66.

We all climbed into that huge car. Mum and I were pretty squashed by Mr Mukwege, but so what – we were together again. The limo didn’t drive so much as float on the softest suspension imaginable; we drifted through the rush-hour chaos of stuttering buses and meandering motorbikes and laden-down pedestrians as if in a dream. On the way I messaged Xander to take a cab there straight away, but not let himself be seen. The rented apartment was closer than we were, so he was already there when we arrived at Langdon’s compound, skulking behind a whitewashed wall to one side of the entrance gate. As the car came to a gentle stop Mr Mukwege asked if he could be of any more assistance.

‘The lift’s fine,’ said Dad abruptly, adding, ‘Thanks.’

‘Well, you have my details,’ the big man said.

‘Sure,’ said Dad, climbing out slowly. He looked as if he was off to the dentist’s. That was understandable, I suppose. This was his brother we were talking about. What Amelia and I had told him had obviously sunk in. I would have felt more sorry for Dad in that moment if he hadn’t looked so accusingly at me.

He hung back from pressing the intercom. Amelia had no such qualms. She leaned on it for a good long time, rousing a barked, ‘Yes?’ from within.

‘Langdon, it’s me,’ said Dad. ‘Plus the family.’

Langdon’s response was a strange low laugh, before he buzzed us in.

We crossed a bare yard to the front door, Xander’s crutches clicking beside me. ‘Guess who called this morning?’ he murmured to me as we went.

‘Who?’

‘Caleb.’

A lurching sensation, of guilt and pity, swept through me. ‘Is he OK?’

‘In his own words: he’ll live. Langdon’s got him digging in some mine with an actual shovel for the rest of the summer. Can you believe it?’

‘Yes. I can.’

‘Well, he said to tell you that despite that, he’s OK. After what happened with Innocent, he reckons he deserves it.’

‘What did you tell him?’

‘The truth – that you were worried for him, and grateful for his help.’

Xander was right, obviously. Yet I was more than worried and grateful. For some reason I wanted Caleb’s forgiveness. And not just because we were about to expose his father.

Langdon drew the door back and stood framed in the opening. His face looked worse than it had the day before, but he’d been at a distance then, and it had been dark. His nose was swollen, his left cheek too, the eye above it a mean slit. An ugly brown-purple bruise down the left side of his face underscored everything. The sight of him made me wonder how truthful Caleb had been with Xander. I’d have been willing to bet Langdon had done worse than make his son dig holes. How else would he have punished him?

‘Welcome,’ Langdon said. With no apparent feeling at all he continued, ‘What a relief to see you.’

‘What on earth happened to you?’ Dad said.

Langdon narrowed his good eye in my direction. ‘Ask your son.’

‘Can we come in?’ Mum said gently.

‘Why not?’

Mum looked at him quizzically as he backed away from the door, then followed him into a large white kitchen. We all traipsed behind. The room smelled of disinfectant. Before we’d come to a stop, Amelia, who’d heard what Xander told me as we crossed the yard, said, ‘Where’s Caleb?’

Langdon snorted. ‘Where you last saw him. Making amends.’

He clearly wasn’t going to pretend to be surprised by Mum and Dad’s newfound freedom. A tumbler of whiskey sat on the countertop between us. He reached for it and took a sip, waiting for the accusation to come, I suppose.

‘What’s going on, Langdon?’ asked Mum, renewed steel in her voice.

‘You tell me.’

‘We’ve been locked away –’ she began.

‘I’ll tell you,’ I cut in, anger knotting in my chest. ‘We know you’re responsible for Mum and Dad’s disappearance. You had them kidnapped. Admit it.’

Langdon let out a slow breath, looked from me to Dad and said, ‘I think not.’

‘This is ridiculous,’ said Dad, without conviction.

‘Is it now?’ said Langdon. After a pause, he unleashed: ‘What’s ridiculous is the havoc this little twit of yours, together with his interfering friend, have caused in your absence. I hate to say I told you so.’

‘Told you what? Dad?’ I asked.

To me Dad replied, ‘I don’t know what he’s talking about.’

‘Yes, you do,’ Langdon laughed, taking another slug from his glass. ‘I said at the beginning, the safest thing to do would have been to lock them up too. It would only have been for a few days. What harm could it do?!’

Mum was rocking on her heels beside me, looking from Langdon to Dad with her mouth open. The shape of the problem, a locomotive bearing down on me through the mist, was coming into focus.

Amelia got there first. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she said to Dad. ‘Except I do. You were in on the whole thing.’

‘Come again?’ said Xander.

‘Jack’s dad here, together with his brother, had himself and Janine kidnapped on purpose.’

‘But why?’ I still couldn’t fathom it.

‘Money, probably.’ Amelia was right in Dad’s face, sneering up at him. ‘I bet you’ve an interest in Langdon’s mines, haven’t you?’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Dad coldly.

His reserve was supposed to be dismissive, but I could see the lie behind it. So could Mum. With one quick step she arrived in front of Dad and struck him across the face. The slap sounded like the crack of a whipped towel. It stunned Dad. He did nothing in response. Just swayed there for a moment before turning his gaze upon me. He’d never looked at me that way before. No words could have spelled out his hatred as plainly. The air in my lungs turned to ice.

‘Yup,’ said Langdon. ‘We should have kept the lot of them in the jungle. Caleb too. But he had to mess that up with his stupid gorilla baiting. Still, we could simply have rounded them up on their return, as I suggested, even chucked them in the same tank as you.’ He was slurring, drunk, happy to repeat himself. ‘But no, no, no. Your boy was too witless to piece anything together, you insisted. Well, someone pieced it together for him, and he turned Caleb against me while he was at it, and now the whole goddamn operation is blown.’

‘From the very beginning,’ said Mum. ‘The fake storm, the robbery at the airport, the missed meetings. Kidnapping. All of it orchestrated, bought, for one purpose: to undermine me.’

‘You’ll get over it,’ Dad hissed.

‘My own husband,’ whispered Mum.

‘My own father,’ I said.

Mum looked at me funnily when I echoed her like that. Pity filled her face. She moved closer to me, placed both cool hands on the back of my neck, a huge decision weighing in her face. ‘What did you say?’ she said.

‘My own father. I can’t believe he’d do this to you. To us.’

She turned from me to Dad, an utter stillness descending. ‘Nicholas,’ she said, and paused to draw breath.

Amelia, at my side, took hold of my hand. I could feel Xander’s presence in the room too. They were a help. We’d done some good together. I tried to think about that and block out everything else, and I failed. In the near silence, all I could hear was the whine of a mosquito.

‘Nicholas,’ Mum repeated eventually, ‘for as long as I live –’

‘We,’ I interrupted. I knew exactly what she was going to say, but it had to come from me too. I squared up to Dad, stared straight into his eyes, an unexpected sense of relief flooding through me as I spoke for both of us: ‘For as long as we live,’ I told him, ‘neither of us wants to see you again.’