She gasped as she took a heavy blow round the head that left her ears ringing.
‘How stupid do you think we are?’ jeered the voice. ‘Your account might be watched. And we didn’t risk all this for five hundred stinking Euros or whatever your cash machine will give us. We want cash … jewels. Have you got that?’
‘Yes, yes,’ she said, fighting the dizziness that was overwhelming her. ‘Cash – about ten thousand Euros and five thousand pounds. And the jewellery I’m travelling with, along with my Rolex – that must come to over one hundred thousand Euros.’
There was a pause and then another voice said in a scornful tone, ‘All this for a hundred thousand Euros, Carlo? This is a fucking disaster.’
‘Fuck you!’ roared Carlo. ‘We’re not going to get the twenty million. They would have given it to us by now.’
Just then, a phone rang. Someone answered it hastily, speaking in a language Romily didn’t understand. Then they said, ‘Call the parents. They have the money. Call them now, they want to pay.’
Romily didn’t know whether this was good news or bad. She carried on kneeling, her head bowed, trying to keep quiet and not be noticed.
Carlo strode away, not bothering to close the door behind him. She heard him growl in French but couldn’t make out what was said. Then he returned, marching up to her. He pulled off her blindfold and she was staring up into his face, the face she had once trusted implicitly.
‘Hah!’ he sneered. ‘Seems you’re worth something after all. Mummy and Daddy have found our twenty million. They’re following the delivery instructions right now. If the drop is made successfully, our courier will call us. If the drop is a trap, he won’t. Either way, we’ll know in twenty minutes.’
Romily closed her eyes. Blindness seemed preferable to seeing that contemptuous face in front of her.
Twenty minutes
. She began to send last thoughts out to everyone: her parents, friends, brother, and Mitch.
I’m so sorry, darling. I wish this hadn’t happened. We were going to be so happy. I’ll always love you … always
.
She thought of her death.
Will it hurt? Will it be quick? I hope it’s quick. I don’t want pain
. She began to feel faint but steeled herself.
I can stand it They mustn’t see I’m scared
.
Carlo came close to her. She could feel his body heat radiating through his clothes; smell the bitter cumin-flavoured tang of his sweat. It repelled her. She turned her head and opened her eyes to look at him, hoping that with her gaze she was reminding him that she was a woman he knew, a human being, and she asked him with her eyes how he could contemplate killing her for money.
He stared back but his own eyes were cold and full of hatred. It was as though he didn’t really see her at all.
Then he pulled a gun out of his pocket and pushed the barrel against her head, the cold dark O of the barrel pressing into her temple. In the other hand, he held his telephone. ‘Five more minutes,’ he said in a harsh whisper. ‘Five more minutes for you.’
I will be strong
, she told herself.
I won’t let them see that I’m afraid, or that I want to live
. She stiffened her spine and straightened her shoulders.
‘It will be my pleasure,’ Carlo said, ‘to rid the world of another parasite like you.’
She breathed out slowly and refused to speak, sensing that in the room there was fear and dread to balance out Carlo’s rage-fuelled bloodlust. Someone watching did not like what was going on at all.
Help me
, she prayed.
‘Carlo, do we have to kill her?’ It was Rocco, sounding calm and reasonable. ‘Worse for us if we are caught. If we get the money, let’s just leave her here.’
‘She knows us!’ snarled Carlo.
‘They’ll already guess I’m involved. And that idiot Marco is bound to blab at some point. Everyone will know we did it. But once we’re away, they won’t be able to find us.’
‘I’m going to find Marco and kill him, believe me,’ Carlo
said
. ‘And if all that ties me to this is you … well …’
The gun was taken from her head and the next moment there was a loud explosion. A heavy body hit the ground next to her. Romily opened her eyes and looked down. It was Rocco, blasted through the chest, a huge hole in his back, his face twisted. Blood was rushing from the gaping wound, streaming out all over floor.
‘Now you,’ Carlo said brusquely. The barrel came back to her head. He cocked the gun. She closed her eyes and waited for the explosion. And then it came.
The room erupted in a tornado of sound. She collapsed to the floor, into the warm stickiness of Rocco’s blood.
