‘I’m being protected,’ I remind her.
‘Oh, really? Well, if you ask me, Dan’s fucked off and taken his protection with him. He’s hanging you out to dry, Maya. He doesn’t give a shit. Go. To. The. Police.’
‘No,’ Gordon interrupts. ‘If Maya doesn’t want police involvement, then you need to honour that.’
‘But ...’
‘Enough, Lucy. I’ll fix this. I’m taking her with me tonight.’
‘What?’ I sit up straight.
‘You’re coming back to my hotel. I need to know you’re safe.’
‘But what about Lucy?’
The last thing I want is to abandon her again, and the last thing I need is another fall-out.
‘I’ll have someone come over and watch this place.’ He glances at Lucy. ‘You okay with that?’
She gives him a meek nod. Clearly, she doesn’t dare argue with her ‘new boss.’
‘I understand, Maya. It’s alright. Go with Gordon. I’ll be fine.’
Without another word, she retreats to the kitchen, leaving us alone. Gordon takes a seat next to me and slips a hand over mine.
‘You’re shaking.’
‘Dan sent you, didn’t he?’
He nods and leans in to me, lowering his voice. ‘The bush telegraph’s mighty quick these days. Got a call and came straight over.’
‘I don’t want to go to a hotel.’
‘You’ll want to go to this one. I’m in the Royal Suite at The Goring.’
He lifts an eyebrow, as if he’s just told me the most amazing thing in the world, as if I’m expected to squeal with delight. But I’m not impressed. I have no idea about The Goring, and I don’t care how posh it is. I want to stay here.
‘Besides,’ he adds before I can say anything. ‘You’ve got no choice. We’re under orders.’
‘Dan?’
‘Correct.’ He surveys our tiny living room. ‘Lucy’s safe here,’ he reassures me. ‘I don’t actually need to get anyone to come over. The truth is, Dan’s guys are watching from over the road. As soon as you left your apartment, they followed.’
‘And look what happened.’
‘Tonight was a mistake. It won’t happen again. They weren’t exactly expecting an ambush outside a liquor store. From now on, we’re stepping up protection, increasing the numbers … and keeping you close.’ He gets up. ‘Now, may I suggest you pack an overnight bag? I’d like to return you to the lap of luxury.’
I do as I’m told, say goodbye to Lucy and follow Gordon out to a black Bentley waiting at the kerb. The driver opens the rear door and takes my bag. Without a word, I get in.
‘Straight to The Goring,’ Gordon orders, settling next to me. ‘Maya, this is Carl.’ The driver installs himself in the front. ‘He works for Foultons, but to the outside world he works for me. Show your face, Carl. Just in case Maya didn’t catch it.’
The driver turns and nods. I do my best to register his features. Dark-haired, blue-eyed, early thirties perhaps.
‘He’s packing,’ Gordon whispers out of the side of his mouth.
‘Packing what?’
‘You know.’ Like an over-excited little boy, he makes an imaginary gun with his hand. ‘And he’ll be driving you for the foreseeable future. You go anywhere, you ride with him. No public transport.’
‘Even to work?’
‘Even to work. This is Carl’s number.’ I’m handed a card. ‘Store it on your mobile. Call him whenever you need to travel.’
The Bentley pulls away and I slip the card into my pocket. Riding in silence, I gaze out of the window, seeing nothing but darkness. It’s everywhere: waiting behind the flash of a headlamp, lurking in the depths of a side street, hovering in the clouds above – an unstoppable, overpowering force. As we push further into Central London, even the glow of streetlights and shop fronts can do little to banish it.
‘Dan’s still in Bermuda,’ Gordon says at last. ‘I’m to tell you he knows what happened, and he loves you. But he says you already know that.’
My lips curve into a smile.
‘He’s making arrangements to come home.’
‘Tonight?’
A tremor of excitement passes through me.
‘Maybe.’
‘Have you talked to him?’
‘Not directly. He’s gone through Bill.’ His mobile buzzes. Pulling it out of his pocket, he squints at the screen and holds it to his ear. ‘Talk of the devil. Bill, what’s going on?’ He listens intently for a minute or so while Bill talks incessantly at the other end of the line. ‘Okay. I’ll let her know.’ Dropping the phone back into his pocket, he stares at the back of the driver’s head.
‘What is it?’
‘A development.’ He looks at me. ‘I need to fill you in. Boyd got away this evening. He had a car waiting. But we’ve got hold of one of his men. Bill’s contacts are having a little chat with him.’
I’m flooded with the same sense of unease I felt in New York. In spite of his reassurances, I wonder if Dan’s really taken heed of my wishes.
‘Problem?’ Gordon asks.
Yes, there’s a problem. But how to say this? Bluntness is probably the best option.
‘Will they hurt him?’
‘Not unless it’s necessary. And I’m sure it won’t be.’ He puts a hand on my knee. ‘Money’s mightier than the sword, Maya, and a damn sight quicker too.’
But I’m still not happy. Bill knows some unsavoury types, and I can’t imagine them resisting the urge to use a fist.
‘I don’t see why Bill has to be involved.’
‘Foultons provide security,’ Gordon explains, nodding at the driver. ‘Intelligence, that sort of thing. But they don’t like to get their hands dirty. Bill’s contacts are more into enforcement … where necessary.’
‘And if they find Boyd, what then? Will they kill him?’
He shrugs. ‘I have no idea.’
The lights of a shop window dance past, catching Gordon’s face for a few seconds, but failing to lift the shadows.
‘I’ve told Dan
