The Last Witness

Both her and Lorena were silent heading back to the hotel: her worried about impending arrest, Lorena about returning to Ryall.

There’d been no flashing lights at the hotel, but Elena had been too tense waiting on Chenouda’s call to talk much about Lorena’s concerns. She’d just placated that Lorena shouldn’t worry so, they’d sort something out.

‘We’ll go for something to eat and talk then.’

Chenouda’s call had been a non-event after the level of anticipation and panic she’d worked herself up to: all he did was confirm with her the details Claude Donatiens had passed on to him, then suggest that they should meet and talk fully at eleven-thirty the next day. He gave her an address on Dorchester Boulevard and asked that she bring her passport and all relevant paperwork regarding her son.

But soon after putting down the phone, she began to panic how on earth she was going to face walking into a police station, right into the lion’s den!

They found a restaurant on St Denis that had a special on lobsters, and Elena talked Lorena into trying one as a change from pizza.

‘If this meeting doesn’t work out tomorrow, I’ll be heading back with you.’ Elena was still throwing across everything she could to reassure. Lorena had earlier looked concerned when she’d explained that if she was staying on, all she could do was walk Lorena into the nearest British embassy and give them the Ryall’s details; they’d have to arrange transport back for her. Anything to meet the deadline. ‘I don’t think much will come of it, so you’ll probably end up with my company.’

The shadows only eased from Lorena’s eyes a fraction. Elena once again opted for dramatics to shift Lorena’s mood. She decided to open up more about her son, explain why tomorrow was so important to her.

‘I said that I hadn’t seen him in a while, but I lied. Truth is, I’ve never seen him since he was born. I was very young when I became pregnant… and my father gave him away to another family. I was given no choice in the matter.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Lorena said, appearing confused for a second how else to respond. ‘You missed him a lot?’

‘Yes… very much.’ And now I don’t know if I’ll ever get to see him again. She blinked slowly, but suddenly there were no more welling tears: the see-saw events of the past forty-eight hours, the valerian pills and her mounting tiredness had battered her senses numb. Sometimes she felt completely empty of emotions, little more than a hollow shell. Or was it simply a protective barrier so that any new shock wouldn’t send her reeling and rip her insides out? She was finally battle-hardened for the worst.

‘Was he cruel, your father?’

‘No… just very strict. Impossibly strict.’

‘So he wasn’t someone for you to be afraid of — like Mr Ryall?’

‘No, I suppose not.’ Elena smiled wanly as she made the concession. She’d raised it as a trump card, but Lorena had deftly slipped it back in the deck where it belonged. Of course, she had been afraid of her father; but that suddenly put it all in perspective: if Lorena’s claims had substance, Lorena had a real fear to face.

Suddenly Lorena was once again the frightened little girl reaching out a hand for help from the back of Nicola Ryall’s Range Rover. And whatever rationale Elena threw across, she knew that she could never shift the lingering fear in Lorena’s eyes. Jail sentence or not, in the end she just didn’t think she could face sending Lorena back to Ryall tomorrow.

Another restless night.

Elena had been hoping finally to get a good night’s sleep. She was so exhausted and so keen to make the right impression for her big day tomorrow. Get rid of the blood-shots in her eyes and steady her nerves, hopefully not come across how she felt: haggard, desperate, at her wit’s end. There’s no way this half-crazed woman is getting to see him.

But, perversely, the worry about how the day might go kept her thoughts churning; and now she still had Lorena to worry about. She’d hoped to at least put that to rest. All she’d said in the end was for Lorena not to worry, she didn’t think that she could send her back. ‘We’ll try and sort something out tomorrow.’ Left that small gap open in case finally there was no choice. Sometimes she wished that she were arrested so that she didn’t have to make the decision. It was frustrating. She’d set her game-plan, was almost there in convincing Lorena, getting her to accept — then suddenly she’d been slam-dunked at the last moment.

The problem was, which was the right Lorena? Had Lorena purely stumbled on hitting the right chord about her father through a child’s naive bluntness, or had she planned it — her street-wiliness showing through? Was Lowndes right that Lorena had formed an unnatural attachment to her and this was all just a cry for attention, to grab back some of their old bond together? In which case Lorena must have planned everything practically from the start.

Except for one thing: the fear Elena had seen in Lorena’s eyes in the restaurant. That was difficult to fake. She herself was full of concern and panic for what the next day held, but what she’d seen in Lorena in that moment went far beyond that. Whether something was happening with Ryall or not, it was certainly real in Lorena’s mind. So why after all these sessions couldn’t she recall anything?

The thought had a loop effect: there was no real answer and so it just went around, and Elena let it because it was soporific, pushed her closer towards sleep. She finally dozed off after half an hour, her last thoughts on what she might wear for her meeting tomorrow. Something clean-lined and respectable, but at the same time not too cool and formal: it should be soft-edged, maternal. She’d glanced at the weather forecast before getting into bed to help her decide.

Overnight lows of 4 or 5, 10 or 11 by mid-morning, rising to highs of 13 or 14.

For some reason she found the numbers replaying in her thoughts halfway through the night, jumbling with a segment from one of Lowndes sessions: ‘And he was saying some numbers… seven… eight.’

Elena was suddenly wide-awake again, her breath falling sharp and fast. Magic acts! She sat up and looked at the bedside clock: 3.26 am. Barely two hours sleep.

She felt like waking Lorena, screaming out loud that she thought she’d found the key, and they’d both jump up and down excitedly and wake the rest of the hotel. But she needed to know for sure — so she threw on some clothes, grabbed her bag and headed for the nearest phone box. She used her global call card and dialled her home number.

Gordon, initially pleasantly surprised, almost relieved to hear her voice — perhaps he’d been half-expecting another call from Crowley — berated her for breaking their call policy.

‘This couldn’t wait,’ Elena said, still slightly breathless from the rush to the booth. ‘Besides, I’ve used a global call card. It’ll be scrambled through some faceless exchange in Virginia. I could be calling from anywhere in the world.’ She told Gordon what she needed to know — Ryall’s background with children’s magic acts — and why. ‘Where did your investigator get that from?’

‘From some old newspaper clipping, I believe.’ No, he hadn’t send them through; but, yes, Gordon could get hold of him now. ‘He works from home. Phone me back in fifteen minutes and I’ll see what he’s got.’

Six minutes later Gordon had the fax through: three newspaper clippings in total. He scanned rapidly through, his blood running cold as he came to the reference two-thirds of the way into the second article. Elena’s hunch had been right! He tapped his fingers on the table by the phone and read through more thoroughly as he waited on Elena’s call back.

Elena’s nerves had been wound too tight to do anything more than pace agitatedly back and forth ten yards either side of the call box to kill the time; once again she was slightly breathless. All she could manage was ‘Oh God. Oh God,’ when Gordon told her. She’d hoped that she’d be right; but another part of her had hoped desperately that she’d be wrong. She sighed heavily, felt the last remnants wash away from her. ‘The rest now I suppose will have to be sorted out on the psychiatrist’s couch.’

Gordon again wished her good luck for tomorrow as they signed off. ‘Thanks.’ Hopelessly inadequate for one of the biggest days of her life: decision day now on two fronts. But she felt too numbed and shell-shocked to say anything else.

She stood for a moment by Lorena’s bed before getting back into bed herself: Lorena didn’t appear to have stirred, even notice that she’d been gone. She realized then that she couldn’t say anything: it could later be said that Lorena had merely filled in the gaps to suit. She’d only be able to tell Lowndes, then they’d just have to hold their breath to see if events followed the nightmare path they feared. But the strongest emotion she felt looking on