As for why Brookes sister should have suddenly landed on his doorstep out of the blue, however, Ben was at a total loss. He said, Theres no need to be nervous.
I hope I havent turned up at a bad time. Its just well, its
Not at all, he said, still baffled, then realised that he was keeping her standing on the doorstep. Please, wont you come inside.
He ushered her in the door, catching a whiff of perfume as she passed. Whatever brand the fashionable rich were wearing these days. Ben knew little of these things.
As Ben escorted his visitor up the hallway, Jeff stuck his head through the kitchen door to see what was what, and looked bewildered by the sight of the strange woman in the house. Ben gave him a look that said, Its okay, Ive got it. Jeff retreated back inside and shut the door.
Ben led Phoebe Kite towards the living room. It was a part of the house where he spent little time personally, preferring the cosiness of the farmhouse kitchen and its proximity to the wine rack and whisky cupboard. But he sensed that she wanted to talk to him in private. The presence of two other men, especially a slightly inebriated Jeff Dekker, would only make her more edgy. He could feel the tension emanating from her, like a crackle of static electricity in the air.
This is nice, she said distractedly as he showed her into the room and flipped on a light switch.
Please, take a seat, he said, motioning at the sofa he never sat on, opposite the big-screen TV he never watched. Idle relaxation wasnt a big part of his lifestyle. Can I offer you a drink?
Under the soft lighting of the living room side lamps, she looked more uncannily like her sister than ever. She perched on the edge of the sofa, eyes downcast, knees and feet together with her hands clasped in her lap and the handbag still looped over her shoulder. Uptight.
She replied, No, thank you, Im fine.
What about your taxi outside? You want me to send him away? Wherever it is you have to return to tonight, Im happy to drive you there myself.
She made a thin-lipped smile. Thats very kind. But he can wait.
Whatever you prefer. Ben moved across to an armchair and sat, so as not to stand over her. Back when hed worked as a freelancer hed been used to dealing with a lot of extremely, and understandably, nervous clients. He was good at putting them at their ease. He smiled. In his most reassuring tone he said, Now, youve clearly come a long way to see me, so I get the impression it must be for an important reason.
She nodded. It is. Terribly important.
Then how about you tell me what this is all about?
Phoebe Kite looked up at him, and for the first time he could see the depth of the distress in her eyes. Green eyes, pure emerald, so much like Brookes that it was almost painful for Ben to return her gaze.
Phoebe Kite said, I need your help.
When people said that to Ben, it was never a trivial request. In his line of work, it had always tended to mean that something very, very serious and life-threatening had happened.
I gathered as much. Then what can I do for you?
She shifted in her seat. Covered her mouth and gave a little cough. Or perhaps I should say, we need your help.
We? As in, you and your husband Marshall?
No, Im fine, she said. Marshalls well, hes Marshall. Hes always embroiled in some business dispute or other. But were not in any real trouble. Not your kind of trouble. Sorry, that came out wrong. I meant
I understand. Its okay. But tell me, if this isnt about you
Its about Brooke, she said in a voice taut with emotion, and Ben felt an icy blade sink all the way through his guts and pin him to the armchair.
Somethings happened to Brooke? When he said it, the words sounded remote and far away, as though someone else had spoken them. He was suddenly numb.
Phoebe nodded agitatedly and started chewing her lip. Her hands were clasped so tightly in her lap that her fingers were pinched bloodless and white. Yes. No. I mean, sort of.
Ben stared at her and said, Sort of what?
What Im trying to say is that something awful has happened. Not to Brooke personally. To her husband.
Chapter 4
The mixed emotions that flooded through Ben were polarised to opposite extremes. At the same time as the relief melted away the acute terror of something having happened to Brooke, Phoebes words were a slap in the face that actually made him flinch.
Brooke, married. Even though their relationship had ended a long time ago now, the idea of it was like being whipped by nettles.
The involuntary thought passed through his mind: Please dont let it be Rupert Shannon. Long before she and Ben had got together, Brooke had had a brief involvement with the pumped-up, Porsche-driving, self-adoring buffoon whod managed to push himself up the ranks of the British military thanks to lofty family connections.
