he said quietly now. ‘It will all be OK.’

She frowned. ‘Where are we?’ The car was slowing, pulling over.

‘I think this is where Alex will come for us.’

‘But where is it?’ She could see only darkness, some bushes and trees.

‘I don’t know. Somewhere on some minor road, on the way up to London. He should be here soon. It’s all OK. This is what Alex arranged. Don’t worry. We can trust him.’

The car stopped. Three years ago, she recalled, she had been at a party in Paris when there was some stupid, massive police raid and everyone ended up in cells on drugs charges, herself included. It was all so silly, but had seemed serious at the time. It was the worst trouble she had ever been in, prior to this. And what had happened? Liz had made some calls and pulled some strings. Within a few hours she was out of there and on her way to the UK. They even cleared the family helicopter to land on the roof of the gendarmerie. That’s what she was used to. If things went wrong she made some calls and people were sent to pull her out. At once. Yet what was happening now was way beyond any previous difficulties and nothing was happening.
Nothing
.

‘Why is my father not sending people to pull me out of this?’ she said, aloud. ‘Why didn’t that happen back in Brussels, when I spoke to him?’ She hadn’t asked him to do that, of course. She’d told him she was about to get the train. But he could have stopped her. He hadn’t even tried. And
why
hadn’t she asked him – why the reluctance to trust him, if that’s what it had been? The same caution had operated to stop her telling him where they were two hours ago. Didn’t she trust her own father?

She ran her hands through her hair, staring out of the window as the driver got out and walked off into the darkness. What Alison Spencer had told her was twisting things in her head –
that
was what was going on. Why else would she keep her location from her father? It was absurd. Until that moment – when he had asked her where she was – their whole plan had been to get to him, rely on him. If she no longer wanted to do that then what was left? There was no one else who could solve this. She
had
to trust her own father.

She felt lost. The man beside her was the only person she felt sure of right now. But she had known him only a few days, so that was absurd. Nevertheless, she should tell him what Alison had said, she thought, tell him before this went any farther. If something went wrong – if something happened to her – then someone else ought to know what this was all about. And there was no one else she
could
tell right now. No one.

It was like she was someone else entirely, someone without money or connections. She was skulking in the darkness by a roadside, waiting for some nobody to help her.
Why?
‘Something is wrong with all this,’ she muttered.

‘That’s an understatement,’ Tom said.

‘My father should have sent people to get me,’ she repeated. ‘Why hasn’t he done that?’

‘Maybe because you wouldn’t tell him where you were,’ he said. She caught the implied criticism in his tone. He pointed through the windscreen. ‘Anyway, it looks like someone is coming now.’ She saw headlights swing around the bend in the road, coming towards them. ‘It will be Alex,’ he said. ‘I’ll get out and speak to him. Explain things. You stay here. Is that OK?’ A car pulled into the space in front of them, its headlights dazzling. ‘It will only take a few minutes,’ he said. ‘Then I’ll be back.’

‘Wait,’ she said. She grabbed his arm. ‘I have to tell you something. I have to tell you now.’

He frowned at her. He wanted to get out, go to his friend. He already had the door open. ‘Can’t you tell me when …?’ he started.

‘No,’ she said. ‘It has to be now. I have to tell you what Alison Spencer told me.’

Outside the car the night was surprisingly warm. Tom stood in the glare of the headlights. He tried to work out what she had just told him might mean. It was more than another piece of information, clearly. More important. She should have told him earlier, he thought, so he could factor it into the decisions they were making. But too late now. Here they were. Here was Alex, walking towards him.

He felt relief as he saw him. Alex would know what to do. This was the world he was at home in – kidnapping, extortion, violence. He would handle it.

Alex was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. He was the same height as Tom, but built much bigger, the T-shirt tight across his biceps and chest. Ever since his teens he had put in about two hours each day working out, pushing weights, building strength. He never tired of trying to get Tom to join him. There was a fully kitted gym in Alex’s basement, but he never used it, preferring a club in Hounslow instead. Attendance at the club, Tom knew, was like a rite of passage. If you were invited then you were in with a set that Tom had never wanted to get closer to – the people who populated Alex’s ‘working’ world. And Glynn Powell, of course, who owned the place. It was an affront to Powell that Alex had repeatedly invited Tom and Tom had repeatedly declined.

Alex’s car was a big American SUV, black with tinted windows. Past the dazzling headlights Tom could see there was at least one other person in there, in the back, plus a driver. Their own driver was already standing by the nearside rear door of Alex’s car, by the window, speaking to whoever was in there.

‘Who did you bring?’ Tom asked. ‘Who’s in there?’

‘Just back-up.’ Alex smiled at him, then put a hand on his arm and led him between the cars. ‘Just in case,’ he added.

‘Thanks for coming, Alex,’ Tom said. ‘I really appreciate it.’

‘No problem. That’s what friends are for – right? Tell me what it’s about, mate. Come over here and brief me.’

They went between the cars, Alex keeping Tom between himself and where Sara was. Tom could see her looking out through the window. As they walked alongside the car her window started to slide down. ‘Tell her to close the window,’ Alex said. ‘I don’t want to see her …’ Then he shouted. ‘
Keep the window closed
.’ Tom was taken by surprise. The window stopped halfway. Tom raised a hand towards her, meant as reassurance, then they were past the car. ‘I thought you were going to take us to your place?’ Tom said. ‘You’ll see her there, so what’s the problem seeing her now? I don’t get it.’