‘I got distracted. Sorry.’
They pushed out to sea, the skipper pulling the cord on the low outboard engine as soon as they were far enough from the beach. Helen and Fatima leaned back against the cushions and closed their eyes, content to rest and let the new sun warm their tired faces. But Ella sat tense and watchful, looking back, her eyes still fixed on Sikinos. They’d barely passed the safety buoys that marked the edge of the bay when she saw it: a town car, dark and sleek and out of place on such a remote island, pulling up outside the convent. A priest stepped out of the driver’s door and waved a rushed greeting to the nun on the gate, before a second sister emerged. Ella instantly recognized the second, burka-like veil. It’s her! It’s Athena!
She was carrying a small carry-on suitcase and what looked like a laptop bag. The priest opened the rear door for her and she disappeared into the car. Seconds later they drove away, the road taking them around the headland to the other side of the island.
Ella felt sick. She’s getting away. We’re losing her!
‘Wait!’ Her loud cry woke the others with a start. ‘I forgot something. At the convent. We have to go back!’
‘Not a chance,’ said Fatima, refusing even to open her eyes.
‘Please!’ said Ella.
‘What did you lose?’ asked Helen, who felt sorry for Marta. For such a young girl she seemed awfully tense and stressed out a lot of the time. And she kept clutching her head, like she was in pain, or something was bothering her. It crossed Helen’s mind that she’d come to Folegandros to escape from something, or someone. No one was that skittish without a reason.
‘My wallet,’ said Ella, temporarily lost for inspiration. The town car had disappeared from sight completely now. She wondered how long it would take Sister Elena to board a boat and set sail. Not long, that was for sure.
‘Don’t worry,’ Fatima responded languidly. ‘The sisters aren’t going to steal your money, Marta. Mother Magdalena will send it back to the bakery if we call and leave a message.’
‘But …’
‘I’ll lend you cash if you need any before then,’ Helen said kindly. ‘But Fatima’s right, we can’t go back. We’re late as it is, and Maria’s all on her own back at the shop. Oooo – look at that!’
All three girls looked up. Directly above them, a Bell 525 Relentless, one of the slickest, most expensive private helicopters in the world, swooped gracefully upwards, hovering for a few seconds before taking off toward the mainland with an ear-splitting whirr of its blades.
‘Whose do you think it is?’ Helen asked breathlessly.
‘No one from round here, that’s for sure,’ observed Fatima. ‘Probably some Russian oligarch whose pilot got lost looking for Corfu.’
Ella said nothing. Instead she let her heart sink in silence as the helicopter disappeared from view, swallowed by the limitless blue Greek sky.
‘I was right there. Right in front of her!’
Ella’s exasperation crackled down the phone line like static.
Gabriel leaned back in his chair in the first-class American Airlines lounge at Charles de Gaulle Airport, listening to Ella’s report with increasing alarm. The profound relief he’d felt earlier this morning, when she’d managed to leave Sikinos safely, had swiftly been replaced by a new, graver set of worries.
‘It’s a pity you never got that picture,’ he observed.
‘Screw the picture,’ snapped Ella, anger hiding her own crushing disappointment. ‘It’s a pity I didn’t kill her. I should have. While I had the chance.’
‘What chance?’ To Ella’s fury, Gabriel sounded mildly amused. ‘How were you planning on dispatching her, exactly?’
‘How? I don’t know how! What does it matter how?’ Ella’s furious tone strongly suggested that Gabriel might well be her next target.
‘You just told me there was a large Arab man in the room with her,’ said Gabriel. ‘You don’t think that between them, they might have overpowered an unarmed, one-hundred-pound woman?’
‘Well whose fault is it I was unarmed?’ Ella shot back. ‘“Don’t worry, Ella,” you said. “We’re all cogs in a wheel … You just get out of there so the experts can go in and finish the job.” Well, guess what? The “experts” are going to be too late, because she’s gone! And now we have no idea where she is.’
Gabriel sighed. It struck him how much easier it was communicating with Ella via brain-transmission, when she couldn’t talk back, than it was over the phone. Arguing with the woman was like trying to wrangle live eels in a tub full of olive oil.
‘We don’t know for sure that she’s gone.’
‘Are you not listening to me?’ Ella ranted. ‘I told you, I saw her take off in one of those high-tech, modern choppers, that sure as shit wasn’t owned by some priest. They flew right over us!’
‘You saw a chopper,’ said Gabriel. ‘Not who was inside.’
‘Now you’re just being ridiculous.’