If she was back with him, there truly was no God after all.
On the other hand, if something nasty had befallen Rupert Shannon, maybe there was a God, and it was time for Ben to start praying to Him again.
Ben shoved that unworthy thought out of his mind, swallowed hard and said, I didnt know she was married.
Phoebe nodded. Oh, yes, for a while now. I think you know her husband. Amal Ray?
Ben remembered Amal well. Hed been a friend and former neighbour of Brookes, dating back to when shed had an apartment in Richmond, Surrey. Amal had been an aspiring playwright who somehow seemed able to maintain a leisured lifestyle, despite having no job and zero theatrical successes to his name. He was likeable in a neurotic sort of way, bookish and nervy, the kind of guy who looked as though he was rushing around even when he was standing still. Ben had always suspected that Amal harboured a secret admiration for Brooke that went beyond the bounds of friendship, though hed never have imagined it could be reciprocal. He seemed like the last man on earth shed be drawn to. Brooke, so full of passion, who loved excitement, thrived on the thrill of the challenge and could handle herself in a difficult spot. He couldnt imagine two people more different. The idea of them together was unthinkable.
But Ben wasnt about to let his deeply hurt personal feelings stand in the way of his concern for a friend in trouble. What happened?
Amals been kidnapped.
Kidnapped? Ben was genuinely amazed. The idea of innocent people being snatched off the streets or from their homes was hardly anything new to him. For years after quitting the military, hed worked on the right side of the booming kidnap and ransom industry, liberating victims and dispensing to the bad guys the fate they had coming. He, of all people, knew how widespread and pernicious the abduction trade was.
But the thought of Amal Ray falling victim to it seemed crazy. The guy fitted the profile of a kidnap victim about as well as he filled the bill as a potential life partner for a woman like Brooke.
Phoebe nodded. Thats why Im here. Because thats what you do, isnt it? Help people in that sort of situation?
Ben could have replied, Used to do. Instead he asked, When did this happen?
Ben could have replied, Used to do. Instead he asked, When did this happen?
Eight days ago.
Where, in London?
No, in India. Thats where hes from.
He moved back there? Brooke, living the married life in India. It was hard to imagine.
No, they still live in London. Amal was on a trip back to Delhi when it happened.
Okay, Ben said. Whats the deal? How much are the kidnappers asking for?
Identifying the motive for the crime, which ninety-nine per cent of the time was financial, was a vital first step. It also offered a reasonable indication that the kidnappers intended to keep their victim alive, at least until they got their hands on the cash. After that, it could go in all kinds of ways. Extremely unpleasant ones, for the victims and their loved ones.
Theyre not, she said.
Ben looked at her. You mean theres been no ransom demand? Not a letter, or a phone call, or an email, in eight days?
She shook her head. No contact at all. Nothing.
Ben pursed his lips, thinking hard. This wasnt just unusual. It was bad. Even worse than the typical kidnap situation. Because it deviated from the set pattern. The longer kidnappers held their victims, the higher the risk of being caught. Plus, they werent interested in playing nursemaid. They were only in it for quick gains. Hence, things tended to move quickly, with the first ransom demand being issued within twenty-four hours, often less. If families paid up too readily, the first demand was invariably followed by a second, bleeding them for more.
But no ransom demand at all was weird. Ben paused a moment then said, So we dont even know why Amal was taken, let alone by whom?
She shook her head again. No, hes simply vanished. Just like Kabir.
Kabir?
Thats right, she said. Hes disappeared, too. Three weeks ago. It all started with him.
I think youd better explain. Im not following.
Phoebe sighed. Im sorry. Its all so complicated that I can barely keep up with it myself. Kabir is Kabir Ray. Amals younger brother, an archaeologist in Delhi.
And Kabir was kidnapped too?
Not exactly. He and two of his work colleagues were attacked. It happened in some remote part of India, miles and miles from anywhere. His colleagues were shot dead.
This was sounding more serious now, and getting stranger by the second. Ben had a hundred questions, but kept quiet and let her go on.
