Walking in Darkness

‘And?’ queried Steve, looking round at him.

‘They have that look . . . you get to recognize it, all secret service men have it, they think they are above the law and it shows. I can smell them from here. The car’s American.’

He had Steve’s full attention now. ‘What are they doing?’

‘Waiting, watching. What they do best. I’d guess they’re Senator Gowrie’s men, watching over his daughter.’

‘Or waiting to get their hands on Sophie,’ Steve said grimly.

Cathy was almost at the top of the stairs when the housekeeper quietly said her name from the hall. Reluctantly, Cathy looked back at her.

‘There’s a gentleman on the phone, American, madam; a Mr Colbourne, says he’s an old friend of yours.’

Cathy hesitated, then said, ‘Put the call through to my bedroom, please.’

She heard a movement from the sitting-room and glanced down over the polished banisters. Paul stood in the doorway of the room she had just left; his eyes had a deep, glowing darkness like hot coals in a dying fire. He had always been jealous of Steve – he knew all about their relationship and had resented it. She looked eagerly for a betrayal of that old jealousy now, but if he was angry about Steve ringing her he didn’t utter a syllable. Cathy sighed, and went on up the stairs.

As she entered her bedroom the phone beside the bed began to purr quietly; she picked it up.

‘Yes? Yes, put him through.’ She heard the click that meant the line had been switched through, the echoing click as her housekeeper put down the phone she was holding. Only then did Cathy say, ‘Hello? Steve?’

‘Yes. Hi, Cathy. How are you?’

‘Fine, and you?’

The polite ritual of greeting calmed her a little. It made the unreality seem less crazy, re-established her sense of identity for the moment. That was why she had agreed to talk to him, she realized; she had known him so long, most of her life. She was sure that Steve would make everything seem normal again.

‘Fine,’ he said offhandedly, then plunged into staccato speech. ‘Cathy, is Sophie OK?’

‘Yes, she’s taken a sedative and gone to bed. She needs a good night’s sleep.’

‘What happened here tonight, Cathy?’ he urgently asked. ‘Look, I’m over here at this pub . . . what the hell was it called, Vlad? Oh, yeah, the Green Man. Could I come over to talk to you, Cathy?’

Her nerves jangled. Sharply she said, ‘Do you know what time of night it is? I’m just going to bed! What do you mean, Vlad? What’s a Vlad?’

‘Not a what – a who. He’s Sophie’s boss, Vladimir, he’s here with me. He’s worried about her, too, he flew all the way from Prague to find out what was going on.’

Why had he done that? she wondered. Did he know this story of Sophie’s too? How many other people knew? And this Czech guy was a journalist, ran a news agency – how long before the story hit the newsstands in the States? Would they wake up tomorrow to find it worldwide front-page news?

Distraught, she snapped, ‘Well, he can’t see her tonight, either.’

‘Cathy, we’re anxious about her –’

‘Have you put any of Sophie’s garbage on tape? Have you sent the story back home?’

‘No, Cathy. I’m not the gutter press. I’d want proof of what she claims before I broadcast it.’

‘There won’t be any proof! It’s all lies – and if you attack my father I’ll never speak to you again. And don’t forget that my grandfather has friends in very high places.’

‘Don’t threaten me, Cathy – I haven’t threatened you! I told you, I’m just worried about Sophie.’

‘You don’t need to be while she’s under my roof. I’ll make sure nothing else happens to her tonight. She’s safe here.’

‘I damned well hope she is, Cathy!’ There was a brief silence, then he flatly asked, ‘She told you?’

‘Told me what?’ she fenced.

‘You know what I mean.’