Strangers (30 page)

The speedometer was flickering around the 120 mark. He eased off. He couldn’t afford to get caught on a speed camera. He couldn’t afford to get picked up by the police, and he couldn’t afford to kill himself driving at ludicrous speeds in the icy rain. Three lives hung in the balance, and he had to get there in time to do something about it.

It was gone midnight. Roisin realized she had been sitting there for over an hour, the papers clutched in her hand. And still there was no sign of Amy. She should be here by now. She checked the phone in case she’d missed a call, but there was nothing. Just for a moment, she thought she smelled cigarette smoke, and wrinkled up her nose in distaste. The window was slightly open at the top, and she got up from the settee and closed it. Someone must have been smoking in the street.

She hadn’t eaten since lunch time. She wasn’t hungry, but she felt strangely light-headed. She went into the kitchen and hunted through the fridge for something she could eat quickly. She was just spreading butter on a slice of bread when she heard a sound. She listened again. It was a soft knock on the door of the flat. Amy. At last. She went quickly down the corridor before Amy could knock more loudly and disturb Adam. ‘Amy?’

The voice was muffled at the other side of the door. If she hadn’t been so tired, she wouldn’t have released the lock. She realized her mistake at once. Her fingers fumbled with the security chain, trying to slot it in, but the opening door knocked it out of her hand. She jammed her shoulder hard against the wood and, for a moment, she thought it was closing, then she staggered back as the door was shoved open, hard.

There were two of them, pushing her back into the flat before she could shout out, grabbing her wrists and spinning her round, squashing her face against the wall.

‘You’re expecting Amy?’ The voice was an angry whisper.

She didn’t answer. She could hear footsteps move along the passageway and she struggled against the hands that were holding her. Adam was in there, sleeping peacefully.

‘She isn’t coming.’ The man who was holding her turned her round, not releasing his grip. His face was hard and his mouth was tight with anger. ‘We finish this,’ he said. ‘Tonight.’

The face was etched in her mind, though she’d only met him once, the night of the party, the night that Joe died. Arshak Nazarian.

She heard a triumphant shout, quickly suppressed, from the other man, and the uncertain wail of a baby. She wrenched herself away from Nazarian and tried to run down the corridor, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. His
hand swung and caught her across the face, and her head snapped back, hitting the wall with a crack. ‘You’re responsible for this,’ he said, his voice low and hard. He looked at her, making sure that she was subdued, then pulled her along the corridor to where the other man was.

She recognized him at once–the driver of the van, the man who had been sitting there, the light of his cigarette glowing in the darkness. He was holding Adam up like some kind of trophy. Adam’s eyes were wide open. Shock and surprise seemed to have silenced him, but she could see his face starting to collapse into misery.

‘He’s frightened,’ she said. ‘You’re frightening him.’

Nazarian was watching her, his eyes narrowed in calculation. ‘Give her the child,’ he said, after a moment. The other man looked uncertain but then reluctantly handed Adam to her. Adam started crying in earnest as she took him, and she held him close, rocking him, trying to steady her breathing so he wouldn’t feel her own terror. Her head was ringing and there was a dull ache in her cheek where Nazarian had hit her.

The other man looked at Nazarian. ‘What now?’

‘Nothing. We have the child. We go.’

‘Her? We can’t risk leaving her.’

Nazarian looked at her. ‘What can she say? Without putting herself behind bars?’

One phrase was lodged in Roisin’s mind:
We have the child
. For some reason, somehow, Nazarian
wanted Mari’s baby. She held the small body close. He was rigid with fear, and his cries were stopping her from thinking clearly. She had to get help.

Nazarian was still watching her with that slightly uncertain calculation. Then he seemed to come to a decision, and spoke to her directly. ‘Roisin, if you want no harm to come to…anyone here, then you will do what I say. You will make the child ready, and then you will let us leave. It will be done quietly so there will be no more upset.’

‘I’m not…’ Roisin shut her mouth on the words. Verbal defiance would do her no good. She had to get them off their guard, find some way of making contact, some way of getting help.