Phoebe said, The local police there think Kabir was killed along with them, but there was no sign of his body, only theirs. After days and days of frantically worrying and hearing nothing new, Amal flew out there himself to try to find out what had happened to his brother talk to the police, piece together clues or whatever. Next thing, this dreadful kidnapping. A gang of masked men snatched him right off the street and bundled him into a van. Brooke was with him. It happened right in front of her. Poor Brooke. Poor Amal.
Ben felt his stomach fill with butterflies. Was Brooke hurt?
No, but its so awful. Phoebe plucked a tissue from her pocket and started dabbing at her eyes, which had turned pink and begun streaming tears as she talked. I dont know what to make of it. Im at my wits end. Mr Hope
You can call me Ben.
She sniffed, nodded. Ben please say youll help her find out who did this and bring Amal back to her safe and sound. Shes in a terrible state.
Ben was trying to make sense of all this. A kidnapping with no ransom demand. A deadly shooting in another part of the country. He was thinking reprisals, enemies, someone with a grudge against the family. Or had the brothers been into something that put them in danger?
He asked, Do the police see the two disappearances as connected?
As far as I know, no. They seem to think bandits were responsible for what happened to Kabir and his friends. That part of India is crawling with them, apparently. But not Delhi. I mean, its a modern, safe city. Like London.
Ben looked at her and wondered how anyone could be so disconnected from reality. He said, So as far as the authorities are concerned, these are two separate, coincidental events.
She nodded. Thats what Mr Prajapati seems to believe, too.
Whos Mr Prajapati?
Hes supposedly the best private investigator in the capital. Brooke employed him to help search for Amal. She doesnt think the police are doing enough.
I see.
Phoebe gazed at him imploringly with her wet, bruised-looking eyes. Im begging you. After all shes told me about you in the past, your military background, your experience with kidnapped children, the amazing things youve done for so many people, I know that if anyone can find out whos behind this horrible thing and bring Amal back home, its you.
Chapter 5
Ben leaned back and thought about it for a minute. His past history, both before and after hed quit the regiment to go freelance, wasnt a subject for open discussion. SAS guys were famously, and justifiably, cagey in the extreme. Partly out of pure habit, partly because they were strictly bound by the Official Secrets Act, and partly to protect themselves and their families from being targeted for reprisal attacks. He didnt like the things hed done being talked about. But he also knew that Brooke was discreet and would have revealed only the broadest outline of the facts to her sister.
He said, Let me get this straight. Youre here by your own volition? Brooke didnt send you?
She appeared flustered by his question. I no it was my idea. She doesnt know Im here. I googled your name and found the Le Val Tactical Training Centre online.
You could have saved yourself a trip. We do have email, telephones, all the trappings of modern-day communication technology.
Phoebes cheeks flushed red and her gaze dropped towards her lap. I was afraid you wouldnt speak to me. I I thought that if I met you face to face, I might have a better chance of getting you to agree to help. Will you?
Help, as in, fly out to India?
She nodded, her face brightening with renewed optimism. Theres a direct flight from Charles de Gaulle in Paris tonight at eleven.
He stared at her as if she were crazy. Youre taking a lot for granted, Mrs Kite. Even if I said yes, Paris is more than a three-hour drive from here. Id have to down tools and leave right away.
I know its a lot to ask, she said. But Brooke would be so grateful. Shes still out there, staying at the Ray family home, isolated in a strange country and having to deal with this nightmare basically all alone.
Theres also the matter of applying for a travel visa. I wasnt actually planning on taking a trip to India any time soon. It could take days to get the paperwork sorted.
Phoebe brushed that concern aside. I dont think you would need to worry about the red tape. The Rays are an important business family with a lot of money and all the right diplomatic connections to get you into the country, no questions asked.
I see. So lets say I agreed. What would I be doing exactly? Working alongside this Mr Prajapati character, the best private detective in Delhi, who seems to have sussed the whole thing out already? How does he feel about the arrangement? Does he even know hes being allocated a new assistant?