as he imagined, I shared his enthusiasm for what he was doing but simply because he was my brother and I loved him.'
'That doesn't sound so bad to me,’ said Avedissian.
'But it was. Don't you see? I let him think that I agreed with him that there was no other way to achieve our ends, because my head told me that he was right, and still does. It's just that my heart always told me that it was wrong and it was a dreadful sin. I never told him that. I never tried to convince him that I might have been right. I just opted out and played the dutiful sister.'
'You are doing something positive now,' said Avedissian.
'I'm just a victim of circumstance again.'
'You needn't have agreed to come along,' Avedissian pointed out.
Kathleen looked at Avedissian and smiled distantly. She said, 'You are a nice man, Avedissian. What kind of a name is that anyway?'
'Armenian grandfather,' replied Avedissian.
'And what sins are you guilty of?' asked Kathleen.
Avedissian shrugged. 'Arrogance when I'm winning, weakness when I'm losing.’
'You sound like the human race,’ said Kathleen.
'It's just a question of degree.'
Kathleen shivered and Avedissian put his arm round her. He did it unsurely and there was an instant when she stiffened, but it passed. She relaxed and laid her head against his chest. 'It's been a long time since anyone held me,’ she said.
I’m sorry. That shouldn't be.'
'Do you find me attractive?' Kathleen asked, sounding vulnerable.
'More than attractive. You’re beautiful.’
'I'm thirty-four years old.’
Avedissian kissed her hair and repeated what he had said.
'You see, there has been no one to tell me that for such a long time.’ Kathleen looked up and Avedissian brought his mouth down on hers, kissing her gently and feeling her lips part, warm and moist.
Kathleen drew away slightly and put her hands against Avedissian's chest. 'I'm going back to my room now,’ she whispered. 'Thank you for talking to me.’
Avedissian smiled and whispered, 'Good-night, Kathleen O'Neill.’
He watched the door close and turned again to have a last look at the garden before returning to bed. It had started to rain, a few spots at first, then steadily. He got into bed and listened to the sound of the drops striking the leaves. Somewhere in the night an owl hooted but Avedissian felt warm and comfortable and out of its reach.
SEVEN
The rain persisted throughout the following day. It made Avedissian and Kathleen huddle down into their collars as they walked the short distance from the airport bus to the steps of the TWA Boeing 747. David, to their relief, seemed completely at ease with them, something that Avedissian put down to Kathleen's winning way with children. They had had only an hour with him and his real parents in a room at the airport but it had been sufficient. The boy was happily clutching Kathleen's hand as he scaled, what were for him, the giant steps to the rear entrance.
Almost at the same time the three Americans who had met with Kell were boarding by the front steps. As 'Ambassador Class' passengers they would be unlikely to come into contact with the Farmer family who were more ordinary passengers, not that it would have mattered. They didn't know each other. Fate's little joke would have been lost on both parties.
Two hours out across the Atlantic David fell asleep and Avedissian and Kathleen could talk without distraction. Kathleen asked, 'Do you think we're going to the States because the kidnappers are American?'
Avedissian shrugged. He had been thinking along the same lines himself but had to confess that he had not reached any conclusion. He said, That seems logical but there could be other reasons. The kidnappers may know that the Irish could only fund this thing with the help of American money. They may have decided to set up shop close to the bank, so to speak.'
'So they could be any nationality.'
'I suppose so.'
'Why Chicago?' asked Kathleen. 'Wouldn't it have been more sensible to use a city on the East Coast?'
'My guess is that they are taking no chances. Chicago is in the middle. That gives them options to move north, south, east or west with equal predictability.'
They stopped talking to allow a stewardess to ask them if they wanted anything to drink. Both said no.
‘I wish we were on the way back,' said Kathleen ruefully as the captain made a slight course correction.
Avedissian smiled. 'Do you know what I wish?' he said. 'I wish that we. really were Dr and Mrs Farmer travelling with our son David for a holiday in the States.' He put his head back on the seat cushion and closed his eyes. He was pleased to feel Kathleen take his hand and squeeze it.
The flight landed on time in Chicago and they were met by a woman who took charge of David. She wished them well before disappearing into the throng on the main concourse. It happened so quickly that Kathleen was visibly surprised. She looked wistfully after the child as he vanished among the arms and legs of the airport crowd.
'No problem with goodbyes,' said Avedissian.
‘I suppose not,' said Kathleen.
They took a yellow cab to their hotel and saw immediately why it had been chosen. It was enormous. Kathleen had to strain her head back to look up at the huge tower block. 'Identical rooms for identical people,' she said.
The edge of excitement that had been so much in evidence at the start of their journey had been dulled by the long flight and the knowledge that they were now in for another period of waiting. Their instructions, given by Bryant before they had left Belfast for London Heathrow, were that one of them was to stay in the hotel at all times. The other had to check back at intervals of no longer than two hours.
'Hungry?' asked Avedissian when they had finished unpacking what little belongings they had.
'Just tired,’ replied Kathleen.
'I want to stretch my legs,’ said Avedissian.
'I shan't go out,’ she assured him.
Kathleen was fast asleep when Avedissian returned from a brief walk in the streets around the hotel; he had enjoyed the exercise but had found the humidity oppressive and was glad to return to the air-conditioned comfort of the room. He tried to make as little noise as possible in taking a shower.
There was no message for them throughout the following day and they grew nervous with the waiting. Each had been unwilling to leave the other so they had spent almost the entire day talking in their room. It had not been unpleasant but always, at the back of their minds, they had known that they were waiting for something to happen and the seeds of frustration had been sown.
At seven in the evening Kathleen had just finished saying, 'They might keep us a bit better informed,’ when the phone rang and their excitement grew. Avedissian answered. It was Paul Jarvis.
'Meet me in the bar of the Regency Hotel at seven-thirty,’ said Jarvis. 'It's three blocks west of where you are.'
An American woman in her thirties was holding court in the bar of the Regency when Avedissian and Kathleen arrived. Her spreading buttocks slid around the bar stool as she emphasised every comment with extravagant hand gestures.
Her audience, mainly older men, were hanging on every word, not that what she had to say was important; it wasn't, just loud, but Avedissian could see that she was flirting with each of them in turn.
A slightly built man in his early forties sat next to her and, at intervals, the woman would take a cigarette from the pack on the bar in front of her and have it lit by him, then she would turn away. The long-suffering