‘Can’t you shut him up?’ The other man had been checking the kitchen and he looked at Adam in irritation as he came out. She could remember the way he’d snatched Adam up out of his cot like a hunter brandishing a trophy, not a living, breathing child.

‘What did you expect him to do?’ she said. ‘He’s frightened and he’s hungry. He won’t quieten down until he’s fed.’

‘We haven’t got time for that. It’ll have to wait.’ The man looked at Nazarian for confirmation, but Nazarian was still watching her with that slightly puzzled frown. He took out his phone and started speaking into it rapidly and urgently. He was speaking in Arabic, and she couldn’t understand what he was saying.

She carried Adam into the kitchen, not waiting to see what the response would be. She was aware of the man’s gaze following her. Once she was in the kitchen, she closed the door and leant against it, her eyes closed. She had no phone in here, the window was tiny and looked out into the air well–there was no chance of escaping and no chance of attracting anyone’s attention. But she needed to be on her own to think. Away from the men, Adam’s cries began to quieten. She rocked him gently, making soothing noises in his ear as she tried to work out what she could do.

They were going to take him. For some reason, some purpose she didn’t understand, they were going to take Mari’s baby. Her hand was shaking as she tried to open the packet of baby milk she’d brought up with her from the flat. Brave resolutions were fine–but she had nothing to fight with. If they took Adam and left her, she could phone the police at once, she could run into the road and get the number of their car, try and see which way they went–but they would know she could do that–
would
do that. So they weren’t going to give her that option. ‘Oh, baby,’ she breathed.

Adam stirred against her shoulder and made a noise of complaint. He could feel her fear. She forced herself back into control. No panicking. Panicking wouldn’t help. Her gaze leapt round the kitchen: the window–too small. The door. It led nowhere, just back into the main room. The knife block…The knife block.

The pictures jumped through her mind in a series of snapshots: her, slipping a knife–the thin, sharp one with the slightly curved blade–into the sleeve of her blouse. Her, carrying Adam into the main room, holding the bottle. Her, putting Adam on the settee, settling him so his face was away from the room, so he wouldn’t see what was going to happen. Her, turning quickly and stabbing the knife deep into Nazarian’s throat as he talked on the phone. Nazarian, falling, as the blood spurted out…

…like Joe.

She couldn’t think about Joe now.

The other man would be prepared, but she’d have a moment when he was taken by surprise. She saw herself pulling the knife out of Nazarian, turning towards the other man, moving forwards as he came to her. And the knife…

Going into him. She’d have to push it into him as hard as she could. Into his stomach. The blade was only six inches long, but six inches was enough.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. She had to take the knife, go through the door, put the baby down, and…kill them both.

And she knew she couldn’t do it. If she had had a knife in her hand when Nazarian hit her, if she’d thought he was about to hit her again, she might have been able to. If she saw them trying to harm Adam, then the move would be
instinctive, but to go out there in cold blood…She couldn’t.

She tucked the knife into her sleeve–she needed a weapon for protection if it came to that, and went back into the other room. Nazarian was still talking on the phone. The other man was pacing up and down, checking his watch, casting anxious glances at his boss. Roisin could feel him watching her as she sat down and offered Adam the bottle. He wasn’t hungry–she knew he wasn’t. He was too aware of the tension around him. Once they noticed him turning his face away, then…Nazarian had said it:
We have the child. We go
.

Nazarian put the phone down. He could see what she was doing. Before he could say anything, she put Adam down on the settee and started unbuttoning the all-in-one sleeper he was wearing. She ignored the men as she unwrapped a clean nappy, moving as slowly as she dared. She could feel the cold touch of the knife blade against her arm. It felt huge and conspicuous, and it also felt small and useless. Her mind went round and round in futile circles. She was running out of time and she had no idea of what to do.

She heard Nazarian’s grunt of interest and looked round. He’d found the papers she’d been reading, the ones that Joe had sent. ‘Those are private,’ she said.

