For Your Own Protection(79)

James returned to the sofa and resumed the movie.

Liam Neeson was firing off half a dozen rounds at an Eastern European gangster when James thought he heard a noise at the window.

A knock?

He stiffened, but shook it off as a trick of the mind.

Neeson was now pursuing his target across Rome on a moped, zipping across piazzas, narrowly avoiding tourists.

There it is again!

James moved over to the window. Nothing.

Is that scratching at the door?

He put his eye up to the spyhole just as the knock sounded out. He backed away from the door.

Had they managed to track him down?

He ran over to the kitchen area and grabbed the biggest blade from the knife block.

Knock knock!

He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t in. The lights were low, but detectable. His car was parked outside. He searched for options, gripping the knife so hard his knuckles ached. He wouldn’t stand a chance against the men Samson had sent.

They would kill him.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Knock knock!

‘I’m sorry!’ he shouted, before he’d really had a chance to think about what he was going to say. ‘I’m really sorry. You can have the money back!’

But maybe it wasn’t them after all.

Once again, he moved towards the door, his face right up to the spyhole. ‘Who is it?’

‘It’s Matt Roberts,’ came the voice.





CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE


Matt held his nerve in the cool darkness of the forest as he waited for James’s next move. A twig snapped underfoot as he shifted on the spot.

There was no way of predicting his reaction. Coming here was most certainly a risk.

The lock clicked from inside, and Matt stood face-to-face with James Farrah. He looked relieved, and Matt knew why – from his shouts, it was clear he had feared a much more dangerous visitor. ‘Sean told you,’ he said, holding on to the doorframe, one arm out of view.

‘Yes. He remembered, yesterday.’

James smiled tightly. ‘He was the only one I told about this place. Not even Beth knows. I suppose you’d better come on in. Welcome to my humble abode.’

The first thing Matt saw upon entering the lodge and turning sharp right was a six-inch carving knife on the kitchen worktop.

James noticed him spot it, but didn’t offer an explanation. Instead he picked up a remote and turned off the television in the corner. ‘Please, take a seat,’ he said, as the movie gunfire fell silent.

Matt lowered himself on to one of the comfy chairs in the living area. He looked around. The place was all wood panelling, ceiling and floor, with a strong smell of beech. The furnishings were bachelor-pad staples – Bose audio system, Apple Mac, flat-screen television. It reminded Matt of Harvey’s place, with his malfunctioning electronic curtains, and the memory helped him relax a little.

‘Like it?’ James smiled.

Matt ignored the question. ‘How could you do it?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘How could you leave Beth and Charlie at the mercy of Nick Samson?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

Matt fought to control his anger. He wanted to launch himself at this man, who hadn’t only taken everything from him, but had then played so recklessly with the ones Matt loved the most. ‘Oh, I think you do.’

‘I do care about Beth,’ James said. ‘And she cares about me, as much as you don’t want to believe it. We had something good together.’

‘And you chose this instead,’ Matt stated, gesturing at the lodge.

James shook his head.

Again Matt forced himself to remain calm. Losing his cool would be extremely counterproductive. ‘Don’t you even want to know how Beth and Charlie are?’

‘I got her message,’ James said. ‘I know she’s okay.’ His choice of words was deliberate.

‘You also know it’s over then.’ Matt knew Beth had called him, to tell him it was finished and to vent her fury at how he had risked not only her life, but Charlie’s too.

James held up his palms. ‘What can I say – I had to make a choice. I’d prefer Beth to be here with me, but sometimes you can’t have everything.’

‘I never thought I’d hear you say that.’

‘You must be loving this,’ James said. ‘I bet you couldn’t wait to get back into her—’

‘Tell me about Alex McKenzie,’ Matt cut in.

‘Alex McKenzie?’ James seemed bemused. ‘What about him?’

Matt held on to his emotions. This was the point of no return – a step into the unknown – and he needed to remain focused. ‘Tell me why you killed him.’

‘What?’ James laughed off the insinuation as preposterous. ‘Are you alright in the head, Matt? Alex was killed by—’

‘Nick Samson. Or one of his men. They ran him down to send a warning to you all, to turn up the heat and get you to admit you’d stolen money and drugs from under their noses. At least that’s what you wanted Sean and Michael to believe. It was the perfect cover, wasn’t it?’

‘You’re crazy.’

Matt pressed on. ‘The police believed they were looking for a routine hit-and-run. Sean and Michael feared it was Samson. But you knew differently, didn’t you?’