The Shadow Project. Scott Mariani
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Название: The Shadow Project
Автор: Scott Mariani
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Приключения: прочее
isbn: 9780007358021
isbn:
‘It certainly does.’ She sighed. For an instant she seemed far away, then caught herself. ‘Are you sure we’ve never met?’ she asked suddenly. ‘Quite sure?’
‘Pretty sure. Why?’
She shook her head slowly, as if trying to place him. Her eyes seemed to search his. ‘It’s strange. Somehow I feel that I know you. You seem terribly familiar to me.’
‘I have a good memory for faces,’ he said. ‘If we’d ever met, I would remember.’ He smiled. ‘Now I’d better leave you to your music. I have to get back to my work.’
After he’d finished his rounds of the estate and made all the mental notes he needed, Ben went back to the security team’s quarters. He got there just as lunch was being served. Once he’d checked that Neville had sorted out the Flash-Balls as instructed, he grabbed a ham salad baguette and a bottle of mineral water and went back to his room to eat alone once again.
As he ate, he could hear the laughter of the others over the blare of the TV. He shut the noise out of his thoughts, still angry with himself. When he’d finished eating, he picked up his phone and dialled the number for Le Val. Jeff answered.
‘How are things going?’
‘Not much to report,’ Jeff said. ‘Brooke’s still here, getting ready for her lecture. She thought she might as well hang around.’
‘I ought to be there,’ Ben said glumly. ‘I should be taking care of things.’
‘It’s just a bunch of insurance brokers wanting to be taught about hostage psychology and ransom negotiation techniques,’ Jeff said. ‘Nothing we can’t cope with ourselves. You sit tight and we’ll see you when we see you.’
‘Any word on His Nibs?’
‘Still in hospital. I reckon the bastard’s malingering there. Getting paid for doing fuck all. Private room at our expense, probably ordering champagne round the clock. I tell you, he’s having a whale of a time with this.’
It wasn’t what Ben wanted to hear.
Just after one, the team filed back outside, carrying their clumsy weapons. There was no conversation between them as they made the ten-minute walk to the circular concrete helipad at the west side of the estate.
Ben and the team didn’t have long to wait before the beat of rotor blades crept up in the distance and the two choppers appeared over the tree line. The helicopters drew quickly nearer, until they were hovering right overhead and settling down to land, their downdraught flattening out a wide circle in the lawn surrounding the helipad. Both craft were immaculate, the bright sun gleaming off identical red paintwork and the crisp white graphics of the Steiner company logo on their flanks. With his clothes and hair fluttering in the windstorm, Ben could see the men inside – a pilot and co-pilot for each chopper, all wearing matching red uniforms.
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