Am I dead? What’s happening
? she thought, confused. She’d always imagined that when she was shot, the world would turn off instantly, like a radio. But the noise, the raging gunfire, was going on forever. On and on: blasting, shouting, thudding. And then … quiet fell. A couple of muted voices was all she could hear.
Footsteps came running across the concrete floor beside her. Then she was being lifted up in strong arms and held close to a warm body.
‘Romily! Romily, it’s me. Are you OK? Are you OK, baby?’
She opened her eyes to the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. Mitch was looking down into her eyes, his face grey with anxiety, his chin covered in stubble.
If that’s how he looks, I must look terrible!
she thought. And then she laughed at the stupidity of the thought, though it came out a weak, small sound.
‘My darling,’ she said in a croak. ‘You came for me. I’m not dead.’
‘But you’re hurt. You’re covered in blood!’ he said in panic.
‘Not mine. Rocco’s.’ She looked to where her guard lay on the warehouse floor. She could see Carlo’s body a few feet away, also blood-soaked from many wounds.
‘You’re safe, my love.’ Mitch pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her, sinking his face into her hair. ‘I’ve found you. I’m never letting you go again.’
Malik answered the telephone call, then he came dashing out to find Allegra and Imogen, who were waiting in the sitting room, both tense and nervous. They’d seen Mitch and his boys leave in three huge Land Rovers and had known that they were going to get Romily.
‘They’ve got her! She’s fine, she’s fine. They found her in a warehouse in Brixton.’
Imogen and Allegra hugged each other, laughing and crying at the same time.
‘Can we see her?’ asked Allegra, when they were able to speak again.
Malik shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. It’s time for cleanup.’
‘Clean-up? What’s that?’
‘After an operation like this, we have to clean-up, of course. The police were not involved and we’ve got to make sure that there’s no reason for them to be. There are … things to be disposed of. I think you girls should go home and try to act as normal as possible.’
Allegra looked at Imogen and they exchanged glances. Normal? How could they feel normal after all this? They’d been in Mitch’s house for almost twenty-four hours, waiting, wound up to a fever pitch. Life couldn’t just go back to normal, could it?
‘What about Adam?’ asked Allegra. He was still lying sedated in the spare room.
‘He’s part of the clean-up, I’m afraid. We’re going to get him to a surgeon tonight or tomorrow, to get his leg seen to. Then he’ll have it explained to him that it’s in his best interests to forget he was ever here or ever shot.’
‘Will you tell me where he is? I want to be with him if I can,’ Allegra said anxiously.
Malik looked at her sympathetically. ‘Maybe I can stretch the rules, just this once.’
‘It’s the least you can do,’ she replied sardonically, ‘considering you shot him for absolutely no reason.’
Malik shrugged. ‘I was protecting you, in case you’ve forgotten.’ He looked over at Imogen. ‘How about you? Any requests?’
She smiled back and shook her head. ‘Actually I can’t wait to get home. But please – when you see her, give Romily our love. Tell her we want to see her as soon as she’s up to it.’
‘You bet. It’ll be my pleasure.’ Malik looked at his watch. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I need to get clean-up underway. And that includes getting a glazier out to your house, Allegra, to deal with the bullet hole in the front window, so if you wouldn’t mind warning your housekeeper – and making sure she’s going to be discreet – that would be great.’
Allegra raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘It’s the little details that count. See you guys soon, I hope. And give Alex a block to chew from me.’ Malik grinned at Imogen, and headed out of the room.
Chapter 67
Two Weeks Later
ALLEGRA WALKED ALONG
the hall to the impressive rosewood and brass double doors of the Davies Penthouse in Claridge’s. She buzzed and a moment later a uniformed butler opened the door.
She tucked her Hermès Kelly bag back under her elbow and smiled. ‘Lady Allegra McCorquodale here for Miss de Lisle.’
The butler stood aside to let her in and then led her through a magnificent black-and-white hallway to an oak-floored sitting room with French doors leading on to a terrace. The room was a subtle mix of Claridge’s signature Art Deco look and a classic Victorian feel.
The butler announced her in a ringing voice, and then withdrew.