He ignored her and scanned them quickly, then glanced across at her. ‘He was an intelligent man, your husband,’ he said. ‘Please believe that I…’

‘Sir. It’s getting late.’ The other’s man’s tone was deferential, but urgent.

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Don’t worry. Get him organized and we can go.’ He picked up the papers again. ‘What I don’t understand is…’

He was talking to her. She allowed her hands to stop moving as she listened.

‘Come on!’ The other man’s voice was rough and impatient. ‘Get that kid sorted out. Now.’

‘I’m changing him,’ she said. ‘I’m being as quick as I can.’

‘There’s no more time.’

He leaned over and was about to scoop Adam up, when Nazarian said, ‘Wait!’ His gaze had focused on Adam, had frozen as he saw the fair curls that had been released from the hooded garment, and his expression frightened her more than anything that had happened this evening.

Silence filled the room. Nazarian’s gaze moved from Adam to her, then across the room to the other man. ‘Did you know they…concluded the matter in Newcastle?’ he said. ‘Is everyone I employ incompetent?’

The man shook his head. He looked pale.

Adam, picking up the sudden tension in the air, began to cry. Nazarian’s gaze moved back to him. His mouth was set in a thin, angry line. ‘How long have you been caring for this child?’ There was a coldness in his voice now that hadn’t been there before. ‘And keep him quiet.’ It wasn’t a request.

‘You’ve terrified him,’ Roisin said. ‘That’s why he’s crying.’

‘And you will make him stop.
How long have you been caring for this child?’

For the first time, she knew that Nazarian was capable of hurting Adam. It was as if Adam had suddenly changed from something valuable to something that Nazarian no longer had any use for.

She shrank back into the sofa, as if she had been cowed by his voice. It was barely a pretence. She could feel herself shaking. The knife was still tucked up her sleeve, but it felt minuscule in the face of the threat. And if she got it wrong…Before, she’d thought that, if she attacked them and failed, she would die, but Adam would be safe. They would take him, but they wouldn’t hurt him. Now…

She picked up the discarded bottle, remembering a trick the women who lived on the estate where she grew up used to use. She dipped the teat of the bottle into the sugar basin that was standing on the table and pushed it into Adam’s mouth. His face contorted as he took a breath to cry more loudly, then he tasted the sweetness. She waited for a tense moment, but the strange new sensation had diverted him, and there was silence.

‘Not long,’ she said in response to Nazarian’s question. ‘He belongs to the girl downstairs, Mari. Mari had a fall. She broke her leg. I’m looking after him for tonight.’

‘She’s lying,’ the other man said. ‘The Seymour woman was coming here. That’s what she told them. This one went to get the kid. She was expecting her.’

‘Don’t be a fool.’ Nazarian’s voice was level, but his tone was icy, and the other man’s face paled. ‘Have you looked at this child? This is not my grandson! What that bitch told them must be true.
And now they’ve…’ He was breathing deeply, trying to control his fury.

Roisin forced herself to sit calmly and sent up a silent prayer that Adam would stay silent. When Nazarian lost it, he would lash out at the first thing that enraged him. She had seen anger like his before.

Joe
…

Hang on, sweetheart
.

Adam turned his head away and, before she could do anything, he began to howl in earnest. She saw Nazarian’s arm draw back and she crouched down, curling herself round the screaming baby, trying to shield him with her body. She had a sudden memory of a picture she’d seen, a Palestinian man huddled against a wall, pushing his terrified son behind him as the bullets sprayed past, the soldiers firing indifferent to the fate of a child they saw as less than human.

And the child lying dead.

Her free hand fumbled for the knife.

Then someone spoke from the doorway. ‘Enough. That’s enough.’

It was Damien. His face was grey and he looked as though he could barely stand. His eyes were fixed on Nazarian.

The scene in front of Damien seemed a long way away, but at the same time clear-edged and bright: Roisin crouched in the chair, putting herself between the baby in her arms and Nazarian’s raised
fist. Behind her, balanced to move on the instant, a man he recognized as one of Nazarian’s people. A professional fighter. Roisin and the baby she was holding would be dead in a second if that man got his hands on them.

