The Prisoner(31)

Leaving the library, I turned right in the hallway and knocked at the next door along.

“Yes?” Ned called.

I went in. The room was huge, with the same tall windows as in the library, and two sets of double doors, a pair to the left, and a pair to the right leading to the library where I’d been a moment ago. Ned was sitting behind a desk the size of a Ping-Pong table, slouched in a black leather chair.

“We forgot to pick up my phone at the airport in Farnborough,” I began. “Is there a phone I can use? I’d like to tell Carolyn I’m back.”

“Sure.” His phone was on the desk. He picked it up, held it out to me. “Here you are.”

I hesitated. I wanted to tell Carolyn about the conversation I’d just overheard between Ned and his father, but if I walked out of his study with his phone in my hand, he might be suspicious. And I didn’t want him to guess that I knew what he’d done.

“Thanks,” I said, taking the phone from him.

I tapped in Carolyn’s number, glad that when she’d first given it to me, it had meant so much to have someone’s phone number that I’d learned it by heart. I waited for her to answer, planning to ask her, quite casually, if she’d seen Lina and Justine recently, if she’d been for a coffee with them. There would be nothing suspicious in that and at least I’d know that they were okay without asking Carolyn outright.

But she didn’t pick up.

“No answer?” Ned asked, and I realized he’d been watching me.

“No,” I said. “I’ll send her a message.”

I added Carolyn as a contact in Ned’s phone, selected WhatsApp from his menu, and typed: Hi Carolyn, it’s Amelie, on Ned’s phone. Just wanted to let you know I’m back from LV, safe and sound. I wanted to add that if she’d heard that Ned and I were married, I would explain everything when we met. But how could I, when Ned might check what I wrote? I thought for a moment, then typed, I can’t wait to tell you all about it, maybe you can come and see me at Ned’s? I added two kisses and handed the phone back to him.

“Anything else?” he inquired, when I stayed where I was.

“Yes. It’s about my apartment.”

“What about it?”

“Everything that was in it is here. You didn’t give notice on it, did you?”

“No, of course not.”

“So I can move back into it, once we’ve said that we’re separating?”

“Yes. Now, is that all? I have work to do.”

“No, that’s not all.” He looked up at me, surprised by my tone. “What about my job?”

“You work for me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then, until we separate, you’ll work for me from here.”

“I don’t have a laptop, it broke, remember?”

“I’ll sort it out.”

“Can I go and pick up my phone? Maybe Hunter can take me.”

He turned his attention back to his computer screen. “No, I’m afraid not, I need him to run some errands for me.”

I flushed at his dismissive tone, and at the use of the word errands.

“I’d like to go out anyway.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, not today. The press is already camped outside the gates. The minute you walk through them, they’ll be on you like a pack of vultures. We agreed we’d meet the press together, so that’s what we’ll do. But not today. Now, go and rest, have a swim, do whatever it takes to get over the jet lag. It’s a nice house, it has a swimming pool and a gym. Think of it as an extended vacation. I’ll see you later for dinner. My housekeeper has gone to see her family in Hungary for a few weeks so perhaps you could prepare something. Or I can order in. Seven-thirty, in the dining room, in the left wing.” He raised his head, and for the first time, I saw steel in his gray eyes. “And by the way, Amelie, don’t come down here again. You have the run of the rest of the house and the gardens, but the rooms in the right wing are my private quarters.” He paused. “I trust you understand.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE


PRESENT

There are voices in the basement. I move the mattress and lie on my stomach to listen.

“… wasn’t a clever move on your part.”

“She deserved it. Stupid bitch.” Ned’s voice.

“It’s set us back several days. We needed that recording.” A pause. “So, what are we going to do, Ned? Your dad’s not paying up and your wife won’t beg for your life. Seems nobody cares if you live or die.”

“Kill her.”

“Your wife?”

“Yes. Kill her and deliver the body to my father. He’ll pay up then.”

“I’m not so sure. After all, what is she to him? Better to send him something of yours, an ear or a finger.”

“I think that would be a mistake.”

“I’m sure you do.” The voice is mocking, amused. “I’ll be back, Ned. And who knows, maybe I’ll have a knife with me.”

I lie there, furious. How dare he tell them to kill me?

Jumping to my feet, I begin thumping on the wall above where he’s being held. I want to infuriate him, I want him to be crazy with rage, I want him to know what it is to be at the mercy of someone else, to be unable to stop something from happening.