Romily was standing at the black-framed window, looking out on to the terrace. When she heard the announcement of Allegra’s arrival, she turned round. She was wearing a beautiful navy blue dress with white piping around its square neckline. It was body-hugging, emphasising her waist and hips, and she wore white strappy sandals in a thirties style, round-toed with four slender white buckled straps across each foot. Her dark hair was freshly styled into a choppy bob, a fringe ruffled across her
forehead
, and she wore pearl and diamond earrings that glowed richly against her colouring.
Allegra stood very still. For a long minute, they stared at each other. Then Romily held out her arms and, after a moment’s hesitation, Allegra went over to her and they embraced.
They pulled back and looked at each other. Then Romily said slowly, ‘Imogen isn’t coming for another thirty minutes. I thought perhaps we needed to have some time alone first.’
‘Yes. I think that’s a good idea.’ Allegra smoothed down her Lagerfeld pencil skirt, moved gracefully to an armchair and sat down.
‘Wilson will bring us some tea,’ Romily said, taking her place on a small carved sofa next to her. She looked at Allegra and smiled. ‘How are you?’
‘How are
you
?’ Allegra rejoined. ‘After all, you were the one who was kidnapped!’
‘I’m remarkably well,’ Romily said. ‘I feel safe here, right at the top of Claridge’s. I didn’t want to go back to my flat after what happened, and I’m just not very keen on Mitch’s place.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Allegra said jokily. ‘It’s like being stuck inside a leather chess set. And all those down-lighters give me a headache.’
‘I’m sure we’ll find something much nicer,’ Romily said. ‘I shouldn’t have let him go and pick something on his own.’
There was a brief silence. Allegra looked down at the carpet.
Romily began speaking in a gentle voice. ‘First, Allegra, I want to say thank you – because you tried to help Mitch find me.’
‘My help was kind of useless – he would have found you with or without me,’ she said frankly. ‘It was Imogen who provided the real breakthrough when she remembered Marco.’
‘Maybe. But you tried to help. On the very day we bought you out and destroyed your dream.’
‘Mmm.’ Allegra shifted uncomfortably. At last she said, ‘Some things are more important than business.’
Romily leant forward, looking earnest. ‘But for years I’ve been tormented by a question. I’ve asked myself over and over again – why did Allegra betray me? Why did she want to destroy my marriage? Try as I might, I could never think of an answer. After all, we had promised to stick together, no matter what.’
The butler came in with the tea: he placed the pot, teacups, milk jug and sugar carefully on the table between them, followed by the large cake-stand, covered in sandwiches, scones and tiny, perfect cakes.
When he’d gone, Allegra looked up. Her expression was solemn, almost nervous. ‘I’ve never told anyone about this,’ she said at last, in a small voice. ‘But you remember when I came to stay with you in Paris, before I went to Oxford?’
Romily nodded. ‘Of course. It was the last time we were really friends.’
Allegra nodded too. ‘And remember that man … Monsieur Antoine? He was a friend of your parents.’
Romily frowned and then said, ‘Oh, of course. That fat little man. Yes, I remember him. He took you to the Musée d’Orsay.’
‘He didn’t just take me to the museum,’ Allegra said slowly. ‘He took me back to his apartment and … he forced me to have sex with him.’
Romily gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, her eyes horrified. ‘Oh, Allegra, no! No!’
She nodded, her face grim. ‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me? You said nothing!’
Allegra looked away. ‘I couldn’t. You see, he was very clever. He manipulated things in such a way that I felt
completely
to blame. I couldn’t tell
anyone
. I never have until now.’ She looked back, her expression tortured now. ‘But I blamed you for it – because you were ill and couldn’t come to the damn’ museum! I know it was stupid and unfair, but I transferred all the anger I felt towards that horrible little man on to you. I couldn’t bear to think about you, or Paris. It all came to mean the same to me: that terrible afternoon.’
Romily closed her eyes. When she opened them, they glittered with tears. ‘That’s how all this started? Oh my God, Allegra – that’s too sad. Too awful. You were raped!’ She began to sob. ‘And I never noticed, I never even knew! You were our guest and we let that happen to you. No wonder you hated me.’
Allegra reached out a hand to her, her own eyes stinging with tears. ‘No. It wasn’t your fault either. It was that dreadful man’s. I made a mistake. I should have told you – and I should never have blamed you.’
‘And that’s why you let yourself be used to record our conversation …’ Romily said wonderingly.