Private London (Private 4)

The American guy nodded in agreement.

‘I’m telling you, Ronnie. This has got nothing to do with us,’ said Ferres.

Allen gestured at me, shrugging and holding his hands a little wider apart. ‘I’m sorry we can’t help you.’

‘You going to give me the name of your contact at Chancellors?’ I asked Ferres. He snorted in reply.

‘Not prudent business practice – I am sure you can understand why,’ said Ronnie Allen smoothly. The sort of smoothness a razor blade has.

I could have threatened him with taking what I had to the police, but I couldn’t see the point. What I had was bupkis, after all. The square root of sweet Fanny Adams. Nada.

I gave Ferres a final pointed look instead. Letting him know we weren’t done. He looked straight back at me – and If I’m perfectly honest I didn’t see his knees knocking either. I nodded to Sam and we walked out. I kept my shoulders straight despite the feeling that someone had just painted a bullseye on my back.

As I walked through the pub doors and out into the street beyond I considered making the same one-fingered backwards gesture that Alison Chambers had made to me yesterday.

I resisted the urge.

Chapter 59

IT WAS QUIET in the hospital.

But somehow it was still full of sound. Machines in the background. Monitoring equipment beating out a steady rhythm. Life going on. Footfalls in distant corridors. Snoring.

I opened the door to the intensive-care room and walked in. The woman sitting on the chair at the head of the bed looked up at me and smiled. She was pleased to see me, at least. The smile made me feel good for a moment, but only for that instant. The sight of my unconscious god-daughter kind of took the fun out of it for me.

‘Mister Carter,’ the woman said.

‘It’s Dan, please, Professor Weston,’ I replied.

‘In which case you had better call me Annabelle.’

She smiled again but I couldn’t smile back. The young woman lying on the bed deserved my entire focus. And Annabelle could prove to be too much of a distraction. Maybe when things got back on an even keel I could try the full Dan Carter charm offensive on her. But for now I had to be all about business. Strictly professional. No time for romance.

I was wrong about that, as it turned out. But not in the way I expected.

I looked down at Chloe. Her eyes still closed. Her breathing even. ‘Have there been any developments?’ I asked Annabelle.

The professor shook her head. ‘The registrar was just here with Chloe’s mother. Chloe is stable but still in a coma.’

‘Where is Barbara now?’

‘She’s gone to get us some tea.’

Barbara Lehman, née Smith, had driven down overnight from North Scotland, where she had moved a year ago. She’d set out as soon as she had heard what had happened to her daughter. Her new husband Martin Lehman worked in the petrochemical industry and was moved around the country every few years or so. Martin Lehman didn’t like me and I wasn’t, to tell the truth, too disappointed that he hadn’t accompanied his wife.

‘I just thought I’d check in on Chloe.’ Annabelle gestured sadly at some fruit in a bowl on the bedside cabinet. ‘Bit of a cliché, I know.’

‘I’m sure she’ll be grateful when she wakes up.’

The professor nodded and stood up. She was still dressed casually in jeans and a jumper. Still looked a million dollars.

‘I’d better leave you to it. I don’t think the ward sister will like a crowd in here.’

‘It was good of you to come.’

Annabelle shook her head. ‘Chloe’s one of our students. I’m her tutor.’

‘Even so.’