Fifth Victim

discreet level of security. There were plenty of guys on his books who really did look like they could drag their knuckles, and they had their time and place.

‘But …’ She paused, face clearing. ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that. You’re right, of course – this will be much more fun.’

Less like having a babysitter, you mean.

She flicked me another sideways glance as she played water over the horse’s tendons. ‘So, are you … armed? Right now?’

The weight of the 9 mm SIG sat neat and snug in its Kramer holster at the small of my back, but the wool suit had been carefully tailored to mask the outline of the gun. I smiled blandly. ‘If I did happen to be carrying concealed,’ I said, ‘and I told anyone about it, then technically it wouldn’t be concealed anymore.’

‘Ah … I suppose not.’ The horse shifted again, bored now with this game. Dina shut off the water and let the hose reel wind back in. I obligingly held the gate open and the pair of them went through, Dina walking by the horse’s shoulder. They both had a long purposeful stride.

Inside the gate was a pleasant shady courtyard containing the horse barn. It was a building about the size of a small bungalow, with a sliding door at one end and far enough from the house not to bother either set of occupants with noise or smells. When Dina opened the door, the air-conditioned gloom revealed a row of ornately constructed loose boxes down one side. Even the horses over here were spoilt rotten.

‘You’re not offended that I asked, I hope,’ Dina said over her shoulder as she led the white horse into the nearest stable, pivoting him round to unsaddle him. I stood in the open doorway and watched her deft movements, impressed as much by the fact that she was doing this herself as by her competence. ‘I’ve never had my own bodyguard before.’

‘That doesn’t mean you get to dress me up and put ribbons in my hair.’

She laughed out loud at that and the horse gave a surprised snort as if in agreement. ‘You’re funny. We’re going to get along just fine.’ She slipped the bridle down the horse’s long nose and rubbed his ears. ‘Just fine. Aren’t we, Cerdo, hmm, boy?’

‘Cerdo?’ I queried. ‘Isn’t that Spanish for—?’

‘“Pig” yes,’ Dina agreed, eyes dancing. ‘He has some long fancy name in his papers, but sometimes he can be real stubborn, so it seems to suit him.’

She gave the horse a final pat and came out of the stable, carrying his paraphernalia with her and clipping a chain across the opening. She paused in the wide central corridor, still holding the saddle in her arms. I wondered if her devotion to horse riding extended to cleaning tack and mucking out.

‘So, when do you start?’ she asked. ‘Or have you already?’

‘I think that’s rather up to you,’ I said, neutral. ‘And your mother, of course.’

‘Of course,’ Dina echoed. ‘But she wouldn’t have sent you down here to meet with me if she didn’t approve, so I don’t know what you said to her, but congratulations – you obviously passed the test.’ And for the first time there was a tinge of resentment in her tone.

I deduced ‘mother’ was not an easy woman to live with, never mind live up to, so I took a gamble and said easily, ‘Well, I didn’t wipe my nose on my sleeve and I managed to drink my tea without slurping it from the saucer, so I suppose she realised I was house-trained at least.’

It paid off. The lines of strain flattened out of her forehead and the quick grin was back, making her seem very much still a teenager. A pretty girl who lit the place up when she smiled. I guessed she hadn’t yet learnt to adjust the intensity. If she was this unguarded around boys, I thought privately, I would certainly have my work cut out fending off the hordes. Whether they had ransom on their minds, though, was quite another matter.

‘So, I guess Mother’s told you about the kidnappings,’ she said. ‘I mean, everybody’s behaving like nothing’s going on, but you have to know, don’t you? Otherwise, how can you try to stop them?’

‘There doesn’t seem to be much to know at the moment.’ I paused, wondering if she was tougher than she looked, and decided she’d be better with the truth now rather than later, however unpalatable. ‘But to be honest, because none of the victims have gone to the police or the FBI, there isn’t much can be done to stop these people.’

‘Oh … you mean they could just go on and on doing it for ever, and never be caught?’ She seemed astounded by the idea. I supposed that unless you’ve been personally touched by violent crime, your views are formed by the cosy propaganda of the TV cop shows, where the good guys always triumph before the closing credits.

I shrugged. I’d already disconcerted her enough, by the looks of it, without adding that the decision to keep things under wraps meant the perpetrators were indeed likely to go on making comparatively easy money until it couldn’t be covered up any longer.

Until somebody died.

As an illegal earner it was less risky than robbing a bank, but just as profitable. More than half a billion dollars a year disappeared into kidnappers’ pockets around the world, and the annual number of victims was rising rapidly. The relatively few kidnapping cases in the States was down to the high detection rate, a moot point in this case. Rich parents who would do anything to avoid bad publicity – I bet they can’t believe their luck, I thought. What reason do they have to stop now?

Still frowning, Dina put the saddle down onto a shaped wooden rack and laid the bridle across it. She swept off the hat, loosing her hair at the same time, and ruffling it distractedly back into a style mine never seemed to achieve after being flattened under a bike helmet. This despite the best efforts of my hairdresser, who’d talked me into a chin-level bob that had proved surprisingly durable otherwise.

‘So … what will you need for me to do?’ she asked at last, trying for her previous nonchalance. ‘I mean, I assume you don’t want me to hide in the basement or anything silly like that. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be much point in having you around, would there?’

I shook my head. ‘We’ll go into details later, but the basic rules are just don’t go anywhere without an escort – namely, me – and vary your routine. If you drive yourself to work, don’t always take the same route. That kind of thing.’

She laughed. ‘No worries there – I’m taking a year out. Mother tells people I’m “considering my options”, which sounds so much better than “bumming around with horses”, don’t you think?’

The white horse, piqued by no longer being the centre of attention, had shuffled forwards until his broad chest was hard up against the chain across the stable doorway. He stretched his neck towards us, ears flicking like radar, and grubbed at Dina’s sleeve with his lips. She reached out absently to scratch his nose.

‘Do you ride him on the beach at this time every day?’ I asked.

‘Usually – before it gets too hot. But they wouldn’t try for me then, surely?’ Her voice was shocked. ‘What about Cerdo?’

I shrugged again. Kidnappers had been known to shoot bodyguards, boy- or girlfriends, employees, dogs and innocent bystanders, in their quest to secure a valuable hostage. A horse would present few problems. Besides, all they had to do was turn him loose on the sands. It wasn’t as if he’d be able to pick them out of a line-up afterwards.

‘Best not to go out alone, then, just in case.’

Her smile was less confident than it had been. ‘That’s only a problem if you don’t ride.’

I thought of all those years spent Pony Clubbing back at home in rural Cheshire. ‘I’m a little rusty, but I’m sure it’ll come back to me.’

The door at the far end of the barn opened and Caroline Willner walked in with Parker Armstrong beside her. His eyes flicked straight to mine. I gave him a fractional nod, saw his surprise and relief only because I knew him well enough to discern it.

‘Ah, there you are, darling,’ Caroline Willner said. ‘You have not forgotten we have the senator and his wife coming to lunch, I hope?’

‘Of course not, Mother,’ Dina said in a slightly drawling voice she hadn’t used with me, but she made no moves to go and change, which I assume was the motive for the reminder.

There was a long uncomfortable pause during which time the only noise was the circular whirr of the ceiling fans inside the barn and the rush of surf from the beach. Even the white horse seemed to be waiting, still and expectant, to see who won this minor stand-off.

‘Well, I see you two have gotten acquainted,’ Caroline Willner said carefully at last, and I wondered why she