Like Amy.

He watched the faces turn towards him.

‘O’Neill.’ Nazarian’s rage was concealed in an instant. The baby’s crying cut the air, a sharp, compulsive sound.

Damien didn’t have a weapon–there was no point. He couldn’t win a fight. But he didn’t need one. He held up his phone. ‘I’ve texted in names and dates,’ he said. He didn’t need to say more. Nazarian would understand. The numbers were coded in, the message was in the outbox–all he had to do was press one button and the message would go to the Newcastle police, the Met, Interpol and the UK and Saudi embassies. ‘No one knows anything–yet.’

‘Why should we believe that?’ The other man was moving towards Damien.

Nazarian uttered a brusque order, and the man stopped. ‘Because it’s the only way to stop people getting hurt, right, O’Neill?’

‘Amy. Have you forgotten about Amy?’

Nazarian’s eyes moved to Roisin, and back to Damien. His gaze was level. ‘You’re judging me, O’Neill? If she’d been caught in Riyadh, that’s what she would have got.’

‘For what?’

Nazarian’s voice was a whiplash. ‘For kidnapping! My grandchild. My
grandson
. No one hurts my family.’

‘And Yasmin? Your daughter?’

‘She’ll understand.’

Damien’s gaze was fixed on Nazarian’s face. He wanted to find…regret? Guilt? Some recognition of what had happened to Amy. There was nothing. ‘She may not learn what you want her to from this.’

‘All I wanted was the information. I knew Amy had something to do with it. One of my people saw her at the hospital that evening. She was veiled, but the veil slipped and he saw her face. He was curious–why was a Western woman wearing a veil? Why was
that
Western woman wearing a veil? He knew I had a connection with Amy, so he came to me with it. Once I realized she was still in Riyadh, that she hadn’t left, then I knew. OK, they went too far. But it’s the justice of the Kingdom. You kidnap a child, you die. I was just looking out for my own.’

‘Who was there to look out for Amy?’

‘That was never my responsibility.’

Damien stayed in the doorway. He didn’t trust himself to stand without its support. The painful throbbing in his hand had faded to numbness. He hadn’t taken his glove off to look at it since he left Newcastle. There was no point, there wasn’t anything he could do until this was over. Black specks threatened at the corners of his vision. He
wanted to kill Nazarian. He wanted to strangle him with his bare hands and feel the life draining out of him. Instead…‘If you go, now, I’m not going to stop you. After you’ve left, the authorities will get your name. You won’t be able to touch Roisin. And you won’t be able to come back to Europe.’

‘And my grandson?’

‘Do you think he’s still alive? I don’t. Whatever Amy knew…’ He shrugged. ‘It’s gone.’

The silence stretched out. Damien waited for Nazarian to call his bluff. He was by no means as sure of his facts as he pretended. A lot of it was still guesswork. He held Nazarian’s gaze until the other man spoke. ‘Not entirely,’ he said. His voice was thoughtful. He gave Roisin a small bow. ‘I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you, Mrs Massey.’ His manner was cool and courteous, but Damien could see the anger in his eyes. Nazarian gestured with his head towards the other man, and then they were gone.

Damien made himself stand until the door clicked shut behind them, then he managed to walk as far as the settee where he slumped down. The black specks threatened again, and he missed the first part of what Roisin was saying as she jumped to her feet.

‘…their car? Quick! The police might be able…’

He reached out and managed to grip her wrist. ‘Let him go. He’s more dangerous here. They won’t
keep him locked up–he’s too well connected. Amy’s dead because of him. Let him go.’

She was looking at him in shocked disbelief from some distant point at the end of a dark tunnel. ‘Amy? He killed her? And Joe. He killed Joe. I’m not letting him leave.’ The baby’s crying went on and on. As if he was watching her from a great distance, he saw her make a visible effort to calm down as she tried to soothe the frightened child. He wasn’t sure if she would hear what he was saying. He was too far away from her now. ‘He didn’t kill your husband.’

And then the tunnel swallowed him up.