The Armada Legacy. Scott Mariani

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      Maxwell narrowed his eyes. ‘Who said anything about an eight-figure sum?’

      ‘Let’s not mess about,’ Ben said. ‘I know that your company’s insured for ransom claims of up to twelve million with Rochester and Saunders. And if I know it, rest assured the kidnappers will know it. You’re not dealing with amateurs, that much is clear.’

      ‘Where did you get that information?’ one of the other Neptune executives demanded.

      ‘Ronnie Galloway told me,’ Ben said.

      The executive shook his head in outrage. ‘That little—’ he began. Maxwell quieted him with a stern gesture.

      ‘Which strongly suggests to me that the time for a ransom demand has been and gone,’ Ben went on. ‘Believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do.’

      Maxwell’s brow furrowed into deep creases. He looked at Simon Butler, then at Matt Webster and his colleague from R&S. Butler was chewing his fingernails in agitation. Webster’s face was taut.

      ‘Matt will agree with me,’ Ben said.

      ‘Is that the case, Mr Webster?’

      Webster sighed. ‘It’s getting pretty damn late in the day,’ he admitted. ‘I’d have expected to hear something by now. Frankly, I’m more than a little concerned that every passing hour makes it less likely we’ll hear anything at all.’

      ‘I don’t understand,’ Maxwell said. ‘Where does this leave us? I’d assumed … I mean, if it’s not about ransom … what’s going on?’

      ‘I think you might need to re-evaluate the whole situation,’ Ben said. ‘You might want to consider other reasons why someone would want to snatch your man.’

      ‘Such as?’

      ‘I’d imagine the treasure recovered from the Santa Teresa’s worth a good deal more than twelve million,’ Ben said.

      ‘You’re suggesting what? That they’d use force against Sir Roger to make him give them access?’

      ‘Unless he’s in on it,’ Ben said.

      There was a shocked silence in the room. After a few seconds, Maxwell said, ‘That’s absolutely out of the question and totally impossible. Besides, not even Roger could have access. Every single item recovered from that vessel is under secure lock and key.’

      ‘Then maybe there’s something else,’ Ben said. ‘Something we don’t know about, but which Forsyte does.’

      ‘But that’s just a guess,’ Maxwell said.

      ‘At this moment, guesswork is pretty much all we have,’ Ben replied. ‘All we know for sure is that while we stand around here staring at that phone, whoever did this is somewhere far away, laughing.’

      ‘And?’

      ‘And so it’s going to have to be done the hard way,’ Ben said. ‘They’re going to have to be found, and caught. That was meant to be Hanratty’s job. Whether he’s up to it is another question.’

      ‘I’m not having some outsider come into this investigation to cause trouble and make wild allegations like this,’ Hanratty burst out, pointing at Ben. ‘And you count yourself lucky, Hope, that I don’t charge you with threatening a police officer and obstructing the course of justice. Sergeant, get him out of my sight.’

      Lynch hesitated, but she couldn’t refuse a direct order from her superior. She stepped towards Ben with a veiled look of apology in her eyes.

      ‘Hold on,’ Maxwell said. ‘This property is under lease to Neptune Marine Exploration. It’s not a crime scene and I don’t think you have the authority to expel anyone, Inspector. Mr Hope is welcome to stay and I appreciate any help he can offer us in this terrible situation.’ He looked at Ben. ‘Mr Hope, I’d be extremely grateful if you’d allow me to formally enlist your services.’

      Ben shook his head. ‘Thanks, but I’m not interested in being on your company payroll. Like I told you, I’m here for my own reasons.’

      Maxwell shrugged. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Here’s my number, in case you change your mind.’

      Ben pocketed the card. ‘No need to see me out, Sergeant,’ he said to Lynch. ‘I was leaving anyway.’

      ‘What are we going to do now?’ Amal asked as they headed back towards the car.

      ‘I don’t know, Amal,’ Ben said. ‘Right now, I really don’t know what to do.’

       Chapter Twelve

      There was nothing more to say on the drive back to the guesthouse. When they arrived, Ben took his bag from the back seat of the car and followed Amal up the steps to the door. Amal had gone very quiet and was visibly upset as he let them inside. Mrs Sheenan was nowhere to be seen, but there was a TV blasting from somewhere upstairs. Ben was grateful not to have to speak to anyone.

      Amal led him to the first floor, showed him Brooke’s room and announced in a shaky murmur that he needed to be alone for a while. Shuffling like an old man, he disappeared into his own room.

      Ben stood for a long time outside Brooke’s door before he eventually reached out and grasped the handle. He slowly opened the door, summoned up his strength and walked in.

      She had never been one to wear a lot of perfume, but the subtle, fresh scent in the air was so familiar that for a weird, disorientated moment or two he fully expected to find her sitting there on the bed. She wasn’t.

      Of course she wasn’t. Sickening reality closed back in on him. He shut the door, feeling numb and utterly deflated and more tired than he could remember having felt for many, many years.

       Where are you, Brooke?

      He wanted to scream it, but at that moment he would barely have had the energy to raise his voice above a whisper.

      He unslung his bag from his shoulder and laid it down with his leather jacket, then gazed around him at the room. Brooke’s travel holdall was sitting next to an armchair, unzipped. The slender reading glasses she sometimes wore at night, and a novel by an author he knew she liked, were sitting on the bedside table. Lying neatly folded on the pillow were the lightweight jogging bottoms she wore in bed, along with her favourite faded old pyjama top.

      They suddenly seemed so much more a part of her now that she wasn’t here. He reached down and stroked them with his fingertips. Closed his eyes a moment, then moved away from the bed and walked into her little ensuite bathroom. On the tiled surface by the sink were some of her things that the police hadn’t taken away: her wash bag, her little jar of face cream, and several other of those familiar little items he remembered seeing in the bathroom at Le Val and at her place in Richmond, that signalled the warmth of her presence close by and made him feel happy to be alive.

      Now there was only emptiness.

      He СКАЧАТЬ