The Shadow Project

‘Monsieur Shannon is also complaining about severe back pain, and although there’s nothing showing up in the X-ray, it would be prudent to keep him under observation for a few days.’

‘Are you saying he can start work again soon?’ Brooke asked.

The doctor shook his head. ‘Certainly not. Complete rest will be essential for at least three weeks.’

‘Shit,’ Jeff said to Brooke as the doctor walked away. ‘There goes Switzerland,’ she muttered. ‘I was afraid of that.’

‘Guess we’d better go and break the news to Ben.’

‘You go. I ought to stay here with Rupert. It’s probably for the best.’

Chapter Seven

Adam sat on the edge of an armchair in the living room at Teach na Loch, head in hands. He reached out for the tumbler in front of him and knocked back the inch of Bushmills malt that was still in it, then grabbed the bottle and swilled some more into it. His head was spinning with shock, the taste of vomit still on his lips from when he’d thrown up earlier on. He’d thought he was never going to stop.

Now he just felt numb. It was unreal. Lenny Salt had been right. The old weirdo hadn’t imagined it after all.

The kidnappers’ instructions had been simple. He was to get all his Kammler material together and get on a flight to Graz. He checked the atlas: it was in Austria, near the Hungarian border. They’d given him the name of a hotel in the city, where a reservation had been made for him, and he was to check in there no later than 10 p.m., local time, the following evening. The orders were to sit in his room, speak to no one, and wait to be contacted.

Adam suddenly felt hot tears welling up out of his eyes. He thought of Rory. What were they doing to him? Where was he? Would he ever see him again? He could imagine the look of terror on the boy’s face when they took him, could hear his screams of protest.

If only Salt hadn’t turned up at the presentation. I’d have been here. I could have done something.

A thought suddenly crossed his mind. Had Salt had something to do with it? Had he been deliberately planted there to delay him?

He stood up from the armchair, unsteady on his feet. Walked over to the bookcase across the room and picked up the framed black and white photo of Rory. Sabrina had taken that one, just after he’d turned twelve. They’d gone to London for a weekend and visited her photography studio there. It was such a beautiful shot of the kid. He was smiling and looked so happy in it. Sabrina had a giant blow-up of the same picture on her studio wall. Adam knew his younger sister doted on her nephew – he was the only real reason they stayed in touch.

Sabrina. What was he going to tell her when she got here? Adam glanced at his watch and winced. Any time now. His hand was trembling as he replaced the picture frame on the bookcase. Another acid lurch in his throat, and he turned and stumbled towards the downstairs bathroom.

He was bent over the toilet bowl, retching vomit and whiskey, when a smooth female electronic voice announced through the hidden speakers: ‘You have a visitor.’

Sabrina Connor paid the taxi driver, got her bags from the back and watched as the car turned and disappeared out of the gates. She looked up at the house, shielded her eyes from the bright afternoon sunshine, and smiled. She was looking forward to this break. Seven whole days away from London, the hustle and humidity and bad air, her capricious celebrity clients. Perfect. And it was great to be able to spend some time with Rory – she hadn’t seen him since Christmas. This time she might actually beat the little smartass at chess.

The door opened. Adam stepped out to greet her. When he came up and hugged her, it was more tightly than usual. She could smell the sharp tang of mouthwash on him, and when she broke the embrace and looked up at her elder brother, she could see his eyes were a little pink.

‘You changed your hair again,’ he said.

She ran her fingers through the spiky red highlights. ‘I like it like this. You OK? You look a little wired.’

‘I’m fine. Just working hard.’ He smiled weakly. ‘Come inside. It’s good to see you. Want a drink?’ He picked up her bags and ushered her inside.

‘Coffee would be great. Oh, here. I got you something.’ She unzipped one of her bags and took out a little package. ‘Happy birthday. Forty-five.’

He took it. ‘Forty-six. And it was nearly two months ago.’

‘What a close-knit little family we are. Well, aren’t you going to open it?’

He tore the wrapper. ‘Handkerchiefs.’

‘Irish linen,’ she said. ‘Had to scour London for them. I got them embroidered, too, see? Adam O’Connor.’ She exaggerated the ‘O’.

‘I know you think it’s stupid, me changing my name. But it’s important to me. It’s heritage.’

She shrugged. ‘Do what you want. Fine by me.’

‘Nice hankies.’

‘Kind of a lame present, huh?’

‘No, really. I like them.’

Sabrina glanced around. ‘Where’s Rory?’

‘Tennis camp,’ he replied instantly.

‘Tennis camp? You’re kidding me, right?’

Adam shook his head. ‘Nope. Tennis camp.’

‘When?’

‘I drove him up there yesterday.’

‘Where?’

He made a vague gesture with his hand. ‘Up in Donegal.’

‘They even have things like tennis camp in this place?’

‘Whatever they call it. Activity holiday, something like that. Why, you think we’re all bog paddies living in mud huts out here?’

‘Oh, give it a rest with the whole Irish thing, Adam.’

‘Anyway, so he’s at tennis camp.’

She shrugged. ‘Fine. It’s just I thought he hated sports.’

Adam headed for the kitchen to put some coffee on. ‘You know what kids are like. One of his friends plays and so he wanted to have a go. It’ll do him good. Get him away from that damn chess computer of his.’

‘When will he be back?’

‘Couple of weeks.’

Sabrina made a face. ‘Jesus, Adam. You didn’t think to tell me about any of this before? I was really looking forward to seeing him, you know.’

He sighed. ‘Look, the truth is that I totally forgot. I was meaning to call you about it ages ago. It just slipped my mind. I’m sorry.’

‘I spoke to him on the phone not long ago, and he never said a word about going to any tennis camp.’

‘Well, you know Rory. He moves in mysterious ways sometimes. Like I said, I’m really sorry.’

‘I’m sorry too.’ She sighed. ‘Just disappointed, that’s all.’

The coffee was beginning to bubble up in the percolator. Adam took two mugs from the shelf and poured it out for them. Sabrina settled on a stool at the mahogany breakfast bar and sipped her coffee. She felt soft fur brush her leg, and a Siamese cat jumped up on her lap. ‘Hey, Cassini.’ She stroked the cat and it rubbed its head against her.

‘You’re the one visitor he doesn’t bite,’ Adam said, pulling up another stool. ‘He likes you.’

She forced a smile. ‘Anyway, here I am. Rory or no Rory.’

‘It’s really good to see you, sis. Really good.’ She watched him. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. You just seem a little tense. Things going all right here?’