‘Sorry.’
‘My fault,’ he said, and cringed at his reply. Jesus, Hope.
They drove for a while, and she pointed out various architectural features of San Remo town. He listened, nodded, feigned interest. But he was more interested in her, and he felt bad about it. He shouldn’t be here. This was all wrong.
But after a few miles around San Remo and its outskirts, something else was beginning to crowd his thoughts. Most normal civilians would have no way of telling when a professional surveillance team was following them. But Ben Hope was no normal civilian. He’d spent almost half his life watching his back, and a well-developed knowledge of surveillance techniques, coupled with a sixth sense for when he was being watched, was a combination he knew he could pretty much rely on.
Back in the streets after Kerry’s hotel, he hadn’t been so sure of it. Just a feeling. Then, when the big Suzuki Hayabusa motorcycle had passed three times as he walked, he’d started taking more notice. The rider was wearing a black leather jacket and full-face helmet with a tinted black visor, and he couldn’t be sure-but it looked like a woman riding the bike.
When the dark blue Fiat slipped into the traffic behind Zara’s Roadster and sat on their tail for three full kilometres, staying back in the traffic, trying too hard to make it look casual, he knew what was happening. The bright sunlight playing on the windscreen blotted out the faces inside. Two men, he thought. Who were they, and what did they want?
She noticed him looking in the driver’s mirror. ‘Something wrong?’
‘Not exactly wrong,’ he said. ‘But not exactly right. Someone’s following us.’
She looked at him in surprise, then peered in the mirror, frowning with concern. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Pretty sure.’
‘Who?’
‘I was wondering that myself.’
‘What should we do?’
‘We could stop the car, get out, walk back to that coffee bar we just passed, sit tight and see what happens. Or we could act stupid and try to lose them, in which case they’ll know we know.’
‘Who cares what they know?’ she said. ‘I’ll lose them.’
‘You think?’
‘Hold tight.’ She dropped down two gears and the engine note soared as she pressed hard on the gas. Ben felt himself pressed back into his seat. A gap opened up in the traffic ahead and Zara darted the sports car through just before it closed again. She laughed as she swerved across the road to avoid an oncoming van while a chorus of horns sounded angrily. She ignored them and stamped harder on the pedal. The BMW surged powerfully forward. Zara flashed through a red light, skilfully weaving in and out of more honking traffic.
Ben glanced back in the mirror. The dark blue Fiat was gone, left behind somewhere in the mayhem she’d created.
‘How long did you say you’ve been living in Italy?’ he asked over the noise of the engine.
‘We’re never in one spot for long. Harry takes the Scimitar all over the place. Why do you ask?’
‘Just that you drive like an Italian.’
She smiled with pleasure. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. Did I scare you?’
‘Not yet.’
‘I want to show you something,’ she said. They were heading away from the town now, and out onto a winding coastal road with the sea on one side and sloping forests on the other. She took the bends fast and confidently, braked hard and took a turn to the left, accelerating smartly up a dusty single-track lane.
‘Where are we going?’
‘You’ll see.’
The lane led steeply upwards, trees flashing by on each side. The air was heavy with the scent of flowers and vegetation. The storm was still gathering overhead.
Another couple of turns, and Ben was sure that whoever had been following them was truly left behind. But that didn’t make him feel any happier about it.
Zara bumped the car down a rough track and pulled over onto a grassy verge. ‘We’re here?’ he asked.
She smiled. ‘This is it. We can walk the rest of the way.’
He followed her up the winding track through the trees. As they walked, her smile faded. ‘Who would be following us, Ben?’
‘I don’t know.’ Not us, he thought. Whoever it was, it was him they wanted. Which meant it was his concern, and he didn’t want to burden her with it. He put his hand out to reassure her, touched her arm. ‘It was probably nothing,’ he said. ‘I’m just paranoid. Wanted man in several countries. Too many unpaid parking fines.’
She laughed but didn’t move away from the touch of his hand, and he dared let it linger there for a few seconds before snatching it away guiltily. She led him to a break in the trees up ahead. ‘This is what I wanted to show you. Isn’t it fantastic?’
Ben followed her gaze across the bay. From up here you could see the whole coastline, the sea stretching flat out to infinity. The sky was dull and leaden, but the view was spectacular.
‘I come here sometimes just to look at it.’ She paused. ‘And to be alone.’ She frowned up at the darkening clouds. ‘Looks like we’re in for some weather.’
As she said it, the first heavy raindrop spattered on Ben’s shirt. Then another.
‘Here it comes,’ she said. ‘We’d better take cover.’ She pointed. A few hundred yards away, just visible through the greenery, a half-built house stood alone in a weed-strewn building site. ‘Race you to that house,’ she said. Her eyes were lit up with excitement, and her cheeks were flushed.
She took off, sprinting across the rough ground, and he followed her. The rain was coming faster and faster, soaking his shirt. As he ran he watched her, thinking how lithe and athletic she was. She jumped over a low fence and reached the half-finished house a second before him. They ran inside the shelter of the bare block walls, and listened to the rain hammering on the roof. She was giggling, only a little out of breath. Her silk blouse clung to her. She brushed her wet hair back from her face. ‘That was fun. I win.’
He looked around him. ‘Who owns this place?’
‘Someone who ran out of money halfway through the build, I think. It’s been like this for ages. Nobody ever comes here.’ She wiped down her face and neck. ‘God, I’m soaked through.’
The rain outside had become a storm. There was a flash of lightning, closely followed by a long, rumbling clap of thunder. ‘This has been building all day,’ she said.
Ben walked over to the glassless window and looked out. ‘I love storms.’
‘Really? Me too. I can never understand why people are afraid of them.’
Another lightning flash split the dark sky.
‘You said you like to come up here to be alone.’
She nodded.
‘Why do you want to be alone?’
She didn’t reply for a moment. There was a silence, just the thunder crashing above them and the rain drumming on the tiles of the roof.
Then she said, softly, ‘I need to get away from him, sometimes.’
‘From Harry?’
She nodded again, biting her lip. ‘Ben, I haven’t been completely honest with you.’
He frowned, waited for more.
‘You know earlier on, when we bumped into each other in the bookshop and I told you I just happened to be in the area?’
‘Yes?’
She paused. Flushed, turned away from him. ‘I kind of lied. I wasn’t interested in the bookshop. In fact, I’ve never been there before. I don’t even like poetry.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I was there because of you. I wanted to see you. But I got scared, so I hung around trying to pluck up the courage to go into the hotel and ask for you. I was about to walk away when you turned up.’
He sighed. Put a hand on hers. It was trembling. ‘Zara, I-’
