The Forgotten Holocaust. Scott Mariani

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      Kristen hesitated, as if uncertain what, or how much, to tell him. ‘It’s like I said. Because something else came up.’

      Ben could see the shadow of anxiety, intermingled with excitement, that had entered her face. The nervous light that had come into her eyes was similar to the expression she’d worn earlier when checking her messages. ‘You told me that this research trip had thrown up something unexpected,’ he said. ‘Are we getting to those trade secrets now?’

      She nodded. ‘You see, a few days ago I … I found something.’

      ‘Found something?’

      ‘Yes. Something that changes everything. The reason I’m stopping with the book. If my hunch is right and this comes off, I might never have to write another book again.’

      ‘You didn’t find the leprechauns’ gold, did you?’ Ben said with a dry smile.

      ‘No, I found something very real. Information that nobody else knows, that’s been kept a secret for a very long time. Just stumbled on it in the middle of my research, totally by chance, almost like it was sitting there waiting for me. Something big, and I mean big. I can’t say more than that. No offence.’

      ‘None taken,’ Ben said. ‘But I’m curious. Earlier on you didn’t want to tell me anything at all about your secret. Why tell me this much now?’

      ‘Because of what you told me,’ she said. ‘About how you helped people. People who might be in trouble.’

      ‘I said I used to. What’s the connection?’

      ‘Would you … I mean, would you still …?’

      He looked at her. ‘Go on.’

      ‘Just that … this thing I found out … there’s, well, a potential risk involved. Quite a bit of risk, if I’m honest.’

      ‘How big a risk are we talking about?’

      ‘Let’s just say it stands to upset some people. Some fairly powerful and important people. I might need someone.’

      ‘Someone?’

      ‘You know, like a bodyguard, or something.’

      Ben looked at her. ‘Come on.’

      ‘I’m serious. You said you were at a loose end, so I was just thinking …’

      ‘That you’d hire the services of some guy like me?’

      ‘It crossed my mind.’

      ‘You only just met me.’

      ‘You’ve got an honest face.’

      ‘I was never a bodyguard,’ Ben said. ‘Besides—’

      ‘I understand perfectly,’ Kristen replied, making an effort to look jovial. ‘You’re in between things. Last thing you need is me messing with your life. Forget I mentioned it. Stupid idea.’ She blinked and shook her head. Her unfinished drink was cradled in her lap. ‘Oof. I’ve had a little too much of this stuff. My head’s spinning. Jesus, look at the bottle. We’ve almost polished off the lot.’

      ‘I think that was mostly me,’ Ben said, quite truthfully. ‘Listen, if you need help, I know people in the business. I could make a call.’

      ‘Really?’

      ‘But first you’d have to tell me more about this situation you’re in. You said this has something to do with your research.’

      ‘Let’s just say it’s connected.’

      Ben frowned. His own mind was becoming a little fogged from the Scotch, and he struggled to make full sense of what she was telling him. ‘How does the history of a dead woman stand to cause trouble for you a hundred and fifty years after the fact? Who might be threatening you? Why?’

      Kristen was about to reply when she suddenly seemed to remember something, looked at her watch and let out a sharp gasp. ‘I didn’t realise we’d been talking so long. I’ve absolutely got to make this business call at ten o’clock. Just got time to get back to the guesthouse.’

      Sunday evening seemed to Ben like a funny time to make a business call. ‘Use the phone here, if you like,’ he said.

      ‘Thanks, but …’ Kristen glanced out of the window. It had stopped raining and the sun was shining over the beach in a last orange-gold blaze before it plunged into the horizon and dusk fell. ‘Better if I go back. The call might take a while, and it’s, well, a little delicate. But I’d still like to take you up on that offer, if I can. And I promise I’ll tell you everything. Give me your number. I’ll call you.’

      ‘How about telling me in person tomorrow morning?’ he suggested. ‘Meet me on the flat rock.’

      She sighed. ‘Can’t. Taxi’s coming at seven thirty to take me to the airport.’

      ‘Forget the taxi,’ Ben said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the little lane behind the cottage, where his rented BMW was parked. ‘I’ll drive you. We can talk on the way.’

      Kristen seemed genuinely pleased and relieved. ‘If you’re sure …? It seems like an imposition.’

      ‘It seems important.’

      ‘It’s really kind of you.’ She glanced again at her watch. ‘Shit. I really have to go. I don’t want to miss this call.’

      She got up from the fireside seat and moved towards the nearby table to set down her whisky tumbler. A little unsteady on her feet, she lost balance for a moment and stumbled against the wooden chair over which she’d hung her fleece and her cloth bag. It toppled over. Nearly falling with it, Kristen reached out for Ben’s arm to steady herself, and in the process let her tumbler slip out of her fingers. It fell to the floor and smashed, glass fragments bursting in all directions across the bare floorboards.

      ‘Look what I’ve done,’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’

      ‘Don’t worry about it. My fault.’ Ben bent down and picked up the fallen chair. ‘I don’t think your computer’s damaged.’ But some of her other things had spilled out over the floor. Hairbrush, make-up, perfume. To someone like Ben, who travelled light everywhere he went, the quantity of assorted paraphernalia the average modern woman toted about with her was mystifying. Brooke had somehow always been the exception.

      Kristen was apologetic and flustered as she stooped down to retrieve her fallen things. ‘If you have a dustpan and brush, I’ll clear up the broken glass.’

      ‘Leave it,’ he said. ‘You’d best be heading back. Your phone call, remember?’ He thought she still looked a little unsteady as she stood up again, and reached a hand out to help her. ‘Are you okay? Sure you don’t want me to walk you back?’

      ‘I’m not completely plastered,’ she laughed. ‘I’ll be fine.’

      ‘See you in the morning, then,’ he said. ‘Say seven o’clock, outside СКАЧАТЬ